Page 15 of Edge of Control

The depression ate off my soul. It gorged itself. An invisible, twisted, monstrous thing that wanted to eat me alive. And I almost let it.

I could hear a couple arguing through a closed door while another couple must have been banging above them,judging by the loud and uninhibited moans drifting into the hall. That’s what I loved about living in the city. The duality of life was on full display. Someone could be fighting for their lives, their relationships, thinking their world was seconds from ending while only feet away, someone was getting their brains fucked out by a man who they’d just met at a bar down the street. It was hard to imagine myself living in a small town with nothing but the same old stories playing out on repeat. It would drive me crazy. I needed variety, needed a thrill, and this city had plenty of that to go around.

I reached the photographer’s floor and walked all the way to the end. He was already waiting with the door open, leaning against the dented doorframe. A window looked out to a parking lot next door.

“You Jace?”

“I am,” I said, extending a hand. The photographer grabbed it in a tight grip.

He looked like the textbook definition of a NYC photog. He was thin, tall, with a mustache that he’d attempted to curl, but one side fell flat while the other appeared wispy. He had circular glasses that magnified his eyes by a factor of about a thousand, making him resemble a bug more than a person. The earthy scent of a freshly lit blunt drifted out from his apartment. It reminded me of one of my best friends in high school. A pothead with the kindest heart. She was one of the reasons why I didn’t succumb to my dark thoughts. I’d call her during the worst of it. She’d quickly offer me shelter in her house, where we’d smoke up a bong and melt into the couch, watchingsilly shows and movies together. I still talked to her every now and then, but adulthood had claimed her. She lived in Seattle with her wife and two kids. Her hands were full, while mine were still pretty empty.

“Stevie here. Nice to meet you. Come in, come in.”

Stevie led me into his apartment, closing the door and clicking two heavy locks into place. He motioned toward the messy stack of shoes by the door. I took the hint, slipping my sneakers off and setting them next to the pile. I followed him into the airy and sun-drenched living room. The parking lot next door meant the light wasn’t blocked by any nearby buildings. The space had a modern, industrial type of feel. The floor was a smooth gray concrete, making the red of the brick walls pop. The ceiling had exposed wooden beams running across its length. A thriving fig tree towered in a white ceramic pot next to the window where all his models sat and posed. A light box and a reflector were set up with a laptop stand directly next to them.

“Wine, beer, water?” Stevie offered.

“I’m good without, thank you.”

“So,” Stevie said, leaning back against a column that had been placed at the start of his living room. “You said you had questions for me?”

“I do. About two of the models you’ve recently shot. I wanted you to tell me what you know about them.” I pulled up the photos I had saved on my phone. “Ricky and Jesse. They were both found murdered, and I’m trying to figure out how they’re linked, if they even are.”

“Murdered, huh? Shit.” Stevie took the phone andanalyzed the two photos. “Damn… I did good with these, huh?”

I held back an arched brow. Sometimes my face could channel the inner workings of a hyper-judgmental bitch sizing up an obliviously dumb bitch, which was trouble, considering my career relied heavily on having an unreadable poker face.

“Do you know if they knew each other?”

“Oh, these two? Yeah, they definitely did.”

I cocked my head at that.

“Ricky had been referred to me by Jesse. Apparently, they worked together. Seemed like good friends.”

“Did they say where they worked?”

“I didn’t ask. Don’t think it’s a traditional desk job, either.”

“Anything else strike you about them? Something they may have mentioned in passing?”

Stevie chewed on his nails. He spit one across the room. I internally cringed but, once again, managed to keep my composure. Even though I could almost feel the bead of sweat forming from the strain in my facial muscles trying to keep still. “Well, besides Ricky’s boyfriend slash manager, no, I don’t think so.”

“Ricky brought someone with him to the shoot?”

“Sure did. A big guy, muscles that practically ripped through his suit. Big ol’ asshole, too. Barely said hi. Kept micromanaging every little pose and photo we took. Oddly enough, Jesse talked about him, too. I think they’re both dating him, from what it sounded like. But it was Ricky whohappened to be his fave, judging by the special attention he got.”

I honed in like a great white scenting blood from miles away. “Did you get a name? Any identifying information on this guy?”

“I got a name, yeah. Called himself Gio. Don’t know the last name, though. Don’t know much at all, actually. Sorry.” Stevie looked away, avoiding my gaze. He chewed his thumb so close to the quick that blood pooled at the end of his fingertip. I walked around him into the living room. He was holding something back. I could sense it. Was he scared?

I had to prod harder. “You sure? It sounds like you already know quite a bit. What else can you tell me about this Gio guy?”

“He was intimidating. He was clearly strapped—he kept putting a hand over the pistol at his hip. For no fucking reason, either. Just swinging his dick around, is all. Pissed me off.”

“And scared you?”

“Yes. And scared me.” Stevie stiffened. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his torn-up jeans. I moved toward the window, standing underneath a strip of warm sunlight. There were large black-and-white photos of tasteful male nudes on the walls. He was definitely talented, if not a little sketchy. “Ricky seemed scared, too, for whatever it’s worth. He, I don’t know, had a haunted look sometimes. I’d catch it in a few of the shots. He’d flick it off once I pointed it out to him. Like he’d put on a mask. But it wasalways when he’d look over at Gio that the gaunt, ghost-ish face would take over. It was weird.”

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