Victorious, a Tame Quantum Novel

by Marie Force

  At some point, I fall asleep only to be awakened by the alarm on Natalie’s phone. It’s way too early to be awake after being up most of the night stewing, but remembering why she had set the alarm so early puts me immediately on alert. The goal today is to end this bullshit with the FBI once and for all.

  “Did you sleep?” Natalie asks.

  “Some.”

  Fluff stands and stretches, spots me on the other side of Natalie and shows me her ten stumpy teeth. She gets a lot done with those remaining teeth.

  “Stop it, Fluff. This is Daddy’s bed. He can sleep here, too.”

  “When did I become her daddy anyway?”

  “When you married her mommy.” She says this as if it makes perfect sense, which is utterly adorable.

  “I never signed on for that, and P.S., this is our bed, not mine. Ours.” I yawn deeply, remembering the multiple events that lie ahead.

  It’s going to be a long day and nowhere near as much fun as the weekend was. I’m thrilled to finally receive an Oscar nod for acting, but I’d much rather spend today alone with my new wife than schmoozing at yet another Hollywood event. “I need a shower to wake up. Want to join me?”

  “Only if you’ll sign a no-sex waiver. I’m on hiatus.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says my bruised and battered body. And judging from the bloated crampy feeling I woke up with, I’m due to get my period today, so we’re out of commission for a while.”

  “No, we’re not.”

  “Yes, we are.”

  “Have you forgotten that you signed over control of your sexual satisfaction to me, which means you don’t get to say when?”

  “I get to say not then.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “No. You don’t.”

  “Where’s Fluff when I need her?”

  “The dog or the safe word?”

  “The dog. I want her to bite your ass again.”

  Emmett arrives about twenty minutes before our eight o’clock meeting with Vickers. Natalie and I are fresh out of the shower, where she was true to her word—no sex. That’s okay. I’ll let her make it up to me later. She hasn’t yet dried her hair, and she looks fresh-faced and young as we meet with my attorney and close friend.

  “What happened to Rogers anyway?” I ask him over coffee.

  “You don’t already know?” Emmett asks, surprised. As always, he’s decked out in one of the custom bespoke suits he has made on twice-a-year trips to London’s Savile Row.

  “I suffer from a staggering lack of curiosity where he’s concerned.”

  “He was stabbed in his office. No sign of forced entry, and whoever killed him made him suffer first. His left ear was cut off, his right pinky finger—”

  When I see Natalie go pale, I hold up a hand to stop Emmett.

  “Sorry. I figured you guys had read about it by now.”

  “We can’t possibly be the only ones with motive,” Natalie says.

  “You aren’t. The stories coming out of Lincoln tell a tale of a life gone totally off the rails. He was big into gambling and owed money all over the place.”

  “So we basically handed him the golden egg when Natalie appeared with me at the Globes.”

  “That’s my speculation. And I believe it’s possible that someone knew he’d come into the money and was looking for their share when he was killed. Our guy is working that angle right now—who did Rogers owe that would be interested in his big payday?”

  I glance at Natalie. “You see why we love Emmett so much?”

  “I can definitely see.”

  Emmett smiles at her. “Just doing my job and protecting my friends. This whole thing is bullshit.”

  The doorbell rings, and I go to admit Vickers. He takes a long look around at my house, which makes me wish I’d had this meeting at the office instead. This’ll give him a story to tell in his retirement, the time he suspected the movie star of murder. If only he could’ve proved it, the case would’ve made his career.

  As I have that thought, I begin to understand Vickers’s motivation. Pinning Rogers’s murder on me—or Natalie—would make him a star. Yeah, that’s gonna happen over my dead body.

  I bring him into the kitchen, offer him a chair and a cup of coffee, which he declines.

  “Nice place you got here.”

  “I like it.” When I sit next to Natalie, she takes hold of my hand under the table. And just that simply, I feel calmer, more prepared to keep my cool no matter what buttons Vickers decides to push. “This is my wife, Natalie.”

  “Pleased to meet you.”

  She smiles and nods but doesn’t return the sentiment. That’s my girl.

  “And my attorney, Emmett Burke.”

  “What can we do for you?” Emmett asks.

  “Do I have your permission to record this conversation?”

  Emmett nods. “Go ahead. We have nothing to hide.”

  Vickers places a handheld recorder on the table and lists the parties present as well as the date and location. “As you know, we’re looking into the murder of David Rogers. Mrs. Godfrey, could you please tell me about your association with him?”

  She looks at me for reassurance. I wish I could spare her from having to talk about things she’d rather forget.

  “I met him during Oren Stone’s trial. He was acquainted with the detective who took me in after my parents… I was estranged from my family and…” She takes a deep breath. “David offered to help me establish a new identity.”

  “Was that his idea or yours?”

  “It was his suggestion, but I was very anxious to leave the past behind. He didn’t have to talk me into it.”

  “How exactly did he go about establishing your new identity?”

  “I’m not sure of the exact steps he took. I was seventeen and looking for a fresh start after two nightmarish years. When he produced a new birth certificate, passport, Social Security card, a credit card, bank accounts, I didn’t ask questions.”

  “Do you know if he actually changed your name or if he created a new identity?”

  “He created a new identity because I didn’t want some clerk in an office to be able to tie the two names to each other. That was very important to me.”

  “How much did you pay him for these items?”

  “Five thousand dollars.”

  “And where did you get the money?”

  “After Stone was charged with attacking me, some of his rivals and enemies came together to raise funds to support me during the trial. I used the money to pay for living expenses and tutors so I could finish high school from home. I paid for clothes and other expenses. I used part of it to pay David, and the rest went toward half of my college tuition.”

  “How did you pay for the other half?”

  I reach my limit with that question. “What does that have to do with anything?” It’s pure torture watching Natalie talk about this shit again. The experiences of her teenage years might always be part of her, but she shouldn’t be forced to constantly relive it. I can’t bear it.

  “We’re looking into Mr. Rogers’s business dealings.”

  “All of them or just the ones that involve my wife?”

  “All of them.”

  She squeezes my hand. “I paid for the rest of college with loans and by working two jobs.”

  “A run of your credit shows that your loans were recently paid off in full. Can you explain how that transpired?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but I paid off her loans.”

  “I was asking Mrs. Godfrey.”

  “What he said. How do you think I suddenly paid off thousands of dollars in loans when I recently lost my job?”

  I bite my lip to hold back a smile.

  “When was the last time you saw or spoke to Mr. Rogers?”

  “More than six years. I never saw him again after he delivered the documents to the home where I was living.”

  “Talk to him?�
��

  “No. I had no need to. I hired him to do a job for me. He did it. I paid him. End of story. Until…”

  “Until?”

  “Until I appeared at the Golden Globes with Flynn, and David sold me out to the media.”

  “And how do you know it was him?”

  “He was the only one who knew me by both names.”

  “You never told anyone else what your new name is? Not even the family you lived with?”

  “No. I told no one. I’m still April to the family I lived with and the few other people who remained in my life after the attack.”

  “In all the years after you changed your name, you never told anyone about your former name, your former life in Lincoln?”

  “The point of changing my name was that I didn’t want anyone to know who I used to be. I never told anyone. I hadn’t even told Flynn the full story before it hit the news. He learned my birth name from reporters.”

  “Where did you live while you were in college?”

  Again she looks at me, as if to ask what the meaning of this is. I’m wondering the same thing.

  “The first year, I lived in a dorm and then in an apartment the other three years.”

  “Roommates?”

  “A few. Here and there.”

  “I assume you made some friends there, in classes, jobs, activities? Boyfriends?”

  “What’re you getting at, Agent Vickers?” Emmett asks, saving me the trouble.

  “Yes, I had some friends. People I did things with. But I didn’t date, if that’s what you mean.”

  “I’m just having a little trouble believing that in all that time, with all those people you came into contact with, lived with, did things with, you never told anyone about Stone or the trial or anything about your life before college. I have a daughter. She talks about everything.”

  Her eyes flash with anger. “Was your daughter attacked and repeatedly raped by a man she trusted when she was fifteen? Did your best friend lure her to his home, hold her down, take her virginity, her innocence, and ruin her life? Did your daughter’s parents disown her when she refused to back down from bringing charges against your best friend and boss? If not, then you certainly have no place to judge me or the choices I made after I was attacked.”

  I want to stand up and cheer. I’ve never been more proud of her or more impressed by her than I am in that moment.

  “You went to college in the same state in which you helped to send the governor to jail. No one recognized you?”

  “I’d changed my appearance by then. I’d changed my hair color from reddish brown to the current color, and until this week, I wore brown contacts that changed my eye color. I was also older by then, and I had matured in the years since the attack and trial. No one ever so much as suggested that I might be April Genovese. They were college kids. What did they care about the girl who brought down the governor? Most of them probably didn’t even know it had happened.”

  “When you heard the media was reporting that Flynn Godfrey’s new girlfriend was the same girl who brought down the governor of Nebraska, what did you think?”

  “I knew right away that David had cashed in on what he knew about me. It had to be him, because no one else knew.”

  “Since the story went public, have you spoken to anyone you knew before in Lincoln?”

  “Only my sisters, who I hadn’t spoken to since before the attack.”

  “You didn’t speak to Rogers?”

  “Why would I? Flynn’s lawyers were handling the situation with him. I had bigger concerns, including the loss of my job and livelihood. I had no desire to speak to the man who’d given me a new identity and then stolen it from me when it served his purposes.”

  Both men look at my wife with admiration while my heart swells with love and respect. She’s magnificent.

  “Have we answered all your questions?” I want him gone so I can be alone with her.

  “For now. We’d like you to remain available while the investigation continues.”

  “We’re going to London for about forty-eight hours this weekend for the British Academy Film Awards,” I say, “but we’ll be back in LA early next week.”

  “We’d like to know what else is being done to find Rogers’s killer,” Emmett said. “Surely you have persons of interest by now other than my clients?”

  “We’re investigating a number of promising leads. The information you provided today is very helpful.”

  “It’s safe to assume, then, that my clients are not suspects?”

  “Not yet. This is an ongoing investigation, and we reserve the right to question your clients again.”

  “I’ll show you out,” Emmett says, tuning in to my need to have the agent gone.

  The moment we’re alone in the kitchen, I reach for her. “You were fucking magnificent.” I realize she’s trembling, which infuriates me. “I’m so sorry you had to go through all that again. I hope that’s the last time you ever have to talk about it.”

  “I hope so, too.”

  “We can skip the lunch today if you’re not up for it.”

  “We’re not skipping it. You’re an Academy Award nominee, and we’re going to that luncheon.”

  I raise her chin and kiss her. “So proud of you, sweetheart.”

  She smiles weakly.

  Emmett comes back. “That was awesome, Natalie. You handled him like a pro.”

  “I just told the truth.”

  “You did it brilliantly.”

  “See?” I tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I’m not the only one who thinks you’re fucking amazing.”

  “Don’t forget I’ve had training on how to deal with hostile questions, cross-examination, the whole nine yards.”

  “I’m so turned on right now.”

  “And that’s my cue to get the hell out of the love nest,” Emmett says, laughing.

  I get up to shake his hand. “Thanks for coming, man.”

  “You got it. Any time.”

  “We’ll see you at the office tomorrow and at the club on Friday.”

  “Oh. Really?” He glances between Natalie and me.

  “Really.”

  “Well, okay. See you soon.”

  “Keep me posted on anything you hear from the investigator.”

  “I will.”

  I see him out the door and return to the kitchen, where Natalie is staring out at the pool, lost in thought. Probably lost in torturous memories. If I could, I’d spend every dime I have to erase those memories for her.

  “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just that I’ve been forced to confront my past more in the last few weeks than I have in years.”

  “It’s not lost on me that those are the same weeks you’ve known me.”

  She takes my hand, brings it to her lips and looks at me with gorgeous green eyes. The color is still new to me, but the warmth, affection and love are familiar by now yet no less humbling than they were when I first knew her.

  “Just when I think I can’t love you any more than I already do,” I tell her, “I find out there’s more, so much more.”

  The chime sounds to indicate the front door is opening. “Is it safe to come in?” Addie calls.

  “Everyone is dressed,” I say with a smile for Natalie.

  Addie comes in, a tray of coffees in hand and a pile of mail that she places on the counter for me to go through when I have time. “Morning! How’d it go with the FBI?”

  “Fine.” I take two of the coffees from her and hand one to Nat. “Natalie ruined all his fun.”

  “I would’ve liked to have seen that,” Addie says.

  “It was quite a show.” Right then and there, an idea comes to me that takes my breath away because it’s that captivating.

  “Flynn?” Natalie asks. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Just thinking about something for work.”

  “He does that,” Addie says with a smile for Nat. “Spaces out in the
middle of conversations when he gets a big idea. What is it this time?”

  “It’s…” I can’t say it out loud or even entertain the possibility without first speaking to Natalie. “It’s not ready for discussion yet. Early stages.”

  The doorbell rings. “That’ll be Tenley,” Addie says of the stylist who has been dressing Natalie for award season. She goes to open the door.

  “You’re sure you’re up for this today?” I ask her.

  “I’m positive. I wouldn’t dream of missing a chance to celebrate my talented husband.”

  Natalie enjoys the Oscar luncheon at the Beverly Hilton and the opportunity to meet more of my friends and colleagues, who are equally fascinated by her. I take a lot of razzing about giving up my bachelor status, about strapping on a “ball and chain” and all the usual bullshit guys say to each other. But my “ball and chain” is absolutely stunning in a midnight-blue dress that clings to all her sumptuous curves. I’m the envy of every straight guy in the room and a few of the women, too.

  After a delicious meal of tasty fish, rice and vegetables, we sit through the comments offered by the Academy’s president as well as the producers of the show, who lecture us about keeping our acceptance speeches to forty-five seconds. I find that amusing. It takes months, sometimes years, to make a quality, award-worthy film, and winners are expected to boil down those years to forty-five seconds.

  If I win, and I’m favored to after the run I’ve already had this award season, I suppose I can jam what I want to say into forty-five seconds.

  I pose with the other nominees in this year’s class, and the picture probably starts hitting social media before we leave the room.

  After the luncheon, Natalie and I return to a suite upstairs, where we’ll spend tonight after the Oscar Nominees Night party at Spago. I’m exhausted after the restless night without much sleep as well as the two glasses of Bowmore I had at the luncheon.

  Natalie presents her back to me to unzip the dress. She’s got another dress, a black one this time, hanging in the closet for tonight. She made a joke on the way into town that God forbid she show her face in Hollywood wearing the same dress at two different events on the same day.