Caught in the Devil's Sheets (4 page)

I hit the button to lower the top as I pull out of Dr. Burkhart’s office parking. I make my way toward Highway 1, fishing through my iPod for some good driving music. The Offspring. It only takes me about 15 minutes before I’m riding Highway 1 north toward Malibu. The sun is setting over the beach on one side of me, and the rich mountainside looms over me on the other
.

When I go driving I stay in my lane. The gun in my hand will tell you the same.
The words of The Offspring blare through my car speakers, and my hair flies wildly through the air around my face as I hit 85mph with the top down. Speeding in a car that’s made for it is exciting. It gets me pumping no matter how down I’ve gotten to feeling. I keep an eye out for cops, but really I am just lucky that I don’t happen to pass one. I have no idea how far I intend to go. I just keep riding as the sun sets.

I make it all the way into Malibu as it starts to get dark. I decide I might as well turn around now as traffic has started to thicken, putting a halt to my joyride. But I do feel better. I love my car. I earned it.

I turn the music down and push the hood button, which raises the hood and securely encloses the car. I drive back to Santa Monica in solitude. No one is home when I get there around 8pm. Toys, clothes, paperwork, and all other kinds of crap are thrown about, but it can wait until tomorrow. I decide to turn in early.

I feel Jaime climb into bed late that night. I check to see that is 2am. “Where have you been,” I ask sleepily.

“Out riding my bike,” he says defensively, as if I have already accused him of something.

Maybe he is telling the truth. After all, I was out doing the same thing. Not till 2 am, but I could have. I lay in bed awake for an hour after he falls asleep, trying to tell myself that he’s not lying, trying to hold it together and not be mad. But it’s not that easy. I sit up and pull my pipe out of my nightstand. Packing a few hits into the bowl, and smoking it till there’s just ash left. I place them back in the drawer and try again to get some sleep.

Tuesday I spend mostly cleaning the house by myself. Erica conveniently has doctor appointments and other plans that keep her out of the house while I clean up after her and her kids. I put my iPod on the dock and get to work, cleaning to the beats of Rihanna. I’m at it hard all day other than the few smoke breaks I take on the back porch. When Jaime comes home around 4pm, I’m still not finished.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asks, coming in and plopping down at the kitchen table.

“Not much, just been cleaning the house,” I say gesturing around at the things I have picked up.

“Looks good, babe. What’s for dinner?” he asks, and he is dead serious.

I sigh and put my dusting rag and the Windex down on the counter and open the fridge.

“Spaghetti?” I ask, trying to hide my irritation.

“Sure, mind if Jay and Jeff come over for a while?” he asks.

Actually I do, but I know better than to refuse guests. It’s a club thing. If your man is in the club, then your house is always open to guests.

“Of course,” I say with a fake smile.

I head out to the back porch for another hit before starting the spaghetti. Erica comes home with the kids as I’m cooking. Jemma is asleep and Chase is throwing a fit about something behind her. Jay and Jeff show up shortly after, just as I am finishing up in the kitchen. I set out the plates and everyone helps themselves. I take a plate and sit at the table with everyone, and for a minute I forget all about my problems. It’s like old times. Jaime has his hand on my knee and he’s laughing with Jeff about guys who ride bikes with glittery paint jobs. Everyone takes turns talking Chase into eating his noodles.

After dinner the boys go out to the garage to smoke. Erica joins them, sitting Chase down in front of the TV. I stay inside to keep him company. Chase is a really cute kid, but he’s a smart-aleck, too. I ask him how preschool is going while we sit on the couch and watch
The Lion King
. About an hour later Erica comes in from the garage and puts him to bed.

I head out to the garage to check on things. “Anyone need a beer?” I ask poking my head out the door. Jamie is snorting a line of coke off the workbench and doesn’t turn to give me an answer.

“Sure,” says Jay, tossing his empty bottle in the recycle can.

“Jeff?” I ask curtly.

“I’m good, thanks, Lila.”

I duck back into the kitchen to grab a beer out of the fridge. Then I head back into the garage. Jaime is sitting up on his work stool and Jeff is leaning over the workbench. I hear him inhale loudly.

“Want a line?” he asks, as I hand Jay his beer.

“No thank you,” I say and I give Jaime and icy stare that he avoids. I pack the bong and take a few hits, trying to get in on the conversation in the garage, but it doesn’t really happen. I wonder if Erica was doing coke out here. I sincerely hope not. As midnight rolls around I decide to head to bed. Passing through the kitchen there is still a pot of left over spaghetti, and dishes galore. Someone else can deal, right now, I am too tired. I fall asleep without much problem and it’s another hour or two before Jaime follows.

On Wednesday, Jaime and I both sleep in. He tries for some morning sex, but I’m just not in the mood. I really don’t care for sex in the morning. My breath smells and so does his, my hair is a mess, there’s sleep in my eyes, and the light illuminates just what poor shape I’m in before I’ve even made it into the bathroom. He doesn’t take no for an answer well and stomps off into the bathroom for a shower. I think the coke makes him edgy. Little things get to him so much more than they used to. We did cocaine together a few times, but only at parties. I never got addicted, but at some point I started to hate it. Jaime got the opposite effect.

I get up and get dressed while he’s in the shower. When he is out, I go in to get fixed up. I tie my hair up in a loose bun, letting long curls fall down at random. When I go out into the living room, Erica is passed out on the couch with Jemma. Chase must be at school already. Jaime is making a pot of coffee, and I notice that there is still a stack of spaghetti dishes and a pot full of dried out noodles.

“Wanna go out for breakfast?” I ask Jaime, not wanting to deal with the mess in the kitchen just so I can make the next one.

“No, I gotta get to the club house,” he says, and I’m curious as to what they have going on over there.

“Okay,” I say, somewhat disappointed and still hungry.

I go back into my bedroom and text Kelli.

{Wanna get breakfast with me?
}-
Lila

{Where?}-Kelli

{Mimi’s Café?}-Lila

{I still need to get dressed.}-Kelli

{Meet you there in 45 mins?}-Lila

{K}-Kelli.

I’m in my car waiting when Kelli pulls up in her black Chevy S10. She is dressed in black scrubs with pink and red hearts.

“Working later?” I ask her as she jumps down from her seat and slams the door.

“Yeah, got these scrubs on clearance at Ross after Valentine’s Day,” she says proudly.

“Nice!”

We make our way inside and are seated at a table in the middle of the busy café. It’s so good to see Kelli. We haven’t had a chance to hang out in the past month since she started working at the hospital.

“How’s work going for you?” I ask politely, helping myself to the teakettle and the basket of teabags they set on the table for us.

“Agh, I feel like I have no social life to speak of anymore. It’s put a lot of stress on me and Cody since I’m gone all the time. You know what the boys’ schedules are like. It seems like we hardly ever get time alone.” I notice that she’s not wearing makeup, which is very un-Kelli. She looks stressed.

“I know how you feel, now that Jaime and I aren’t running together. We are apart way more than we ever used to be.”

“How’s that going by the way?” Her eyes widen with anticipation.

“Actually, running with Odin was a lot better than I thought it would be. Odin’s really cool and it wasn’t that awkward.”
And he’s kinda hot.

“Cool. He’s great looking company, am I right?” she says, reading my mind exactly. I nod, trying not to blush. One would have to be blind to not find Odin attractive. Tall, fit, blond, and mysteriously single…

“What did you guys talk about?”

“We talked about where we grew up, and I told him about Wyoming.”

“Really?” Kelli barely gives me a chance to finish.

“I told him I went to school there.”

“Oh, I thought you meant you told him
all
about it.”

“No, just that I went to Christian school there. I told him how Jaime and I met up. We talked about you.”

“Oooh,” Kelli says, faking interest. “How are you and Jaime doing?”

I roll my eyes and she nods her head giving me an I-got-you look. Our waitress brings our food to the table. Over breakfast I tell Kelli the rest of the details of my trip, even the part about stopping at Big Gus, a detail I don’t think I will be letting Jaime in on. Kelli tells me stories about the hospital. It feels really good to catch up with her. I’m sad when breakfast is over and she has to get to work. I pay for breakfast, and we go our separate ways.

When I get home, I begin packing my suitcase again. This time I’m not as frantic about it. I neatly tuck my things into my purple suitcase and pack my backpack with electronics.

I spend the rest of the day trying to clean the house. It seems like no matter how much time I spend in that department, I never succeed in finishing. Erica decides to help out and together we get it looking good. At 4pm I start dinner, throwing together a meatloaf and baking it with carrots and potatoes.

Jaime comes home minutes before I pull the meatloaf out. “Smells good in here, Babe,” he says when he comes into the kitchen.

“Meatloaf in five minutes.”

“I’m gonna wash up real quick,” he says, and heads for our bedroom.

Erica, Jemma, Chase, Jaime, and I all sit around the table devouring meatloaf. It’s nice to have a clean home and a family around the table, but of course it doesn’t last long.

Later I go out to the garage to tell Jaime I’m turning in for the night, and he’s sitting at the workbench alone, snorting coke again. I let the door shut behind me. He jumps a little at the sound it makes.

“What’s up?” he asks, without so much as a guilty look on his face. He knows I hate him using all the time.

“Nothing, just coming to tell you I’m going to bed, cause I have to get up early and go to work tomorrow,” I remind him again of the effort I’m putting out for us right now. “One of us needs to make the money to support your expensive habit there.” It’s a low blow, especially because we hardly pay anything for coke, but I’m getting really irritated with his constant snorting.

“I don’t want to get into it Lila. We’ve had this fight a hundred times and I don’t want to have it again. You can go to bed. You don’t need to come out here just to fucking bust my balls. This is the first time I have even used today,” he says, raising his voice.

I hate the cop out of “I don’t want to fight” aka “I’ll do whatever I want and don’t want you to give me any kind of grief about it.”
Fuck that!

“Oh really, the first time you’ve used today? Congratulations! You went a whole 20 hours without snorting blow!” I yell at him. “You need to quit!”

Jaime picks up a metal fan off the workbench with one quick swoop and throws it across the garage. “Get the fuck out of my face!” he rages at me.

As much as I would like to stay and argue my point, the next thing he throws, might hit me. I turn and leave the garage, letting the door slam behind me. I stammer off to bed alone, and Jaime never joins me.

Chapter 3
Trip Two, Denver

The next day, it’s a relief being on the road. Odin and I have rented a blue Tahoe and are headed for Denver. In my mind I’m trying hard not to think about where Jaime went last night, as he was nowhere to be found when I woke up.
Is he seeing someone else?
I try desperately to push the idea to the back of my head.

I check my rearview mirror as we pull onto the freeway headed for Pearblossom Highway. I can see my luggage on top of a few decoy bags. Underneath them are hot bags. One is filled with pot double-wrapped in stink proof bags. The other two are filled with cocaine also well packaged and wrapped in clothes. The cocaine we distribute comes from Mexico. I hear the people who mule it from there make an easy $30,000 a run. There’s a lot of money to be made in cocaine, if you have the balls to risk it. I have thought about whether I could do a Mexico run if I was ever given the chance. I’ve decided it’s way too risky to cross the border. You could end up in a Mexican jail for life, or so I hear. Although the round trip from Santa Monica to Tijuana is only eight hours in normal traffic. It’s a lot less road to cover.

There is little traffic and conversation as we make our way toward Vegas.

“You and Jaime party in Vegas a lot?” Odin asks as we pass the sign welcoming us to the city.

Jaime and I have a few really good memories in Las Vegas, but none that I care to think about right at the moment.

“We took Ecstasy and went to Circus Olé once, I think on the way home from our sixth or seventh run. I was like barely 20.” I let the memory emerge from the Jaime Mosley sea of memories that I have been trying to keep calm. “I took way to much E, and had a huge anxiety attack. I thought for sure I was dying. We had to leave the show and Jaime had to talk me out of going to the hospital. I remember telling God if he would just let me wake up the next morning, I would never touch drugs again.” I can remember that terrible night so clearly.

“You believe in God?” Odin asks me.

“I believe that there is something out there much bigger than me that we’ll all have to answer to someday. But I think all organized religion is a load of shit,” I say.

“Did you keep your promise?”

“No. I didn’t do any drugs for almost a year, I just smoked pot and drank. To this day, I only do drugs on rare occasions. Not because I’m trying to own up to my promise, but just because they scare me,” I confess, gripping the wheel as I remember that night.

“That’s right, you did ecstasy with all of us at your wedding,” Odin recalls.

Another epic Vegas memory hits me uneasily. We had rented a penthouse at the MGM Grand and an entire floor rented out to our guests. We got married in their grand ballroom that overlooks the city. Our reception was elaborate and spared little expense. I can remember the deep sapphire blue color we chose for bridesmaid dresses and groomsmen shirts draping everything from the curtains to the chair sashes. And our cake—what an amazing cake! Four tiers of coconut mousse cake with big, blue sapphire feathers and fake sapphire jewels. I don’t know what was better, the ceremony, the elaborate reception, our ecstasy-fueled after party that we took in four stretch limos out on the town, or opening all the wedding cards filled with cash the next day. It was the wedding of a lifetime, way more than I ever thought I’d be able to manage. But for a 21-year old bride and a 27-year old groom who had cleared $175,000 that year, it was right on the money.

The sudden sadness I feel for mine and Jaime’s current situation grips my face and Odin takes notice.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up old memories,” he says sincerely.

I shrug it off and smile, keeping my eyes on the road and my hands on the wheel. “Want to play a game?” I ask desperate to have something better then Jaime to concentrate on.

“What game?”

“21 questions.”

“Never heard of it,” he says, and I gape at him.

“You’ve never even heard of 21 questions?” I ask in disbelief.

I explain the rules to him and we play a few rounds continuing on through Nevada. It starts to get dark on us when we are a little more than halfway through Utah, and I decide it’s time to switch places. There is no rest stop for miles around here so we pull off on the side of the road in the middle of the flats somewhere.

As soon as I stand up from the driver seat, all the iced tea I’ve been drinking hits bottom and I need to pee. I get into my duffel bag and pull out the toilet paper. Seeing what I intend to do, Odin smirks. I give him a “mind-your-own-business” glare and make my way to the back of the Tahoe.

I hate to discard my toilet paper out here in the middle of nowhere, but I’m not about to bring it back into the car with Odin. To be fair, it’s the least of the illegal activities I’m engaging in at the moment.

It’s really cold out here in April, and I expect we may even hit some snow in Colorado. The warm air of the Tahoe is a much welcome feeling when I climb back inside. Odin is smiling at me as if he can’t believe I just peed on the bumper.

“What?” I demand.

He only shakes his head with a huge smile before pulling back onto the road.

There is no one out here, and it is so desolate. I check my phone to see what I have missed in the last 11 hours. There is nothing and I don’t know whether to feel relieved that Jaime isn’t hounding me or worried that he’s too distracted to text me.

I decide to send him a quick update. {Made it to Utah}-Lila.

{Good. One of us needs to support my million dollar habit.}-Jaime.

What an ass. {I’m not saying it’s a million dollar habit but it sure causes us a million and one extra problems that we don’t need.}-Lila

{You’re the one who insists on making it a problem.}-Jaime

{Right, I have a huge problem with you getting high and turning into a raging asshole. Not to mention you were already busted once and are looking at going to jail over it. I have a hard time believing you honestly don’t see any problem with it.}-Lila

{If I go to jail, it will be cause of the assault on Tommy, not because the coke.}-Jaime.

Is he really trying to sweep the fact that he was busted for cocaine after beating up Tommy Harrison under the rug right now?

{Whatever, you have your side to the story and I have mine.}-Lila

{Your side is just that, a story.}-Jaime

{Whatever}-Lila.

‘Whatever’, my go-to word when I realize there is no use fighting about it because it really doesn’t matter how right I am. He is not going to see it my way and we are just going to fight around in circles. I let out a huge sigh.

“What’s up?” Odin asks. I look over at him, and his profile in the dark is even more statuesque.

Does he really want to know? Probably not. Nobody does. Well, maybe Dr. Burkhart, and I imagine even she goes home to a large glass of wine and drowns everyone’s sorrows in it.

“Nothing,” I lie and rest my seat back.

“It helps to get it off your chest,” he says, not taking his eyes off the road. Maybe he does want to hear. It’s a sore subject for me. I’m just so ashamed really that my marriage is in such poor shape. But he already gathers that, so really does it matter if I confirm his theory?

“My husband is turning into a coke addict and refuses to admit he has any kind of problem. It’s kind of putting a damper on our relationship,” I say, not sugarcoating it in the slightest.

“I’ve noticed,” he says blankly.

Oh. Other people know?
“Does everyone know?” I ask in a small voice that I hardly recognize as my own.

“I think a few people suspect, but it’s not like he is the only one. Jack, Jeff, Styx, Jay. They all hang out and snort blow together,” he says like it’s no big deal, and it’s not, but it’s news to me.

“I didn’t realize it was such a hot commodity,” I say. Although in a club that’s in the business of transporting and distributing cocaine, it’s not hard to believe a few of us have developed a taste for it. Maybe that’s where Jaime is always running off to. Not to some whore, but to do blow with the guys. It’s pathetic, but I would actually rather he was doing blow than cheating on me.

“What about you?” I ask Odin.

“I don’t use coke. Abusing drugs takes most the fun out of them. Not to mention it makes you sloppy and out of control. I’m a man who needs control,” he says.

Odin, a control freak?
How have I not picked up on this?

“Really?”

“Yes.” He is dead serious as he owns up to his flaw.

Now that I have copped to my marital problems, I figure if I want to ask about his private life, now is a good time. “Can I ask you a personal question?” I start by warming him up to it.

“Shoot.”

“Why don’t you ever have a girl hanging on your side?” I’m not really sure what the proper way to word it is. I get that lots of guys don’t like relationships, but I have never even seen Odin with a girl.

“There are many positions in which I enjoy a girl hanging in. On my side is not one of them,” he says with a cool and casual voice.

My jaw drops. Did he really just say that?
Seriously?
I am at a total loss for words. “Is that your way of telling me you like it rough?” I’m regretting the words as they come out. My brain-to-mouth filter has failed me yet again.

“You could say that,” he says with a slight chuckle as if to say that’s putting it lightly.

Holy shit
! I close my mouth and swallow the saliva that seems to be accumulating at an alarmingly fast rate right now. Then there is a long awkward silence.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, it’s not something I usually brag about,” he says, but he shows no embarrassment.

“No, it’s kind of hot.” I admit it because I don’t want him to think he’s made me uncomfortable. Sex doesn’t faze me. My friends and I used to go to the
Rocky Horror Picture Show
all the time. I fully accept all types of sexual behaviors and orientation, aside from the ones that cause bodily harm on the unwilling. I’m aware that people are into all kinds of weird shit.

“You have no idea,” he says in a dark-seeded voice, and it sends chills down my spine. For all he knows, I could have some kinky sex life.

“Is it easy finding girls who are into that?” I can’t help but think most girls aren’t down to be hog-tied, whipped, and bossed around.

“Well, I don’t usually go into bars looking for the average hussy to take home. She’d be in for a rude surprise.” We share a laugh.

“Where do you go to meet girls?”

“Sex clubs. Not like stripper bars, but there are a few clubs in LA that specialize in bringing together people who share the same fetishes.”

I know these places exist but I have never actually heard of one. “So you go there and have rough sex with random women?” Curiosity is bleeding through this cat’s cool coat.

“I have. It’s the perfect place to pick up girls who are looking for a dominant. That’s where I met Samantha.”

Samantha?
“So you do have a girlfriend?”

“Samantha is not my girlfriend. She is my submissive. There is a vast difference.”

“A submissive is someone you fuck, who obeys your every command without hesitance or argument. And a girlfriend is someone you hope will fuck you at the end of the day and never listens to you?” I retort. That’s right, I know all about it. After all, I have had lots of kinky friends, and am a proud owner of the 50 Shades of Grey trilogy.

Odin’s face is struck with surprise and he lets out a laugh that rolls through the Tahoe. “Something like that,” he says, not giving me any details.

“Have you ever had a girlfriend?” I guess it’s a silly question. He’s in his mid-twenties. Of course he’s had a girlfriend. After all, he was a teenager in public high school at some point. Or at least I assume he was.

“No,” he says proudly.

I am completely shocked.
He’s never had a relationship that wasn’t based solely around sex?
I don’t know whether to envy him or feel really bad for him. “Seriously?”

“Seriously, I didn’t really have much interest in dating as a teenager. I was more into watching porn on the internet and chatting with girls who were into being controlled.

I take a deep breath.
Wow.
I can’t imagine the Odin I have known all these years tying up girls and exacting control over them. I always took him to be a shy person. I guess what I thought was shy was just him being reserved. I wonder if he wears some kinky pleather outfit with zippers fitted to it. It’s suddenly very warm in the Tahoe and I turn the heat down a bit. Before I know it the lines in the road become a blur and, with this new information whirling around in my head, I drift asleep.

When I awake it’s barely dawn and we are stopped at a gas station, I have no idea where. The fuel clicks off. Odin must be inside. I emerge from the Tahoe and the air is so cold I can see my breath. I scurry inside to use the bathroom. Odin passes me holding two cups of coffee and a bag of other refreshments.

As I come out of the doors back into the bitter cold, I see that Odin is in the driver seat and there is a police officer at his window. I stop in my tracks trying to spot a dog, but I don’t see one. I don’t know what I would do if there was. Run? I shake off my nerves and make my way to the Tahoe.

“Morning,” I smile cheerfully at the officer.

“Ma’am,” he regards me, tipping his hat. I climb back into the passenger seat and sip my coffee. “Be safe out there. Roads get icy as you head back into the Rockies,” he says.

“Will do.” Odin smiles at him and we pull out of the gas station, neither of us saying a word. The sun comes later, but it never gets warm.

“Want me to drive?” I ask, seeing that Odin looks a bit tired.

“Sure,” he says with a yawn and we pull off at the next rest stop to switch places. The air is getting colder. As I take the wheel, a small amount of sleet starts to fall from the sky. I can see Odin is fighting sleep.

“I can drive in shit weather, you can relax,” I assure him.

“I am relaxed,” he insists, and now I can see the need for control he spoke about yesterday.