One in Ten Ch. 02

"Likewise, no one is addressing men. Women are assuming we will mill around like cattle in a pen waiting for the cowgirls to deal with the wolf problem," I noted. "If women wait, there is one less target in the nightclub. Every hour a man waits may be the last hour of his life. I've been told that men don't vote."

"That may be comforting for you in the short run, but I am telling you now, men will be voting by locking and baring their doors at night. The night life is going to be girls only and dildos are going to become cold comfort after a while," I continued. "I know that attitude will be reflected in the voting box."

Isobel's gaze bore twin holes through me for several seconds. I was sure she was dissecting my arguments, looking for something to rake me over the coals with. Staying ahead of the curve meant taking education chances, especially with a weak argument and very little data to support it.

"I expect to see you Saturday night," Isobel commented.

"What would give you that idea?" came tumbling out before I could stop myself.

"Huh?" Isobel regarded me. Francesca raised a hand to her forehead in mental anguish.

"You are a pig; technically you are a sow," I went with my brain aneurism.

"You degraded me when we first met. You are the kind of deviant that if I saw you in a dark alleyway, I would turn and run the other way. I am certainly never going to be in a room alone with you, or any of your perverted buddies, if I can possibly help it. I apologize if I ever gave you the impression I wanted to be one of your circus freaks. That was never my intent," I emphasized.

"What makes you think you can talk to me this way, Israel?" Isobel said in a deadly, angry voice.

"I have no clue, but I must confess that it makes me feel really, really good," I smiled. "I imagine I'm the first one to tell you the truth about the monster you have become and God knows you deserve it."

"I am going to break you," she glared with a shark-like smile of her own.

"Get in line with the rest of your gender," I muttered.

"Get out," she seethed. Francesca and I beat feet to the elevator.

"Was that really necessary?" Francesca inquired out of the side of her mouth.

"No, definitely not but, I repeat, it felt good," I sighed.

"That was a spot-on assessment, by the way," she sighed as well. "She's a monster."

"Thanks for the support in there," I noted sarcastically.

"When committing suicide, it is rude to take your friends with you," Francesca quoted.

"You are my friend now?" I looked her over.

"With your spastic personality, can you really afford to turn me away?" she countered.

"Probably not," I muttered.

"Good. I'll find you a good place to take Bethany - well lit with plenty of people," she offered.

"Does no one realize I'm pretty broke until payday? I had to put these pants on my credit card," I grunted.

"Expense the clothing to the office. I'll cover it," Francesca informed me. "Make Bethany pay for the meal and taxi."

"Is there any way I can avoid going out with Bethany?" I begged.

"No. You've exhausted my goodwill for the week. I can't have the two of you feuding. I can provide some cover from Isobel but I need my own house in order," she explained. The saving grace for the day was that when we arrived at the office, it was time to go home.

The metro ride home was another turn at 'running the gauntlet'. I lucked out by bumping into an investment banker named Justin. I was afraid to do more than look relieved to have a fellow male cover my ass - literally. Men who don't want to be groped stood back to back to force women to look us in the eyes when they molested us.

"So what do you think is going on?" Justin looked over his shoulder and asked me. Seeing my uncertainty, he added, "I saw your video a few minutes ago, so I thought you might know more than they are telling us." By that he meant women. I wouldn't have said that in a metro crowded with women, but hey.

"You are in a relationship?" I guessed.

"Three," Justin answered. "My supervisor Estelle, a co-worker, Teddi, and a real estate agent named Nancy. How many have you picked up?"

"None," I answered.

I could have caused a riot by saying 'I'd rather masturbate in the shower than touch any of the women I've met'. Provided I lived, I would be institutionalized.

"I have six sisters," he hinted. One of the side benefits of having it be so hard to keep a boy alive was you usually ended up with multiple sisters who needed you to find someone for them.

In China it was different; they existed in a system which roughly translated as 'communities'. Essentially men lived with their female relations with the oldest female in charge. Male sexual favors were a bargaining chip for their matriarch to use. They didn't sell their men; that would be slavery.

No, when a man left his 'mother's' community and went to his wife's, the wife's house 'gifted' his old community with something of value. Not slavery at all. Better yet, the man now had to service the all the women in his 'wife's' community. One urban legend had it that a guy discovered he was entering a community with eighty age-appropriate women.

The guy ran for it, was about to be recaptured so killed himself instead of going back. The poor bastard, disguised as a woman, was boarding a plane for Australia when the police closed in. He chose to swallow gasoline and set himself on fire. I felt for the guy. Had he made Australia or New Zealand, he would have been safe.

Those two nations were 'Male Free Zones'; if you set foot in either one, you were automatically granted citizenship and legal protection. Almost every other nation agreed to repatriate 'lost' males. Needless to say, North America didn't give men passports to either destination. All of this put being molested on public transit and having some guy I had just met peddling his sisters to me in perspective.

"My youngest sister is sixteen," Justin kept at it. "The oldest is thirty-four."

"Your Mom was ambitious," I kept it neutral.

"She is very attractive and very fertile. I have five nieces too, though none of my sisters are married yet," he grinned.

"Do you have any children of your own?" I evaded. I saw that shadow cross his face.

"I had a son with Teddi but he didn't make it," Justin sighed. "We still have to keep trying."

"Of course," I nodded. Justin got the message; I didn't want to talk about it. Sure, some guys like Justin embraced society's expectations. There were also guys like me who didn't and since we wanted to avoid trouble with the law, we avoided the subject.

Justin exited two stops before mine. Before leaving we agreed to stick together on the ride home when we could. The lucky man didn't have to be at work until nine, so he took a later ride in the morning. He was also twenty-six, thus outside of the target range for what was going on. When I got off the metro, three women asked to accompany me home.

They didn't really ask. Oh, they used the words 'if you like' but I knew better. I had no good reason to say 'no'. I could throw a tantrum, but what would I tell the cops when they showed up? 'Sorry officers, these three nice ladies who ride the metro with me decided to walk me home and I freaked out about it - because I'm a nutjob.'

At my condo I was struggling to find the strength to fend off the three women at my door when the opposite door opened up and a medium sized, fit brunette walked out. She took in the four of us. I knew her name but we had never met.

"Israel, Angel and I left a few things in your kitchen last night," she lied as she sashayed to my side. "Can I pick them up?"

Three women I didn't know versus one woman I didn't know; those were my choices.

"Sure thing Roni," I forced a smile; Roni the paramedic, Detective Kristi's roommate. "Ladies," I addressed the others, "thank you so much for seeing me home safely, but I need to get the place cleaned up before going on a date tonight."

"Are you going to see her more than once?" one of them asked - Fatima, I think.

"You don't get to ask that question," Roni interrupted my response. She was an energetic, tanned Caucasian woman and she muscled her way between me and the others.

"He doesn't read as attached," the copper haired Cassie said.

"We are working on it, Angel and I," Roni growled, "and Angel is a cop with a gun, so the rest of you should go home now."

"Are you threatening us?" Fatima got right into Roni's face, or would have if she hadn't been a head taller than Roni.

"Yes," Roni grinned with her head tilted up, "Yes I am."

"Honestly I only want to get into my place and clean up," I intervened. This insane stand-off was mostly a reminder that I was the only man on the whole God-damn block. I knew what I had to do.

I stepped past Roni and kissed Fatima, Cassie, and Yolanda on the cheek, thanked them and that seemed to pacify their feelings for the time though I'd pay for this familiarity tomorrow morning.

"Thank you," I murmured to Roni after they left.

"Angel told me to keep an eye out for you today," Roni turned but kept annoyingly in my personal space.

"Ummm," I stammered. "Okay."

"Do you really have a date tonight?" Roni kept talking while I fumbled with my lock while keeping my back to the door. "Oh, I'm freaking you out, aren't I?" she clued in then stepped back.

"Yes you are," I sighed with relief, "and I've been told I have a date but she hasn't called yet."

"Do you want me to go back to my place?" Roni asked softly.

"If you could please," I acknowledged. "Thank you again for the coming out to help me."

"Angel thinks you are special," Roni informed me. She glided back to her place and disappeared inside.

Great. I wished she didn't think about me at all. I went inside my own domicile, checked out each room and closet before returning to my refrigerator for a drink then my sofa to check my answering machine displayed on my TV screen. I had over fifty messages. I wasn't aware I knew that many people in the city.

One was from Detective Kristi, two were from Bethany, three were from the Metropolitan Police and the rest were from a variety of different numbers I didn't recognize. I called Kristi first, confirming that I was home safe and that she would be by sometime after midnight. The first call from Bethany gave the place and time of our date.

The second told me to ignore the first message and named a new place to show up at - same time. I called Bethany back and told her I couldn't make it until 9:30. My excuse was my workout schedule. The real reason was I wanted as little after-date time as possible. Either she let me off the hook or she bought my lie.

My third call was to the police.

"Detective Somerset Trainer, GED," the woman said. She was a stern serious red-head with dead grey eyes. I'm sure I had nightmares about a woman like this. Of greater importance was the GED - the Gender Enforcement Division aka Sex Crimes.

"This is Israel Jensen. You called me," I replied. It was unnecessary to use my name - caller ID and all.

"Yes, Mr. Jensen. We need you to come down to the Plaza Central Station for an interview. We will expect you at 1:00 p.m. tomorrow," she told me.

"Ah...what is this pertaining to," I stumbled with the words.

"This is an official police investigation," Somerset answered. "That's all you need to know."

"Oh, I'm not coming in," I blurted out. The look on her face was priceless. I hung up. Five seconds later the phone beeped.

"Mr. Jensen," Somerset appeared uncertain. "We seem to have been disconnected."

"No, I hung up," I answered.

"You can't do that," she barked. "Am I going to have to send a patrol unit to pick you up?"

"I haven't broken the law," I mumbled.

"How does Obstruction of Justice hit you?" she replied. I was collapsing inside. I couldn't understand why I was digging my heels on this matter. It wasn't like I could win.

"What am I obstructing?" I snapped. "You aren't telling me shit, so shut up and stop wasting my time or get off your Goddamn ass and tell me what this is about!"

There was a deafening silence.

"You stay right there," she stated calmly. "We'll be right over."

"Bring a search warrant because I'm not answering the door," I countered.

"What? Listen up you bastard," she got out.

"Since you seemed to have forgotten it, I'm a citizen and that means I have rights and you are trampling on them along with my patience," I interrupted. "I'm invoking my right to counsel as well, so when you want to talk to me, my lawyer needs to be present." I had no clue where to get a lawyer from.

I had no money and the barristers willing to face down the police for a man's benefit were few and far between.

"Keep talking asshole," she groused. "You are digging yourself a deeper grave every time you open your mouth."

"For what?" I groaned. "I don't know anything about anything. I just moved to this city and I know a grand total of four people well enough to comfortably use their first name and one of those is the cop who is keeping an eye on me. Do you have any questions or can I say goodbye?"

"We will be talking soon enough," Somerset grinned.

"I don't think so and goodbye," I signed off. I had truly boned myself for no reason I could comprehend. I called Detective Kristi. She couldn't protect me, I didn't expect her too.

"Detective Kristi, I need some help," I asked when she answered.

"Israel, can you make it quick," she said. "I'm in the middle of something."

"I need the name of a good criminal defense attorney, I'm about to get arrested," I informed her.

"Shit," she muttered. "I'll call you back." With that, she was gone. There was nothing else to do but start dinner. As soon as the veggie pasta went into the boiling water, the doorbell rang.

"Who is it?" I said over the system.

"It is the police," a strange woman responded. "Open up." I shrugged. I certainly wasn't going to invite them in. I had already lost but I wasn't going to make it easy on them. They actually waited over a minute before finally the cops figured that out. They overrode my lock and opened the door.

In came two uniformed officers.

"You can't come in," I called out from the kitchen.

"Huh? Mr. Jensen, we have come to take you downtown," the lead cop stated and came my way.

"Where is your warrant? If you don't have a warrant, you are breaking the law," I held my ground.

"It is called probable cause. Do we need to restrain you?" she said. The second cop was scanning my dwelling. I half-turned my body so that the closest cop - the talker - could see that I held the handle to a pot of boiling water (and pasta). Her hand went to her taser. She had a pistol as well, but I hated to think what a man had to do to actually get shot by the police.

"Put it down," the cop cautioned me. Cop Two sensed her partner's apprehension and angled for a shot at me as well.

"It is my dinner," I informed her.

"Put it down or you will be tasered," Cop One demanded. Hurting the police was worse than stupid; it would be an actual legal violation.

"I am going to slowly put it on the back burner and cut off the front one," I stated.

"Last warning," she threatened.

"That's right; I'm standing over a burning hot surface and you are going to light me up," I sighed. I moved the pot back and cut off the burner and I didn't experience extreme pain.

"Put your hands on the counter top, palms down, and spread your legs," Cop One ordered.

"What the hell is going on?" Kuiko growled. The cops had left the door open.

"It is a police matter ma'am," Cop Two moved to block Kuiko's entry.

"Israel, what's going on?" Kuiko asked of me.

"I don't know beyond a grievous violation of my civil rights," I answered. "They have no warrant for my detention or entry into my dwelling, but here they are in my kitchen getting ready to detain me by force," I mused. I was about to be physically restrained. After the week I'd been having, I figured that would break me, rendering the rest of my resistance mute.

"Ma'am, this is a police matter," Cop Two repeated. "Go back to your dwelling."

"No!" Zuiko insisted. "You are not running off with our only guy." All I could think of was 'Wow, Zuiko really, really, really wants to get laid'. She barely knew me. Cop One put her hands on me and started to move me into the desired position.

I countered that by linking my fingers together in front of me and we began to struggle.

"Lady, leave or you will be arrested," Cop Two threatened.

"No way," Zuiko held her ground. "He's the only guy on the block and the only other guy in a two block radius is a drugged out zombie. You two want to start a riot, go right ahead, but you can't just grab our only male without some sort of authorization."

The two cops stopped. They had no qualms about annihilating my rights, but pissing off several hundred already edgy women was enough to give them pause. It was humiliating though not unexpected.

"We are going to call this in," Cop One compromised.

Earlier in the day I had woven a lie about community. I wasn't being spared because I was a part of a community. I wasn't their neighbor. I was being saved on the belief that I would reciprocate with sexual favors, not for any skill or talent I might bring to the group. Zuiko thought she was doing me a favor. I genuinely believed she thought she was my friend yet even she stated my prime value as that of a sperm donor.

Seconds later the phone rang. It was Detective Trainer.

"Mr. Jensen, what is your malfunction?" she grated.

"I wanted to be treated as an equal," I met her gaze, feeling terribly tired inside and out.

"You are a citizen, Mr. Jensen," she tried and failed to sound pleasant.

"Yeah, that's why two of your cohorts have stormed into my apartment without a warrant or just cause, threatened me with bodily harm and attempted to ruin my dinner," I stared back with emotionless eyes.

"This is an official police matter, Mr. Jensen. Now come down to the station and let us question you," Somerset reiterated.

"What does this pertain to?" we went over old ground but this time with witnesses.

"Obstruction of Justice if you are not careful," Somerset seethed.

"Over what?" I blasted back. "Right over the phone I could tell you everything I know."

"That's not how an interrogation works," she explained bitterly.

"Interrogation? And you are still wondering why I'm not placing myself at your mercy? Lady, I'm not putting myself alone in a room with you and your closest friend if I can help it," I repeated a rather recent declaration.

"Mr. Jensen, we are the police and," she got out.

"That makes it worse, not better. Police have been the bane of my existence for the last third of my life. I don't trust you, I don't like you and I certainly have zero faith in you doing your jobs where I am concerned. Me coming in isn't going to help me," I informed her.

"What about helping your fellow males?" she countered.

"Oh, is that what this investigation is about? Detective Somerset, if I don't think you can provide any protection for me, why should I believe you can help any male?" I reposed. There was a long pause.

"Mr. Jensen - Israel, we need to canvas the males in danger and see if we can discover any links to the men who have gone missing," she answered.

"Was that so difficult? Had you told me this a half hour ago when I first asked and treated me like a human being, we could have avoided all this crap," I chided her.

"You have an attitude problem," she sniped.

"Yes, I do. I have a problem with your fucking attitude, you useless twit," I growled.

"I want you to go to sleep tonight wondering how many more men are going to slip through your fingers because you can't do your job. Better yet, think about how many of my brethren are going to vanish believing the lie that you want to help them, that you will be there for them and you're not. You are going to fail them just as you've been failing me my entire life. Good night Detective Somerset Trainer, it has not been a pleasure."