Masked Ménage (Ménage Series: Book 1 of 6)

Chapter 7: Night Out - Journal

Journal

April 6, 1989

Another awful night, with the same damn dream, but with a few different variations. This will haunt me for the rest of my life. Each time I see Mark's face, this overwhelming feeling of fury fills me. He tortures Eve differently each time, but he always kills her. I have known this man for several years, and I still can't believe that he was capable of all of this malice. He always was a selfish man, rich and spoiled, but I have never seen the depravity till that night. He was an asshole, often, especially with her. But this goes far beyond anything I could have ever imagined.

Thinking about that night makes my skin crawl, and I feel nauseous each time it flashes through my mind. I am in no mood to write tonight. Maybe tomorrow I'll try again.

April 7, 1989

My leg looks red, but not as infected. It's amazing what antibiotics can do to expedite the healing process. Thank God, I had some leftovers from the dentist last year.

Growing up, I was an anxious child. My father died when I was 12 years old, so my mother told me to write my thoughts in a journal. This she explained, would make me feel better. Taking my time, I would carefully word each paragraph to help facilitate this process. Then, when I was done writing and read it back to myself, I could normally find a resolution to my problem.

Right now, I wish I had the problems of a child. I've reread my writings so far, to no avail, and feel I should explain a little better about what occurred that night. This way, if anything happens to me, this journal will be my statement of what went on that day. This is all here to say, but it will explain why I did these things. Maybe it will help me figure out what went on and why everything became such chaos.

Joe realized he can use this as evidence? Did he know before? What if he planted this?

In the beginning, when Mark hired me, I was stunned that I was given a chance to work for the Roth Corporation. He had chosen me to be one of his senior vice presidents over much more qualified candidates. Working for him was my dream job, to be honest. Not caring that I lived at my desk, it was a privilege to have this much prestige. Doing my job to the best of my ability, I strived for greatness, which came at a cost. Having no life to speak of, I would come home late every night. Sometimes, I'd stop at the local bar or a club, but nothing too exciting. A pretty boring routine, but getting this job was a godsend, so I didn't want to screw it up. Sometimes I would meet girls, and take them to their place, but would never spend the night. Women enjoyed their time with me, that I made sure of, and then I'd head home to the solace of my domain. I had to be fresh and ready for anything Mr. Roth would throw at me the next day.

My boss loved to give me impossible tasks, just to see if I could fix or contain the situation. The man loved making me jump through hoops for him, and I think it entertained Mark in a way.

One afternoon, in the VP break room, I overheard two co-workers talking about a club downtown that catered to an upscale clientele. It was for individuals who enjoyed things rougher and more extreme. I had gone to places like this in the past, but not since starting at the Roth Corporation. I'll admit, my curiosity got the better of me and I checked it out this Friday night. It was an open house for new members to join. They invited me to go along, and this intrigued me. Being a single man, and hearing about a new upscale sex club, immediately got my attention. A few of the other senior staff members, including Nick, mentioned that they were going to. They knew some current members already who had said that this club was phenomenal, so what harm could it do?