Mr. Daark (1)
(Part 1 of 15) In 2019, before anyone knew what a pandemic was, there was a different danger: an oil deal between the boogeyman and Pax Co. Oil.
1
Mr. Aaron Jax grew up with a memory that he couldn’t be sure was real. All children had silly fears and nightmares to go along with them, and the thing in the closet seemed to be no more than a product of his over-active imagination. But it had spoken to him from the shadows, leading him to believe there was more to it than a mound of clothes. There was a face, a voice, a whole man in the closet for that matter, but Jax left the memory alone. It stayed in the corner of his mind for so long that he struggled to see the face in his head when he thought of it again. But it was one of those faces you’d remember no matter when you saw it, like the face of your dad, Santa Clause, and in some cases, both at the same time.
You see the boogeyman once as a child. A fit of terror playing out before your eyes as you lay in bed. Thirty years later you see the boogeyman again. By now his face should just be familiar, still frightening, but not exactly surprising. But now the boogeyman has changed. He’s not in your closet as you lay with your wife, saying the same words over again, triggering a nostalgic retelling of your past. He’s not in the next logical place—your son’s room—passing the fright onto the next generation, like your own personal Peter Pan. No, he’s in your workplace. What can you even say to that?
“Hey this is the weirdest thing, but I’ve just got to know. You were in my closet when I was a kid. At least, that’s what I think I saw. I could just be crazy, and if I am. . . Well, sorry to bother you. You must think I’m insane. Really, I just wanted—”
The truth is you can’t say anything. You may not be afraid of looking weird, but you are afraid of the answer. If he says, “No, I think you’re mistaken.” You’re in the clear. But if he is the boogey man… What do you do then? The boogey man, or whatever he’s called, is at your job, and you have to choose what comes next.
Jax chose to ignore it. Surely, over the course of a few weeks he’d be able to move on. The thought that the boogeyman was a client at your job had to go away at some point or at least become laughable. Besides, Jax was just an accountant for Pax Co., a major oil and gas company. It’s not like he could say anything meaningful to have the man removed from their service. For the most part, Jax could ignore the problem. He heard bits and pieces about the man in question: Mr. Austin Daark.
After the arrival of Austin Daark, the energy at Pax Co. Oil felt jittery, like a colony of ants after their ant hill has been kicked to pieces. Austin Daark showed up one day with an all-white suit and a proposition. Apparently, he had inherited a large sum of farmland after the passing of his grandfather. “I’m an orphan,” Mr. Daark said. “My grandparents cared for me all my life and now they are gone. That leaves me with a farm, workers, and no idea what to do with any of it.” Jax thought this line had been played up for dramatic effect, but by the way Mr. Daark looked, Jax could almost believe it. The line didn’t seem like much, but it meant a lot to everyone at Pax Co. It meant that Daark must be another young, foolish man sitting atop a fortune that he’d sell for less than its true value. That was exactly what everyone wanted to hear. Everyone wants to be Beyoncé when they could be Bill Gates, and the members of Pax Co. hoped Mr. Daark would fall for the same cash-grab mindset. In speaking with his workers, Mr. Daark heard the local legends of the family farm. Supposedly, there was a great deal of crude oil lying under the land that the Daark family had been asked about for a great many years. Various companies came around trying to buy them out, but no one would budge and give up the family farm. Austin Daark wasn’t like the others. His demeanor suggested that he quite frankly couldn’t give a shit about the lives of his farmhands. He’d sell out, and he’d do it before any of his workers could find new jobs.
Jax and Mr. Daark should have stayed far away from each other by their business agendas alone, but everyone at Pax Co. got a taste of Austin Daark one way or another. He was in the halls, going in and out of negotiation meetings, passing CEO and custodian just the same. He was in the “grander” of the two cafeterias with the elite members, a place Jax frequented through a rather boring series of events that began by slipping on a wet floor and ended with a nonexistent lawsuit, a small compensation, and a ticket into the good lunch room. Jax found that the elite cafeteria was the place for unofficial business and a sizable deal of ass-kissing. Daark was on everyone’s lips, in everyone’s ears, and playing ping-pong in everyone’s brains. Daark spoke modestly of his crude oil source, but everyone had an idea that it was far larger than he was letting on to. If Pax Co. received an underground lake of oil for a decent price, then the rest of the company might see some of the profits in their pockets. The key word was might. More likely, the top tiers would see the money for years before ever entertaining the idea of pay raises. Either way, the company was talking about Mr. Daark the way dumbasses talk about the rising lottery prize sum.
You can’t win if you don’t play.
While the elites jerked off to the idea of Mr. Daark’s oil, Jax saw Daark as somewhere between the boogeyman and the devil. Jax never let the image morph into the prince of darkness himself, but Daark at least incited the image of a child’s nightmare. Daark paraded around Jax’s thoughts so often that it almost qualified as an addiction. In still moments, Daark was there. When his wife talked about her day, Jax slipped off into a fantasy conversation with the dark man in all white clothes. Sometimes he came to mind when Jax made love, and his wife could tell he was— well—preoccupied with other thoughts. He got a stupid look on his face like he wasn’t there anymore, his eyes focused on her hair or her breasts, but never quite on her. His view seemed shallow and clouded.
His job always bored his wife Taylor, so she left the decision to share his professional tales up to his discretion. This setup was better for the both of them, and Jax never had to share about a boring workday out of obligation. Often times it was better not to share a bland or uneventful story. Even when his work piled up, Jax kept mostly to himself. But as Jax kept drifting off in thought, Taylor took it upon herself to get to the bottom of the distractions.
“What’s been going on at work?”
“My company’s new client is the boogey man,” Jax answered as if it were the most normal event in the world.
Jake Jax, a boy of almost seven, had an issue with his father’s logic. “You said the boogeyman isn’t real.”
“Hmm? Oh, yes. The boogeyman isn’t real. I just meant it as a figure of speech. The new client is just scary-looking.”
“But daddies don’t get scared of anything,” Jake retorted.
“Well, yes. Never mind the boogeyman thing. I—I misspoke. Everyone makes mistakes now and again, even daddies.”
Jake made a pondering face as if his father had given him a great deal to think about. Overall, Jake would drop the matter, but Taylor wondered silently about what Jax meant. She couldn’t ask him now that Jake was in the room, but Taylor wouldn’t give up on the boogeyman at Pax Co. just yet. Jake ate most of his dinner; the chicken and rice were devoured happily, but Jake neglected the cucumber slices and celery.
“I’m full. Can I go play?” Jake tested Taylor’s limits, and normally she would have forced him to finish, but her focus was set on Jax.
“That’s fine,” she said, watching Jake spring up from his chair and run up the stairs to his room.
Taylor picked around her plate for some time, contemplating the start of the overdue conversation. Surely, Jax was due some grace for his dinner table slip-up, but there was a larger issue underlying the slip-up. She couldn’t go full force immediately, but she wanted to so badly. To tear into him over the boogeyman would be uncalled for, yet Taylor kept coming up with reasons to do so. There had to be some justifying factor to dig into him for. Ever since she’d been laid off, Taylor spent her time at home like an old housewife, and Jax got to bring home the bacon. Such a small thing to nitpick over, but even the smallest spark can ignite wildfire. So, she dug in. Jax had shrugged off the unemployment. That was something. He was content with his job and the salary that went with it; perhaps too content. Yes, that’s it. He shrugged while she got to feel worthless, and he could get caught up in the boogey man.
“What was all that?” Taylor asked softly. “Do you want Jake to have nightmares again?”
“No, I just wasn’t thinking, that’s all. It’s just this crazy little thing that’s probably nothing at all. You see, when I was—”
“There you go again,” She interrupted. “You don’t care.”
“Honey, I messed up. It’s not—”
“That’s not what I mean,” Taylor sighed. “You’ve been distracted all this week. I don’t want an explanation because while hearing a grown man talk about the boogeyman must be fascinating, I just want you to be present. Are we on the same page?”
They weren’t. Jax had a whole story prepped about Mr. Daark, and Taylor managed to stifle him and make herself the victim. But rather than waste his energy trying to explain himself, Jax could compromise.
“Yes. I’m sorry I upset you.” He clasped her hand. “I’ll focus more on my favorite people in the whole wide world.”
Jax had a billion diffusing lies crammed up his ass, waiting to spew forth from his mouth. They never failed him because Taylor either couldn’t tell he was lying, or she was just happy with his lies. Some relationships like to balance on lies like that. Jax wished he didn’t have to lie to Taylor, but it seemed that Mr. Daark was beginning to take up permanent residence in Jax’s brain.
Besides, Taylor couldn’t police his thoughts. As long as Jax could pretend he was focused on Taylor, he could think whatever he liked about Austin Daark. The obsession was growing past its own limits. At first, Jax had found pride in the fact that he wasn’t obsessing over Daark because of his oil. In fact, Jax would have ignored Daark entirely if not for his suspicions. But curiosity was one thing, and thinking about another man while in bed with your wife was another. Jax wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted from Daark, yet the craving persisted. Daark owed him nothing more than a conversation if he were the boogey man, but Jax hoped it might go farther than that; whatever that might entail.