The Book of Masks (Vol. 3)

A Date in Disguise

Previously: "New Boss, Same as the Old Boss" 

Your gut tells you it's a bad idea to let Patterson have control of your duplicate, but your brain tells you it's a worse idea to argue with him. You groan to yourself, but crawl into the back seat of the car.

At least there will be a compensation: while you are stripping, the mask reappears on the girl, and Patterson hands it to you. Once you are finished disrobing, you put it on.

* * * * *

You have the feeling of waking from a nightmare, and groan. You raise your head, and bump it into something. With a muttered curse you grasp your head, and your hands clutch great fistfuls of hair. Oooh. A thrill runs through you.

You glance over to the side, and see Joe Durras leaning in the window, grinning at you. It's a familiar grin: he seemingly can't help smiling, constantly. But there is something slightly malicious behind it, and your blood chills a little. You smile back tightly. "Well, here I am," you say.

"And looking good, too," he teases. "Here." He hands you a tangle of clothes through the window. "Don't mind if I watch."

"You'd probably have more fun watching as I took them off," you retort.

"More fun than I had watching this fucker take them off," he chortles. He jerks his head, and you look over to see your own double—already dressed—looking back at you with an embarrassment expression.

"Is that ... her?" you stammer. "Jessica?"

"Underneath, yeah, but she doesn't know it." His eyes drift up and down your frame. "God, I'd love to molest you."

"Wait until I'm out of this thing and you can hang it on a golem," you snap as you hurriedly pull the panties on. "You didn't bring Jessica out here just so you could fuck her, did you?"

"No," he allows. "But I can have fun watching while you get ready."

You do your best to ignore him while pulling on the rest of the clothes: bra, halter top, hip-hugging shorts, and sandals. You push him out of the way as you heave yourself out of the car, and he grins: you have to resettle your boobs and adjust the top, which is riding up. "Take a picture, it'll last longer," you snort at him.

"Maybe later." His smile fades a little. "Okay, you need to call up the real guy, the real Joe Durras—forget about that German name—and get with him this afternoon. As soon as possible."

"What for?"

"What do you think? He really does like you."

"I bet. But I mean, what am I supposed to do with him? Just keep him out of the way?"

He hands you another mask. "Get this onto him."

"You already have a copy of him," you object, then glance down at the mask: There's a face floating in it. You turn it over: STEVEN PERCEVAL PATTERSON. "You're middle name's Perceval?" you blurt out.

"Shut up. Just get that onto him. It'll turn him into a golem, like this one here. Will you hold still?" he snaps at your double, who is jumping lightly in place, the way you do when you're bored and nervous. "He won't be your slave, but he'll know what to do, and that's to get back here as soon as possible."

"And then?" The hair is rising on the back of your neck.

"Then comes part two, but we'll talk about it then. Oh, two more things," he adds as you get back into the car. "First, be careful what you say around him. If he asks you to repeat anything, especially like a limerick or a tongue twister, don't. Seriously—don't."

"How come?"

"Just don't."

"Okay. What's the second thing?"

"Huh? Oh." He leans in and rips a hard kiss from your mouth. "Okay, on your way." He drums the top of your car and grins.

* * * * *

Joe Durras's eyes twinkle merrily as he hops into the car. "This is a nice surprise, Jess," he says. "You have something special planned?"

You jump a little. "No," you say. "Like I said on the phone, I was just thinking we could hang out."

"The best kind of plans start with hanging out, but they progress." Je laughs.

"I wouldn't mind a little progress, of the right sort," you say as you pull back out into the street. "But hanging out would be a nice start. We haven't done a lot of that since you and Frank moved to town."

"We haven't done any. Oh, turn right at the next street." He looks over at you. "You don't hang out much with the other guys."

"They don't hang out much with me," you correct him.

You feel like a spectator inside your own skull. You were terrified when you called Joe, and you were terrified while asking if you could meet up and hang out with him. Not even his cry of That would be awesome! could make the terror go away.

I have to be Jessica Pearce with him, you thought.

It just seems easiest to let go of the controls and let the girl herself take over.

Joe continues to gaze at you, and he leans back and drapes his arm in a way that puts his hand near your shoulder. "That's something I don't get. You ought to be Miss Popularity."

You tense a little more. "That's Alyssa's job description."

"Oh," he says quietly. "Yeah, I guess it is. There can only be one?"

"What?"

"Nothing. Turn left when you hit Becker." He tucks your hair back. It's a nice feeling, and you smile over at him. He's awfully good looking, and a kind of golden light seems to linger around him. "I wish you'd come sit with us, when you see me and Frank," he says.

"Or maybe when it's just you?"

"Yeah," he laughs. "Or just him. Don't let that whole 'I'm so intense' act fool you. He's a pussy cat."

"Mmm. He can be a little scary. You're more like a— Oh, I don't know."

"A goofball. I know. Listen, I want you know that no one, not Alyssa or Ian or Jenny or anyone, has ever said anything against you, not to me or my brother."

You can't help pursing your lips. "Still, you know you shouldn't hang out with me. I'm not a good person." The last bit comes out very acidic.

"You're not? That's good. No wide-eyed, eager, wholesome, innocent, Sunday School teacher for me. I'm not a bad guy, but I'm not very good, either." He says it like it's a boast.

"Well, I'm not a bad person either, no matter what they say. Where are we going?"

"I'll tell you when to turn again. But I told you, they haven't said anything to me."

"But you know who they are."

"Of course. I'm a moron, but I'm not stupid. What did you do to them?"

"I exist. That's enough." The dark cloud in your head coalesces into a lump and drops into your stomach.

"Ah. Well, maybe between the three of us we can show them that you do exist. Don't you have any friends? I mean, you are on the cheerleader squad. Things can't be that bad for you."

"What do you know about things being bad?" you retort, and his smile dries up under your sudden, hot glare. "So many stupid people at school, and they're all so good, except they aren't." You grip the steering wheel. "Buncha freaking hypocrites."

"What do they do to you?" he quietly asks for about the tenth time, it seems.

"Nothing. They just dig a ditch around me, and make sure no one crosses it."

"Have you tried crossing it?"

"What do you think I'm doing now, Joe?"

He lays his hand on the base of your neck and caresses it. "We can go wherever you want," he says. "But Farm Road is coming up in a few blocks."

"Oh, it's like that."

"It doesn't have to be." He squeezes the base of your neck gently. "It's up to you."

"Don't be good to me, Joe," you say, and there's a ragged edge to your voice. "Be awesome or be awful, but don't be good to me."

* * * * *

It's like honey flowing into you, thick and soft and sweet and nurturing. You suck on his tongue and lips, and he sucks on yours, and you just want to pull his whole mouth into yours, and it feels like he wants to do the same to you. You have to break it off, though, or you'll lose yourself. "Oh God," you gasp as you come up for air.

He's holding you loosely, though, even though you're straddling his lap, and you can feel his erection through his shorts. It feels like a big one, but so deeply are you into Jessica that you don't mind or flinch. "You're starving, girl," he says.

"And you're a feast." You nibble at his lips, and he starts to bite yours, but you pull back, then rest your forehead against his.

"I really don't want this to stop, but—" You bite back a sudden rush of remorse, and slowly reach for your purse.

"But what? You just wanna talk a little?"

"We'll have lots of time to talk, I guess, but it won't be the same, probably." You rub your forehead on his nose. "Close your eyes and just let me look at you a moment. It's hard when you're looking back at me. I just want to drink you in a moment."

He turns pink, and smiles, but shuts his eyes. You gaze at him a moment, and hesitate. He opens one eye, and you press it shut with your thumb.

And then you've got the mask out and against his face.

Patterson's face appears where Joe's had been. A leer instantly forms on his lips. "Well, ain't this cozy, Prescott," he chortles.

* * * * *

It's like a kick in the stomach to drive into the Westside lot and see Joe Durras again, leaning against the wall. "Good work," he says as he leans in the window after you've pulled up, and his tone is cool and impersonal. "Help me with one more, and you'll be set."

You're revolted by the sight of this impostor.

Next: "His Brother's Keeper" 

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"Table of Contents (Vol. 3)" 
"The Book of Masks (Vol. 3)"