Chapter 5 - No Proscenium (Greg Huff's POV) F/M, M/F [Part 3 of 7]
Lexi was staring at Greg with a slightly stern but bemused look.
Lexi: It looks like you’ve been over here for 45 minutes.
Greg: Boy. Was it that long? Time flies when you’re having fun.
Lexi looked at him exasperatedly.
Lexi: I’m glad that you found a friend, but that guy isn’t even one of the character actors. He’s not going to be able to give you the goods. He’s just a guest like us.
Greg: I know. Such a nice guy though. Really into cars too.
Lexi: But let’s not forget that we have work to do. How many of the other characters have you interacted with?
Greg: Three. I think. Not including Monty.
Lexi: Good God. Were any of them potential suspects? By that I mean did any of them seem like professional actors contracted by No Proscenium.
Greg: Do we think that the Mercers are paid actors?
Lexi: God No! They’re the farthest thing from it. I’m pretty sure they’re a couple of borderline alcoholics making a last ditch attempt to save their failing marriage. And that is not what their characters are supposed to be. They’re supposed to be philanthropists who are trying to get Holloway to help them save the local wetlands.
Greg: How about Delilah? The pianist. Is she a professional actress?
Lexi: Yes. Definitely. Good. Thank the Lord. You might know something useful. What did she tell you?
Greg: Not much. I was trying to get away from her. She had a poor upbringing. Local to the San Diego area. Mother died during childbirth. Been playing the piano since she was a child. Considered a prodigy. Needs money to fund a tour she wants to do.
Lexi: OK. That’s all good stuff. Why were you trying to get away from her?
Greg: She was being really flirty and really handsy. I haven't encountered a woman that… is “thirsty” the right word? Is that what you kids are saying?
Lexi: Oh my God. Father! Yes. That’s fine. “Thirsty”. OK.
Greg: I haven't encountered a woman that thirsty in a long time. I was uncomfortable.
Lexi: You blew it, you goon. She was trying to take you to a side location and tell you “the good stuff”.
Greg: I didn’t want to go to any side location with her. Her hands were all over me.
Lexi: The secret pull away rendezvous are where they drop the good intel.
Greg: I think she was looking to drop something else. My pants maybe.
Lexi: Father! Stop. She’s just playing her part. You’re the wealthy, desirable widower. She’s the flirty, feisty femme fatale. It’s all part of the act. She wasn’t going to take you into a broom closet and make love to you.
Greg: She’s half my age. She’s probably your age.
Lexi: So? You’re a wealthy, attractive man of means. She wants to be your sugar baby.
Greg: What would your mother think?
Lexi: If my mother was here she would be laughing her ass off and you know it. Have some fun.
Greg: I thought you said the actors couldn’t grope you.
Lexi: She didn’t grab your crotch, did she?
Greg: No. It wasn’t that forward.
Lexi: So where did the bad lady touch you?
Greg pointed to the areas, feeling a little sheepish with how unprovocative they all were. It wasn’t where her hands had been feeling him. It was the seductive nature. It was her tone, her aggression, her powerful presence, the dripping lust in her voice.
Lexi (sarcastically): Oh no. Your elbow, your hip, your shoulder, your side. Let’s call the Special Victims Unit.
Greg: Excuse me. My side on the…INSIDE of my jacket.
Lexi: Woah. Step back, wild child. That was third base in 1968, wasn’t it? You’d know.
Greg: I was born in 1972, Daughter. Show some respect.
Lexi: OK. Game plan. I’m going to give you some names I want you to interact with. Find out what you can. Do you need to write these down?
Greg: No.
Lexi: OK. Clyde Holloway. He’s the host of this shindig. Tall fellow. Over there. Mustache. Second, Senator Fox. I think Monty was supposed to be his aide or something.
Greg: Chauffeur, actually.
Lexi: Fine. Chauffeur. Did he point out Senator Fox to you?
Greg: Yes.
Lexi: Good. Third, Hazel LeFontaine. Red hair. Early 30s. Slinky black dress. No nonsense. She’s a looker. You can’t miss her. She’s dodgy with other woman, but apparently she’ll talk to the men. I need you to crack that nut. If she wants to flirt with you…let her. If she wants to pull you aside for a secret convo…do it. Fourth, Owen Grant. African-American guy. Late 60s. Salt and Pepper hair. He works for Vinny Demitrio.
Greg: The racketeer that my character meets with?
Lexi: That’s the one. Four people, though. Can you handle that?
Greg: Certainly, Daughter. Can I meet with RT first?
Lexi: Who’s RT? I’m pretty sure there is no RT here?
Greg: RT is the bartender over there in the corner. And according to Monty he makes a mean rum runner.
His daughter smirked at him.
Lexi: Really? Raymond Carruth doesn’t seem like the type of guy who drinks rum runners.
Greg: Listen here, Ms. Fuller. I AM Raymond Carruth. And he most certainly drinks rum runners. Loves them. Can’t get enough of them.
Lexi: Ugh. Fine. Just talk to the people I told you about. I’ll meet up with you in an hour. We can crack this whole thing.
Lexi departed and Greg strolled over to the bar. There were a couple other patrons waiting in line as there were only two bartenders working. As he waited he felt a soft hand on his shoulder. He turned around and was staring into the bright green eyes of an attractive red head. She was wearing an alluring black dress that clung to her body and hugged her curves like a sports car on a mountain road. He was a happily married man. He wasn’t going to stare, but he couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of her visage. The actress who played Delilah was cute. He imagined a lot of boys probably went for her. But Delilah had to be about 24. Lexi’s age. She was still a girl. The person in front of him was a woman. A young woman. Early to mid 30s he’d guess. Over her buxom body and tight black dress that showed a tasteful amount of cleavage was a stunning face with an 80 watt smile, piercing green eyes, and sumptuous auburn hair that tumbled down the side of her face in a cut reminiscent of Veronica Lake’s hairstyles in the 1940s. Not again. Two trips to the bar. Two flirty, attractive younger woman approaching him. And this one was slightly more age appropriate and a little too scorching for him not to slightly lust over.
Greg immediately began thinking of a cold shower. He needed to steady himself. He thought about the chores that he had to do. He thought about the two run home run that Bryce Harper had hit last Sunday to knock his beloved Padres out of the NLCS. That had been a real boner killer. The gorgeous redhead smiled at him though as he squirmed uncomfortably.
Hazel: Well, well, well…if it is Raymond Carruth. The man. The myth. The legend.
Greg was disarmed be her flattery of him. Even though she wasn’t really flattering him. She was flattering some rich widowed financier. But it felt nice to have her spotlight. And he felt all the more guilty about it. So long as she didn’t start running her fingers up and down his oblique muscles like Delilah had, he didn’t see any reason why he needed to be guilty. These were just two adult talking. Gathering information. To solve a mystery. He’d made a promise to his daughter. Get clues. Solve the puzzle.
Greg: That’s me. I don’t know that I feel like much of a myth or a legend. But I’m Raymond Carruth. And I’m sorry Miss, but I don’t believe that we’ve –
Hazel: Hazel. Hazel LeFontaine. Perhaps you know my sister? Charlotte LeFontaine?
Greg: Yes. He did know a Charlotte LeFontaine. I mean he didn’t really. But she was mentioned in his bio. Something about eloping and running off with the son of Vinny Demetrio. He’d seen them talking at a card game at Vinny’s the weekend before they disappeared.
Hazel: Ah, yes. Charlotte. Sweet girl. I saw her at the Demetrio establishment a few weeks back. She served drinks there.
He didn’t really know if Charlotte was supposed to be a “sweet girl”. The bio didn’t say anything about that. But he figured that when a family member of somebody you’ve met inquires about them…it’s safest to pay them a compliment.
Hazel: Excellent. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about that.
Greg: Sure. Fire away.
Hazel: It’s a delicate matter, my sister. I was wondering if I could talk to you about it…in private.
Oh boy. Private. That’s where people got captured. That’s where people got restrained. This was what Greg had been secretly dreading. But it’s also where people got answers. Greg decided that he owed it to himself and to Lexi to see where this went.
Greg: Did you have somewhere in mind?
Hazel: I certainly do. Follow me.
Hazel took him by the hand and led him towards a hallway by the back of the room. Her hands were soft and warm. Greg hated that he was noticing things like that as he was being led by a strange, beautiful woman to a private meeting in a back room. But she strolled with confidence and guided him through the room and down the hallway. There were a five doors by his count. Two on the right side of the hallway, two on the left side of the hallway. And the hallway dead ended into a black door with a shiny bronze handle. He thought she might be taking him there, but she turned before the final door and opened the second door on the left. He followed her inside and noted that they were ostensibly in a large, non-descript closet. The walls were white. There was no furniture. A single bulb in the ceiling lit the room and a large metal rod passed across the room about 7 ½ or 8 feet up. It was firmly bolted into the walls at both ends of the room. He also saw that there were two cameras in opposite corners of the room. Clearly, even though they were alone…there were people watching for the performer’s safety.
Greg: Um…excuse me ma’am, couldn’t we go somewhere a little more –
Hazel: Shut your stupid, insipid mouth!
Hazel spun on Greg and he saw that she was holding a gun in her hand. She aimed it directly at him and turned towards the door, closing it behind them. Greg wasn’t scared. He knew this was all part of the show. But he figured that he should play along and act like he was. This was preferable to her trying to seduce him in his mind.
Greg: Woah, ma’am. Hazel. I think you have the wrong idea. I’m just –
Hazel: Where is the deed? Give it to me.
Greg: The what?
Greg legitimately did not know what she was talking about. He’d studied the three paragraph bio that they’d given him. He’d practically memorized the thing so that he could be the most helpful and involved player that he could. There was nothing in it about a deed. Nobody had mentioned a deed to him. He had no clue what she was talking about.
Hazel: Don’t play dumb with me, Carruth.
Greg: I would never. I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Hazel: OK. Fine. Play dumb. We’ll do this the hard way. Give me your hands.
Greg: What?
Hazel: Your hands. Put them in front of you.
She pointed the gun at him menacingly. He did as she said. She reached into a her clutch and pulled out a set of handcuffs. She tossed them to him and he caught them.
Hazel: Cuff your left wrist. Now.
He did as she said. He looked over the handcuffs. These were not toy handcuffs. There was no safety latch. These things were the real deal. He knew that this was immersive theater, but this all felt very authentic. If he cuffed the other wrist, he was either going to need keys or bolt cutters to get out.
Hazel: Put your hand over that bar. Toss the other cuff over. And cuff your right wrist. Arms above your head.
Ah. So that was her play. OK. He’d play this game.
He did as she said. Greg was tall enough to grab the bar if he stood on his tiptoes. There was just enough chain that he should be able stand flat footed and cuffed if he was fully stretched out. Greg wondered if they used this room exclusively for six foot males or if the rod’s position on the wall was adjustable. It looked like there might be some sort of ratchet system that adjusted it. And he had put his height on his waiver form. This room appeared to be customizable to the person being captured. And right now it was set up for him. He didn’t love the idea of being captured, but the fact that it had been tailored to him made him feel a little honored. He did as Hazel had demanded. He threw the cuff over the bar and cuffed his right wrist above his head.
Hazel: Are they tight?
Greg: Yes, ma’am.
Hazel: Push it with your thumb. I want to hear if it clicks again.
He did so. He heard one additional click. He felt sheepish. Apparently he hadn’t done exactly what she’d asked.
Hazel: That’s what I thought. Now where is the deed?
Greg: I don’t know what deed you’re talking about.
Hazel: Who did you give it to?
Greg: I didn’t give any deed to anybody.
Greg legitimately did not know what she meant. He saw that she had an ear piece in her ear. It was subtle but he could tell that it was there. So she must be in contact with show runners outside of the game. Was there confusion? Had she captured the wrong person? Was this game not running as smoothly as they’d hoped? Was Greg supposed to know what deed she was talking about?
Hazel: Let’s see.
Hazel approached him and began to manhandle him. He flinched as she shoved her hands into the pockets of his pants. He was now exceedingly uncomfortable.
Greg: Woah!! Hazel, what do you think you’re doing there?
Hazel: I’m going to find out where you’re keeping the deed.
Greg: I told you that I don’t have any deed. I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.
She had begun rifling through the pockets in his inner jacket and almost no sooner had she said this than she pulled out a thin red envelope. Oh boy!! How the hell did that get there?!?! Then it dawned on him. That’s what Delilah was doing. She was planting the deed on him. That tricksy little bitch. Hazel opened the envelope and looked inside.
Hazel: You were saying?
Greg: Listen. I can explain. I legitimately had no clue that that was there. But I might know how it got there.
Hazel looked at him condescendingly. She stayed in character, but he got the impression that the actress believed him…and was disappointed in him. He had had this clue for the better part of an hour and didn’t even realize that it was on him. What a bum!!
Hazel: A likely story. You’re a liar. Just like the company you keep. Now tell me about the last time that you saw my sister. You saw her on the night that she died.
Greg: Died?!?! Your sister eloped with Robert Demetrio.
Hazel: That’s what they WANT everybody to think!! And you mean Bobby Demetrio, the gangster’s son.
Greg: I call him Robert. I don’t want to lean into these stereotypes with the Vinnys and the Paulies and the Bobbys. To me…I use his Christian name.
Hazel: Who did you see talking to my sister that night?
Greg: Robert Demetrio and Owen Grant.
Hazel: And what time did you last see them?
Greg: She served me my last drink at about 1:30am. After that she left with them and a new girl started serving.
Hazel: OK. I need to check into this. You’re going to stay here. But first, I need to give you what you deserve.
Greg: What I deserve?!?!
Hazel began to yank Greg’s tie off. God damn it. She was undressing him. This was some sort of kinky sex thing. He did not want to lose any clothing. He resisted the urge to kick her with his feet. He had no desire to get violent, but he was a married man and stripping him while he was unable to defend himself was simply not something that he considered acceptable. He stared at her in horror as this bombshell of a woman seductively slid his necktie off.
Greg: Hazel. Absolutely not. I have no interest in having things get physical between us. I’m still mourning the loss of my wife and I have no desire to be anything more with you than just two guests at a party.
Hazel: Interesting. Because I have no interest in us being anything else either.
Greg: Then why the hell are you removing my---mmmmmpppppphhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!! Mmmmmmmppppphhhhh!!!!!!! Hhhmmmmppppphhhhhh!!!!! Nnnnmmmmpppphhhhhh!!!!!!!!
Greg was taken completely by surprise as she deftly took his pocket square and shoved it all the way into his mouth. Her nimble fingers pushed it back until he was thoroughly gagged.
Hazel: There you go. That should shut you up. Let me know if you’re having any discomfort or trouble breathing. I mean you no harm, though you probably would deserve it. I just need to keep you out of my way for a little bit while I check on some things.
Hazel pulled Greg’s tie tightly between his lips and yanked it back. She kept hold of it with one hand, while she circled around him so that she was behind him. He could feel her giving the tie a firm yank and then pulling the ends together and knotting them off. The pocket square was pushed firmly back and down against his tongue. He glared at her indignantly. This had been quite the dirty trick. Was she at least going to tell him anything useful? Had the deed been the useful bit? He’d missed it. He couldn’t believe that he hadn’t even noticed that it was there. Hazel simply slipped the deed into her clutch and walked towards the door. Hazel’s alluring looks no longer read sultry temptress. They now boasted of a fiery femme fatale. A cunning, yet duplicitous woman who would lead a man to his ruin. Greg was a little miffed that he was that sucker. That he was the victim here. But he couldn’t deny that it was undeniably hot. It was arousing to be taken advantage of. He didn’t think that thought seemed normal. It felt wrong. If anybody complained to him that they’d been taken advantage of…they’d immediately have his pity. But yet in this scenario…he found it exhilarating. Maybe BECAUSE it felt wrong. And he didn’t feel guilty about enjoying this. He knew that it had less to do with Hazel than it did with him. Hazel was still there. But Greg wasn’t thinking about her. He was thinking about his wife. How he’d like them to incorporate some element of trickery and mistreatment into their sexual role plays.
Greg had never been into bondage. He and his wife hadn’t opened that door. And he still wasn’t sure that he enjoyed it. The cuffs were probably going to be chaffing at his wrists. His arms were in a position that was somewhat uncomfortable and that he hoped would be sustainable. And he certainly wasn’t enjoying the gag. But he was enjoying the predicament. He was enjoying the embarrassment. He was enjoying the bamboozlement. He was enjoying the mistreatment, the degradation, the disregard, and the neglect. He knew he wasn’t really enjoying these things. He loved the fact that his wife unquestionably loved and respected him. He’d never want that to change. That would never be worth it. But they were always good about putting things in their proper places within their lives. And he was thinking that maybe they could play around with these feelings that he was having. Hazel didn’t really hate him. At least he hoped she didn’t. He didn’t know this actress. Her name probably wasn’t Hazel any more than his was Raymond Carruth. She was playing a role. And so was he…kind of. He didn’t think that he was very good at it. But the game had just gotten interesting. He was snapped back to reality by Hazel giving him a cheeky wave and an bright, mischevious smile.
Hazel: So long, sucker. I’m afraid you’re on your own now. Maybe if the stars align for you somebody will be along to help. I’ll be sure to leave this key in a place that is near and dear to everybody’s hearts.
She jangled the handcuff keys at him. He was confused. Near and dear to everybody’s hearts? What the hell did that mean?
Greg: Mmmmmmmppppphhhhhh hhhhhmmmmmppppphhhhhh????
Hazel: Well…Good luck, Raymond. Hope to see you never.
Greg: Nnnmmmpmpppphhhhhhhmmmmmm. Mmmmmmppphhhhhh!!!!!!
She ignored his protests and made her way out the door. Before doing so she shut off the room’s one light, plunging it into darkness. He was trapped. He felt utterly ridiculous and put out in his current predicament. And somehow he was having trouble shaking the idea that he was somehow enjoying it. But he did want to escape. And he was very excited to see where things would go from here.