The Room: Five Days of Heaven, Five Days of Hell

By Quintin Jones

Jack Kaynes was slowly drawn into a world of his own obsession and constantly watched the late night news. Over time he began to believe that the beautiful and elegant news presenters were reaching out to him. Unchained by morals or ethics, this loner yielded to his dark obsession and with the abductions of the newsreaders he took a perilous chance to be with the women he loved, even though he knew little of their real personalities.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Oct 27, 2015
• ISBN: 9781514441206

Quintin Jones

coming soon

Book preview

Forward

Obsession is defined in the Oxford Dictionary as: Obsession / n 1 the act of obsessing or the state of being obsessed. 2 a persistent thought or idea dominating a person’s mind. 3 a condition in which such ideas are present. The Thesaurus adds: fixed idea, idée fixe, fixation, mania, phobia. Hardly seems to be anything which one should be fearful of, except that obsession is one of the cruelest tricks the mind can play on a person, for the more a person finds comfort in their obsession, the stronger it becomes. And this is an idea that I try to explore in the story of ‘The Room’.

Chapter One

The obsession spoken about, had been displayed in a room darkened by drawn curtains as one man watched a video tape recorded the night before and the flickering television screen held him in rapture as the late night news was presented. His senses were all visual, the spoken word being of little importance, even the closeted musty smell of the small flat had no impact on him.

A red candle burned in a glass bowl above the TV set and gave off a scented aroma, which only added to the claustrophobic feeling this man seemed to enjoy dwelling in. The target of his obsession was an elegant woman of poise and great beauty who had no idea what this man had planned for her and five others, a man willing to risk everything to live out the fantasy he had dreamed of for so long.

*****

Later that day, Jack Kaynes stepped from the entrance of the run down old red brick apartment building where he had resided for the past four years. Just over six feet tall, he had a solid strong physical presence, near jet black hair combed straight back with dark and brooding eyes, eyes that could look right into you, eyes that seemed to say, ‘I have suffered too much pain in this life.’ Eyes, which could flash without warning, ‘Don’t cross me’.

Outside the building, Jack paused for a moment taking in the balmy late afternoon sunshine, he felt good with the sun’s rays warming his face as he mused of the events about to take place. He took in a deep breath of the warm evening air and then he turned to his right and started a brisk walk to the depot of Brisbane Cabs to begin the last shift he would drive for the next four weeks and if the scheme he had conceived in his mind was a success, he would never have to get behind the wheel of a cab again.

Already the depot supervisor had been informed that he was taking time off to go on a hiking holiday for a few weeks, which had been approved, an alibi that might be handy in the future. Especially, if his plans hit a snag with an unseen factor that he had not thought of. As Jack walked, he cast his eyes to the north where he saw the skyline of the city, complete with its mid summer heat induced halo only ten kilometres from the working class suburb of Hemmet.

For the city had been established long before the south eastern crossing of the Brisbane River had been built. The Gateway Bridge, a massive concrete bridge that spanned the river close to its broad mouth. A river that meandered around the central city far from its source near the western city of Ipswich. A river, which snaked its way through the sprawl of suburbia and gave a defined north and south to the city. The river widened as it flowed passed Fisherman’s Island, then its brown murky waters merged into the blue of Morton Bay, discolouring it for some kilometres out to sea.

Halfway to the depot, Jack came upon a group of lively children playing jump rope on the footpath, whilst other kids sat on the steps of their apartment block busily playing hand held video games. He stepped off the footpath and onto the road to pass them, not wanting to disturb their games. A couple of the kids called out to him. Hi Mr. Taxi Man.

Jack returned their greeting with a smile and a quick. Hi.

These were the children of the blue collar workers, who for economic reasons were forced to live in an older area of the city, next to the factories, warehouses and freight depots. The industries, which brought wealth to their owners, residing mostly on the north side of the city, for the river not only defined north and south, but also the ‘Haves and the Have nots’.

At the end of the eighth block Jack turned the corner, a few metres further down the street he walked through the open gates of Brisbane Cabs depot. As he made his way to the Super’s office, he was joined by Sheena, a greying German Shepherd who had been at the depot longer than any of the drivers could remember. Her days as a guard dog having long since past and the yard of the depot being the only home she had known.

She nuzzled her welcome, Jack reached down and gently tickled her behind the ears, then he stroked her flank, finally he patted her a few times on the head. All the time Sheena panted her approval, in a ritual followed every afternoon and for both of them a most enjoyable one. Followed by Sheena, Jack reached the office, the Super handed Jack the keys to his cab and said. Your last shift for a while Jack, have a safe one an’ enjoy your time off.

Jack took the offered keys. Thanks, see you in four weeks.

Keys in hand, Jack turned to stride across the yard, Sheena trailed in his wake to where twenty odd cars were parked, paint work gleaming, reflecting the sun’s rays. Jack walked directly to his cab, the same one he drove every night. He did not stop to talk with any of the other drivers he passed, it was just the occasional nod of his head to those who bothered to greet him. For Jack was a solitary man, a loner who did not waste time on small talk or idle gossip, hence in the depot there was not another man who would say Jack was his friend.

Quickly settling into the driver’s seat, Jack did the required book work, typed his ID into the cab’s computer, meaning his driver’s license number, then a four digit PIN. This done, the computer activated and Jack fired the engine into life, engaged drive, then he steered the cab out of the depot and turned towards the city. To where the fares were, to where the people with money could be found, the start of a twelve hour mystery tour, this happened to be the life of a cabbie, for he never knew where his next fare would come from or where they would take him to. For a man with no friends and a life that he felt was barren, this was the only appeal of this low paying job, freedom.

Sometime later, Jack approached the colourless concrete span of the Gateway Bridge and cursed the fact he had to cross the river before earning a cent. That he had to pay a toll on a structure which had already been paid for. The multi national company which had built the structure knew the tolls were now money for old rope. Jack slowed as he neared the toll booth, then stopped momentarily and handed two one dollar coins to the toll collector. No smiles or thanks were exchanged, the man holding out his hand had long since been beaten down by a soul destroying job and Jack only felt disdain at the imposition of the toll, one he had to pay at the start of every working day.

Jack drove onto the bridge and sped the taxi into the centre lane passing a number of lumbering semis with drivers going through gears trying to bring the beasts of burden up to speed. At the apex of the bridge he glanced over to his right and in the far distance he saw the broad mouth of the river as it merged with the sea waters of Morton Bay, but only a kilometre down stream was a sight which cheered him slightly.

At the Sugar Wharf were two new arrivals, both American naval Destroyers, with painted camouflaged hulls, making them appear very warlike and Jack said sarcastically. Well, well, hello sailors. Hey there’s a lot of people waitin’ for you guys, waitin’ to lighten your wallets that is.

The cab driver had become well versed with what would be waiting for the American sailors, from the seedy night clubs with over priced drinks, to the ladies of the night, who plied their trade in the darkened back streets of the Valley and Spring Hill. Even to taxi drivers like him who would ferry the young sailors into town and then in the early morning return them to their ships and haggle with them over the dollar exchange rate to their own advantage.

Nearing the far side of the bridge, Jack glanced down on one of the few remaining warehouses on that side of the river, Boston’s a vast building, now empty and unused. Once this stretch of the river had been a hive of activity, but was now deserted and lifeless, waiting for the redevelopment which had occurred to the many old red brick warehouses, the wool stores that lined the streets of Teneriffe.

Having crossed the bridge, Jack turned left onto Kingsford Smith Drive, still eight kilometres away from where tall city buildings poked towards the heavens like long pointed fingers. To Jack, they seemed to accuse those who had built them, once this floodplain had been the most fertile land in Queensland, a garden of Eden until progress had tarred and concreted over its rich soils. The headwaters of the Brisbane River had been held back by mighty dams and it rarely flooded any more.

A flood, instead of being a yearly event was now an inconvenience occurring every couple of decades, much to the angst of Brisbanites. The river had become a brown sludge and slowly made its way past a city of skyscrapers, surrounded by a suburban sprawl that reached out to touch the foothills of a mountain range, encircling a sea of humanity. As Jack drove, he recalled a piece of trivia read somewhere that at the turn of the century there were just six cities in the entire world with a population over a million people, at the turn of the twentieth century this had blossomed to 275 such cities and the city of Brisbane had become one of them with over two million souls.

Twilight receded and the city lights started to take hold, without thinking Jack weaved his cab through the late evening peak hour rush of commuters making their way home. Except it was not so much a rush, more just a slow crawl down Ann Street, a clearway of four lanes slowly ground forward in a procession of mostly sole occupant vehicles. At Roma Street, Jack turned onto an empty taxi rank outside one of the city’s better hotels, he sped down the rank, braking to a sudden halt next to the first of a dozen people patiently queued and waiting, the mystery tour had began.

The passenger door immediately opened and almost falling into the seat was a thirty something business man dressed in a dishevelled suit, he clutched a briefcase and held some loose papers in his free hand. Unimpressed, Jack mumbled to himself. Christ, my first fare an’ it has to be drunk, who’s had a bloody long lunch.

The business man not having heard the driver’s brutal assessment, glanced over to him and smiled weakly as he asked. Hey Driver, take me to Ashgrove please, the Avenue, I’ll tell you the number, when I remember it, but there’s no rush though, not today anyway.

Jack nodded annoyed. Yeah okay.

The flow of traffic on Roma Street was quickly joined and both men remained silent, the fare broke the silence at the crest of Musgrave Road Red Hill and asked. Hey driver, can I ask you something?

A glance came from Jack to the man sitting beside him. Yeah sure, so what’s it to be?

The man hesitated. Uuh…. what’d you think of women?

They’re alright I suppose, the ones you can trust that is, But Jack’s reply carried a misogynist overtone that the fare did not pick up on.

The fare immediately sat up straighter in his seat and turned to face the driver. You married or involved?

No way.

The businessman continued to pursue the subject. No way huh?

After stopping for a red light opposite the burnt out shell of the old iconic Red Hill skating rink, Jack replied. No, not me, I’m too smart for that.

The man fell silent and dwelled on Jack’s words, the traffic light turned green and Jack drove on again. Then all of a sudden the man quipped, Never, hey? That’s weird, I mean… no offence… but you’re like in your thirties, I’d guess. And you’ve never been married, some guy’s would’ve been married at least twice by now.

Where’s this fuckin’ conversation goin’?

Just asking.

Look things don’t always work out the way you intend them to. Nah, it never worked out for me. Sometimes you meet a woman, who you think’s just right for you, only to find out later that she doesn’t feel the same way. I call that the bitch factor, so you’re married?

The man became slightly agitated. No not married… but I was living with a woman until last night and then out of nowhere she dropped a bombshell on me… she dumped me.

Huh, dumped you hey, Jack replied a little curious.

Jack sensed the man’s anger as he spat out vindictively. Yeah she dumped me, I’ll tell you how it was. She comes home late… all so fuckin’ sorry… then she lays it on me. Like, she’s involved with another man and we’re finished, just like that, the slut. She packed her shit and walked out on me and guess what? That bastard was waiting outside for her, just sitting in his car. I mean she was my woman and I really wanted to show him what she meant to me, to show her. What can a man do?

At first Jack did not answer, then his answer came with harshness. Not a thing, not a bloody thing, just let the bitch go.

The man looked at him disbelievingly. Nothing at all? Bullshit, there must be something right, something I can do to wake her up.

Nah nothing’ there’s nothin’ you can do.

The business man continued to stare at Jack, then he said in a whimper, But I gave her what she wanted. I loved her. I mean… I love her.

Jack took his eyes off the road for a few seconds to glance at the pained face of his fare. It doesn’t matter, because you can’t hold a woman if she doesn’t want to be held. Women are no mystery, you either love them too much or too little. I’ve got the same story…. the bitch I was with ditched me for another man too, no explanations, no goodbyes. One day she was there, the next she was gone.

What did you do about it, you did something right?

Yeah, I did somethin’, I thought if I broke them up she’d come back to me. That was one dumb move, it only pushed them closer together an’ I came out lookin’ like a real bastard. But that taught me a lesson an’ I haven’t been in a relationship since, the whole affair left a sour taste in my mouth.

The man agreed. I know where you’re coming from. I mean, I spent so much money on her, she never had to work. Really I was probably better off just paying for it, either way it’s costing money, right?

That’s one way of lookin’ at it.

The two men fell silent again, each alone with his thoughts, Jack thought of what his fare had said and the costs a man incurred for love, ‘Prostitutes, ladies of the night, call girls. However, there was one thing that could be said for them, at least they were honest, a straight forward business transaction, sex for cash. So different from a so called normal relationship, where love was the key word and what an overrated four letter word that was, so many men paid and paid again for love, when in reality all they really wanted was sex, a warm body to hold and feel good against.’

*****

At the end of Musgrave Road Jack turned right at another set of traffic lights and onto Ashgrove Avenue, then he glanced over to the businessman who still remained silent and lost in his own thoughts. Now Jack’s mind drifted back in time to his one and only encounter with a prostitute.

He had just turned eighteen and was on his first leave since joining the army. Two of his mates had guessed he was a virgin and had dared him to change his status, to become a man. Sheepishly, Jack had been led by his pals to one of the local cat houses and full of young men’s bravado they had rung the door bell of a garishly painted house with its welcoming red light above the front entrance.

They were greeted by the Madam and the three young men had been quickly ushered into the parlour, his pals insisted that he go first and they would pay for this historic night. Jack recalled how silly he felt as he waited in a parlour lined with plush, but well worn sofas. The lighting was soft, almost nonexistent and the room seemed empty, save for them, the Madam had taken him by the arm to lead him over to a woman sitting alone in a darkened corner of the parlour. As they had drawn near to her, the Madam had said. Collette, would you be so kind as to look after this young gentleman?

The older woman gave him her best cheesy smile as she turned away leaving them together. Jack had looked at Collette, who had smiled up at him with a pleasant smile, but he also noticed that her eyes seemed to hold back sadness. Collette stood up, she was wearing a flimsy black negligee and it become apparent to Jack that she wore no underwear of any sort. As he took in the fullness of her figure, with her ample breasts, he had seen that she was not unattractive. In fact there would have been a time not so long ago that she would have been seen as a real beauty. Collette had spoken to him in a kindly manner. And what’s your name Sweetie?

Jack remembered his mumbled reply as she took him by the hand and led him up a flight of carpeted stairs, then along a corridor lined by doors all painted black and bearing gold numerals. At number eight she had opened the door and waited as he entered, then closing it behind her she had joined him inside the room.

As Jack continued to drive, he grinned to himself as he recalled what had taken place next. Collette had asked him to undress, this he had done, carefully folding his clothes over a chair placed near the wall, until he stood nervously before her naked as the day he was born.

Collette had taken a washer from a basin of warm water and then as she sat on the edge of the double bed, she had reached out to take hold of him. Jack remembers how he had immediately hardened in response to her touch as she washed his genitals. When she had finished the washer was disposed of, next she had taken a condom from the draw of the bedside table as all the time she had continued to stroke him. Now fully erect, Collette had smiled at him and said. I’m very impressed Sweetie.

However, before she was able to place the condon on, it had happened and without any forewarning Jack ejaculated, Collette took the mishap in her stride, dismissing his acute embarrassment with, Don’t worry about that Sweetie, I sometimes have this effect on men.

She had retrieved the washer and wiped them both clean, then she smiled at him again and asked. Is this your first time?

Jack thought of how he had wanted to say that he had been with plenty of girls, but all he could do was mutter a tentative, Yes.

He remembered how she had smiled. Come on sweetie, we’ll soon change that and we won’t be needing this.

The condom was tossed onto the bedside table and with a well practiced movement, Collette removed her negligee and laid back on the bed to whisper. Come here Sweetie.

He had done as he was told and when he was above her, she once again took hold of him and helped him to enter her as she cooed. Now that feels nice, doesn’t it?

Jack recalled how he had not answered her, instead fuelled by youthful exuberance had commenced to try and push the poor woman through the mattress. It was then that he had felt Collette slap him on the shoulder as she whispered into his ear. Slow down Sweetie, it’s not a race enjoy it… take your time.

His assault had slowed and Collette voiced her approval. There, that’s better, you can feel it now, it’s such a nice feeling isn’t it?

Jack smiled to himself again as he remembered how an understanding woman had led him through the rituals of love making, her rhythm in unison with his and later her whispered words of encouragement. Harder sweetie, don’t hold back now, push into me as hard as you can. This’s what a man does with a woman… go on let yourself go.

Then came the release of his penned up energy, ‘So this’s what ruled the bodies of men and Women?’ Jack had thought as he had lain on top of an accommodating woman, catching his breath.

And Collette had stroked his hair as she told him. Always remember Sweetie, start slow, take your partner with you. Build the intensity and always be mindful that great sex is more about giving than receiving.

*****

Jack was jolted out of his memories and back to the present by the voice of the businessman beside him. Right, anyway what do we do about it? Sorry Driver, I mean what do I do about it, just let her go and do nothing?

Yeah, just let her go, Jack said not wanting to continue the conversation.

Are you sure, that seems a pretty weak response to me.

Yeah, don’t get caught up in it, women replace… only men grieve.

The man thought for a minute. You’re probably right, she must’ve been getting it on with him for sometime now. Hell, I started screwing her when she was going out with a friend of mine. She was pretty easy to bed back then… so I guess it’s come full circle.

Jack turned the cab into a side street called The Avenue, quirkily named seeing that it came off a road called Ashgrove Avenue and some way down the street he pulled up under the pointed hand of his fare and said sternly. I am right, most women can’t keep their legs together.

The business man paid the fare and gave a generous tip, then after thanking Jack, he got out of the cab and disappeared into his house. Jack stared after him for a while and then he plotted the Ashgrove area into the cab’s computer, did a U-turn and started to make his way back towards the city looking for his next fare. As he drove he thought. Why the hell do I get sucked in by fares like that, a drunk wallowin’ in self pity. No wonder his bitch gave him the flick, he’s just a loser an’ I have to give him advice that he won’t even remember when he’s sobered up. But worse than that I have to tell him how women have kicked me in the guts, well never again. In future if a fare wants to talk, it’ll be about sport, yeah, everyone loves sport.

*****

At the intersection of Ashgrove Avenue and Waterworks Road, Jack turned left and joined the stream of traffic heading into town for a Friday night. Jack’s mind became active as old memories resurfaced he did not want to entertain. And yet no matter how hard he tried, he could not wipe those thoughts from his head, ‘Women, the bitches, can you ever trust them? No, Never.’

A blurred vision of his mother, last seen so many years ago took hold of his thoughts,’Why? Mother why? Why’d you leave me?’

A memory as vivid as it was more than half a life time ago had been burnt deep into his psyche. Jack remembered that autumn day when he and his brother Geoff had arrived home from school, he was ten and in the fifth grade, Geoff two years older was in the seventh. Their mother had been waiting for them as they entered the house, she sat them both down on the sofa in the living room and told them that things had changed between their father and herself. And the best thing to do for all concerned was for her to leave.

He recalled how she had knelt in front of them, how she had told them that she would always love her boys, he could still smell her cheap perfume. Their mother had hugged and kissed each of them in turn, then she had stood up in front of them and for a time just stared down at them. Jack remembered how he had looked up at his mother, not really understanding what she had said.

Then the realisation had dawned on him as he saw the sadness on her face, the tears welling up in her eyes, then she had calmly picked up the two suitcases and turned to walk out of the house and her boy’s young lives, never turning to look back. A lump came into Jack’s throat as the cries of a ten year old rang in his head, ‘Mum, please don’t go, please stay with me, please Mum, I’ll be good, Mum please don’t leave me, I’m sorry, I’ll be a good boy… Mum don’t go!’

The car she walked out to was quickly entered as the driver placed her bags in the boot, then it had been slowly driven down their street to turn the corner at the end of the block and his mother disappeared, Jack had never come to terms with his mother’s leaving. If she loved him, why did she desert him, for the first couple of years birthday and Christmas gifts were received, but never with a return address, eventually these stopped coming as if the earth itself had swallowed his mother up and all contact ceased and he never saw her again.

His father had tried to give his sons a happy home, even taking up with another woman hoping she would become their new mother. A role she rejected and after a time she left too, once again three lost men were alone again and just before his eighteenth birthday, Jack enlisted in the army not wanting to follow his brother Geoff, who had joined the navy some twelve months earlier. His father died whilst he was on an overseas posting, another cruel loss, Jack loved his father with all his heart and had never forgiven his mother for deserting him. Jack knew his father had pinned away, just given up once his boys were old enough to face life by themselves.

Jack shook his head trying to dispel unwanted memories, but try as he may they kept on resurfacing. Sharon… Jack shook his head violently and gasped out loud. No, not Sharon.

Suddenly, Sharon the woman of his dreams took centre place in his mind’s eye, she was the one who had taken all the pain away and made him feel like a man. He had met her just after his discharge from the army, a six year stint which had brought him no real satisfaction. Jack had been twenty four, Sharon, a year younger and it had been a whirlwind romance. She had been everything he was looking for, the woman with all looks, the sexy body and most of all Sharon was intelligence.

Jack allowed himself a slight smile as he remembered the happier times they had shared together, he had denied her nothing, three years of pure bliss spent together and he had been looking forward to marriage, to having children, to a lifetime of growing old with someone you loved. Warning signs, if they were there any they had not been seen by Jack and it had come as a complete surprise, a mind shattering destruction of his world when Sharon had told him that she wanted out.

At the worst intersection of Brisbane City where five roads meet, Jack turned right off Musgrave Road and headed straight across to College Road. His fingers tensed as he gripped the steering wheel tighter, then he said out loud with lingering anger. Sharon you unfaithful bitch, to leave me the way you did you spoilt it all. How can I trust any of you, there must be a woman out there who’s worthy of my trust, of my love.

*****

Jack did a big sweep over the top of Spring Hill and drove his cab from College Road to the intersection of Albert Street and turned right onto it, he drove down the hill past the shadowy homosexual world of the bum boys parading along the stone wall of Albert Park. At Ann Street he turned right onto the one way thoroughfare and then he turned right again at Roma Street and slipped onto his favourite cab rank outside the Crest Hotel behind four other taxis.

With time to wait before the next fare, he stepped from the vehicle to light up a cigarette and then he leaned against the side of the cab as the toxic smoke slowly calmed him. Jack took in the passing parade of people walking up and down the footpath, he saw the young women, some alone, some in the company of a girlfriend, others walking arm in arm with her man and as he watched he thought, ‘Maybe, I’m being a little harsh thinkin’ all women are the same. There must be a woman I can trust, but I won’t find her here.’

*****

Most of us carry baggage from past relationships, this is just an inevitable part of being alive and interacting with others. It is just one of the burdens life places on our shoulders and some of us carry more than others and so it was with Jack Kaynes, he was carrying a trunk load of it and all of it had to do with women. Mistrust is a dangerous void and so is obsession and the question is: Do you know when you have become obsessed, I think not.

Chapter Two

Later that night Jack dropped a fare off in Chapel Hill, one of Brisbane City’s more affluent areas, a suburb of mostly undeserved wealth, some flaunted in a somewhat self congratulatory style of bigger houses, longer driveways and even higher fences. Jack had no time for this sort of decadence, it only left him cold and he quickly drove out of the leafy avenues of Chapel Hill back towards the lights of the city.

Once on Moggill Road, Jack continued for another three kilometres, then he pulled over to the side of the road, got out of the car and reached up under the driver’s