MANIAC - LOVE DERANGED Read online

  Violet Shaw

  MANIAC

  Love Deranged

  A NOVEL

  Copyright © 2016 Violet Shaw

  Originally published in German as

  MANIAC, Liebe verrückt

  BoD – Books on Demand, Norderstedt, 2016

  Translated by Dagmar von Ostrau

  Follow me at Instagram: @writer.violet.shaw

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  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer or critic who may quote brief passages in a review.

  ISBN: 978-3-8450-1652-8

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely incidental.

  She could still remember their first encounter very well, when they first met. It was a Thursday evening, and Thursdays were her most favorite days because they were the best days of the week to go out. Even weekends couldn’t compare. And when the evening turned out to be good, or perhaps even perfect, and she awakened the next day full of enthusiasm, with residual champagne in her body, the whole week was salvaged, regardless.

  Actually, she lived her life from Thursday to Thursday. And beyond that, the good – or better yet, the thrill -- lay in the fact that no one was really supposed to go out on a Thursday, since everyone had to work again the next day, even though they didn’t want to, of course. This discrepancy between wanting to, but knowing one shouldn’t, and taking the leap anyway precisely because of that, created the charm.

  At their first encounter that Thursday evening, her impression of him was barely adequate. The great, all-encompassing and fateful meaning that he was destined to assume in her life was by no means discernible at that point.

  In retrospect, she liked to emphasize again and again that if she had known how this encounter would affect her, she wouldn’t have gone out that evening under any circumstances.

  She walked into that club with her girlfriend only to meet the greatest womanizer in the city at the time, at least in her eyes. He, however, as might be expected of the greatest womanizer in the city, was already occupied with two other girls whose attentions kept him fully engaged. He didn’t even favor her with a glance, thereby increasing her interest in his person to an even greater degree, since she loved challenges and especially unavailable objects of the masculine persuasion. Which she didn’t actually realize, let alone consider, at this point in time.

  At precisely the peak moment of her concentration on the seemingly unapproachable and fully engaged womanizer, her girlfriend poked her in the ribs to introduce her pick-up that evening, with whom she had just struck up a conversation.

  This first encounter, at least from her perspective, seemed completely unremarkable.

  Standing in front of her was a man with black hair, wearing a pair of nickel-silver glasses and a black suit, who seemed somewhat shy and embarrassed.

  He gave the impression that he was not exactly turned off by her girlfriend’s approaches. Nevertheless, the self-confidence that he was to develop over the next few years was nowhere in evidence, at least on this first evening.

  Again and again, in the course of the following years, she asked herself if he had really been suffering from a lack of self-esteem at that time, which he finally overcame only as he grew older – not to be confused with any growth in maturity, which he would never achieve – and the climbing of his career ladder which he managed to accomplish and exploit.

  Or if he had only been posing, acting deceitfully that evening; if his embarrassed stance was only a put-on; if he had only slipped into a role, as he did so often. After all, he was the perfect actor. And he loved the game; he was completely in his element there.

  “Jason, hello,” he introduced himself in a casual tone, but somewhat shyly at the same time.

  “Hello, I’m Valerie,” she responded confidently.

  They carried on inconsequential conversations as one does in such clubs after midnight, with people who are neither important nor unimportant, and whom one finds neither interesting nor exciting, while one continues to observe the greatest womanizer in the city at the same time out of the corner of one’s eye.

  It turned out that Jason had apparently come to this club for the first time on his way home from the office, on his bike. He coincidentally pedaled past and stopped by. He worked at a Swiss bank in the area as an I-banker, which he emphasized and to which Valerie responded with a certain degree of disgust.

  Her disgust wasn’t based on any kind of objections against I-bankers in general. Quite the contrary. She and her girlfriends had privately concentrated on investment bankers for years, to greater and lesser levels of success. Her disgust was much more the result of her reaction to the abbreviation of the word. She was engaged in studying the Humanities at the time, and on that basis alone felt herself to be superior to most BW leaders and bankers, which nonetheless didn’t prevent her from becoming interested in them and falling in love with them, again and again.

  But she hated stupid abbreviations. His abbreviating the term simply validated her assumption that I-bankers were all soul-less, money-grubbing, coked-up beings whom she nevertheless didn’t find uninteresting.

  In the course of the conversation, his banker’s outfit and the impression it gave had apparently begun to disturb him and make him uncomfortable. He removed his glasses in passing, adroitly hiding them in his suit jacket, which he had also removed. He wasn’t wearing a tie, so he rolled the sleeves of his white shirt up to the elbows.

  He had been living in FFM more than four years; he purposely abbreviated Frankfurt, apparently to appear cooler, more international and dynamic, but was originally from beautiful Munich, where he also kept a weekend apartment. Here, to Valerie’s surprise, he didn’t choose the abbreviation Muc.

  Valerie continued a meaningless conversation with Jason and was relatively disinterested, while at the same time, she observed the Womanizer from afar.

  Jason noticed her interest in the other person and asked her directly: “And who is it that appeals to you across the way there?”

  Valerie looked surprised and immediately answered brusquely, “No one!” She felt as if he’d seen through her.

  Jason simply responded “Oh?” without sounding convinced. It was clear that he didn’t believe her.

  Following that, Jason asked for her cell-phone number, but to her amazement he didn’t enter it into his cell-phone contacts; instead he asked her to repeat it twice and quickly appeared to memorize it. Valerie was both irritated and skeptical – this had never happened to her before.

  He sent her his first text-message the next day:

  “Hi Valerie, it was nice meeting you yesterday! How are you? Best regards, Jason”

  Valerie was impressed with his memory; she didn’t think that he could memorize her number so quickly.

  As they began to get better acquainted, Valerie had no serious interest in him at first. He wasn’t intellectual enough, and she saw him as a superficial womanizer who couldn’t make her happy. At this point, it didn’t occur to her that he would ever gain the power to make her unhappy, and certainly not that he had the capability of making her the happiest or saddest person imaginable. During their early dating, she was completely unaware of the potential danger that he represented.

  The magical aura that he would later seem to possess was also absent during this early phase of their relationship.

  In fact, in the beginning she had
no interest in him whatsoever. She considered him to be shallow and had the vague feeling that it would be better if she didn’t get involved with him. She didn’t know why, exactly. It was her inner voice that was sounding a warning about him.

  And when he called her to ask her out for the first time, she was startled by his voice. It sounded so brutal; certainly masculine and sexy, but also cold and dangerous. She was downright frightened of his voice and of him.

  And, much later, as he tried to lock Valerie in his bedroom, then, at the latest, she knew that there was a sound basis for her fear.

  Nonetheless, despite her reservations, she agreed to meet him to go to a party with another of his friends. Valerie was to pick him up downtown in her car since he didn’t keep one in Frankfurt.

  Valerie saw him through her windshield, standing on the street corner as planned, seemingly embarrassed.

  As he recognized her in the car, he raised his right hand in greeting. It was a restrained gesture; his face remained motionless and stiff. There was no expression of feeling, no sign of pleasure. Nothing.

  My goodness, he’s really shy, Valerie thought to herself.

  “So, are we ready to go?” he said casually as he climbed into the car.

  “Do you know where we’re going?”

  “Just a minute, I’ll call my friend!”

  He, on his cell phone: “Yes, hello, where exactly is the party? . . .yes, you’ll be glad to know that I’m bringing a beautiful woman along!”

  Opposite her lack of interest was his great interest in her person. Her apparent disregard challenged him and spurred him on, awakening his fighting spirit again and again. He called her constantly, sent her countless text- messages, trying to win her over:

  “I’d like to dance with Valerie again! How’s your schedule – how about tomorrow evening?”

  “Just ate the most fantastic tomatoes! Which I even bought and cooked myself! But you didn’t want to come to Munich with me . . . How are you?”

  “Hi, Jason, I’m great, thank you! How are you? How’s Munich and how was your evening yesterday?”

  “There was some alarm at the club yesterday; a couple of my guys from London threw themselves at the chicks. I had a bottle of Fanta and some earplugs with me until I left hell behind at 5:00 o’clock. I’ve just come from swimming and am going to take a nap. When will I see you again?”

  Jason didn’t let up: “And what would you say to going to Ibiza with me this summer?” he asked her.

  “But we don’t even know each other!” she replied, trying to avoid his advances.

  “Yes, exactly, that’s why we should go there together, to get to know one another better!” he countered.

  He was persistent and determined. Her rejection goaded him on and aroused his need for conquest. In contrast, Valerie remained cold and unapproachable.

  Jason had never really had a serious, long-term relationship before he met Valerie. And he was already 36 years old when they first met.

  Naturally, he had never discussed his reluctance to pursue a real relationship with her, but she could surmise from his many off-hand remarks that until now there had never been another person who had assumed an important place in his life. Until this point in time, he had been completely self-sufficient as far as other people were concerned.

  On one of their first dates, at an Italian restaurant in Frankfurt, Jason told Valerie that he had recently broken up with a short-term girlfriend.

  In describing the demise of his past relationship he sounded completely devoid of emotion, as if he were reporting on a business deal that had gone awry:

  “Yes, everything between us was actually fine and the sex was good, too. Even all of my friends approved of the woman, but for me, something was missing. I had the feeling that I could find something better. Oh well, I haven’t found that up ‘til now.”

  The story of the break-up didn’t convince Valerie, however; she had the vague feeling that he had made it up so that he’d seem more interesting to her.

  And on the same evening, he presented himself as a person looking for love who simply had not found the right person:

  “Yes, and then I once met a woman from Miami, pretty as a picture. I was completely enchanted by her and actually flew to Miami to see her. I arrived suffering from jet-lag, but she suddenly told me that she didn’t have any interest in me any longer and didn’t want to see me anymore.”

  And then he laughed, apparently amused by the story: “Oh well, c’est la vie!”

  Their first kiss was initiated, almost forced, by him while Valerie was spending a weekend in Munich with friends: “What’s the matter, don’t I get a kiss?” Jason asked, whereupon they kissed each other shyly and earnestly on the lips – no tongues involved.

  Cool, and wanting to cover up his embarrassment at the attempt, he left Valerie standing there and quickly disappeared around the corner in the P1 Club.

  Then, just minutes later, Valerie approached him.

  Their eyes met briefly, and then he grabbed her; she tried to resist, but he grasped the back of her head and pulled her to him, and they kissed. The first real kiss. Passionately. Good. Very good.

  He sat down and pulled her onto his lap, and they kissed again. She felt his hands under her top on her naked skin.

  “Hey, what are you doing with my friend? What are you two doing there?”

  One of his friends was wandering by, and looked astonished as they all laughed together. Laughing lightened the mood. The situation was funny and grotesque at the same time.

  Jason didn’t wait long to grab her again. He sat down on the couch in the VIP area and quickly pulled Valerie onto his knee with an adroit movement of his hand.

  Now she was sitting on his lap; he had managed to get her to this point. They kissed again, passionately.

  Jason didn’t want to let go of her. Faster than she could react or fight him off, he had reached under her top again and was massaging her breasts. In the middle of the VIP area of P1.

  Valerie gave up. She just wanted to enjoy what he was doing and succumbed to his passion.

  Their kisses melted into one another.

  The next day Jason sent Valerie a text message:

  “Princess, how are you? Kissing you was lovely, and I’ve been missing you all day! Will I see you this evening?”

  Although Valerie was happy to hear from him, she refused the invitation. She preferred to leave him dangling; she didn’t want to make it too easy for him.

  He reacted calmly and with great self-control.

  On the day after she had refused him, he texted her again:

  “Hi, Sweetie, how are you? Did you arrive in FFM happily? Kiss”

  “Hi, Jason, thanks, everything is fine! I’m back in FFM, but I can’t say happily, since I unfortunately had to leave beautiful Munich behind! How are you? Did you have a nice evening yesterday? Kiss”

  “Actually, Paris Hilton invited me to dinner last evening, and then we went out on the town a bit . . . it was interesting and fun! Will I see you soon again?”

  “Really, that sounds sensational! I’m glad that you had a nice evening! We can see each other the next time you’re in FFM!”

  “I’ll be flying to FFM on Wed. – so we can see each other then . . . I’m looking forward to dancing with you and kissing you again – I hope you’ve been missing me, too?”

  Valerie was somewhat overcome by him, with his text messages and his direct advances and propositions. Besides, she was a little irritated by the story about Paris Hilton. Was it really true? And if so, what did he want with her?

  “What am I supposed to say to that?” she answered. Jason made her feel both timid and uncomfortable. And now she felt even more chagrined at the question with which he answered hers: “How does the woman respond to what the man feels?”

  To conceal her discomfort, Valerie tried to answer as evenly and nonchalantly as possible:

  “Yes, it really was a very nice night and I’m looking forward to s
eeing you again! Kiss”

  A palpable tension between the two arose during their next meeting. First Jason was shy, like a schoolboy, and upon seeing him, Valerie sensed a certain clammy, prickly feeling, secretly sneaking into her stomach region. Her girlfriend, Severin, who was with them that evening, laughed and remarked: “The way you talk to him!” But also: “You two turtledoves!”

  Jason and Valerie acted silly, and then embarrassed, with each other.

  “She has given me 100,000 excuses. She has refused me, stood me up, and not bothered about me!” Jason said in amusement to Valerie’s friend, “but last weekend, at P1, it happened, we finally kissed each other. And the waiting was worth it!”

  Jason held her hand, not constantly, but took it again and again. He put his hands into her back-pockets.

  They ran into some of his colleagues from work at a bar, and he introduced Valerie as his girlfriend, visibly proud of her.

  The colleagues mentioned: “It’s too bad that Jason will soon be moving to Zurich, since you two are so in love!”

  Jason immediately countered: “That’s not a problem; either Valerie will move with me or we’ll have to commute!”

  Some time earlier, Jason had mentioned to her that he would have to move to Zurich on behalf of the bank within the month, but Valerie hadn’t given it much thought since she saw the situation with him as very open.

  And they strolled to the parking garage arm in arm.

  “Is he your boyfriend?” the handsome man whom one would generally describe as “sharp” in Munich, asked her in a lightly aggressive undertone, motioning with his head in Jason’s direction.

  “No, why?” Valerie answered a little too quickly and too boldly, as if she immediately wanted to distance herself from Jason.

  “That’s well and good!” the “stranger in the night,” answered. “He was involved with a good friend of mine at one time. She was head over heels in love with him and planned a special birthday party so that she could introduce him to all of her friends. The party was in full swing, all the guests were present except for one . . . your friend. He had simply stood her up at her own birthday party. He hadn’t bothered to tell her that he wouldn’t or couldn’t come. She never heard from him again. The poor thing was completely done in after that! He is a really peculiar kind of guy. But never mind, if he isn’t your boyfriend!”