“I do, want to see me before dinner at your parents?” Jackson is so close to us that my parents invite him over all the time and he comes because they helped him; helped him become someone.
"Text me the place, and I'll be over." I look up at Katie as she walks through my office. I click off of speaker so she can't hear what Jackson is saying. "I'll see you there," I say as Katie stands near the balcony.
“One moment, Katie.” I put my hand out to stop her from talking to me.
“Just fuck her already,” Jackson says as I look at Katie’s legs while she is standing there. That fucker always knows when I pick the phone up to talk to him. “If you don’t want her, I will. I bet she’d be a dirty whore.”
"You can have her," I say looking at Katie in the eyes, and she knows I'm talking about her and I know very well that if I told her to bend over, she'd do it, but I don't fuck where I work. She holds a file out toward me and I put the phone down. I inhale on my cigarette and let it hang in the corner of my mouth as I take the file from her, exhaling the smoke through my nose.
“Mr. Masters, your father called again woul—”
“I’ll call him, you may leave now,” I tell her, as I put out my cigarette. I feel her watching me for a brief time before she walks away.
Leaning back in my chair again I close my eyes for a moment, just thinking about what I’m going to do when I see Jackson; there are so many ways to play this game. My father always tells me that I need to show people I have a heart and show them I’m human and I tell him the same thing every time, other people don’t matter, you want something you do it yourself, those people won’t give it to you.
I’ve read the articles; one reporter even called me the man that will never have a heart, that even got a small smile from me, but the best one so far is they called me vicious in the boardroom, that one made me laugh because they have no idea. For how vicious I am in the boardroom holds no comparison to how vicious I am in my revenge.
If they knew why I was like this, they wouldn’t think about calling me heartless or the devil, but I don’t want them to know. I want the world to fear me.
* * *
My whole day at work was painfully long. My dad wanted to talk about someone coming with a pitch next week and that he wants me to really listen to what they have to say. He thinks they would be worth our money and I told him that ifhebelieves in it, I'll sign the papers without even hearing them out. He didn't build this company by making stupid decisions. After two hours of going back and forth on this pitch, he finally agreed to just let me look at the folder they gave him, and I can look through it, instead of them coming to me. I won't look at the folder, I trust my dad.
Once I finally got off the phone with him, I was back listening to pointless pitch after pitch. I understand that a lot has been done before they come to us, but they need to give me something exciting. I get that people think they can be the next Steve Jobs or Mark Zuckerberg and come to me with something better than Facebook though.
“Evening, John,” I say to my driver as I get into my car having already texted him where I would be going. Taking out my phone I let Jackson know that I’m on my way and to have everything ready. I’m not in the best mood and I want to enjoy this. I want to be smiling when I leave.
It takes twenty minutes to get to where Jackson told me to meet him. John opens the door, and I make my way to the house. I can feel the weather is changing and it's about to get cold early this year. I look behind me as I see some children on their bikes; they ride past laughing about something. I get to the door and walk straight in; Jackson is standing there looking at me with a smile.
"I got you a new toy." Jackson looks over to his right, but I can't see who's there as the wall obstructs my view. I look around the house, and the odor of his cheap whiskey hits me, and there are takeout bags all over the place. I've been to some trashed up homes, but this one is on a new level of disgusting. The bad smell of rotting food makes my stomach churn, and I know there has to be a few dead mice in here. Shaking my head, I walk over to Jackson, not looking at mytoy; I look out of the window and move the curtain to the side to see the view.
I don't say anything as I look at the school in front of me. I stand there for ten minutes before I turn to face my toy and as I turn, I smile. I stroll to the chair placed in front of my entertainment for the next few hours. I hear Jackson walking around behind me, he's getting everything ready for me.
"You see my friend getting my things ready?" I ask, and they look behind me before their eyes meet mine again.
Lighting a cigarette, I watch them for a moment and I want to see what they do, how they move, what makes them scared. Jackson now stands next to me, and I hand him the lighter, my toy jumps as Jackson lights his cigarette. My toy is scared, and I can't help but smile.
I smoke about half of my cigarette, then stand and walk over to him. “I like the view from the window, what do you do when you look out of it?” I ask, bringing my cigarette close to his right eye, he’s shaking. “Are you scared of me?” I take a step back from him.
"There… there are rumors, are they about you?" His eyes move away from me, and he looks down, my eyes follow, and I hear the dripping on the floor. The man's pissed himself.
Jackson starts laughing. “You haven’t even done anything to him yet.”
I look at the man on the chair in front of me. “I’ll ask my question again, what do you do when you look out of the window?”
“Noth...nothing, I just watch, I don’t—”
Putting my hand up for him to stop talking, I move closer to him and grab the back of his neck, bringing the last of my lit cigarette close to his eyes. “I can put an end to that.” I put the end of my cigarette out on his eye, his scream echoes around the room, but only for a short moment as Jackson silences him with some fabric he jams into his mouth.
Taking a step back, I sit down in front of him, patting my suit to get his spit off it. “This is a new suit, be careful,” I tell him. His right eye looks fucked, just the way I want it to look. Jackson takes out the fabric from his mouth and I hear him gasp for air.
I tell the man, “Now you know who I am and what I can do. Should we try the question again? Wh—”
“I touch myself.” He’s panting. This fuck better not die from shock because I have more planned for him.
"And which hand do you use to touch yourself?" I walk over to the table that Jackson got ready and put my gloves on; I don't want this shit touching me. Taking a bowl, I place it on the table in front of him, his eye not moving away from me, as I sit back down on the other side of the table. "So, which hand?" I give Jackson a nod, and he unties his right hand, the man is sweating so much. "Go on then."
Jackson puts the fabric back into his mouth because he's going to start yelling and he's going to scream loud. I wait to see what he's going to do; I mean putting your own hand in acid is hard, but they all do it in the end, some do it fast, some take their time, but they all do it. Because the longer they take, the harder it gets and the longer their hand stays in there.