Inferno (12 page)

Bella and Makayla were pushing the ripped mattress on top of a mutilated box spring, kicking shredded scraps of cloth as they moved.  I calmly walk over to the far side of the room.  When I try to open the door, crookedly hanging on my wardrobe, it falls to the floor with a loud thud.  Torn ribbons were all that remained of the clothing hanging inside.  I toed a tattered pile of fabric thrown near the wall, recognizing what used to be some of my favorite outfits.

I looked at each of my friends.  Their expressions ranged from shock, to disbelief, to anger.  I had reached my breaking point, where I blessedly felt nothing.  Looking around at the chaos surrounding me, I finally spoke.

“I don’t think I’m going to get my security deposit back.”

Chapter Fourteen

Tate is lugging suitcases down to the rented Pathfinder sitting in the drive.  After the discovery of my ransacked apartment, Jack evoked clause ten of the friend code, declaring a Girl’s Trip.  Everyone immediately activated emergency evacuation procedures, beginning with acquiring time off from work.  We dropped Jack and Makayla at the car rental to secure our ride, while Bella and I hit the mall to procure a replacement wardrobe for myself.  In just under two hours, we were walking out the door to parts unknown.  Makayla turns the vehicle towards the interstate with Jack riding shotgun as the designated navigator. 

“So, Marissa and a friend are hanging in Virginia Beach right now.  I gave her the Reader’s Digest version of the past twenty-four hours, and she said we can crash with them,” Makayla said.

“What are you going to tell Sebastian?  Chances are good that he’ll relay the info to Ethan,” Jack said, fiddling with the GPS.

“Doubtful Ethan cares enough to ask,” I murmured low enough that no one heard.

“I shot him a text that we were visiting my sister for a few days.  I didn’t tell him which one, so we should be good.”

“Um, not to doubt this covert operation, but couldn’t he just use the process of elimination to figure out which sister we’re with?  I mean all he has to do is call your mom, and she’ll activate the phone tree,” Bella stated.

“Why do you continually doubt the ingenuity of the Stewart siblings, young grasshopper?  As far as my parents are concerned, Marissa is still in Chicago.  Some guy named Tyler booked the room on his card, and she’s been paying with a prepaid visa she picked up at Wal-Mart.  There is no paper trail connecting her, or any of us, with Virginia Beach.  Anyone who comes looking will be chasing their tails in the Windy City; meanwhile, we will be soaking up rays poolside.”  Makayla was very pleased with herself.

“Why is she hiding her trip from your parents?” Jack asked puzzled.

“They’ve been giving her a bunch of crap about it being time to grow up and settle down, telling her that she should be setting a good example for me instead of encouraging my bad behavior with her own.” 

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod!”  I looked over to see Bella, arms raised like she is being held at gun point, with her hands rapidly flapping up and down.  Her voice had started out low, raising an octave with each spoken syllable.  “Getitoff, getitoff, getitoff!”

Jack turned, craning around his seat back, to see what the commotion was about.  Throwing his back against the dash, in an attempt to distance himself as far from the backseat as possible, he let out a supersonic squeal that could have easily attracted an entire pod of dolphins.  “It’s looking at me!  Make it stop!”

Makayla cut wildly across three lanes of traffic, coming to a stop on the side of the road.  Screaming the entire time, “What?  What the hell is wrong?  Why are you screaming?” 

Perched on Bella’s thigh was a nickel sized spider. Its two abnormally large eyes, centered on what I guess would be considered his forehead, are accompanied by two smaller ones on either side.  The poor little guy must have been as confused and scared as the other passengers he was riding with because his fuzzy, black body kept executing a jumping turn motion, clearly unsure of which way he should run.

I doubled over in my seat, clutching my arms to my stomach and laughing uncontrollably. 

“This is not funny!  Do something!” Bella screeched.

I managed to snag a tissue from the bag sitting by my feet while telling Makayla to roll down the window.  I gently captured our stowaway, throwing him out the window, and praying no cops were near.  Somehow, I don’t think the spider defense would have gotten me out of a ticket for littering.

“Jesus H. Christ!” Makayla exclaimed.  “We haven’t even been on the road twenty minutes yet.”

“Did you really expect anything less?” I giggled.  “When has a plan ever gone off without a hitch when the four of us are involved?”

“Let’s just hope this is the only snafu we encounter on this trip,” Jack replied solemnly.

We rode in silence for the next several hours.  The softly playing music combined with the constant hum of the engine lulled me to sleep.  I woke with a jolt just as the Pathfinder rolled to a stop.  We gassed up, grabbed a sandwich to go, and hit the road again.

“You guys remember Shelly Gibson?” Bella questioned.

“Wasn’t she that ditzy girl in our communication class junior year?  She married Tony Sambuco and had that god awful, ugly baby.” Jack responded.

“The blonde girl who sat in front of me?” I asked.

“Yep, that’s her.  I ran into her at the store yesterday.  She’s pregnant again.”

“I hope this baby’s cute,” I said.

“Doesn’t matter, that’s a very shallow gene pool,” Bella snorted, “as if there aren’t enough stupid people in this world already.”

“Move into the HOV lane so we can get out of this traffic,” Jack directed Makayla.

“I can’t, it’s closed for the night,” she countered.

“Then just move over there,” he pointed. 

Makayla followed his directions, smoothly maneuvering through the bumper to bumper D.C. traffic.  We crawled along at a snail’s pace for several miles, realizing too late that we were in an exit only lane.  We continued on a straight path, stopping every fifty feet for the lights to turn green, and waiting for the GPS to recalculate.  The device began barking directions, eventually leading us into the circle of hell.

“Take the ramp on the right to Interstate 395,” said a woman’s voice.

“Does anyone see the 395 sign?” Makayla asked as she peered out into the inky darkness.

“I don’t see any signs,” I uttered.

“Turn right now,” the woman advised.

“Can anyone see an on ramp?”

“I don’t even know where we are,” Bella answered with her face pressed against the window.

We drove the loop three more times with the woman politely asking us to exit along the same dark stretch of road.  On our fourth pass, Jack jumped to his knees screaming excitedly for Makayla to stop.  She slammed on the brakes, causing our seatbelts to snap tight, preventing us from crashing forward.  The second movement halted, Jack threw off his restraint and popped up and out of the sunroof.

“What the hell are you doing?” I yelled.

“Oh my god!” he squealed excitedly, pointing at something in the distance.  “It’s the Washington Monument!  I’ve never seen it before!”

Hanging out her door window, Bella spoke, “I don’t see the Washington Monument.”

“It’s right there.  It’s the Washington Monument.  You know, where Lincoln sits,” he said pointing to one side of a pillared wall.

“Jack, Lincoln sits in the Lincoln Memorial, not the Washington Monument,” Bella corrected.

“That’s what I meant.  Damn auto correct!”

“Did you just blame your phone’s auto correct for you not knowing the difference between the Washington Monument and Lincoln Memorial?” I questioned.

“That’s it!” Makayla bellowed.  “Lex get up here.  Jack, get in the back.  You’re the worst navigator in the world.”

Jack and I fumbled around trying to switch places.  Makayla jerked the vehicle forward, causing me to fall head first into the front seat and Jack to land in Bella’s lap, mumbling the whole time about how she was going to beat the attention deficit right out of him.

We lucked out on our final pass and followed the car in front of us onto the secluded ramp.  I couldn’t help but marvel that a major tourist city, like Washington, D.C., didn’t have a light post at all expressway entrances aiding unfamiliar travelers.  If not for that car, we may not have gotten off that loop until the sun rose and we could see properly. 

Mercifully, no other problems arose, allowing us to arrive on Atlantic Avenue a few minutes past midnight.  We pulled into the hotel Marissa had indicated, unloading and dragging our bags behind us.  The lobby was empty except for a couple lounging on a brightly colored couch.  As we approached, the guy opened coffee colored eyes in our direction.

Nudging the girl beside him, he whispered, “hey babe, your twin just walked in.” 

He wasn’t lying either.  Makayla and Marissa could definitely pass for twins.  They are only fourteen months apart and look the same in almost every way.  The only noticeable difference is Marissa’s hair is slightly longer and more blonde than brown.

“Hey sis, digging the new bangs,” Makayla smiled as she hugged her sister.  

Marissa greeted Bella and Jack, each with a hug, before stopping in front of me. “I hear that not only do I need to beat the shit outta some douchebag, but we’ve gotta take down a stalker too?”

Shrugging, I accused jokingly, “you’re the one always telling me I need more excitement in my life.”

“You always were an overachiever.  Baby steps, like sky diving or bungee jumping, are not exciting enough for you.  Nope, you leap off the highest freaking cliff straight into being on the run from not one, but two assholes,” she frowned, shaking her head.   

The guy from the couch unfolded his lean frame to stand behind Marissa.  He secured his dark, chin length hair in a band at the nape of his neck.  Placing his hands on her shoulders, he cut in, “it’s late, and everyone’s stressed.  Let’s head up to the room, get everyone settled, and then we can figure out where to go from there.”

We followed him, all cramming into the elevator at once.  Standing side by side, he looked down at me.  “By the way, I’m Tyler Donavan.”

“Alexis Reed,” I said, shaking his hand.  My cronies called out their names, each accompanied with some type of hand gesture in greeting. 

“Like y’all hadn’t already figured out who was who,” Marissa grouched.  The doors opened, and she stomped out and down the long hall.  Tyler looked down and winked, instigating my grinned response.

We entered the room, and Tyler explained that another couple backed out at the last minute, accounting for the enormity of the suite.  Sleeping assignments were agreed upon, with Marissa and Tyler in the master, Bella and Tate each taking a bed in the second room, and Makayla and I sharing the pullout.  Before turning in for the night, we brought Marissa and Tyler up to speed on just how exciting my life has become.  Earning Makayla and me a harsh dressing down for what was perceived as, and I quote,
a deliberate attempt to hide the seriousness of the stalkers activities
.  The fact that the breaking and entering was a very recent discovery, one that the police are currently investigating, did nothing to ebb Marissa’s anger.

Chapter Fifteen

I woke clutching a tiny corner of the blanket tightly to my chest.  It was the only section not twisted around Makayla, who was laying face down, head buried in her pillow.  How she manages not to smother herself in her sleep is beyond me.  Grabbing some clothes, I sneak into the bathroom for a shower.  By the time I finish, everyone is awake and eating breakfast sandwiches from a paper bag.

After a lengthy discussion, a few heated debates, and a smacking match between the sisters, we agree to embrace the anonymity this trip has allowed.  I know that I don’t always make the best decisions, but when you get a group of us together, we can talk around a bad idea until it becomes the most reasonable proposal ever known to mankind.  That is why instead of staying holed up in the hotel, guaranteeing no one can find us, this group digs down deep into their bucket of denial and carries on as if someone’s not trying to kill me.

We spent the day on the beach, lounging around and playing volleyball.  We ate crappy food from vendors along the boardwalk and maintained a slight buzz all day.  I have to admit, it was nice to do something normal without worrying about being kidnapped or dealing with Ethan and his collection of hos.  As the day wore on, I could feel myself relaxing.  My muscles weren’t as tense, and instead of running like a hamster wheel, my mind actually calmed for the first time in months. I kept myself disconnected from the outside world, but Makayla fielded frustrated calls from Sebastian.  She carefully made her way through the minefield of questions used to uncover our whereabouts, never once coming close to giving up our location.

As night fell, we congregated on a deck overlooking the ocean, sipping beer and shooting the breeze.  A couple of graduate students, who were enjoying a short break from school, joined our very philosophical discussion, bringing with them new and insightful perspectives.

“Hold on, I got one.  We’re forced to live together as a group, under the same roof.  Money isn’t an issue, but we aren’t allowed staff.  What rules or stipulations would you want in place?”  Tyler asked.

“First, it has to be a huge ass house because we all need our own bedroom, and I don’t want a rinky dink room either.  It needs to be spacious with a private sitting area where I can get away from the rest of you fools,” Bella said.

“Yeah, but I still want a communal family room too.  We need a place where we can all hang out together,” I added.

“Everyone needs their own bathroom too.  I don’t want to wait in line to take a dump because I’m living with a bunch of girls,” Tyler declared.

“Amen brother,” the dude in the black rim glasses said, giving Tyler a high five.

“I volunteer to be the house chef,” the female student chimed in.

“Can you cook?” Makayla questioned.

“My family owns a restaurant.  I’ve helped my mom cook since I was twelve.”

“Abby’s got my vote, but with that comes the grocery shopping too,” Jack stipulated.  “And just to make things simple, we clean our own private areas,” he paused, waggling his eyes in true Jack fashion, “and all pitch in on the public rooms.”

“Out of courtesy for all others in the house, we should give notice before guests arrive.  The amount of notice will depend on the type of guest.  Those who come over all of the time, like a boyfriend, don’t require more than a shout out as they walk in the door.  If your family is coming to visit, that requires a lot more mental preparation,” Marissa threw out, gaining unanimous agreement from everyone around the table.

After a few minutes of silence, Makayla spoke.  “While in a communal area, you must wear clothes, no exceptions.”

“Most of the time I’ll be wearing my kilt or my smoking jacket, so that’s fine with me,” Jack nonchalantly replied.

“That’s not a kilt,” Makayla argued.

“It is so a kilt.  It said so in the description when I bought it off the internet,” he maintained.

Makayla continued arguing her case.  “Do you have one of those bag things that hang in front?  No, you do not.  Without that, it’s just a skirt.”

With unconcealed curiosity, Marissa addressed Jack.  “Do you wear anything… under the kilt?”

“One does not disgrace the tradition of the kilt by wearing undergarments,” he said hotly.

“And you have a smoking jacket?” Abby asked in disbelief.

“Oh yes he does,” I giggled.  “He likes to kick back in the recliner wearing his smoking jacket and matching satin pants while drinking scotch and pretending to puff on a cigar.  He even has slippers to complete the look.”     

“Dude, that is awesome!  I’m getting a smoking jacket,” the guy said to Abby.

“Brock, when you live in the Playboy Mansion, you can channel your inner Hugh Hefner, until then, no.”

“Unless we have company, the inside of the house is a pants free zone for me,” Tyler informed us.

Bella shrugged her shoulders and responded, “you’re gonna be stuck with a bunch of braless females so as long as you’re not free balling it, it’s a fair trade.”

“I’ll agree to wearing boxers, but I can’t promise you’ll never see a show,” he said with a cheeky grin.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.  No way!  You girls are not walking around without securing your jugs!” Jack proclaimed.

“Bras are not comfortable, especially after having one on all stinking day.  You’re just gonna have to suck it up and get used to it pretty boy,” I informed Jack.

“I am not going to be subjected to all of you running around swinging your boobs all over the place like we’re living in the Amazon jungle!  I did not sign up for a National Geographic Adventure.  You will secure those puppies at all times.”

“I will not be bound by rules and regulations set up by an evil dictator just so he doesn’t have to look at what God gave me!  Especially when he’s doing it while wearing a smoking jacket and sucking on a cigar!” Makayla responded vehemently.

“I’m already considering how to break your rules,” Marissa admitted.

Attempting to find a compromise, Abby suggested, “what if everyone agrees to be properly clothed at all times outside of your personal room.  The only exception is when drinking, because let’s face it, under those circumstance things are sometimes out of your control.”

“I don’t think there can be an ‘except when drinking’ clause because we will always be drinking,” Jack rationalized, causing everyone to chuckle.

“You ladies seem to be a no holds barred, straight forward bunch,” Brock began, “I want your opinions on something.  I was at the grocery store a couple of days ago and there was a girl with a body made out of stone, wearing these little hot pants.  Being the type of gentleman that I am, I took some time to join the three to five creepy guys following her at a distance.  I couldn’t help noticing that the women passing by all gave her nasty stares and made snide comments about her.  Do all women hate each other unless they’re already friends?”

“We dislike anyone who looks better than us,” Abby confessed.

“Hell ya, she’s a bitch!” Marissa declared.

“We can be friends with her and still hate her skinny ass,” Makayla told him.

“The level of hatred for this girl was intense,” he said.

“Here’s the thing you need to understand.  Every female wants to be that girl the others are making nasty comments about.  When we see someone who has already achieved that status, we are obligated to fulfill her dream of being the most hated person in the world,” I revealed.  “But keep in mind, that if you call us out on our behavior, we are also oath bound to deny it with our last dying breath.”

Tyler shook his head in disbelief.  “I don’t think it’s the same thing for guys.  I saw a couple of ripped guys and all it did was make me put back my container of peanut butter stuffed pretzels for like five minutes.  Then I went back and bought them anyway because those things are just too good to pass up.”

We sat around drinking and discussing our absurd imaginary situations into the early morning hours.  By the time we decided to stumble off to bed, an entire business plan, covering both the high dollar whorehouse and the company we planned to use as a front, was detailed on a stack of cocktail napkins.  Sometimes the level of our collective intellect amazes even me. 

Staying up most of the night resulted in us sleeping the majority of the day away.  One by one, we began to stir like zombies at twilight.  Shuffling around half awake, mumbling garbled words no one could quite make out.  Someone had the fortitude to order delivery, attempting to tame the savage beasts disguised as our friends.

The last few days lulled us into a feeling of security.  The hotel began to represent a safe haven with the ability to keep the monsters at bay.  I suppose that is why no one saw a reason not to expand our sanctuary to include the entire Virginia Beach area.

“Bella!  Are you ready yet?” Makayla shouted as she pounded on the bathroom door.  “We’re at the freaking beach, not New York’s Fashion Week!  Let’s go!”

The bathroom door opened and with the dramatic flair of a 1950’s starlet, Bella swept into the room.  Directing a critical eye her way, Marissa took in Bella’s appearance.  Starting with her high, polished ponytail, moving to a face that was wearing only pale pink gloss, down to a fitted, white striped tee and matching navy shorts, and finally ending at gold, gladiator sandaled feet.  “It took you over an hour to do that?”

“I’m not above pushing the tiny tot twins over the balcony,” she replied sweetly.

With a clap of his hands as he stepped from the bedroom, Jack bellowed out, “OK kids, let’s get moving, time’s a wastin’.”

“That’s an interesting assortment you’ve got going on there, Jack,” I marveled.

Jack tilted his faux hawked head to look down his aquamarine polo at shorts boasting vertical stripes in peach, aquamarine, pink, yellow, white, and sherbet orange.  “What?  It’s my enticingly eccentric ensemble.”

“You definitely nailed that,” Bella confirmed, heading for the door.  “Let’s go, I wanna dance.”

“Bella darling, your skin may be milk chocolate from all of this time you’ve spent in the sun, but you’re moves are still vanilla,” Jack conveyed with a shake of his head and pursed lips.

“You aren’t in any position to criticize someone else’s moves my friend,” Makayla scoffed.

“I admit, my rhythm is a bit unconventional,” he conceded, stepping out of the elevator.

“Don’t worry about it Jack,” Marissa called over her shoulder, “something tells me once Lexie’s dolphin voice starts and Makayla busts out her white girl moves, they’ll kick us all out.”

“Well, isn’t that nice.  Look at the slut calling the ho a whore!” Makayla yelled back at her.

Looking at Tyler I rolled my eyes.  “You’d think, with all of the multiple personalities in this group, I’d find at least one I liked.”

We spent the night walking up and down the boardwalk, popping into bars and clubs at random.  Around midnight, Bella started dragging me by the arm toward the sound of pounding music.  Once inside, the six of us took part in our millionth celebratory shot before hitting the dance floor.  Bodies were gyrating to the music all around us.  More than once, I felt strange hands skim across my body.  Eyes closed, lost in the rhythm, I let the music carry me away, blocking out everything and everyone around me.  That was my first mistake.  Nope, I take that back.  My first mistake was letting these asshats convince me to leave the safety of the hotel. 

The first indication that something wasn’t quite right was when I felt a push.  Not one of those I’m dancing and got too close, or I’m pretending to lose my balance so I can cop a feel pushes either.  This was a shove.  A hard one that propelled me back a few steps, forcing the guy I ran into to catch me so I didn’t fall.  Searching through the shadowy space, I was trying to see what the hell caused the abrupt movement.  I could make out the forms of other people shifting and moving in a way that clearly screamed avoidance.  A small hole formed in front of me for a split second, allowing me a small glimpse at the spectacle brewing.  Praying that my eyes were playing tricks in the dim lighting, I pressed forward to get a better look.

Have you ever watched professional wrestling?  You know where these beefy guys perform a well-rehearsed routine inside of a boxing ring they refer to as ‘the squared circle’.  The timing and execution of those so called matches could be considered beautiful by some.  It’s an art form that takes years of dedication and constant practice to perfect.  What I was witnessing was not as technically sound.  One may even call it rudimentary at best.  But the way Marissa ran her shoulder into that girl’s midsection, lifting her completely off the floor, was not any less breathtaking.   

The show did not end there, no sir.  These people were getting their monies worth tonight.  Marissa, straddling her victim’s midsection, arm cocked back to land a lethal blow, was being quickly advanced upon by two more opponents.  A shout out, from her tag team partner, gave barely enough advanced warning for her to drop her shoulder and complete a tuck and roll maneuver, earning her a 7.9 score on the difficulty scale.  Simultaneously, her sister earned a 10.0 on technique for the perfect use of a clothesline, halting the other team’s advancement.

Angered and most assuredly embarrassed by her miscalculation, the third challenger made another run at Marissa, grabbing her by the front of her shirt.  The enemy sneered, confident in her ability to end our petite heroine, but alas, she is foiled again.  With an impressive armbar takedown, our champion overpowered her adversary with extreme prejudice.