Jeremy took Simon to his place, a controlled environment where they could talk about everything without distractions. The mechanic was still shocked and more than peeved to have been found out. The world of The Black Queen should have left him alone just like he wished for when he stopped writing stories about her.
After being asked to sit down in the reporter’s office, a small but cozy room with a desk, two bookshelves, and two leather chairs, one of which was a rotating one, Simon freaked out when he saw him turn on a webcam and asked,
“What’s that for?”
“To record the interview, of course.”
“You didn’t say anything about cameras. I didn’t agree to this.”
“I need to keep a record of everything we discuss today to choose which parts to use for my story,” Jeremy shrugged.
“Sure, but you don’t need to film me to do that. I don’t want my face plastered everywhere! No cameras, please.”
“Relax, no one is going to see the footage except me.”
“One person is already too many and you said you’d respect and protect my privacy.,” Simon said. “If that thing stays on, then I’m not talking to you and you can kiss your human angle goodbye.”
“Okay.” Jeremy nodded and turned off the camera. To make sure there weren’t any doubts left, he even had his setup stored in a locked drawer. “Can I at least capture your voice? This will go a lot quicker if I don’t have to take notes the old-fashioned way.”
“I still don’t like it, but sure.”
“One moment, please.”
Jeremy left the office and returned a minute later with an old tape recorder in his right hand. This was a relic from times long gone much like the legend he was unearthing, and a safeguard in case the recorder on his phone started acting up. The old silver rectangle had saved him many times before and he hoped the good vibes associated with it would make the forthcoming conversation much more dynamic and appealing for both of them.
“Wow! I haven’t seen one of those in ages!” Simon noted. “It still works?”
“Better than most of the things I use today. It’s not that much different from a classic car.”
“I do love my classics.”
"Yes, I am aware that you do. Is there anything else before we begin?”
Yeah. Two things. First, I’d like to read the article before you run in to make sure nothing personal slips through the cracks..."
“That’s an unusual request, but sure. I can compromise on that too if it makes you more at ease.”
“Oh, it will! Thank you.”
“Okay. And the second one?”
“You said something about beer...”
“Ah, yes!” Jeremy smiled. “There’s a little cooler right behind your chair, so if you don’t mind...”
Simon turned around and looked down to find a clever little thing. The cooler’s outside resembled an old shoe box, complete with small tears on the “cardboard” surface and water stains in the lower left corner. If it weren’t for the electric charger sticking out from the bottom, he would have been fooled. He opened the lid and found a six-pack waiting for them among an ocean of ice.
“Ah! This shit is awesome!” he said, feeling more comfortable. Minor details mattered in stressful situations. He took a can for himself and tossed the other in Jeremy’s way. They opened them simultaneously, the satisfying fizz making the room come alive. Simon had the first sip and said, “Oh, this is good stuff!”
“Good enough to loosen your tongue?”
“We’ll see.”
“Let’s get the show rolling then, and what better way to do that than at the genesis of it all. Why did you do it? Why did you start writing erotic stories?”
“I had a friend during my freshman year in college - Let’s call him C. - who had a very dirty mind. I was one of the few persons he came clean about his mind control fetish. Sometimes, I would catch him reading these salacious tales online and I remember thinking to myself there wasn’t special about them. Anyone could open a text document, write things down, and get their fifteen minutes of fame making other people jerk off.”
“That sounds harsh.”
“Yeah, I agree. I wasn’t subtle back then, and he called me out on it. He wanted me to prove I was right by writing something and having it posted online.”
“And you accepted the challenge out of pride or spite?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Fair enough, but The Black Queen wasn’t the first character that came to mind, right? You wrote other things before finding your niche?”
“I did, but don’t ask me names because I don’t remember them all. I know there were a few with shapeshifting aliens and people getting turned into drones, but the details elude me. Those were weird times.”
“Weird how?”
“I mean, and it was college, and I was surrounded by guys that loved to party. I skipped a lot of classes because I was either drunk or high and some of the craziest ideas were born from such altered states of mind. I’ve moved on from those days now.”
“Do you ever miss the craziness of those early years?”
“Not really, and I don’t see how that applies to this interview.” Simon curled up on his seat.
“Forgive me,” Jeremy said, noticing his sudden defensive posture. “I was just trying to make a comparison between the person you were then and who you are right now. Would you say you’ve changed a lot?”
“Everybody changes. I have new interests too and a life I’m proud of. My wife and daughters are everything to me.”
“Does anyone in your family know your colorful past as the author of these strange hypnotic fantasies?”
“No. I thought about telling my wife because I didn’t want anything to come between us, but since I wasn’t planning on ever returning to that world, I decided against it. I trust she would be okay with it and keep my secret, but still... My daughters are also oblivious to it, of course, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Remember, no mention of them at all in your piece.”
“It’s not forgotten.” Jeremy sipped some more beer and let out a casual burp. “Sorry.”
“No problem.”
“Okay. Now that we’ve got the motive that got you into writing, what can you tell me about the Black Queen stories? I read them all before meeting you and she’s quite a peculiar character, isn’t she? Where did she come from? What’s the story behind her and the tales you penned?”
Simon adjusted himself in his chair and squinted as if trying to access a part of his brain that had been dormant for a long time. His memories were fuzzy, more like black and white pictures in a world that was supposed to be all sunshines and rainbows. He finished his beer and grabbed another, drinking half of it before saying,
“That’s a good question.”
“You don’t remember?”
“I remember bits and pieces. It’s possible I was having one of those days when it happened.”
“I’m going to need a little more than that to use as reference.” Jeremy interlocked his fingers and then put them to rest over his left leg.
“Hmm, right... I suppose the old Neverlast series had something with it...”
“Neverlast?” Jeremy looked at him, confused. “I think I’ve heard that name before, but I don’t know what it means. Enlighten me, please.”
“I guess you weren’t a gamer back then.”
“Gamer? Not really. You’re talking about a series of video games?”
Not just a series, but the series. The Neverlast series was a popular franchise of Action RPGs inspired by folklore and supernatural tales. Four games had been produced between the end of the 90s and the early 2000s, all of which had sold millions of copies at retail. They were famous for their flashy combat, humorous characters interactions, and scantily-clad villainesses who would stop at nothing to control the world. The plot of each title became stranger and racier as the sequels were produced, but no one seemed to mind. They were a success with the critics as well, and whatever flaws they had, were overlooked in the reviews. Simon hadn’t been as enthusiastic about them as some of his classmates, but he still enjoyed them, and had fun pulling off ridiculous combos that that almost ground the frame rate to a halt.
“They were all the rage,” he continued. “and I think the craze influenced the creation of The Black Queen.”
“Interesting...” Jeremy noted, adding another thing to look into when he had the time. He could already visualize how the article was going to play out in his mind, or at least the opening section. There was still a lot of ground to cover if he was going to make something interesting out of it. “But that wasn’t the only thing, right?”
“Now that you mention it...”
“Yes?”
“There was a woman one of my friends was dating. She was all bubbly and had the most gorgeous eyes I had ever seen. Looking at them was like being face to face with infinity and beyond. They were violet just like the character’s eyes and... God, she was gorgeous!”
“Oh? You had a little crush on her, perhaps?”
“What? No! It wasn’t like that at all. Believe it or not but despite all the partying, drugs, and booze, I wasn’t into girls much, especially those that were already taken. She was fun to be with and I enjoyed her company but that was it.”
“Okay,” Jeremy muttered, not convinced. Had he hit a nerve spot worth exploring? A bit of gossip would embellish the article and since he was already stooping so low by working on it anyway... He pushed a little deeper.
“It’s funny how women influence our decisions so much,” he said. “Does this beautiful lady with violet eyes have a name?”
“Yes, but I’m not going to tell you that,” Simon emptied the second can and eyed the third one.
“Can you at least tell me if she attended the same college as you guys?”
“I could, but why should I do that? I don’t want you looking her up.”
“You’re not making this easy for me, you know?”
“And you’re being a little too nosy for my taste. You don’t need that info. You’re just fishing for more content.”
“Why do you say that? Have you ever written an article for a magazine before?”
“No.”
“Then please don’t tell me how to do my job. I’ve been in the business and details like these help sell a story. People like them because it makes them feel more connected to the events being described, I mean, who doesn’t love a hint of romance?”
“Romance? What the fuck?” Simon growled. “I already told you it wasn’t like that. D and I were just friends!”
Taking the hint, Jeremy leaned forward and turned off both recorders. With a mischievous smile, he said, “D, huh? I bet that’s the actual initial of her first name. How about we talk a little more about her, off the record?”
“I don’t want to do that.”
Jeremy shook his head. Simon was being quite adamant about it, yet his body language suggested otherwise. Every time this woman was brought up, his voice trembled and his heart raced across his chest. There was something there, an old flame that perhaps hadn’t been extinguished. It was time to go for a more direct approach.
“Simon, come on! Your wife isn’t here and you never told her about your life as an erotic author, so what’s the big deal? It’s obvious you had feelings for this D, unrequited I’m guessing, and that influenced your writing, too. If I were to put something like that in the article, people would eat this shit up, I’m telling you!”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Simon said, exasperated. “Can we move on, please? I’m getting tired of talking about this.”
“Have it your way,” Jeremy said, but the seed had already been planted. He would explore that angle to the fullest when writing the piece to attract a wider demographic. Not everyone is into urban legends of erotic origin, but if you add a love story to the mix every woman wants to know more, no matter what. It wasn’t a generalization, but knowing what his readers liked. He turned on the recorders again and said, “So, you wrote three stories with this character, this beautiful and independent violet-eyed seductress. Did you ever expect her to become as popular as she did?”
“No, of course not. She was a just a wild fantasy, nothing more. I was surprised by all the feedback I got and even more when people started telling me they couldn’t get enough of her. My inbox was flooded all the time and that’s quite an eye-opening experience. It made me realize something about myself.”
“What was it?”
“That I don’t want to be the center of attentions. It started as a dare and then became a bit of fun, but all these people... they wanted more than I could give them. I received a lot of encouraging messages but there were also plenty of others that creeped me out. Many didn’t seem to understand I wasn’t enjoying writing as much as they liked reading them, and that’s when things started getting out of hand.”
“You got angry mail?”
“Lots of it. For every person who praised my ideas, two came along demanding I write more stories with The Black Queen. It was like they were addicted to the character and that didn’t sit well with me. I was already feeling a bit discouraged when I met my future wife and the rest is history. I said my goodbyes to the character, and then...”
“... things got even crazier,” Jeremy completed.
“Yeah, and that we’re still talking about it after all this time is also crazy.”
“When did you first hear about the legends?”
“I don’t know. Either I read it somewhere online or someone said something to me. I didn’t know what to make of it at the time and when I realized that the stories were everywhere, I knew I had to distance myself even more.”
“But why? Wasn’t a part of you proud of having inspired such a mythology?”
“No, I wasn’t. It made no sense to me how things got so out of hand. I followed the tales for a while but they no longer had anything to do with the character I created. They were its own thing, an alternate reality that was stranger than anything my imagination could have mustered. To this day, I still don’t get how this happened.”
“And you were never curious enough to find out?”
“No, and I wish you weren’t, either. I would have been just fine without reliving all of this. Are we done?”
“I would still like to ask you a few more questions.”
“Sorry, I think I’ve had enough. You’ve got your human element, Mr. Winters. Now, let me out of here.”
“And I thought we were doing so well...”
Playtime was over and there was nothing Jeremy could say to change the mechanic’s mind. He agreed to end the interview on one condition: if he needed anything else, he would reach out to him again.
“I’d rather you didn’t, but okay,” Simon said as they were leaving the house. He took the last beer with him and drank it on the way to his house. It was his turn to cook that night and he didn’t want to be late.
“I wish I could say this was fun, but I’d be lying. I wish you all the luck for your article, though.” Simon said, outside his driveway.
“Thank you,” Jeremy replied. “I still have a lot of work ahead of me, though. When everything is done, you’ll be the first to know.”
After parting ways, Jeremy returned home to listen to the recording and plan his next moves. He wrote a couple of paragraphs, a sketch of the intro, and then went through a list of known myths where The Black Queen was the main character. There was no way he could tackle them all, so he had to make a choice... after dinner.
Unlike Simon, he wasn’t in the mood for cooking so he ordered Italian and spent the rest of the evening going through his notes and looking for other scenarios worth pursuing. It was past 11:30 pm when he realized just how tired he was. He turned off the computer, threw the pasta leftovers in the trash and went to bed, still thinking on the road ahead.
And then, he had the strangest dream...

((to be continued))