burlesque; the importance of being Elton

“Are you sure Lisa’s there?” I ask Jörn 

“I heard her talking in the background— he had his phone on speaker....” 

“Oh. Hmmm.... What about the secret distillery basement?”

“No, she knows about it, she was talking about it the first day when she was here, you just don’t remember,” he says

“Oh. Right. I forgot....” but then I say, “what about the extra guest room down the hall that’s become the dumping zone?”

“She knows every room in the house, duva, remember she ordered all the furniture and planned and designed the color schemes and I’m sure she has all the specs still on her computer to refresh her memory.”

“Well, actually I was thinking about the closet.”

“The closet?”

“Well, the reason nobody likes that room is because it’s so ordinary looking and boring, which is the reason it’s become the dumping zone where all the junk gets tossed into, but —more to the point: the closet is possibly the worst feature. It reminds me of the closets of half a dozen dreary apartments I’ve lived at in Michigan.”

“It looks like what closets look like,” he banters not getting my point

“Yeah, it does so —yeah—it could be anywhere, anyone’s, right?”

“You suggest we do a zoom meeting in a closet?” he scoffs 

“Do you have a better idea?”

“A closet? Duva—“

“Yes— look, I can say that it’s a promotional idea. Something we’ve come up with and are trying it out. Since Paulina wants to continue to be involved in the company—as you know—he wants to remain in charge of the website because that’s what he did before it changed hands to —you— I mean ‘Greta’— he seems unwilling to let Cabaret go, if you want my opinion— he’s going to be like a pimple on your ass, you know—and he’s extremely territorial, especially about making the decisions about what goes in the catalogue!”

“Why do you care? It doesn’t matter to me. I just need the front for storage space. Just let him, if he wants to do the work—“

“No, Jörn—you said— I mean— well you said because I used to run a boutique— well I just assumed you wanted my input.... and.... so.... you should know — um— that I placed this really big order and—well— Paulina was not exactly pleased that she—he—I mean— wasn’t consulted first.”

“You placed a big order?”

“It was when I was waiting last night, I got bored and.... so, anyway....”

“Hmm,” Jörn only says 

“Are you mad? Was that wrong?”

“No—I ....what kind of order?” he asks 

“It’s just —some idea I got for a new line that I told Paulina I wanted to call ‘Le chevalier’....“

“Hmm...” he says again and at first it is all he says. After a silent pause he asks,

“what kinds of clothes did you order?”

“Oh, well—you know.... shirts with a lot of ruffles.... like Oscar Wilde dandy clothes, you know, like those ‘poet shirts,’—some waist coats with velvet britches, long brocaded coats—like—kind of Louis XIV style but with a modern look.... I found this on a search I was doing because I was losing my mind watching the monitors for hours with nothing happening. These were cool, I thought, so, why not?— they’re all by an unknown designer— I mean, as I noticed the Cabaret catalogue only had femme fatale things mostly there’s a whole other genre that is being overlooked and I thought— well—and I was thinking ‘Elton’ wouldn’t be dressed in tights and stilettos, would he?”

He laughs,

“now I know why Paulina wants to see what you look like!”

As we are now sitting up in bed I watch his face carefully and becoming worried, I say,

“why—wh-what does—that mean exactly?”

“Never mind—let’s focus on the zoom meeting, we don’t have much time—we need to—well, besides having to throw our act together, I don’t know what we can do about you—and as you point out, the shipment that came will have more than enough for Greta —but we still have no idea where to do the zoom meeting....hmm, really ....le chevalier....?”

I try not to read too much into it,

“So, what about the closet?”

“What about the closet?”

“For the meeting.”

“You are seriously suggesting we do a zoom meeting in a closet?” he is not impressed

“Well, just listen a minute— we can throw some Christmas lights around it—I noticed that there were boxes of feather boas in the shipment that came, we hang some of them around with that fake leopard jacket I saw, hang one of those little black dresses with rhinestones that I saw was in there too and—set up some high heeled shoes on the shelf—you know, I think we had a lot of extra red Christmas lights, didn’t we? we could use those—I mean, it’s a small space but we can dress it up like a Cabaret and say we are working on a promotional campaign called ‘Party in My Closet’ for the obvious euphemism of the closet, but —it now it just occurred to me we can say it’s our way to do our part to ‘chase the Covid blues away’ since everyone is pretty much depressed and stuck in forms of isolation. Tell him we think it would be good to promote sales, say we were thinking to do a ‘party in my closet’ contest for customers and we thought it might work to boost morale —uhhh.... whatever— what the fuck,” I say because he’s laughing at me, “ok. Never mind, forget it. I know it’s stupid—sorry, it was just the first thing that popped into my head .... so.... maybe you have a better idea where to do a zoom call where Lisa doesn’t know.”

“Is this the window designer coming out in you?”

“Hey, I was good.”

He gets up suddenly and yanks me out of bed dragging me to his closet,

“Good or bad, I can’t think of anything better—and we’re out of time. We’re doing it.”

The following scene, Victor/Eltonia noir; Spy notes, Electra’s dictionary (jm muse chronicles)

 

“When did you get back?” I ask him after

“A few hours ago....” he says this against my ear, from behind, pressed up to me, “I saw you up here. You were sound asleep. And it seemed like a good idea.... as we’ve been up all night.... you didn’t even feel me get into bed next to you,” he says and draws me to him, his arms like a seatbelt buckled in front of me; he kisses my neck, “I think you were dreaming.... or maybe I was because— I didn’t even notice when I fell asleep.... was it the hut again—your dream?”

“And the—“

“Moon....” he says it with me as I say it too

“The moon....” I sigh seeing it the way it was in the dream as it shone into the hut; full, beautiful .... and the sound of the sea.... and then I heard—

“I heard music,” I say now, “yours....”

“That was my fault, I’m sorry, I had it on.... I’ve been going back over some of the parts and had it on when .... I was laying here next to you. Before I fell asleep....”

“What time is it?”

“It’s a little after twelve.... we should probably get up,” he says reluctantly

And because I hear it in his voice I ask,

“why? What’s up now—Jörn....?”

After a beat he sighs,

“he wants to do a zoom meeting.”

“A zoom meeting? Who does? Who do you mean?”

“Paulina.”

“Oh.... ? ....he —is— a ‘he’—“ I say, “glad you clarified.”

“You couldn’t tell on the phone?”

“By a phone call? Jörn—nobody jumps to conclusions these days, yes? We don’t jump, right? —but, you know, I’m not even sure how you have  managed to—rope me in—to your shenanigans, now— how did this even happen? I am trying to imagine your motives and —I mean how did you ....?—do this?—and I let you, because I’m —a twit— obviously —this is crazy! What is it you expect me to do?”

But instead he does something ....he knows I like —which is an unfair trick. 

He ignores my questions and instead just asks,

“actually, you need to tell me, I’m fascinated —how did you manage to convince Paulina? I think he almost has a crush on you now and he only likes boys,” but I notice he does not laugh, rather sounds somewhat astounded 

“What?!” I laugh at that, “did I? With just my voice!???”

“Yes, because now he wants to see what you look like,” now he actually laughs, and, he seems even wickedly amused

“Please—you’re not serious....”

But he keeps doing something he knows I like so I think maybe this is a spy tactic he’s picked up 

“I’m not that easy to convince,” I say

“You don’t lie very well. No, tell me, how did you disguise your voice? I’m really curious.”

“It wasn’t on purpose.”

“What wasn’t?”

“Well, first when I called I got the voice mail and hung up. I sent an email. Then he called me back. But —not at first. About twenty minutes later, I guess it was. I didn’t expect that. Because— see, I realized I was hungry. Because actually, I didn’t eat since some time yesterday —on my hike. When all I had was a granola bar. So I decided to make something— I was half asleep but starving and so I was just going to make a baked potato and I didn’t realize the shaker to the cayenne pepper was on the wrong opening and I inhaled a cloud of pepper dust when he called— so I was actually choking and totally hoarse.... he really thought I was a guy?”

now he’s really laughing at me,

“I guess you better start inhaling more pepper because .... well—“here he pauses, “besides that—we need to make you look like someone called Elton.”

“You need to do some explaining, Jörn. And why —exactly— do you think I’ll do this? Sometimes you are too demanding, I swear Jörn—“ but I stop protesting.... because he can be convincing, actually 

But I hold some resolve still, and I say,

“I do want to know why.... why now? Why suddenly do you decide—to now make me a part of your spy schemes?”

“Why do you think?” he says this into my ear between kissing my neck 

“No—I don’t know.... really I don’t....”

“Maybe because of what I wrote on the note ..... it is time to.”

“That is so cryptic, Jörn. You make it sound like you are explaining but—you never actually say anything! Would it be too hard for you to—for once— to actually say? Something? Actually tell me something? Something! Maybe once, just once. Dropped your guard, maybe?”

“And that is why. I knew you’d get there eventually.”

I am silenced by this enigmatic remark. 

“More of your riddles! I swear—!” 

Only, no. I don’t finish that remark. 

Because I cannot. 

and even so, my mind is trying to work out what he means even while in the midst he presses his advantage with his methods of distraction. And then ....it is some time before the conversation gets anywhere; he teases and says,

“I feel I owe you for your birthday,” as if for excuse 

***

And not too long after ....

he concedes now to admit,

“All right, I will explain: Paulina’s ex is Lisa’s best friend.... Bruno—“

“Bruno?”

“Yes— he was partner in the business with Paulina —the Cabaret —all of this— which I only discovered after.... I bought the business .... that is—Greta.... bought the business—“

“Shocking—maybe you should have hired a detective to get the lowdown first,” I say with irony. 

Which he ignores, not even pausing,

“—and— she cannot know; it would blow my cover and —cause a lot of misunderstandings..... this presents the problem of the zoom call as— besides that you can’t look like you, also, because you know she knows this house and I know she’s been consoling Paulina on the break up —she’s currently at his place....”

“This is insane! How is it possible of all drag clothing companies you buy the one who is somehow connected with your wife?”

“Lisa is a home designer, Bruno went to her design school— and it’s Stockholm.”

“What does that mean?”

“So—“ but just ignores this question, “now we have to come up with something fast to disguise not just us but also this place. This house. That she got for us. Any ideas?”

Electra’s dictionary (a short); excerpt of a scene/Noir dream

 

I fall asleep after the phone call, too tired to stay awake to wait

and dream....of shadows 

I see and watch those shadows; the shadows on the wall

it seems .... I watch them; watch as they move across the wall with their own life.... it seems.... I watch the shadows 

and see him move as though he becomes his music..... with his hair wild, flung wildly about.... I watch.... watch him

how much I love to watch him, even in dream, and the way the music seems to become tactile and lucid; like something physical erupting 

the wildness in him—that wildness ....he keeps just below the surface and only sometimes he allows to be released

but the dreams mix and seem to be confused with what is real, like the stack of hides with the scent of him.... I feel the texture of his hair against my lips, the warmth of his arms; he fills me, pervading everything and all senses 

until I realize it is not a dream....

sometimes in sleep we join

Next scene/Noir night into day

 

It seems several hours must have gone by, left still not knowing what has happened 

....as when I do try his number, after ten minutes, it goes directly to voice mail, leaving me frozen to sit still and just wait, staring dumbly at the last monitor I saw him in

....but it must have been much less time than that when he finally does call —as time is strange that way, 

it had to be within an hour of manic anxiety

“Sorry, my phone battery died,” he says to me when he calls; it is by then some time around seven I realize 

“Were you watching the monitors?” he asks, “did you see if anyone was following?”

And by then I am too exhausted from the stress of the night with no sleep and too relieved .... I guess.... to get excited or exclaim; much too unable to have any energy left to be wound up or even be angry at his apparent glibness; just glad to hear his voice and so just say,

“Oh— the boat or—?”

“Yes, the boat, the cargo ship,” he says

“No, nobody was following in the water but the monitors went blank for awhile —I think I bumped the button on the circuit strip,” I say

“That wouldn’t affect the recording, I can look at it later but you would have seen a boat if it was just a minute or so. In any case, they couldn’t trace it to me,” he sounds tired too, I can hear it in his voice

“Jörn, do you always do that?—I mean, have you? Is this like a regular thing?” I ask

“That was the last one,” he says this now with a heavy sigh of relief, “I needed to transfer the gold to another location. I won’t have to do it again—I am not going to store it back there anymore....”

And as if any of this makes sense to me

“You know.... I saw you hanging from the helicopter,” I say 

But he just says,

“Mmm....” in a tired noncommittal way 

“Jörn?” 

“Ja—yes, duva....” as he seems half asleep, “I’m glad that was the last one— I’m on my way back, I should be back there soon after your shipment arrives —and don’t forget to call that number but use the business line —and make sure you don’t use your real name,” he says this also very noncommittal, as if half asleep

“Right, Elton....Are you driving?—I don’t hear a motorcycle?”

“No, I’m on a train. And I grabbed another disguise, but I’m going to have a quick nap now —oh! and duva, try to disguise your voice when you call the number —ask for Paulina—can you, maybe, deepen it?”

“Deepen it? Why?”

“To sound more like an Elton,” he says tiredly

“Then I am supposed to be a guy? You never said.”

“Nobody is going to check body parts,” he says

***

And after.... slouched in a chair, I look again at the necklace and locket .... as there has been no time to really, so— I look at it now .... it is somehow delicate and pretty, I find as I study it, and admire the work of it, finding myself amazed at discovering yet more mystery about Jörn, even now after going on two years, I think —and note, too, as I study his craftsmanship, the way it has that strange gray-blue glow, almost like his eyes; those eyes of kryptonite ....and I flick the little key that dangles as I think this, considering ....the work of JM smeden .... and like his music, I consider, his exacting attention to detail is .... just like everything he does, isn’t it? ....and only then decide to put it on, even as there is no mirror down here to look at myself with it on 

But then I hear the buzzer —a seeming foreign sound of alarm that shocks me out of a daze and alerts me to realize: oh, this must be the shipment. The guy must be having trouble with the pin code, I realize. And get up from the desk and walk out of the cage to the conveyor belt that, hours before, I saw him leave on 

but there is a queer and dazed sense, again, like I have done this kind of thing before ....for him.... and it seems the sleepiness I feel seems to open parts of my mind as I start to realize something else.... it is this about him, this— and why it is that it seems I so blindly .... just go.... as if I would follow him anywhere, because ..... I sense I already have.... so many times before.... as if from so many life times .... ago ....and maybe it is that which does not make it seem at all strange .... and why I do it

he said ‘trust’ didn’t he? And so, is it this? what must be why .... it is.... about him, this —trust.... ? Is it that ? I had for him .... as if from somewhere inside .... like from some other time somewhere long ago, it feels  —like some kind of strange and blind trust for him 

since .... that very first day when I first saw him in the lobby .... that day..... when I was first caught in his gaze

what was it he meant in his riddle about trust? What did he mean....? Only my thoughts have become foggy and so dazed as I climb onto the conveyor belt and watch the electric doors open as I move on the belt as it goes and then find as it descends, I am now outside moving down a hill through trees in a pale morning light 

Noir night; Left hanging

 

One of the last things Jörn quickly mentions, as an afterthought, on his way out, is that there is a delivery coming in the morning and that I should watch the monitors for when the semi arrives downstairs. 

But this does not fully register with me. 

And only later, do I remember that he said this. Hours later, while I am still in the dungeon basement, sitting in the cage by the computers, staring at the mostly pitch dark monitors and playing with the remote control buttons watching the monitors, not exactly knowing why. 

Only that it was my job to let Jörn know when I saw a train pass on one of the monitors at around 1:30AM.... which I did —after staring at what looked like a blank screen for an hour after he left 

and then after the train passed.... it was even more hours followed of having to mind numbing-ly stare at all the blank screens— not knowing why....

and not even thinking to question anything.... 

and why?

Maybe it’s just a lot to process.... and find I welcome this opportunity of distraction to not have to resort to fill the time with the wasteland of social media as I want to avoid any and all access to news with their highlights of misery, catastrophes, violence and politics

while considering that this spot right here could work nicely as a bomb shelter, I find myself thinking as I look around

.... and maybe I am slightly shell shocked about it all.... the pantry wall, the rubber jumpsuit, the platinum locket and confusing note....  overthinking the meaning of the riddle— what does it mean? .... I am in a fuzzy, bleary state

From the monitors I was able to watch him leave. He did not go back through the stairwell from before; instead he chose to go down on the conveyor belt, saying I should  go that way too if I needed to in case the delivery person has trouble with the keypad code downstairs in the morning 

and I did assure him I would personally like to avoid bats right now. Again, it hardly registered with me.... as even odd .... my mind still trying to understand his words

I mean— it is not as if I should think there was anything strange about watching him climb on a conveyor belt — right? too busy trying to read meanings in his words .... as I watch dully from the monitors and in a daze I see him put on a helmet (no wonder his hair was matted) and ride off on a motorcycle .... a motorcycle? Where did that come from....? it vaguely occurs to me to wonder. I think, hmmm.... no wonder he didn’t need the car.... oh, maybe the rubber jumpsuit makes perfect sense now, I guess....

however it still remains unclear to me where the stairs lead to

and the conveyor belt.... as the monitor I watched him leave from on the motorcycle was hard to clearly see much in the dark

****

But at around three-thirty AM I discover I accidentally have fallen asleep when something crashes and shocks me awake. I must have leaned on a glass as it rolled off and broke in a very, very loud pop sound, like an explosion, which caused me to jump —and now there is glass everywhere, which is not the best situation half asleep 

caught in a maze of broken glass and no idea where there may be any kind of dust bin or broom or.... anything, I reach for a box and start collecting the pieces but 

something on the monitor catches my eye and I see Jörn dangling from a helicopter —dangling! which is the moment I cut myself —but I only realize it in a split sense— because it is incomprehensible why I see blood everywhere or that I’m dripping—because I am watching Jörn on the screen as he hangs from a helicopter .... but glance quick to another screen as something there moves and catches my eye as I see a cargo ship?! —heading towards the bridge .... where I watch the train head over the railroad tracks — the same railroad tracks that I had previously stared at for hours before ..... which has been where the camera has been focused all night .... and now there’s a train ....and why am I’m covered in blood? as I stand there frozen

What is he doing?

At this point I try using the close up button not even realizing I’m smearing blood everywhere. But it’s too dark to understand what is happening! And things are happening everywhere in all the monitors! — that I don’t know which one I should be looking at

It seems like hours as I watch what he is doing.... but realistically it must have all happened in about twenty minutes.... maybe twenty-five.... 

there’s something that drops from the cargo train onto the tracks.... then it seems he ties it or—somehow attaches it to the rope from the helicopter .... and then....

what happens? 

The cameras go blank for awhile! 

What just happened?

I must have hit a button..... it takes awhile before everything comes back.....

But all I see is the cargo ship disappearing and nothing!

Nothing .... there’s nothing at all.... all the screens go back to how they were before .... just pitch, dark camera views that are only vaguely discernible as the railroad tracks, the water and blank spaces.... meanwhile I am searching the water wondering .... fearing.... the worst thoughts

I sit there waiting wondering if I should try calling Jörn’s phone but afraid to. If he is unable to answer because he’s hanging from a rope I wouldn’t want to make him try and answer the phone

So I wait staring at the screen wondering what the fuck I just witnessed .... and start pacing inside the cage .... 

give it five minutes and call? Or.... 

Thoughts within

 

The hardest part of present day life for me has been more about the prison of the perimeters 

and the loudness of the very negative society of the twenty-first century

one cannot escape it

I really don’t mind solitude; if I am to be honest, I prefer it

I do miss getting to travel

I need change or I go crazy 

which —may be .... I have gone, 

as I talk to myself here quite a lot. There is such a strangeness .... out there. I don’t know if it is the removal of physical interaction with members of society .... but people seem particularly “extreme” and brought to their lowest denomination 

What does a healthy minded person do to escape the perils of hostility and narrow minded crowd thinking 

as big as the world relatively is to me, it has begun to feel too small

I don’t want to be negative and I guess I come here to clear these thoughts of where I am being blind .... 

I don’t regret things I have walked away from but I do regret the disappointment ....

if philosophy is for those who can afford the time to, I do it when others sleep 

I guess because I fear my dreams 

Part 3 Of Walls and keys, noir a pirate’s legend; Electra’s dictionary (jm chronicles)

 

“Remember those walls I built?

“....I found a way to let you in 

“Burning through the darkest night

“Think I’m addicted to your light

”....Pray it don’t fade away....”

Song lyrics to song “Halo” —Beyoncé Knowles, Evan Kidd Bogart, Ryan B. Tedder

https://youtu.be/wkABWE-WUC8

Somebody’s here! somebody’s here..... Oh my god! what is that? What is that?—what is that banging? 

I watch the conveyor belt moving .... there is a barrel on it and it seems to be rolling and bumping into another one 

..... but no! there is a banging somewhere —it’s coming from somewhere .... somewhere else! 

I spin around searching the huge space I find myself in —oh god, I’m trapped! Did I just get myself locked in here? How do I get out of here? I glance up at the staircase where at the top some door slammed down that was what seemed like the wall behind the pantry shelves — which opened when I turned the key

but how do I open it from this side??? because that banging—there’s someone there! 

I move away from the gated office cage with the monitors and the tables and start to back up towards the stairs where I just came down

Wait.... wait.... I hear....I hear a voice! —shouting.... ! —Where is it coming from? —it’s shouting something —at me— they know I’m in here! I try to figure out where it’s coming from.... muffled —like through a wall. A wall? I turn around a few times confused because .... it sounds familiar .... it sounds....like— I walk back towards the conveyor belt— it sounds like, “duva!” 

I stop and freeze....

Where is it coming from? I look around 

“Duva!”

Yes, I did hear that

I look for the flashlight again on my phone and flick it towards the extremities of the vast darkness 

The banging again! And with it,

“duva, open the door!”

The door?—oh.... the door.....I can see it now because of the light from my phone—that.... must be where he is....

Why do I feel like such an idiot now?

I walk across the cement floor and see the door clearly now. I notice it has a door handle that has a locked button..... as Jörn is obviously banging it from the other side .... he must have got locked out

I turn the handle and the button pops open

Jörn swings through the door as if catapulted through and lands on the floor 

He looks a bit odd.... oddly pale and .... his clothes are odd too.... he’s sweaty and his hair is a bit matted and stringy —like he’s been there awhile, maybe?

I look where he’s come from which is dark as pitch, but some light from the basement and my phone allow me to notice he was at the top of another staircase

He pulls himself up from the floor in a stumble

“Where does that go?” I ask

before I realize Jörn has blood on him

“Oh my god!” I grab his hand and look up at him as my heart begins to pound in my head— there is something wrapped around his hand.... a purple scarf —to stop the blood

“It’s ok, I just sliced it trying to jam open the door—where the fuck have you been!?”

The last part he yells at me

I look at him confused,

“what?”

He grabs my phone to look at it,

“oh, you never got these?” he waves his messages at me

“I....” I take my phone back, yanking it from his grip—but I decide not to continue because I’m afraid of the look on his face 

“Do you never check your phone for messages? Or don’t you know how it works? Let me guess—you turned your phone off because of that fucking clown again?”

“You were supposed to be back three days ago! You never called!” I shriek at him because now I’m angry at him all over again 

“Well, if you checked your messages once in awhile you would know why!” he shouts this and it echoes 

I watch him walk towards the cage now and.... only now .... really take in what he looks like.... what he’s wearing....What is he wearing? a silk purple scarf....? and what looks like a slick black rubber —jumpsuit ....? or—? could be....it’s hard to guess ....maybe it’s suppose to be like a motorcycle jacket? —over—a skintight jumpsuit....It’s got the rivets ....or.... are they studs.... 

I half run, as I’m becoming a little sickeningly, curiously amazed with wonder, so I stop him on his way inside the cage grabbing him by his upper arm to pull him around— as.... I see he’s wearing a fishnet shirt underneath and— I grab his hand, as something just caught my eye,

“red nailpolish?” I look up at him, “Jörn.... is there something you want to tell me?”

He almost laughs but his smile stops as he shakes his head at me— because now I can see he seems more than a little bit peeved at me and is trying not to lose it; I know this by how his nostrils are flared and the muscles in his jaw but he keeps his eyes cool on me as he says with a note of sarcasm,

“I am hoping you have some nail varnish removal.”

as if that explains 

I take a step back from him and drop my grip on his arm—step back and look at him. I don’t know what to think —if I’m angry....? am I ....? .... well.... so.... instead I show him my own set of fingernails and say,

“the only paint I use goes on canvas, in case you haven’t noticed!” I tell him starting to feel uncomfortable now and more than a little perturbed, “why are you dressed like you’ve either come from a Rocky Horror Picture Show party or an appointment as a dominatrix?”

He starts laughing now as he walks straight into the cage ....as if he does it every day. Well, maybe he does—but as if he does it every day with me.... because I realize he doesn’t seem at all surprised to find me there

and then like a deranged person I snap, “thanks for missing my birthday....”

I decide now to start looking at his text messages ....

Wow.... there’s .....a lot.... of them.... it seems I’ve missed .... quite a lot..... 

I find there’s much more to take in all at once—it’s like a graphic novel of War and Peace

and.... there’s one that’s a photo.... which actually is a photo of that weird drawing upstairs .... the one drawn in black marker—the rectangular light switch drawing —that must have .... actually been.... drawn there for me.... as .... there is another pic and this is actually a pic of the key hanging on —the peg.... with messages telling me why.... and how to find the Allen key to open the.... 

“You didn’t see this?” he asks me now from inside the cage where he’s standing pointing to something on one of the tables 

I start to come closer to see what he’s pointing to

“No I....” I start to say

until I realize .... he’s taking a bottle of champagne from inside a little mini refrigerator I had not noticed before 

and he’s got two champagne glasses —suddenly I feel like a total loser because the thing he’s pointing to on the table looks like a gift meant for me

I go over to it as I whisper “shit,” to myself 

It’s a black satin pouch with something obviously in it, concealed with a long velvet drawstring green ribbon pulled closed

“Oh....” I just stare at it

“You didn’t see it....” he says 

I hear him shut the little door to the mini fridge and the scrape of his shoe as he walks over with the two glasses 

I look up at him

He gives me a sarcastic smile and then pops open the champagne bottle without saying anything more 

“I’m sorry....” I say

He clinks the glasses,

“you don’t want to know what kind of day I just had,” he sighs heavily and starts drinking out of one of the glasses, “skål,” he says, “and happy birthday—it’s still one minute to midnight, so, I did make it, duva.”

I take the glass he’s handing to me

“I don’t have a lot of time though— I hope you still have the key?” he walks over to.... oh, there’s a sink there? He starts washing his hand that is bloody 

“So—what? What key? Why were you stuck down there? Did you lock yourself out?”

“You were supposed to have opened it four hours ago—if you read your messages....” he says, adding the last part under his breath, “tell me you have the key, duva?”

“What key?”

“The one—“

I look at him—as he points to the top of the stair case I came from 

“Just to let you know— when you pull the cord up there— it releases the ‘guillotine’ door. It gives you about ten seconds first .... so, I hope you have the key?” He asks with a subtle inclination of his head and a sardonic look of warning in those startling vampire eyes that at this moment blaze with an iridescent fire 

“Oh....” I nod as I think about that .... “hmm....” 

“Duva....” he sighs losing his patience 

“Why, is there no other way out of here? Why would you—“ but I stop suddenly, “oh—“

He looks worried now and moves closer 

“Oh?” he asks me

I start to smile as I say,

“Oh, please tell me why you are dressed like that?”

I see he’s about lose it now,

“Really, this isn’t funny—we’re already behind on time as it is, please, tell me you have the key!”

It only has just occurred to me, I put it in my other back pocket of my jeans as I feel for it now and show it to him,

“I have it here! Where are you going? You just got here!”

“No, I didn’t just get here, duva—I’ve been stuck on that stair case with bats for the last three hours trying to message you!”

“Oh.... well.... where are you going and— why didn’t you have a key for the other side?”

Jörn doesn’t seem in the mood to answer that but he takes the key from me and goes straight over to something else by one of the computers where there seems to be a network of devices .... one of which .... that .... the key must also .... be used to initiate something —as I watch him turn it in some lock, I hear that sound again.... it’s that humming sound .... and then after that there is a loud click .... and a motor going as it seems to have activated another conveyor belt

“What’s it doing?” I ask him

But he’s watching the monitors now. He goes over to one of the computers and starts typing things and then he starts turning on more monitors. He picks up a remote control and taps a button and I follow his gaze to one of the monitors he’s looking at. He’s making the camera focus closer 

He turns to me and says,

“this button pulls you in closer,” he says, “this—goes further away, see? To move it around you do this....” he waits as he watches my face. Then he says, “you got that? Show me what I just told you,” he says now

He hands the remote me

“Why?” I take it from him, “why, Jörn? Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you are going to have to do this,” he says now

“What! Why? I am? What is this? What is this all about? Is this some kind of bomb? Are you a terrorist?”

Now he starts laughing at me,

“No! —why the fuck would you think that?” and apparently he thinks it’s a great joke because he can’t stop laughing over it, “and if I was, do you really think I would ask you— Miss Bambi over here—to set off a bomb,” he’s laughing at this —maybe enjoying the thought too much but then checking his watch suddenly, seriously now, he says, “show me what I just told you how to do.”

I sigh giving in, noticing his hand is still bleeding,

“this pans it and this goes in and out.....” and I do it for him as I look at the monitor 

“Ok, good....” he says and waves me to the computers, “a few more things— and I wrote everything down here for you, but I’m going over it with you; you’ll have time to read through my notes as it’ll take a few hours to get there....”

“Get where?” I ask

He shakes his head,

“duva, there’s no time now— had you unlocked the door four hours ago, I could have explained everything but as it is, I’m going to be speeding all the way to Maine— there’s a coffee maker down here, so I suggest you make some as —it’ll be a long night, the bathroom is through there—“

“Maine!”

He was walking back to check something else by another monitor but stops to look at me with a guilty expression. He sighs and comes over to me. He puts his hand on my upper arm and leans against the table by where I’m still standing next to his gift for me,

“look, I meant to explain everything to you but— remember when you mentioned to me about moving somewhere? You said Amsterdam or Maine— you think I never listen to you, I know, but—I decided both would be perfect so .... I’ve .... needed to set up where to store a few things .... it’s a cover....” he indicates his clothes, “I remember —too—you told me you used to manage a boutique in New York— I need you to run —I bought a business, they happen to have three shops; one in Amsterdam, one in Portland and one in Stockholm—“

“What kind of business?” I look at his clothes, “god, not an S and M leather place— I didn’t run that kind of boutique.”

He laughs,

“no, it’s rubber, or pleather; vegan friendly, I thought of you, but right now it’s mainly online since the pandemic, but hopefully, it’ll go back to being open because the Portland one has a club in the evenings which will be perfect for my cover....”

“Your cover?”

But he just gives me a wicked kind of grin 

“And yours, duva....” he winks at me, “it specializes in .... unisex clothes —I mean—oh, I almost forgot, tomorrow you have to call someone about the website— I sent you the number, your name is ‘Elton’—“

“Elton? You’re kidding! Why am I Elton?”

But he goes back to check the monitor 

“Oh and the boutique is called ‘The Cabaret’.... “ he starts typing something and I watch him for awhile 

Then I say,

“Elton is not exactly a macho kind of name—am I supposed to be a cross dresser too?”

“Well, I had to work with what you got, no offense,” he laughs

“And who are you? Eunice or Jonie?”

“Greta,” he says and comes over to me, “I have to keep Stina off my trail, I needed a good disguise and this is what I came up with. She’d never think to look for a tranny in a rubber shop who does cabaret shows— I need a cover to shift the gold across transatlantic and this just seems like the best plan.”

Evidently ....I need to read my messages ..... I am thinking 

“Is that all there is to it?” I ask 

“I think you’d know; it’s not like you’ve never experienced this .... side,” he gathers my hair into his hand and pulls it aside from my neck and kisses me there, leaving chills, he says, “wash up for me,” and puts his mouth back along my neck and sinks in his teeth, then says into my ear, “I’ll make it up to you.”

....

And it is later, after more instructions and after he leaves when I am left there to think about it all

and find myself staring at the gift still wrapped and hidden in satin and drawn closed in the velvet ribbon 

I decide to open it now and pull open the gathered fabric

There is a silver box inside 

a silver box like from an expensive jewler’s shop ..... I look at the design on the box

emblazed is a kind of branding emblem of what appears like a warrior shield and within it in gold lettering:

JM 

Smeden

uteslutande platina, uteslutande det bästa

Stockholm, Sverige

I open the box. It is a necklace.... it looks like a locket. It glows silver gray-blue in the light. But I realize it is shaped something like—a safe.... with a key that dangles like a charm.... it looks actually like —another safe ....actually

I realize there is a note inside the box folded up

It says

~here is my riddle: what fosters hope; something I long disavowed; so what fosters that? trust? where you stand reading this you see I have and if we have reached this far then this is hope you can~ 

....And below the printed words there is a drawing, a much better drawing than the one on the wall of the light switch; this one is of a lock

I look again at the box....

JM 

Smeden

uteslutande platina, uteslutande det bästa

Stockholm, Sverige

I decide to Google it.... 

JM Smeden, Stockholm, Sverige ....

    “exclusive designer artist jeweler metalsmith Jörn Milström who works exclusively in platinum, putting out new pieces only once every few years that auction at priceless amounts. Not much is known of this reclusive philanthropist beyond his involvement in various worldwide orchestras, recently affiliated with the New York Philharmonic, Milström’s musical family ....” I stop there

and I think now.... the pirate ....

how much about him do I really know....? 

and yet.... don’t I ....? in my gut feel  .... I do know .... Smeden

and so I think, maybe I was wrong about one thing, though, I think now .... about ....Beatrice