Journal Entry #4

7/21/2019 Journal Entry #4

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It was Friday and the clock on Arthur’s desk read 6:00 pm. Clocks were a bit old

fashioned, but Arthur liked old fashioned things. He put on his suit jacket, picked up his

leather briefcase and headed out of office. As he neared his car, Arthur reached into his

jacket pocket for his car keys. He felt something that he was certain was not there before.

Arthur looked at the red business card in his hand. The glossy black font on it was made

to resemble beautiful feminine penmanship. It read:

Arthur looked all around him, surely this was a joke. He didn’t have many friends;

certainly none who went to Bali’s. He turned the card over to see if there was an “April

Fool’s!” printed on the other side, even though it was June. As an afterthought, he reached

into his other jacket pocket. Surely enough, there was a laundry ticket for Carl’s.

Arthur lived alone in a nice, yet simple apartment in the city. He went to his nine-

to-five job Monday through Friday. He jogged in the afternoons four times a week. On the

weekends, he sometimes went swimming with Ben. He’d had one serious relationship in

his twenty-eight years and that had ended over a year ago. Arthur seldom did anything

outside of his routine, and had never rendezvoused with a mysterious stranger. Then it

dawned on him: he seldom did anything outside of his routine, and had never

rendezvoused with a mysterious stranger! Well, that was about to change, given that this

was not a joke after all.

Arthur:

Meet me

tonight at Bali’s, 0:00 sharp.

Wear the suit you are to pick up at Carl’s now.

The laundry ticket is in your other pocket

Do not disappoint me

…



Looking around him once more, he got in his car and drove to Carl’s. Arthur gave

the laundry attendant the ticket, half expecting the man to tell him there was nothing with

that ticket number. The man left the counter a moment and came back with a garment

bag. “Thank you very much, Mr. Quinn, enjoy your evening,” was all the man said as he

handed the bag to Arthur, who took it hesitantly. He got back into his car and drove home

to his apartment.

By now, he was starting to get a little excited. Everything seemed to be real, though

he wasn’t sure what “everything” was. After a shower he looked at the clock on his

bedside table. It was 7:30. Still unsure of what to do and what to expect, he opened the

garment bag and put on the suit. Arthur made a decent salary, but he would never have

been able to buy this suit. It was Italian made, obviously handcrafted, and tailored to

perfection. Inside the garment bag was also a pair of shoes, equally Italian, equally

expensive. He donned all the garments and looked at himself in the mirror, observing the

sleek lines and the flawless fabric. With his hair still damp and ruffled and the charcoal

grey suit, he looked like a different man; he felt like a different man. He decided to go all

in.

He picked up the phone and called a nearby car rental place. He asked how much

it cost to rent a Corvette for the night. It was well within his budget, so he asked to have

it delivered immediately, wondering where this assertiveness had come from. He felt

invigorated, powerful.

Arthur handed the Corvette keys to the valet at Bali’s. He looked at the long line of

hopefuls waiting to get in and knew it had been too good to be true. As he deliberated

whether to get in line or not, the impeccably dressed host walked up to him. “I apologize



for the wait, Mr. Quinn, I had not seen you arrive. Please, come in. Your party is in the

VIP lounge.” This time there was no hesitation on Arthur’s behalf. He strode through the

front doors of Bali’s as if he was a regular in the most trendy, most expensive club in the

city. He glanced at the beautiful ceramic timepiece on his wrist, the one ostentatious item

he owned. It had been a gift from his father when he had graduated from college. It was

9:55. Arthur was many things, but late was never one of them.

He went directly into the VIP lounge, walked up to the bar and ordered a scotch on

the rocks, surprising himself in doing so. Then he turned around and leaned his elbows

on the bar behind him to observe the rest of the crowd. Beautiful people, all young, all

dressed in the height of fashion, all masters of the universe. Arthur had never been in a

place like this before, but oddly, he did not feel as out of place as he thought he would.

Then he spotted her, walking slowly toward him. Arthur was not sure if the woman was

walking slowly or if he was seeing her in slow motion. She was the most beautiful woman

he had ever seen in his life. She was shorter than him by several inches, even in the

stilettos she was wearing, but somehow she still seemed tall. She was lean and lithe, and

moved with the feline grace of a panther. Her olive skin was smooth and he found himself

wanting to touch it. She had long dark hair that fell in waves past her shoulders and

framed the gorgeous heart-shaped face. Perfect eyebrows arched over startling green

eyes that matched her slinky dress in both color and sparkle. As she reached the place

where he stood, her full lips parted in a smile revealing perfect teeth and a single dimple.

Arthur was not the kind of man that normally ogled women. Of course he would

occasionally spare a glance to one lovely creature or other, but the woman that stood

before him had him speechless.



“I’m glad you decided to come,” she said. There was a hint of an accent, though

he could not place it. “My name is Laura. Please, sit with me.”

As she took his hand to lead him to the place where they would sit, electricity raced

up his arm. What was wrong with him? He felt like a teenage boy, he prayed to all the

deities he could name that he didn’t act like one. They sat in a secluded corner in some

very comfortable, very opulent armchairs. Arthur sat looking at Laura, realizing he still

had absolutely no clue what he was doing there, but thanking the same deities that he

had come. Laura leaned closer to him to be able to be heard over the music without

speaking loudly. She was just a breath away and her scent was intoxicating.

“Arthur,” she said, “we asked you to come here tonight to undergo a test.”

We? Test? These were vague questions in the back of Arthur’s mind. He was too

distracted with the timbre of her voice, with the tiny birthmark on the side of her neck.

“I cannot disclose at this moment the nature of the test or of our corporation. If you

pass, I will introduce you to a world and a life beyond your wildest dreams. If you pass,

when you wake up tomorrow, you will find a silver briefcase in your room containing all

the explanations and all the instructions you will need. If you fail, don’t worry, you won’t

remember a thing.” She smiled again, a carefree and innocent smile, like she was

discussing which cookies to have with her tea.

Arthur’s mind was still foggy. He didn’t know what to say or do. This seemed like

something straight out of a movie. “What do I have to do?” he finally managed to say.

“Just say yes.”



As soon as the words came out of her mouth, he knew he could not deny her

anything. “Yes,” he said simply.

He felt a prick on his arm and everything went dark. Everything after that came in

flashes of consciousness, as if someone else were doing things with his body and not

him. Two men in dark suits in a back room. A tall blond woman handing him an envelope.

Riding in the back of a limousine with a very elegant elderly man. Bits and pieces of their

conversation. Walking down a marble hallway and standing in front of a beautifully carved

mahogany door. Laura. Laura in his arms, in his bed, her taste her scent. Then, darkness.

Arthur opened his eyes and looked at the familiar ceiling of his room. The clock on

his bedside table read 10:24, an unusually late waking hour for him, even on a Saturday.

Still in bed, he looked around his tidy room. Everything was in its place. He chuckled to

himself. What a crazy dream, straight out of an action movie. The house phone next to

the clock rang. House phones were a bit old fashioned, but Arthur liked old fashioned

things. That would be Ben, he would be asking if Arthur was going swimming. As Arthur

reached for the phone, he saw it. On the floor next to the bedside table, stood a silver

briefcase.

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Journal Entry #4