He roamed through Jack’s CD collection, and was happy to find that they shared a taste for similar music. In the corners of the living room, Jack had designer lamps made out of steel and black latex. A collection of model motorcycles was locked in a glass cabinet, next to photos of Jack at parties with his friends. Most of them women. One had ‘Property of Red Jack’ drawn all over her boobs, another a big ‘RJ’ on her cheek. But what drew Loki’s attention was the holy grail of all party photos, Red Jack with his pants down, mooning the camera along with a whole bunch of women on an ugly old sofa.
He stepped in and licked the glass, imagining he could be rimming Jack’s pucker instead. It wouldn’t be that smooth or cool to the touch, but he couldn’t wait to feel Jack’s masculine aroma on his tongue.
He polished the wetness away with his shirt and picked up the gun he’d found earlier. It had been stored in a safe embedded into a wall behind a picture of a tank on a beach. The only code Loki could think of was Jack’s birthday. He found the date in the photos, and after estimating Jack’s age a few times to get the last two numbers right, it turned out Jack was twenty-seven, just the right age for a guy to stop playing around and settle down with a steady boyfriend. Loki found two other guns in the house and a shotgun, along with some other stuff Loki vaguely recognized from action movies, but he liked this one best—big, heavy and made of matte black metal. It smelled of gunpowder and cooled down Loki’s head so nicely when he got too hot and his brain started spinning.
His next stop was the massive bathroom with both a shower and a tub, which was built into the floor like a tiny pool. It was black, large, most probably also a Jacuzzi, but Loki couldn’t find a way to turn on the bubbles. The sink was made of golden-colored metal, the same hue as the tiles on the floor. When Loki got into the bathtub, he realized there was a mirror on the ceiling. The place was out of this world. Nothing like Richard’s blue and white nautical bathroom. He took a sniff of each designer cologne—there had to be at least twenty brands—and then enjoyed his time in the bath with Armani soap.
Jack’s house was the perfect bachelor pad—clean, with neither toys nor any ‘feminine touch’. It was all smooth surfaces and gadgets. Loki soaked for an hour before getting out of the tub and investigating some more. He put the guns away and threw the trash bag with girly magazines into the container outside before venturing back into the living room. He had a look at the documents gathered in a desk in the living room. Jack’s bank statements reported an income that couldn’t possibly fund the lifestyle he was enjoying, but the credit card bills were low and always paid in full. What could Red be doing for a living? Was he a drug dealer, or something? A gangster, maybe? He did say he killed people so maybe he was an assassin for hire? That would explain the wads of cash Loki found in the safe. He sneaked out a few hundred-dollar bills to get himself new shoes. He didn’t want to look like a charity case when people saw him and Jack together.
At three in the morning, he checked out Jack’s huge fridge. It reeked of spoiled food, so Loki braced himself, put on some plastic gloves, and disposed of everything that was out of date. A guy who lived alone really didn’t need that much space, even if beer took up half of the fridge. After the cleanout, Loki even managed to empty one shelf for himself. After having a long think about it, he also cleared one cupboard for himself, and it only took him the twenty minutes he needed for the pizza to defrost in the oven. After depositing yet another bag in the trash outside, he watched some ridiculous reality TV show over dinner/breakfast. It was half past five when he was done, but even after all the carbs, he wasn’t any sleepier.
He ventured off to a room he had ignored before, with a washing machine, a dryer and several hampers of dirty laundry, as well as clothes scattered over the cement floor. Cardboard boxes towered on one side of the room, and two driers stood on the other side. One was empty, and the other one had dry clothes on it, covered with a thin layer of dust.
He smiled and pulled on the hamper closest to him. It caught on something, and he had to gently pull the loose thread out of a metal hinge. He frowned, pushing the hamper to the side. There was a trapdoor in the wooden floor, something he’d never imagined to find in the first floor of a beach house. He pulled on the handle and lifted the wooden cover, suddenly hit with the cool scent of a cellar. It was completely dark inside, but the light from above revealed a ladder, so Loki slowly climbed downstairs.
When he got to the floor, he could barely see anything, so he slid his hands over the wall until he finally found a switch and illuminated a large room that definitely wasn’t an extra pantry. A dirty mattress lay on the floor in the corner, next to a TV and a stack of books. A small door on the other wall led to a tiny restroom, and that was it. Loki had a hunch though, and looked inside the cistern of the toilet. He found a hidden compartment with more wads of cash, and sealed plastic bags with white powder. Yep, Jack was most likely a drug dealer.