True Calling

By S.E. Beymer

The lusty voice breaks the late-night quiet as premiere radio talk show host Jordyn Jamison welcomes you into her world of Silk Ropes, where you find answers to your deepest questions and desires in sex its various forms.
Away from the station, she has an elite group of private clientele that appreciate her ability to bring their fantasies to life and maintain the discretion each one demands.
Their world of money and celebrity is perfect until they are murdered, and she becomes the prime suspect.
Detective Chris VanZandt follows the clues in this twist a minute look at the dark side of fame while hiding his own secrets.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Feb 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9781098349349

Book preview

12-17-2018

1.

911, what’s your emergency?

Help me; please help me, the frightened girl’s plea echoed through the lines.

What’s your emergency, the operator probed?

They are trying to kill us, she screamed just above a whisper.

Who, who is trying to kill you?

They, she paused, listening to loud moaning in the background. He is, she said again.

Is it a he or they? The operator managed to say before being cut off.

Oh god, he’s still alive, he’s coming after me, came the screamed reply before the phone went dead.

Moving quickly, the operator hit the redial, but the number was not in service. Noting the time and general area, she dispatched the closest roving patrol hoping beyond hope that the frightened girl on the other end would be found safe.

2.

Tonight on NBC Nightly News, we look at a developing story on Long Island, said the rock steady announcer opening the broadcast. Shifting in his seat, he turned to the second camera.

First reported as a missing person case, local officials have handed the case off to the FBI. Multiple bodies have been found in a home and on the grounds in what they have labeled a killing field.

Behind him, the screen graphics showed several men and women in different uniforms and Haz-Mat suits with shovels and plastic bags removing objects from an area of mixed beach and wooded acreage.

Officials are not offering details, but an unnamed source states that there at least 20 bodies of what appears to be young women. The speculation is that some may have been in the area for decades. At this time, the police and FBI have no leads and are asking for the public’s help in identifying the remains. Now on to other news, Chinese Panda Lin Tou gave birth to twin cubs.

3.

The clock on the wall moved to exactly midnight, and the local radio broadcast switched to the taped nationally syndicated news feed. Four minutes and three commercials later, the local show retook the feed. The producer Mark Gladston, in the glass booth, looked at his star, Jordyn Jamison. With his hand raised, he counted down four, three, two, one, pointing the last finger at the talent, cueing the well-recognized theme music.

In the background, Kerry Leva’s Stay With Me sultry tones played while the talent moved closer to her mic. The music played, reaching its crescendo, then ebbing to a low as the talent welcomed her listening audience.

Hi and good evening. This is Silk Ropes with your host, Jordyn J. Tonight’s program will have Sissy Lane from NSA life in our first hour. The second hour will be fantasy realization from Destination Dungeons, and our third hour will be an open line where we discuss whatever has popped up.

On cue, the music rose again, and Jordyn pushed back from the mic enough to sip from a steaming cup of tea. Mmmmmmmm, this is really good, she said to the production crew, raising her cup in a salute.

Commercials followed the music’s end; afterward, she began her intro for her guest.

He sat alone in the dark, radio on, drink in hand. Sipping it, he listened to her program introduction. Straining to hear the voice behind all of the radio masking, he pulled in close to see if he recognized any portion of it. Oh, it had been so long ago, but seeing her at the recent cause celeb party, he was sure it was her. Suddenly, for the first time in years, he felt fear. Did she recognize him? Would she remember? Slamming the rest of the drink, he listened intently to the program, more sure with every word and cadence. It was her.

4.

The line of people stretched down three blocks before rounding the corner as the wannabes jockeyed for their fifteen minutes to rub elbows with the rich and shameless. Cars honked as they drove by the cattle herd, the occupants pointing and laughing at those seeking this moment of semi-fame. The line unfazed by the jeers continued their wait, occupying their time with one-upmanship conversations and endless group selfies.

The onlookers at the head of the line were treated with being the first to see the arriving celebs. Night Moves was the happening club at the moment. Owned by the former TV Club child star that had fallen from grace in a sea of drugs and scandals, it had been carefully shaped into the place to be and be seen. It was the phoenix in the life of Steven Lil Stevie Borch.

Occupying the first four floors of an office built 1903, it was now one of the grand maidens in the trendy Downtown LA historic core. It’s brick, and glass façade gleamed against the brightly lit street lights and passing traffic. On the main floor, polished marble and grand art deco staircases conveyed people from one venue to the next, while above them, an ornate stained-glass dome with twinkle lights for the perfect effect.

Above the main club was an additional four floors of a private club known as Perdition. Apartments lead to the final two stories of penthouse lofts, a rooftop deck, pool, gym, and dog walk.

The clubs were in two areas. The lower four floors theme depended on the host’s mood and could range from a typical dance club to elaborate period pieces with food, costumes, and music. The four main floors had their own dance area that was second to none, featuring state of the art sound systems guaranteed to make you feel the music’s beat without blowing out eardrums.

Each floor of the four had a progressively more affluent clientele: the first floor dominated by the guests paying a one-time nightly fee. The next three levels graduated up in monthly cost until topping out on the fourth floor.

The upper club known as Perdition was an homage to only the best in adult entertainment and fetishes featuring a two-story dance floor and playrooms outfitted in exotic BDSM toys and games in some of the apartments above. Prices for the clients in this area started at twenty thousand and included two upper-end packages; a lifetime membership for seventy-five thousand, and the Velvet Rope requiring a two million one-time payment.

Music had its unique place as well, with specific days of the week featuring particular themes. Everyone loved throwback Thursdays where the theme was the disco revolution, and roller skates were allowed on the neatly polished hand-inlaid wooden floors.

Lil Stevie, his life renewed, was a mainstay greeting every patron, ensuring that the party was only the best. The cellar stocked with only the finest wines, imported beers, and liquors drew the most educated pallets. The kitchen boasted seven top-rated chefs that fixed everything from mundane menu offerings to the exotic special requests of the never to be pleased celebs.

Tonight the energy was higher than usual as the club had opened itself up for the after-party to the new mega-hit featuring eight of Hollywood’s who’s who. Limos, perfectly timed, arrived at the red carpet, and endless camera flashes dotted the night sky as the attendees stepped out, waved and blew kisses to their adoring fans, and posed for shots, and then quickly scurried into the well-guarded doors.

At the door, Lil Stevie welcomed each of them, his smiling face a testament to his complete transformation from faded child star to the in-demand club owner. Later he would retire to Perdition, and the real face of Stevie would be uncloaked.

Not all of the A-lister stars had arrived from the premiere, but the party inside was already in full swing. Jordyn Jamison mingled with the crowd remaining polite and aloof. Those fortunate enough to know her knew she would keep her distance and their secrets, preferring opening gadfly conversations with the ones lucky enough to be chosen from the cattle herd.

Wandering around the room, she felt like she was being watched. Oh, she knew she was an attraction. As the nation’s sex talk radio host, everyone wanted a piece of her, but most were afraid of the gossip that would be conjured if seen openly chatting with her. This was a different feeling, though, and her skin prickled up in response.

Taking a sip from her mint water, she scanned the room, looking for a familiar, safe place to shake the feeling. In a corner sitting by herself, was Miri Golden, The Right Reverend Paul Odette’s studio assistant. Seeing her chance, Jordyn crossed the room to join her at the quiet table.

You don’t mind if I join you, asking permission as she sat. Jordyn attempted to blend in with Miri.

Oh no, Ms. Jamison, yes, please sit down.

Jordyn.

What? asked Miri.

Please call me Jordyn. Ms. Jamison sounds too formal, and I am just plain old me.

Thank you, ma’am. I will, she said, taking a sip of her coke. I really appreciate you sitting with me.

Anytime dear, we radio girls have to stick together in this sea of stars, she said with a chuckle. You do seem a bit quiet tonight, though. Is everything alright?

Well, yes, she paused, Well, no, well, maybe.

What is it then, Jordyn asked as she slid into her counselor mode.

Oh, in the grand scope of things, it’s nothing, I guess.

If that were true, you would be out there on the floor instead of here in this dark corner, trying to blend into the wall.

Ok, well, yes. You are right. I guess I am making more of this than I should.

So what exactly is this?

Ms. Jamison, she paused and corrected herself, Jordyn. I come from a small town in Iowa. There wasn’t anything there for me except to become someone’s wife and get lost in the building of their life.

Oh, don’t I know that feeling all too well. I came from a small town in nowhere to be here. It can be a big change, but one that I think you will do well in.

I do not doubt that, Miri said, sitting a little straighter with confidence. The thing is, I guess I didn’t know that I would have so many choices to make. Choices that could affect my whole future and yet choices that I’m sure everyone here before me has made.

Wow, I think you have even out vagued my usual vague responses, Jordyn said with a chuckle. A few specifics would be nice- that is if it’s what you want to share.

Oh, I do. And to be honest, you’re the one person that would understand the most.

Ok, now you’ve done it, my curiosity is on hyperdrive, Jordyn said reflexively.

Well, it’s been my dream to be a radio personality. I mean, really, all of my life. I used to stay up late and listen to Coast to Coast with Nouri all night and the political guys in the day. I knew it was going to be a hard road because they are all men. That was until you came along. I mean, I know Dr. Laura was a thing for a while, but by and large, her market share was always limited to content. You have people listening because they either agree with you, or they want to hear information that they can’t ask anyone else about, or they listen to hate how free you are.

Yes, that is true- I have people that love to hate and hate to love the show.

I came here specifically to work for the flagship station. I applied when I was just sixteen. Of course, I had to wait for my age to catch up to my desires, but also, the waitlist to intern for your show is incredible. So, it was either continue to wait or take any opening that would allow me to be in your orbit and learn quietly.

Ah, the Right Reverend Odette and The Plain Truth.

Yeah, not my first choice, or even my one-hundredth, she said with a little giggle.

I can’t imagine he is very many people’s choice, but he does have a following.

Yes, so, here I am. Miri Golden from Humpland, Iowa, working for the premiere host for conservative religious values and, she paused, I’m gay.

Nooooooooo, Jordyn said with an exaggerated syllable.

Yep. One hundred percent liking the ladies, not the laddies.

Wow, that’s a kick, Jordyn responded. Is that the problem? Is he giving you grief for it?

Oh no- he doesn’t know. And I want to keep it that way if possible.

Your secret is totally safe with me.

I know and appreciate that more than you could ever imagine.

There’s more, isn’t there?

"Yes. And that’s what’s got me bugged.

Spill it.

Well, to keep my job and to move into a permanent position, I have to sleep with him.

You know that’s harassment, right?

Yes, and I could dog him on it, but then where would my name be in the industry? I think I have finally come to terms with the fact it’s going to happen if I want to stay here and move up, but.

Oh, there is a but. That’s never good.

But. I’m also a virgin and just really don’t want to lose that precious gift to him.

Yeah, I can understand that, Jordyn said, nodding in agreement, her anger and resentment toward Odette rising.

So, I guess, Miri said haltingly, what I need to ask is, can you help me not be one?

Oh child, are you sure that’s your answer?

Yes. I will make it in this field, and I will do what I need to make that happen, but I need to do it on my terms, and who better to ask than the number one sex chick.

Well, I thank you for that, but I am not sure how I would help.

I know you have private sessions, and well, I would. I would be honored if you could allow me to have one.

I’m sure we can make that happen if it’s what you really want, she said, patting Miris’ hand. Speak to Nora in the morning, but right now, let’s get out on that floor and have fun!

5.

The clock on the wall in the producer’s cubical read 0350 as Mark Gladston prepared to shift gears between his talents. He loved working the last four hours, but that was true of every night she was on. He watched as she wrapped up with her final guest; it had been a fun romp with a Brit that wanted to change the whole world into a nudist camp called ‘Nothing to Hide.’ Jordyn’s mood was always up, and maybe that’s what he liked most about producing her show. Her energy filled him and left him wanting more.

The next talent was not as appealing. In fact, he struggled to find anything likable about The Right Reverend Paul Odette. Odette wasn’t that old, in his mid 50’s but he acted like someone’s great grandfather from the early nineteen hundreds with his hellfire and brimstone speeches. From the old 1970’s suits to how he carried his bible, it was clear it was a prop instead of a book of comfort and wisdom. Something was unsettling about Odette, too, though he couldn’t put his finger on it. The pious nature of his talk and actions was almost too over the top. Mark was reminded of the Shakespear quote, The lady doth protest too much, methinks.

Today Mark was running late, caught up in the hilarity Jordyn and her guest conjured. Running through his checklist quickly, he made sure not to overlook any detail for The Right Reverend. He had the freshly squeezed lemon water and English muffin ready to go- Odette was a stickler for details, and Gladston had been a victim of his tirades before: a scenario he didn’t wish ever to repeat.

Glancing at the clock again, he signaled to Jordyn- three minutes left. She nodded to him as he heard her signature sign off: Well, that wraps it up for us tonight. Thank you for listening- you are the greatest. Remember you are strong, you are beautiful, and you should be proud of the you, you are.

He switched to the national news feed and watched as the red light over the broadcast booth changed to green.

Great show as always, princess, you are the best, but now I have to hurry and get ready for the rest, he said, rushing into the room with the needed items for Odette.

Oh Mark, she said, offering him a light kiss on the cheek as he quickly placed the water, muffin, and script on the table. I see the demon still has you running.

This morning, he does. I love loved your chat with Mistress Senena, and I got behind.

I’m so sorry, is there anything I can do to help out?

Oh, just the usual, sprinkle holy water and say a few Hail Mary’s and Our Fathers’ before it arrives.

A sudden loud bang of a door down the hall signaled the arrival of the next talent.

Whoops, too late. It appears he is early. I should slip out before I have a chance to truly aggravate the beast, she said, quickly grabbing her things.

Where is that tramp and trollop? If that daughter of Lilith is still here, I want to speak with her, he bellowed as he thundered down the hall.

Dressed in a powder blue suit from the 70’s he was a small man with a large barrel chest and skinny legs; his voice was infinitely more impressive and imposing than his stature. His face topped off everything; his well-cut hair always slightly askew over a plump, pasty face that terminated in a high collar with an oh-so-too-tight tie that caused it to bulge even more.

This morning his usual off-putting demeanor had a distinctive edge to it as he pushed down the hall to the glass booths. In his hand, a crumpled-up section of newspaper seemed to channel most of his anger.

Is that harlot still hear? he demanded to know.

You should leave now, Mark said. Use the back way down the hall, and you can avoid him.

Avoid him. Jordyn laughed. Now, why would I do that? He seems particularly wound up over something this morning, and he did call me out. Really? A harlot? At the very least, I am a Jezabel! I mean, I just want to set the record straight.

Ahhhh, you are a daring and wicked woman, Mark said as he finished the final touches for the Reverand and headed back to the booth to watch the show.

Nah, just love to get under his skin, and this should be particularly good fun, she said, laughing.

Spying her as he rounded the corner, he upped the level of bluster in his voice and carriage.

What the hell is this? he asked, throwing the wadded up newspaper on the broadcast desk.

Oh, I don’t know, maybe your idea of gift wrapping for the crap you shove down peoples throats?

Don’t start with me, harlot. You know damn well what this is, he said, uncrumpling the paper, pointing to the article about the celebrity party at Night Moves.

Oh, that. Yes, it was a good time. Sorry you didn’t get to come. Guess the wife had you doing the cuck routine last night?

You brazen tramp, how dare you to assail my wife with your foul words.

Hey, don’t get mad at me. I’m just the messenger. So if that’s not the problem, what’s your grief this morning?

This picture, he said, pointing to her and