Billie nodded.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
Billie closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. “I’m fine.”
“Really? I don’t think so. Is it Cat? The kids? Talk to me. I don’t know how to help you.”
Billie sighed and released a stuttered breath. “I’ve lost them. They hate me.”
“Come on, that can’t be right. Cat loves you. A blind man could see it.”
“No. It’s over. I can’t go home.”
“Then you’re coming home with me.” Art leaned in, took her keys from the ignition, and helped her out of the car. He settled her in the front passenger seat of his own car and called his wife.
“Honey,” he said, “I’m bringing Billie home with me. She’s in a bad way. No. No, she’s not hurt—just upset. Would you mind getting the guest room ready? We’ll be there soon.”
Art’s heart broke for Billie as she leaned against the door, her head on the window and her arms wrapped around herself. Tears coursed down her face as sobs wracked her body. Ten minutes later, they pulled into the driveway of Art’s home.
Marge took charge as soon as Art brought her into the house. After removing Billie’s coat and handing it to Art, she led Billie to the couch. She sat beside Billie, wrapped her arm around her shoulder, and held her tight as sounds of sobbing filled the room. She stroked Billie’s hair and made soothing sounds in her ear
When Billie’s sobs subsided, Marge offered her the glass of water Art had brought from the kitchen. While she drank, Marge pushed the hair out of Billie’s face and tucked it behind her ear.
“Do you want to talk about it? Do you want us to call Cat?” she asked.
“She won’t talk to me. She threw me out,” Billie said. “I’ve lost her. She hates me. My God, how will I live without her? Without my kids?”
Marge cast a worried glance at Art. He sat down on the other side of Billie and circled her back with his arm. “You don’t know that she hates you. What could you have possibly done to make her hate you?”
“She called me a whore. She told me to get out.”
Art’s eyes grew wide. “Why would she say such a thing? She knows better than that.”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
Art knelt down on one knee and squeezed one of Billie’s hands in his own. “You know we’re here for you—right?”
She rested her head against the back of the couch and closed her eyes. Apparently exhausted, within moments she fell asleep.
“Poor dear.” Marge wiped the tears from Billie’s tear-stained face. “I’m going to turn down the blankets on the bed in the guest room. Carry her in there for me, will you?”
Art slipped his arms under her knees and around her shoulders. Billie’s head rested on his shoulder as he carried her into the room and placed her on the bed. She roused slightly as Marge removed her shoes and tucked the blankets around her.
Marge leaned in and spoke softly. “I don’t know what happened between you and Cat, but I want you to know we’re ready to listen when you feel like talking about it.”
Billie nodded.
Marge kissed her on the forehead. “Try to get some sleep.”
Billie closed her eyes and nodded once more, while tears escaped from beneath her lids.
“Cat? This is Art.”
“Art,” Cat said.
“I think you know why I’m calling.”
“She’s with you, isn’t she?”
“Yes, she is. She’s in pretty bad shape. She’s not hurt or anything, but she’s a total wreck.”
Cat remained silent on the other end of the line.
“Cat?”
“Art, it’s late. I need to put the children to bed. I’ve got to go.”
“I don’t know what’s happened between you two, but Billie is devastated.”
“Ask her about the photographs. I’ve got to go, Art. Goodnight.”
Art frowned at the receiver in his hand. Photographs? He hung up the phone and went in search of Marge, who had just exited Billie’s room.
“How is she?”
“She’s finally sleeping,” Marge said. “She’s dying inside. I’m not sure what it is, but something major happened between them.”
“Cat called her a whore. Can you believe it?”
“I know what you mean. I was shocked when Billie told us that. I wonder what prompted it?”
“I don’t know. I just talked to Cat, to let her know Billie was here. She seemed very cold. She told me to ask her about the photographs. I don’t know what that means, but I intend to find out tomorrow.”
* * *
Billie’s lids fluttered open then slammed shut to ward off the headache that followed the sunlight into her pale blue eyes. She raised a hand and massaged her temple in an attempt to release the tension that had built during her restless night. When she first awoke, she was disoriented and not sure where she was. She sensed a presence and slowly opened her eyes into thin slits to scan the room. There in a chair by her bed, sat a large, dark-skinned man.
“Welcome back to the land of the living.” Art leaned over and moved the bangs from her forehead. “How are you feeling this morning, or should I say this afternoon?”
Billie sat up and grabbed her head as a sharp pain erupted between her eyes. “Damned headache. Afternoon?” she said. “What time is it?”
“It’s almost one.” Art rose to his feet. “Let me get you a couple of painkillers for that headache.”
Billie swung her legs over the side of the bed. “I’ve got to go. Cat—”
“Cat knows where you are. I called her last night. You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.”
Billie thought about confiding in him but changed her mind. “It’s nothing. We’ll work it out.”
“I didn’t get that impression last night when I found you in your car, nor when I talked to Cat. It didn’t appear to me she’s ready to work anything out. She was pretty damned cold,” Art said. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what this is all about.”
“I didn’t ask for your help,” Billie said. She regretted the words as soon as they left her lips.
“Well, that’s just too bad because you’ve got it whether you want it or not—you got that?”
Billie’s bottom lip quivered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I just need to work this out myself. It’s probably nothing anyway.”
“Don’t tell me it’s nothing. I’m the one who found you last night, remember? You told me Cat called you a whore and threw you out. Damn it, that doesn’t sound like nothing to me. Whatever happened between you and Cat yesterday was a little more than nothing to put you in the state you were in when I brought you home. Marge has been worried sick about you, and she wouldn’t worry over nothing. Understand? Now you’re not going anywhere until you tell me what happened.”
Billie rose to her feet and paced like a caged tiger. After several trips, she stopped and glared at Art.
“For some reason, she thinks I’ve been cheating on her. She called me a whore. Can you believe it? She has no right to treat me that way. I wanted so much to beat the shit out of her. Is that what you wanted to hear? Is it?”
Billie noticed that Art kept his distance. Part of her felt bad she was taking her pain out on him.
“Why do you think she called you a whore?”
“How the hell am I supposed to know? I’ve been faithful to her from the day we met,” Billie shouted. “I called her yesterday to let her know I’d be late, and all of a sudden, there was dead silence on the other end of the line. I rushed home, thinking she or the kids were in trouble, and when I got there, I found her on the floor crying.” Billie started pacing once more.
“What happened next?”
“I tried to console her, and she just flew off the handle. She told me not to touch her. She screamed at me to leave.” Billie ran her hand through her hair. “Seth and Tara were standing there watching the w
hole thing. I asked them to go into the other room, and I guess I became a little too loud with them, which only made her angrier.”
“You didn’t hurt her or the children, did you?”
Billie glanced at him and quickly averted her eyes. “I grabbed Cat and pressed her against the wall. I wanted to hurt her. Part of me was so pissed off I wanted to hurt her bad, but no, I didn’t. At least I don’t think I did.”
“And the kids were there the whole time?”
“Yes. In fact, Seth stood up to me and threatened to defend Cat. My own son turned against me.”
Art pulled Billie into his arms. “No, my friend, he didn’t turn against you. He was defending Cat. You should be proud of him, not angry.”
“What am I going to do? My God, if I only knew what I did wrong. She threw me out for no reason. It’s unfair.”
Art took Billie by the shoulders and held her at arm’s length away from him. “Well, when I called Cat last night, she told me to ask you about the photographs. Do you know what she’s talking about?”
Billie’s forehead creased in thought. “I didn’t see any photographs. Wait. She threw an envelope at me as I was leaving.”
“Bingo,” Art said. “Where is it?”
“In my coat pocket.”
“Okay, wait here and I’ll get it. Keep your chin up. We’ll get you through this, I promise.”
She tried to smile through the pain in her heart. “Thanks, Art.” She sat down on the bed and massaged her aching head.
Chapter 3
Billie sat on the bed, surrounded by several photographs. Very compromising photographs—photographs of her in graphically sexual positions with an attractive blonde. Her eyes were wide as she glanced back and forth between Art and the pictures.
Art paced, one hand on his hip, the other moving worriedly across his chin. He stopped in front of her. “This isn’t good,” he said. “I thought you said you never cheated on her. No wonder she threw you out.”
Billie continued to stare at the pictures.
“No offense, Billie, but why? Cat is the sweetest, most perfect woman in the world for you. The two of you complete each other. I’ve heard you say that a thousand times. How could you do this to her?”
Billie’s eyes narrowed into slits. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and shoved her feet into her shoes. She collected the pictures, stuffed them into the back pocket of her jeans, and faced Art. “I thought you were my friend. How could you even think I could do that to Cat?” Billie pressed her hands into the sides of her head. “I need to get out of here before I do or say something I don’t mean.” She stormed out of the room, yanked her coat from the entryway closet, and reached for the front doorknob.
“Billie, don’t leave. I’m sorry. We need to talk about this.” Art grabbed her arm to stop her.
Billie swung around and yanked her arm out of his grasp. “You’re no better than she is. Both of you jumped to conclusions. Billie must be fucking some blonde bimbo behind Cat’s back—right? Well, you have no idea what’s behind those photographs. No idea at all.”
“You have to admit, the photographs are pretty damning.” He again placed his hand on her arm. “Please stay. Let’s talk about this.”
“Take your hand off me,” Billie said through clenched teeth.
“At least let me drive you to where you want to go.”
“No thanks, I’ll walk. It’ll give me time to think. Tell Marge I said thanks for everything.”
“Albany Medical Center. How may I direct your call?”
“I’m looking for Cat, ah, I mean, Caitlain Charland.”
“One moment please.”
Art held the phone against his ear and waited for Cat to answer.
“Caitlain Charland.”
“Cat, this is Art.”
“Art,” Cat said. “If you’re calling about Billie, I don’t want to discuss it, okay?”
“Listen to me,” Art said. “Billie just—”
“Did she show you the photographs?”
“Yes, she did. In fact, it was obvious to me it was the first time she’d looked at them. I can’t blame you for being angry.”
“I have to go back to work. Is there something you needed to tell me?”
“Yes. Billie just left here pissed off. I’ve never seen her so disturbed. She told me about yesterday’s encounter with you and how she had to stop herself from hurting you. I’m worried about her, and I’m worried about you.”
“You don’t think she’ll—”
“I don’t know what she’s capable of. I’ve seen a side of her I didn’t know existed. She’s not herself. She was an emotional wreck last night, and she complained of a headache. Come to think of it, she had the headache when she went to bed last night and still had it in the morning. I’ve never seen her in such bad shape. It was as though some dark force was controlling her temper. She thinks she’s lost you and the kids, and she’s desperate. Desperation has driven people to do awful things.”
“Art, I’ve got to go.”
“One thing I’ve got to know before I hang up,” Art said. “Do you still love her?”
Without hesitation, Cat said, “I’ll always love her. I just don’t know if I’ll ever trust her again.”
“I understand,” he said. “She set out on foot. We’re too far from the office for her to walk there, so I don’t think that’s where she’s headed. I’ll search around the immediate area first. If I find her, I’ll give you a call. Okay?”
“Okay. Thanks.”
Billie shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her coat and stared straight ahead as she walked away from Art’s house.
“Damn you, Art,” she shouted. “How could you? How could Cat?” She walked for miles and ducked between buildings when cars approached. She saw Art drive by several times. Soon she found herself in the downtown area, in a part of the city nicknamed Hell’s Hole.
She ducked into a bar as she saw Art’s car approach for what felt like the 100th time. She ordered a drink and carried it to a table in the far corner of the room where she could see the entire bar at a glance. She pulled the photographs from her pocket and spread them out on the table. She stared at them as she sipped her drink. Waves of fear and disgust filled her heart as the photographs prompted memories of her painful past.
“What do we have here?” a gravel-tinged voice asked from behind Billie’s shoulder.
A large scruffy man leaned over her. The smell of liquor and body odor made her queasy.
“Whoa, there. These are hot.” The man picked up one picture to examine it closer. “This is you, isn’t it? Why don’t you and me go find your little friend here in the picture and the three of us can have a good time?” He rubbed his free hand up and down his crotch.
Billie sneered at the man with disgust. “You’re not my type, tripod. I think I’ll pass.”
“I can see from the picture what your type is, sweetheart. Thought you’d like a nice hard man for a change.”
“You thought wrong.” Billie grabbed the picture from his hand and threw it back with the others on the table. “Now I’d appreciate it if you’d leave me alone.”
“Your loss, dyke.” The man walked away and took a seat at the bar.
Several hours and more than a few drinks later, Billie pushed the pictures into a pile and shoved them back into her pocket. She stood, then swayed on her feet and fell back into her chair.
The next thing she knew, she was being helped to her feet by the same man who propositioned her earlier in the evening. Her inebriated state made her helpless to resist as he dragged her out of the bar and into the alley.
“Let go of me, asshole.” Billie tried to yank her arm out of his grasp.
The man increased his hold as he half-carried and half-dragged her through the alley.
“I said, let go of me, cocksucker!” Billie screamed as she landed a punch on the man’s jaw.
The punch glanced off him. His backhand sent her crashing into the wa
ll where she slumped to the ground. “We’ll see who the cocksucker is,” he said.
The man grabbed her by the hair, pulled her to her feet, and pushed her deeper into the alley. He slammed her against the wall behind the trash dumpster and pressed his sweaty body against her.
Billie gagged at the smell of him.
He grabbed her by the throat and smashed her head against the brick building. Billie’s half-drunk attempts at martial arts didn’t faze him. He backhanded her a second time and sent her into a pile of boxes and bags.
The man laughed as he yanked her to her feet and landed a punch to her stomach. She fell to her knees and threw up the countless drinks she had consumed. He kicked her in the side, grabbed her shirt, and pulled her to her feet once again. He pressed her against the wall where he groped her with one dirty hand, while he unbuckled his belt with the other.
Billie forced herself to remain calm while the man unzipped his jeans and exposed himself to her. He grabbed the front of Billie’s jeans and tugged until the zipper broke. Moments later, he had her jeans and underpants down below her buttocks. He released the front of her shirt to use both hands to finish removing her jeans.
Billie saw her opportunity. She thrust her knee into sharp contact with his exposed genitalia. The man buckled at the waist and fell forward, knocking both of them to the ground.
“Get off me, you filthy piece of shit!” Billie fought to get away. She almost succeeded, but he grabbed her ankle and pulled her back.
“You whore!” He struggled to hold her down while he pulled his belt from the loops around the waist of his jeans. “You’re gonna pay for this, bitch.”
Billie filled with terror as flashbacks of beatings at the hands of her ex-husband raced through her mind. No, this can’t be happening again. No, Brian. No more. Please. I won’t do it again, I promise. She covered her head with her hands and did her best to protect her face, while the wide strap bit into her back.
The last thing she remembered before she lost consciousness was her assailant lying on the ground beside her.
Unchained Memories Page 2