FAÇADE, 7
I’m frozen, one hand still out in front of me. I reply, “Sure, man. Let’s do that. Please don’t do anything stupid, all right?”

He nods. “It’s not me I’m worried about,” he says. 



From our barstools we can see all of the clubbers have sex with clothes on, otherwise known as “dancing.” The scene here is a melted series of silhouettes and vibrant colors with a complete stench of body spray and sweat, cigarettes and regret. Drinks spill as the clubbers rub against each other and exchange desperate smiles. 

I signal for the barkeep underneath the rain of neon lights. He waves his index finger “one moment” at me and finishes mixing drinks for a couple of women at the other end of the bar.

“What can I get for you fellas?” he asks when he finally arrives at our end.

Before we can order, Ray darts his head in the direction of the dance floor, where in the center of ecstasy and confusion, Emily moves around by herself.

The light above her brings Emily to focus, and Ray pursues. 

I ask him where he’s going, and he doesn’t so much as look back at me.

“All right,” the barkeep says, “What can I get for you?”

I order the safe and classy: Rum n’ Coke. ​
The barkeep turns away to make the drink, when my attention centers on a brunette woman scooting closer to me. She arrives at the stool next to mine within a matter of seconds. “Don’t tell me a handsome guy such as yourself is here by his lonesome,” she says behind tectonic violet eyes and over-glossed lips.

“I’m with him,” I say as my index finger searches for Ray. 

​he cocks her head and follows my gesture. “Who? I really can’t hear you. Wanna go someplace with less noise?”

In day-to-day life, this is unacceptable behavior, but add a club and some alcohol and it becomes an act of courtesy. My lips shape “no”, but the music drowns out any utterance of the word. 

"What?” she yells over the music, her voice intoxicated by unnatural levels of estrogen.  

The barkeep returns with the drink, and I say to the brunette woman, “Sure. After this drink.”

We crash onto a floating bed at the center of her studio apartment. It’s at the top of a high-rise at the end of Lakeside, before the city limits of Long Brooke. Sweeps of flowery fragrance latticed by vanilla tosses along the walls. Her pillows smell unusually clean, I think as she tears my shirt open. 

She begins to fiddle around with my belt, when a sudden urge to break away overwhelms me. In a flash, I see the redheaded jogger morph into the dilapidated old woman. I slip to the edge of her bed and place my head into my palms. I swear I’m not weeping.
“What’s wrong?” the brunette woman from the bar asks, although there is either a lack of sincerity or too much alcohol in her tone. 

“I’m fine,” I slobber out.

“Can we fix this?” she asks – not quite the question I thought she had in mind. Her voice is seductive despite its balloon-squeal pitch, and in a way, indescribable. Sometimes you have to hold a diamond to understand it.

I rush up to my feet and collect my clothes, even though I confess part of me wants to stay. As I take off, I glance down at my cell phone and see Ray has texted me: “Backyard. Now!”
On my way out, I swear I hear the brunette woman say, “Fucking pig.”


My feet can’t move any faster after I hear Emily scream from the backyard. As I turn the last corner, I find Ray holding his Magnum against the side of her head. She cries on both knees in the mud. Rain water glares off of the gun’s steel.

“What the fuck are you doing, Ray?” I scream across the backyard.

“Don’t make a scene out of this,” he says. 

“Please let me go.” Emily whines and then sniffles. 

“It’s ok,” Ray says, and I think he’s talking to me. “You were right, Mike. This needs to happen.”

“What needs to happen?” I ask between shallow breaths.

Ray replies, “We need to get rid of all the disguises. We’ve gotta stop these people from taking control of us. Fuck her.

“I never said that, Ray.”

Ray cocks back the gun and teases the trigger. “You’re right. These people have nothing to offer. They’re all the same. All fakes.” 

He grabs Emily by the hair and lifts her to both feet. She slips along the mud. He holds the gun out towards me, and I step back. “You know best,” Ray says.

“No,” I tell him.

“Take the gun. Do this. It’s right.” He shoves the Magnum into my shaking hands. 

I say, “I can’t do this, Ray. What the hell is wrong with you, man?
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