Christian On Top
by J. Crispin-Ripley
copyright 2002
Christian moved from shadow to light, and back to shadow. A mist just short of drizzle softened the light from the street lamps, giving glowing auras to the glass globes. In the hour before dawn the mansions scattered along the street were dark masses with unlit windows.
A police car slipped out of a side street, its tires hissing on the pavement. Christian slowed, then stood and waited as the cruiser rolled to a stop beside him. The officer on the passenger side wound down his window.
"You all right, sir?"
"Just fine, thanks."
"Not the nicest morning. Live near here?"
"I'm not sure where I live any more."
"Have some ID you can show me?"
"Guess that wasn't the best answer." Christian slowly reached into his pocket and took out the laminated door pass for Casa del Carlos. It was the only piece of identification he had with him. "What I meant is I'm staying at my old boss's place over towards Yonge until I find somewhere of my own." He handed the card to the policeman.
"Christian Plowman?" The tension left the policeman's face. "I knew I recognised your face, sir. Guess it was from the front page of the tabloid, not a 'Wanted' poster."
"Honest... I'm innocent."
The officer laughed as he handed the pass back. "I doubt that... sure you're all right?"
"More or less, thanks. Just trying to sort out my life."
"Yeah, getting dumped isn't easy, no matter who you are."
Everyone knew about Liza, or thought they did. Did losing her bother him? Yes, but not as much as people believed. Could you lose what you'd never had? He'd been in love with a dream, an illusory Liza, not the one who'd left. No, "getting dumped" wasn't the problem.
But "no matter who you are?" That was an entirely different matter. He was no one, a fraud. His accomplishments were nonexistent. But people couldn't see that. All they saw was an illusory Christian.
"You'll get over her," the officer continued in his matter-of-fact cop voice.
"I suppose."
"Hell, you're sure to. With all those women you have around? Tell you this, Mr. Plowman, there's a millions of guys who'd just love to be in your shoes. And their pants," he added with a chuckle.
"I guess..."
"Damn right! Shit... Freyja van Deer, Aurora Medici, that blonde who used to work for Cosmo down at The Factory... what's her name?"
"Kathy."
"Yeah, that's the one. Hell, most guys would kill for a chance to screw any of those broads. And you've had them all. Lucky bastard!"
"Don't..."
The police radio crackled. "Twenty-seven."
"Damn! That's us." The officer picked up the microphone. "Yeah?"
"Seventeen at Sixty-three Rose Drive."
"Again? Assholes! Okay, we're on it... sorry, Mr. Plowman. You were saying?"
He'd been about to say, "don't believe everything you read." The only woman mentioned Christian had actually slept with, was Aurora. And that had been business on her part; when she wasn't using her body for fame and profit, Aurora preferred women. But would the officer believe the truth if he heard it? Doubtful. And even if he did, would it help anything? No. Let him believe what he wanted.
Christian sighed. "I forget what I was going to say."
The driver cleared his throat. "Charlie... we gotta go."
"Yeah, yeah... you have a good day now, Mr. Plowman. Been an honour to meet you," he added, as the car pulled away.
Christian waved a "so long" and started walking again. He hadn't made it a dozen paces when he heard another car, this one approaching from behind, throttled-back engine throbbing. Without looking he knew it would be a sleek red sports car. He'd wondered if Vanna would be up at this hour. She came alongside, passed him at a crawl and then stopped with a squeal as she suddenly applied the brakes.
She flung the door open. "You damn jerk! Wandering around like some lost soul...how's a girl supposed to get her beauty sleep, tailing you? And for a moment there I thought I was going to have to bail you out of the hoosegow just so I'd still have a job."
"You're on the night shift?"
"And the day. Idiots in Ottawa assign two people to do twenty-four hour surveillance, then drag one back for some stupid project or other, or consultation, or something--they don't tell me what--and you would be an insomniac."
"Sorry. You seem to be holding up well."
"You think?" Vanna shook her platinum curls and treated him to a profile, chest thrust forward.
"I think. I've always wondered... are those things real?"
"You bet! Hey, rake in all that lovely money a bit longer and you'll be able to afford me. Then you can find out firsthand."
"This won't last. Or I won't."
Vanna turned towards him again and moved a step closer. Suddenly serious, her deep blue eyes gazed up at him. She shook her head. "Thought it was getting to you. Roll with it, pal. Nothing's really changed. You haven't."
"And therein lies the problem."
"Damn. It makes me all hot when you talk intellectual. Maybe I'll offer you a deep-thinker's discount and fax in my 'bye-bye' to the Federal Bureau of Shitheads."
"I'm not even sure why CANFIB is still interested in me."
"Sure you don't... you're just a nice Canadian boy trying to make an honest billion or two. Give me a break, Christian--you and I both know you're literally fucking with two of the biggest multinationals in this sorry world. It's so damn obvious even my moronic boss noticed. What gives?"
"You tell me. You're the superspy."
"Yeah right... some spy... standing on a sidewalk talking to her quarry." Vanna took a deep breath and grinned at Christian's wide-eyed reaction. "Just tell me if you're tighter with Gracie X Machina and friends, or Firman's delightful slime, and I'll convince my asshole leader you're playing ball."
"Gracie... I mean Grace, of course. You know perfectly well that I worked for her until she fired me, and that she's backing the talent agency now."
"Sure, except it's Firman you're boinking, not Gracie dear. Say, is it true Firman likes her visitors to use the back door, not the front?"
"Why would your people care about that?"
"They wouldn't now that sodomy's legal as well as fun, but thanks for confirming you two've done the dirty. I'll pass the news on." Vanna yawned. "Shit, I am tired." She shook her head as if to clear it. "So... you going into the office today?"
Christian sighed. "Guess so."
"Gonna stay there? Please? I'd really like to catch some winks."
"For you? Yeah, I'll put in a full day."
"Thanks--you're a sweetheart." Vanna turned, walked back to her car and opened the door. "Want a lift?"
"Promise not to show off?"
"You're kidding, right?"
"I'll walk, thanks."
"Your choice, pal. It's always your choice." She got back into her car.
Vanna knew he didn't deserve his success, but didn't understand why he didn't want it. According to her, "take the money and run" was life's number one rule. Unless there was enough money involved, in which case you stayed. Except that was another of her jokes... it had to be. Vanna was one of the most desirable women Christian knew and, recently, he'd met many. With her intelligence, wit and looks she could have pretty much anything or anyone she wanted. Or so it seemed. No, to her life was a romp. She enjoyed playing too much to ever want to win. Christian envied her the joy she'd found.
She backed up the car and stopped beside him. Their eyes met. She reached down to the control panel, pushed a button and the lock knob on the passenger side popped up.
"Well?" she asked through the glass, mouthing the word with exaggerated precision.
Christian shook his head, turned, and started the slow trudge back towards Grace's. The working day approached. He didn't want to go in to the office but would, and would have even if he hadn't promised Vanna. People were counting on him. Or rather, they were counting on the Christian Plowman who featured in the tabloids. That Christian had a lot to answer for. As did others, like Grace X Machina, Lucille Firman, and everyone else who'd played their part in making the image of Christian so much greater than the material man.
At the corner, he stopped and looked back. He'd been expecting to hear Vanna launch her car down the street with a sudden scream of tires, but she hadn't.
She was, however, gone. Maybe he didn't understand her as well as he'd thought.
***
At Grace's Christian had a couple of cups of hot coffee, then changed into a suit. Once outside again, he decided to walk downtown. It was just before six so the subway would be running, but taking it was just asking for trouble. People would recognise him and ask for autographs and favours. He could always take a taxi, but why? What was the hurry? No one would be at the office anyway. And he didn't do anything when there. He started walking.
On a whim he took a detour through the University of Noronto campus. His new career had begun at the south end, when Grace interviewed him in the middle of the park that split the sprawling grounds. He'd shown up half-convinced the promised interview would prove to be no more than someone's sick joke. And maybe it had been exactly that, just not the joke he'd expected.
The park looked different now: the leaves were off the trees, the flowerbeds empty and a dark sky promised the city its first snowfall of the season. He sat on the bench where he'd waited for Grace and stared at nothing.
"Things do change, don't they?"
"Lucy?" He jumped to his feet. How had she managed to sneak up behind him? He turned to face her. Judging from her skimpy black dress, Lucy didn't feel the cold. "Yes, things do change," Christian continued. "Some. Others don't change at all. How did you know I was here? And while we're at it--how did you know I'd be here the first time around?"
He'd met Lucille Firman the day Grace hired him. Once upon a time, Lucy also had worked for Grace. Except he still was with Grace, in a way, and Lucy was now Grace's greatest rival. The day of the interview Lucy had shown up before Grace arrived and had tried to spirit Christian away. She hadn't given up trying since.
"Sit and relax." Lucy put a hand on his arm, pushed him down and then folded her six-foot frame onto the bench beside him. "You know we have a bond."
"We don't!"
"I meant Grace and myself, although you and I certain have had one too, lover." Her laughter filled the empty park.
"I passed out that night. Nothing could have happened. I woke up at home. Alone."
"My ass begs to differ."
Christian turned to look into her eyes. Or rather, her contacts; she changed contacts to suit her mood and her outfit, as she did her wig. Today's hair was the long red splendour she'd worn the first day. The contacts, however, were blue and cryptic rather than that day's green. "I don't know what to believe," he told her.
"In general, try believing the truth. Right now, believe you're hungry. And that I owe you a breakfast. I was a poor hostess to send you home empty, especially after you so wonderfully filled me."
"Where are you suggesting we go? Your place?"
"If you'd like. Tell me, who is it you don't trust? Me, or yourself? I know you like me, and lust for this body. You have to admit that."
"I do."
"Ah, the words every woman longs to hear. Tell you what, let's eat here." She reached into her purse and pulled out a cell phone. "Dicky, you can bring the basket." She closed the phone. "So, what do you hear from Grace?"
"Nothing."
"Yes, that's the Grace I know and love. Forgive her, it's her way."
"There's nothing to forgive."
"Say that like you mean it, lover. She's responsible for all your troubles. She put you where you are today. You have to admit that as well."
"I guess you're right."
"Another honest answer. There's hope for you yet. Maybe someday you'll even admit you enjoy me above all others, and come back for more. Ah, here's Dicky with the food."
The basket was Lucy sized--improbably large and full. Dicky, her chauffeur, was limping badly. He carried the basket in one hand and had a folding table wedged under the other arm. Lucy put a hand on Christian's knee. "Don't offer to help. He's doing fine and that would make him feel inadequate. Besides, he's almost here."
"I guess... I would have given him a hand if I'd noticed him before."
"Selective vision again... he was always in plain view."
"I suppose he was," Christian answered. "Your leg still acting up, Dicky?"
"It's the phlebitis, sir. Never quite gets better."
"And it won't," Lucy said. "Be grateful clots never form."
"Oh I am, my lady. Yes indeed, I am. Thank you ever so much. Coffee, sir?" Dicky opened the basket.
Dicky wasn't wearing anything over his uniform and looked half-frozen.
Christian already felt uncomfortable and knew before breakfast finished, he'd feel worse. "Maybe we should go somewhere warmer," he said to Lucy.
"We can manage that, if you'd like," Lucy answered. The smile on her lips didn't extend to her eyes. "I hope you're suggesting it for the right reasons."
"Do the reasons matter, or just the action?" Christian asked.
"Motives matter a great deal. Grace and I do agree on that. We'll go to The Second Circle." Lucy stood and reached out a hand to Christian. "I expect you're going to offer to shoulder some of Dicky's load, but I assure you he will decline the offer."
"I don't doubt that," Christian answered as he got to his feet without taking the proffered hand. "I'd like you a lot better if you weren't so cruel."
"Cruel? Moi? Hardly." Lucy moved a step closer. Her eyes glittered with amusement. "As I've told you before, I'm the paradigm of beneficence, generous to a fault. Dicky chose a life of service and I've given him that life. And he worships me--always has--isn't that right, Dicky?"
"Yes, ma'am," Dicky answered, his body trembling. "Pardon me, sir, but I would appreciate it if you would continue this conversation as we walk. The wind is powerful bitter."
"It is that," Christian said. "And you're right. It's thoughtless of me to keep you standing in it. Shall we?" he asked Lucy.
"Whatever you wish, my dear. I'm yours to command." Her tongue flickered out and licked her lips in blatantly suggestive manner. "I'm so glad you suggested we go somewhere more comfortable."
"You know that's not why!"
"It isn't? Not even a little bit? Before you answer, consider this." Lucy cupped Christian's groin. Her long, slender hand proved too small to contain what she found.
"That's reflexive--beyond my control."
"You can't help yourself, you say?" Lucy asked with an arched eyebrow. "How true! But I can help you, and would love to. As I said, all you need do is ask." She took her hand away. "But perhaps you'd rather get going now. As you can see, Dicky's halfway to the car."
Christian turned to see Dicky running towards the limo, despite his limp and his load. "He seems to be in a hurry."
"Oh he is, I'm sure. His bladder isn't what it used to be and you know how the cold aggravates that demand..."
"I do." Now Lucy mentioned it, he felt an almost desperate need to pee. If it weren't for his erection, it might be uncontrollable. He hurried after Dicky.
Lucy caught up in a few steps. With her long legs she didn't have any trouble matching his pace. "We can take care of you in the car before your body betrays you again," she said with a laugh. "Dicky keeps a supply of emergency flasks on hand."
"I can hold it until we get to The Second Circle."
"If you insist on being a martyr, I suppose you can," Lucy answered.
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