The End to Synchrony

The Brickyard

Friday, March 12th

2:03 AM

Rocco pushes his hand into his pocket and pulls out his iPhone. Searching his list of contacts for Fresh ‘N Pressed Dry Cleaners, then anxiously waiting with the phone pressed to his ear.

"Hello?"

"It’s done. Meet me at the brickyard and bring the twenty thousand."

Silence again.

"What a waste.” Rocco mutters to no one.

2:23 AM

James pushes open the door of his black Mercedes-Benz S-Class and slides across the dark, taut leather. His shiny, black shoes sink into the ground as he shifts his weight onto his feet. “Damn it,” he mutters into the darkness. “Another pair of shoes ruined.” He pushes his rage into the car door and the sudden thud breaks the silence of the night.

A moment of regret sends a wave of heat through his body and he unconsciously swivels his head to peer into the darkness.

James breathes a sigh of relief as Rocco comes into view. A body lies like a pile of trash at Rocco’s feet and he stands over it like a guard dog with a bone. The resemblance causes a frisson of delight to release into James’ brain as he wrestles against a sly smile.

Blonde strands disguise the face of the corpse.

“It’s a woman?” James questions as he comes within earshot of Rocco.

Rocco confirms coolly and continues, “Do you have the money?”

James delivers a glare in Rocco’s direction, then bends towards the body.

A sensation of déjà vu runs through him causing a shiver that makes his body twist. He shifts and pushes away the uneasy feeling. He has become too accustomed to stifling the foreboding feelings that most deem well-founded.

He lets his knees bend and lowers his own body towards the ground again. Pushing the golden strands away from her face, the air is sucked from his lungs, gasping, he falls back in shock. His right-hand plunges through the soft mud, and then hard into the ground beneath the sitting water.

Rocco rushes towards him. “You ‘right?” Rocco asks as he pulls James to his feet. The amygdala in James’ brain is secreting gobs of adrenaline, causing the receptor cells in his muscles to impulsively contract. His body is involuntarily shaking, and despite all his efforts to maintain control—he cannot speak. He points to the body and raises his eyes towards Rocco, but the words remain stuck in his throat.

James

Thursday, March 11th

6:03 AM

Her body lies barely clothed in satin and tangled in cotton sheets. James pauses a moment to take in her form. She is peaceful as she sleeps; a contrast to her usual demanding lips and vicious eyes threatening to devour him. She is a lamb in this unconscious state, and a lioness on a hunt when she is awakened. Hoping to not wake her; James gently kisses her forehead where it meets her hairline.

6:12 AM

James pulls at the tie around his neck—a little tighter, a little straighter. He walks into the quiet kitchen and waits as the coffee brews, and the smell begins to waft through the air. Picking up his unembellished, pragmatic mug, he goes into his office and sits in his oversized, leather chair.

James takes out the key that never leaves his side and unlocks his desk drawer. He slides open the smooth, mahogany drawer and pauses. He pushes the drawer closed. Then pulls it open again. Reaching his hand in to feel the bottom of the drawer, he narrows his eyes to search its contents. He knows there is nothing there, but he needs to convince his hand of what his eyes are communicating to his brain.

Heat runs through his body, immediately resulting in a perspiration of panic. This time he is unable to push away the feeling of unease penetrating every nerve in his body. He pictures the thin, black Moleskine notebook with its soft exterior and perfectly lined pages and remembers himself placing it in the drawer last night. He never removes it from his office. Another flash of panic shoots through his body and moisture begins to gather in the hollows of his arms.

Sophia

Thursday, March 11th

6:03 AM

Sophia lies perfectly still in the California king. She can feel the weight of James’ gaze on her motionless body. She wonders if he is looking for something, but then he leans over and kisses her hairline.

She exhales consistent, shallow breaths to maintain her pseudo sleep. James’ footsteps are silent as he walks out of their bedroom. Sophia listens for the consistent drip of coffee before releasing a deep sigh of relief, then continues listening for James’ habitual routine. The sound of a cupboard opening, a ceramic mug grazing the cabinet shelf, his soft footsteps into his office, a key clinking against the metal keyhole, and the sound of the wooden drawer being open and shut. Her nerves twist under her skin as she waits in silence.

6:13 AM

Without warning, his footsteps are no longer muffled, they are pounding into the hardwood floors as she tries to relax her eyes and return to her shallow breathing.

He is back; staring at her curves, his shadow boring into her body. Then he is gone in another rush of pounding feet.

The garage door opens with its mechanical whine and the gravel driveway crunches as James pulls out in his Mercedes. Sophia exhales again, this time letting her body splay across the bed while her own eyes bore into the pristine, white ceiling.

She lets her nerves untangle themselves and clears her mind.

“I will take a shower. Then I will leave.”

Sophia allows the silk lingerie to slide off her petite frame and fall into a pile on the floor. She pauses for a moment, letting her hand graze over her bare stomach. Then presses on the handle in the shower until the water pours out and steam begins to fill the bathroom. The scalding water hits her head first. Then a burning sensation follows the silhouette of her body as the water flows over every inch of her skin. She stays there until the pain makes her numb.

6:23 AM

Sophia removes the drawer from her nightstand and pulls out the small, black notebook hidden beneath it. Slipping it in her purse, she glances nervously around the bedroom.

James

Thursday, March 11th

6:23 AM

“Rocco?” James bolts out hurriedly.

“Yes?” Rocco answers apathetically.

“Rocco?!” James bolts out again in a mix of frustration and anguish.

“It’s Rocco.”

“I have an issue. I need you to track something down.”

“I don’t do this anymore,” Rocco says flat toned, “I gotta kid now.”

“Just one time. I’ll pay you—” James pauses, “ten thousand.”

“No.”

“Twenty thousand?”

Rocco breathes in and breathes out.

“Twenty thousand dollars, Rocco!” James expels, “You can buy the damn kid something nice with twenty thousand.”

Rocco hangs up and glances at the incoming call.

Sophia

Thursday, March 11th

6:25 AM

Sophia opens the door to her Mercedes and pushes herself into the driver’s seat. She waits impatiently as the garage door rises and then pulls out too fast. Tiny stones spray the house as the tires spin bare spots into the stone driveway. She drives for a few minutes before the tears start streaming down her face and her nerves become entangled again. She pulls to the side of the road and lays her head against the steering wheel. Leaning towards the passenger side, she reaches out her hand and searches her purse until she finds her phone.

“Rocco?”

“Sophia?”

No response.

“Sophia, now is not a good time.”

Sophia sucks in a sob, barely choking out, “Rocco—I think I screwed up.”

“What?”

Silence again. A muffled sob escapes Sophia’s quivering lips.

“Sophia? What’s going on? Why are you crying? Is it the baby?”

“No, the baby’s fine.”

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? What’s going on? Why are you crying?”

Sophia sucks in a deep breath, wishing she could bury herself in the driver’s seat. Taking in another deep breath, Sophia exhales, then frantically spews her thoughts.

“I think I screwed up—James got drunk last night and he was being sloppy, and he left his drawer unlocked, like his special drawer that he always keeps locked, and I found this little, black notebook, like a Moleskine notebook. Do you know what Moleskine’s are? Like those really nice, little, black notebooks. I thought it was a journal or something. So, I started reading it. But then it had all these women’s names and amounts in it and I didn’t understand it, and I was going to put it back, but I kept reading it and I waited too long, and James was off this morning and I could tell, and I think he knows because he stormed out of the house and he has cameras everywhere and he’s going to figure this out. He was so mad. He’s going to kill me if he finds out I took it.”

“He’s not going to kill you. Can’t you just put it back?”

“No, he’ll know. I know he’ll know it was me, if I put it back.”

“Sophia—” Rocco pauses, “go to my apartment, and stay there until I can figure something out. I gotta go.”

“I love you.”

James

Thursday, March 11th

6:27 AM

“Rocco!” James emanates with lividity.

“What’s the job?” Rocco questions, straight to the point.

“My notebook is missing—”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to find it Rocco! What the hell is wrong with you?” James pauses, “I want you to check my security system and figure out what happened. And I want you to take care of it. Do you know what I am saying?”

Rocco silently nods, then voices aloud, “I’ll handle it.”

Rocco

Thursday, March 11th

6:35 AM

“Sophia?”

“Rocco? Are you coming here?”

“No, I gotta do something. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“I have something I need to take care of. Stay there, don’t leave.”

Silence.

“Sophia?”

“What?”

“I love you. Don’t leave the apartment.”

Sophia

Thursday, March 11th

7:23 PM

“Sophia, I need you to listen to me. I need you to meet me at the brickyard. You know where I mean?”

“Yes”

“I need you to meet me there at 2 A.M.”

“Why?”

“I’ll tell you when you get there. I need you to trust me and just do it.”

The Brickyard

Friday, March 12th

2:26 AM

“That’s my wife, Rocco!” James rages in a state of vex, his fists coming dangerously close to Rocco’s face.

Rocco calmly stares through James before casually asking, “You have the twenty thousand?”

James tries to wipe a tear from under his eye, instead leaving a smudge of mud on his face. He reaches into his inner coat pocket with the opposite hand and pulls out a wad of cash and reaches towards Rocco.

Rocco grabs the cash.

“I hope your kid gets something nice.” James says sarcastically.

“Shut up.”

“Lucky kid.”

James looks at his wife, a pile of skin and bones at his feet, then back at Rocco.

“Where’s the notebook?” James demands.

Rocco pulls out the black Moleskine from his jacket pocket and places it in James’ hand.

“Take care of this shit.” James spouts nodding to the corpse as he turns to walk away.

Rocco picks up Sophia’s limp body and places her in the trunk, slamming it shut.

3:23 AM

Rocco pulls over at a darkened rest stop and scours the darkness for a living soul. No one. He pushes open the car door and walks briskly to the trunk. A small click and it pops open, smiling, he looks down at the muddy body.

Sophia opens her eyes from her feigned fatality, a lioness, freed, of synchrony.