the next, a dozen pieces in motion on the chess board at any given time.
It’s almost as if he’s just going through the motions of this because he feels like he’s supposed to. Like he has no other purpose, because after all, he’s Greed.
Could that be his weakness? Is he bored of this life? Could I find a way to inspire his emotion, his passion, for something again? Something that’s virtuous and good?
Skulking around his house for a week like a ghost or a live-in burglar feels weird. I feel completely cut off from the world. I mean, I already feel cut off from the human world, but this is a whole other level. I don’t talk to anyone because I never leave the apartment except when Beckett does. I stashed my bag under a bed in one of the guest rooms, and at night, I sleep on the couch in the huge living room. There are dozens of rooms in the massive penthouse, but most of them go unused because he never entertains anyone.
Well… okay, that’s not true. He does entertain someone, but I think that’s really stretching the meaning of the word a bit.
Every few nights, Beckett will call someone. It’s never a call girl or prostitute or whatever people are referring to them as these days. I don’t think he would get any joy out of hiring someone for sex, because then he’d be giving up his precious money, paying for something he can obviously get for free.
On the eighth night of my stay in his penthouse, he makes another one of his calls… only this time, I recognize the girl. She’s a big actress on Broadway and has even had roles in a few movies I’ve seen.
As soon as the elevator lets her out into Beckett’s foyer, she’s all over him.
“I thought you’d never call,” she purrs into his ear, her voice a completely different pitch than it’s ever sounded in any of her movies. She bites his earlobe and pouts, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I gave you my number months ago.”
Beckett doesn’t bother replying. He just fists her hair by the roots and pulls her head back a little so he can kiss her, his other hand roaming her body like he owns it. She lets out a breathy moan, pulling against his grip on her hair to kiss him harder.
They start to move down the hallway toward his bedroom, and I slip into the kitchen, my heart hammering in my chest. I don’t, uh, watch when Beckett has late night visitors. Instead, I hide in the kitchen like a coward and raid the massive pantry to make myself feel less… I don’t even know what.
Empty?
It’s a hard feeling to describe, a feeling of longing and fear and frustration all mixed up into one. It makes me want to binge on chocolate, so that’s exactly what I do, crouching in the pantry and unwrapping luxury chocolates from Belgium.
But that doesn’t block out the sounds filtering down the hall from the large master bedroom. And it’s impossible not to hear the way she moans his name and begs for him. It makes me feel hot all over, like my entire body is blushing. My stomach feels tight, and for the first time since I arrived on Earth, I’m tempted to slide my hand between my legs and—well, I’m not quite sure. Movies don’t really show the details of that.
I just know there’s pressure inside of me, and I want to relieve it somehow, to get rid of this tight, hot ball in my belly. Because there’s something in my head whispering that if I do, it’ll be the best thing I’ve ever felt.
I ignore that voice and keep my hands occupied by unwrapping another chocolate. Beck has so much food in the house that he hasn’t noticed the bits that’ve gone missing—as if a little mouse has been stress-eating all his cheese and chocolate.
Crap. I’m not sure I’m cut out for this. Why couldn’t Anderson and the board have chosen someone more suited to this kind of task?
Probably because there isn’t anyone, my brain whispers.
The battle between Heaven and Hell has been going on for so long that I can’t even remember how long ago it started. Earth is the last unconquered territory, a neutral ground. Heaven wants to obliterate Hell so that only Heaven is left. Hell wants to do the same to Heaven. Neither side has any interest in controlling Earth, but