Pretty Little Dreams (18 page)

“The crowds?
What are you talking about?”

She sighs and her lips become a straight line.
Just as I’m about to push her into telling me, she gives in to whatever internal battle she’s fighting. “He prefers being at home with you because right now, crowded places make him nervous.”

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why that would be, and it irritates me.
“Are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m not kidding.
He’s got a point, Olivia.”

“What?
How can you say that?”

“Easy.
He’s right. He can’t keep track of everyone in a crowded restaurant. It’s easier for someone to hide in, create a diversion, trick you to going to the bathroom or something and taking you…”

“Are you serious?
This isn’t a Jason Bourne movie, it’s my life.”

“I damn well know it’s your life!
And you’ve already been kidnapped once, for God’s sake, what’s to stop it from happening again? If Deacon thinks he can get away with it, he’s capable of anything and you know it. Why the hell would you want to put yourself in a position like that?”

“Because I will be damned if I let him control my life!”

“Well too bad! There is a difference between letting him control your life and just being plain stupid!” We are yelling now and I’m thankful it’s just the two of us sitting here, although the irony isn’t lost on me that we are sitting in the Zen garden being anything but… well, Zen.

I take a deep breath and count to ten because rationally, I know she isn’t calling me stupid, I know she just cares and is concerned.
“I’m not being stupid, Pyper. I’m taking back control.”

We stare at each other for a few minutes and don’t say a word.
Both of us lost in our own opinions. Finally, she breaks first, “Look, if you want the truth, the truth is this. If you want to do something nice for Luke, cooking him a meal at home would go over better with him than going out somewhere.” I start to interrupt and she holds up a hand stopping me, “I’m not saying he never wants you to go out. I’m just saying if thanking him and making it a night FOR him is what you’re after, then staying in would be the way to go. Otherwise, he will be a nervous wreck, and both of you will be more annoyed with one another at the end of the night instead of enjoying each other’s company.”

I sigh, “You’re right.
I know you’re right. I want the evening to be about him, not me. But, a home cooked meal? Um, hello? Have you met me? I suck at cooking. Must I remind you of the boiled egg incident?”

“Oh please, that wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“Really? Let me refresh your memory. I couldn’t follow simple instructions to let the water boil, take it off the heat and then put in the eggs and cover the pan. Instead, I put them down in the pan while the water was boiling hot on the stove. Eggs cracked everywhere, leaving trails of white goo, and I splashed burning hot water all over my arms when I dropped them in! Burns, Pyper. Actual burns. On my arms. I can’t possibly cook him a meal from scratch at home!”

“Actually, you’re better than you thought.
You just recited the proper way to boil eggs all on your own. Apparently, following instructions is just where you screw up.”

“Ha.
Very funny. Knowing and doing are two very different things.” I have to admit though, my mind has already wandered to the thought of me slaving away cooking a meal for Luke and him coming home to a meal I prepared for him. I would be all cute in an apron and he would come up and kiss me on the cheek and ask, “What’s for dinner?” I would be like a domestic goddess!

“Hmmm, then again, maybe cooking him dinner at home would be a good idea.”

18.

RAGE REIGNITED

Luke

“I
don’t give
a shit, Chuck. You’ve told me you understand, but you keep screwing up. And it’s happening on my dime, so I’m going to keep repeating myself until it’s stamped into your brain, because nothing else seems to be doing the trick.” I sigh to myself while I listen to him give me yet another excuse. I interrupt him before he gets far, “I’m tired of excuses. So either do what I say, or tell me you can’t step up to the plate. Because, if you can’t, then I’ll send someone else to do YOUR job - that’s all there is to it.” I hang up the phone. I don’t have time for his incompetence.

I have worked hard to not become known as being a prick for a boss.
I have always found the balance between being easy going and rewarding staff that performs, but at the same time, not settling for less than my expectations of them. But, as I’m sure the case is in every company, there are people that even after giving them chance, after chance, still just don’t get it. I run my business like a well-oiled machine. I’m certainly not a novice, so I don’t do well with people questioning my directives. Feedback is fine. Improvement great. But some things are not up for discussion.

I’m sure the fact that I don’t want to be here doesn’t help my tolerance level of stupidity in the slightest.
All I can think about is that I’ve left Olivia alone. Sure, she said she will be fine and she has articles to write and stuff to do for her blog, but I hate being away from her. It’s become an irrational fear that is at times, uncontrollable. I often times feel physically sick being away from her. My body gets warm, my stomach in knots, and I feel a deep ache in my bones at the distance between us. It’s so strange. I’m sure it’s all in my head, but dammit, she’s still in danger.

Pushing out another sigh, I tell myself that I’m going to push all these thoughts from my mind and work hard to concentrate on nothing but Zero Gravity for the next few hours.
I’m thrilled that our intake continues to exceed plan. This longstanding trend – one we’ve seen since first opening our doors – makes me quite happy. Liquor sales are through the roof, the door charge is still competitive with other clubs in the area, and it has allowed us to pay good money for great entertainment. Which reminds me; I have a few new bands that are interested in playing here. I need to set up times to interview them, and if they pass the screening, try them out on open mic night; to see how they handle themselves and if they would be a good fit. I pick up the phone and start making some calls, filling the calendar quickly.

Aside from that, I have alcohol to order and a few resumes to review.
Zero Gravity has four bars, one upstairs, three downstairs. We employ waitresses that also walk around taking orders. Since opening, we’ve only utilized two of the three bars on the lower level, but now that we are consistently exceeding our sales goals, the extra cost of an additional bar and the staff needed to run it will be paid for easily. Plus, an additional bar will keep traffic through the club decongested, since it will minimize the likelihood of crowding at any one bar. Picking up the resumes, I scan them, searching for one in particular. I promised an old friend that if a bartender position became available, I would give him a call. One of my best friends from college has had a rough time of it lately, and could use a change of pace. I pick up the phone, ready to call him about the position, but before I can start dialing, my cell phone rings.

Smiling to myself, I hastily look through the scattered papers on my desk trying to find where it is hiding.
When I find it under a few files, I look at it expectantly, hoping to see the cute picture of Olivia making a kiss face on my screen, but instead it says “Blocked”.

I slide my finger across the bottom and answer, “Hello, this is Luke.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you.”

I freeze and the breath leaves my body; my heart one second so normal, starts pounding in my chest like I’ve run ten miles – at a sprint.
I may have only talked to him on the phone one time, when he was yelling at Olivia and I took the phone from her, but I would recognize his voice anywhere.

“Deacon?
How did you get this number?”

He laughs, “You should really think about telling people not to share your personal information.
With a little charm and alcohol, some people really are willing to divulge anything.”

My mind races trying to guess who would have done such a thing, but really, it could be anyone.
All of my employees have my number. It wouldn’t really be that hard.

“What the fuck do you want, Deacon?”

“You know what I want. It’s only a matter of time before I have her back with me again.”

“Listen to me clearly, you son of a bitch.
You will never get near her again. I won’t allow it. You stay the fuck away from her. Do you understand me?”

“
You
listen to
me
. I’m watching. I’m
always
watching. And I will take what I want, when I want. I just haven’t pushed her yet. I’m giving her time to recover from her fall. Did she tell you about that?”

“About how you made her fall over a railing, you bastard?”

“Did she tell you what she was doing before that? How she was kissing me? Had her hands on me? Where she touched me?” I hear him chuckle to himself, “Mmmm, she tasted so good. I can’t wait to taste her again.”

My heart feels like it trips over itself at the thought.
Blood races to my face and saliva and bile fill my mouth as if I’m going to be sick. I swallow it back and take a deep breath. Through gritted teeth, I spit out each word, “You. Aren’t. Going. To. Fucking. Touch. Her.”

He laughs again, the sound making me want to punch something, “Oh I’ve already touched her.
And I’m going to do it again.”

“Over my dead body.”

“That could be arranged. If you know what’s best for you, you will back off. The right moment will come, and when it does, I will take care of you and get my princess back once again. She wants me, I know it. I still remember the way she kissed me that last day. I know she’s forgiven my mistakes and if she hasn’t, I’ll make her.”

I’m breathing heavy and I want to yell into the phone and tell him what a complete lunatic he is, but somehow a rational part of my brain knows that you can’t talk sense to a mad man.
“You will never lay another fucking finger on her again.”

“Oh, I laid more than a finger on her, and she loved every second of it.
She fucking begged for it. For me. And I can’t wait to hear her scream again.”

I see red.
Nothing but red. I know this asshole likely forced himself on my girl, and here he is, acting like she wanted it. I can feel the edges of my sanity wavering - my vision is blurry and spotted with rage, and I would give anything to be able to wrap my hands around his neck. Anything. “There are so many people searching for you. It’s only a matter of time before you’re found. When you are, I will make sure that you pay for what you did to MY girl. Do you hear me ASSHOLE? I said MY GIRL!”

“SHE’S NOT YOUR FUCKING GIRL AND SHE NEVER WILL BE!
SHE IS MY WIFE!” His yell is so loud the ear piece of my cellphone literally vibrates from the sound. I can’t help but smirk - I can hear he’s breathing heavy on the other end of the phone and I know my words have affected him. Luke-one, dickhead-zero.

I can’t help but rub it in a little more, “You couldn’t be more wrong.
I had her first douchebag, and I will sure as hell have her last.”

Somehow he’s managed to calm himself, because his next words are spoken in a tone so calm and steady; I never would have known he had just screamed at me seconds before.
“We’ll see about that. I’m watching, and I’m waiting. You remember that.”

I hear a click, indicating he’s hung up the phone.
I put my phone down on my desk, and put my head in my hands. This is a nightmare I just want to end already. The adrenaline high from talking to him makes my body shake, and it’s a few minutes before I’m able to pick up the phone. When I do, it’s to speak one sentence, “Max, this is Luke, get over to the club now.”

I hang up without giving him a chance to respond.
If he’s smart, he won’t waste any time getting his ass over here.

While I wait for him to arrive, I am thankful, not for the first time, that I have a mini bar in my office.
I pour myself a glass of scotch and knock it back, reveling in the smooth taste. I pour a second glass immediately and take it back to my desk, intending to drink this one slower.

Looking at the papers on my desk, everything fades in front of me and my mind flashes to the way Olivia looked in the hospital when we were reunited.
She was so bruised and hurt - desperate to shield the people she loves from the ramifications of her kidnapping. The worst moments still are when she looks off and becomes trapped in the memories that hold her hostage. She tries to hide it, but I can tell. She loses focus on everything around her, and her eyes become glassy while she gets a far-off look on her face. After the second time it happened, I started having dreams at night occasionally about murdering the son of a bitch responsible for making her look that way.

A knock at the office door startles me out of my unpleasant thoughts, “Come in.”

“I’m sorry to bother you, sir,” Brian, one of my newer staff members, stands at the door with an apologetic look on his face. Brian is a nice guy that has done a good job taking Kevin’s place when I sent Kevin to help get a new club off the ground. “There is a Max Helms here to see you?”

“That’s fine, I’m expecting him.
Send him in, thanks.”

Max hurries in with a flustered look before Brian can even say a word.
“I got here as fast as I could, what is going on?”

Brian sighs and loiters near the door, unsure of what to do, “It’s fine, Brian, thank you.”
He nods and leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

Before speaking, I take another sip of my scotch while staring at Max.
He’s an average looking guy with brown hair and glasses. He’s got freckles on his nose, dimples in his cheeks and he’s skinny as a rail. If you passed him on the street, you likely wouldn’t give him a second look, and in his profession, I think he counts on that.

He looks nervous and I’m glad.
He’s a smart guy and he knows I’m unhappy. I pay him well, and he should be worried about not meeting my expectations. Because he’s not. Although, I’m not so absurd that I don’t realize it isn’t entirely his fault.

“I just received a phone call from Deacon.”
I pause, letting that sink in before continuing. “He basically threatened my life and told me he is waiting for the right time to take Olivia again.”

Max’s eyes widen, “Well, of course you need to call the police about this.”

“Yes, I know, and I wanted you to be here when I do that, since I want full disclosure. I want them to know you and your agency are working on finding him too.”

“They may not see too kindly to that.”

“I really don’t give a shit. Olivia is my priority, so you all can compare dicks another time.”

“I didn’t mean…”

“I know what you meant, Max. Look, I hired you because I know you’re good. If you weren’t, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.” I take another sip of my scotch, “Now then, before I call them, I want a status report right now. Please,” I throw in as an afterthought.

He starts shuffling through his files before grabbing a piece of paper and sitting back in his chair, meeting my eyes steadily.
“The agency performed a complete background check on Deacon Brooks and we have a complete list of all his previous employers, friends, relatives, schools he’s attended, even ones he applied to and didn’t get into. I know he donated blood when he was sixteen, and that he had tubes put into his ears at the age of three. I know he received a ticket at twenty-two for speeding and that he appeared in court a year after that for expired license plate tags. I know everyone he dated and pretty much anyone he ever even looked at funny.”

“So it sounds like you have a ton of useless information that isn’t going to do shit for us.”

“That’s not necessarily true, sir,” I can’t help but smirk at the title. “I’ve spoken to pretty much everyone he’s ever met in his life. Family that would talk with me, old neighbors, even old college roommates and pals.”

“And?”
I’m impatient. I don’t have time for him to sit here and try to amaze me with his presentation and supposed thoroughness. “What has any of this information gotten you?”

“Apparently, Deacon was in therapy from the age of twelve to eighteen, at which time he could no longer be forced to attend sessions any longer and he quit going.

“Therapy for what?”

“Well as is the law, his psychiatrist wouldn’t reveal information due to patient confidentiality, but from the police reports we were able to obtain, combined with talking to neighbors and friends, it appears it started with vandalism.
He even did a stint in juvie for shoplifting.”

“How do you go from shoplifting to kidnapping and sexual assault?”