I slipped out of bed naked. My feet sunk into the plush carpet, and for a second, I wiggled my toes and relished the softness. Still naked, I stepped out of the room and looked down the hallway, trying to remember what direction the kitchen was.
Moving through the house, I crept forward slowly and carefully until I found the staircase leading down to the first floor. My toes felt the slight coolness of the marble steps as I started to descend, and as I drifted down, I felt like I was in a movie, or a rather erotic fairy tale. Just a naked nymph fluttering down a marble spiral staircase.
At last, I found the kitchen, and with it, the ice maker and water dispenser on the side of the fridge. Filling up a glass, I took a big gulp and felt the refreshing iciness as it slipped down my throat.
I leaned against the counter, looking out toward the back garden. It was pure black out there, and for a fleeting second, I had the strangest sensation that someone was out there looking in.
Don't be silly, I told myself. Nobody’s out there. They couldn't get through the security gate.
But still, I couldn't help but remember the stalker who took our picture. Were they out there watching now?
Suddenly, my nakedness didn't feel so glamorous anymore, and instead I felt vulnerable. Moving back into the lounge, I grabbed a blanket from the couch pit and wrapped it around my body.
Deciding I needed more water, I returned to the kitchen to fill up the glass, this time under the protection of the blanket should anyone be looking through the window.
There's nobody out there, I tried to reason. You're just being paranoid.
So why are the hairs on the back of my neck sticking up?
Why do I feel as though something is dreadfully wrong?
Hoping my anxiety stemmed from being tired, I wrapped the blanket around me tighter, clutched my glass and hurried for the stairs. Yet as soon as my foot hit the bottom step, I was aware of a scuffling noise behind me.
Footsteps.
I tried to turn to look, but before I could even move an inch, a heavy hand landed across my mouth.
"Don't make a fucking noise," a voice grunted in my ear. "You're coming with me."
Like hell I am! I thought. I may have been more afraid than I'd ever been in my life, but I wasn't going to let whoever this was capture me. I wriggled as hard as I could, the glass dropping from my hand and smashing on the floor.
But the arms around me wouldn't budge, and no matter how much I tried to fight, it was like I was being held in an iron grip.
Gradually, I could feel myself being dragged across the floor, my bare feet being pulled through the broken glass.
"Let me go!" I tried to scream through their hand.
"Shut the fuck up!" the person hissed, and a second later, a searing pain penetrated my left temple as everything turned black and I lost control of my limbs.
The last thing I felt before I lost consciousness completely was the sensation of the cold wind drifting up under my blanket and my face being peppered by snowflakes.
Matthew
I woke up and flung my arm across the bed in search of Becca's body. When it fell flat against the cold bed sheets, I sat up and looked toward the en suite bathroom expecting to see her in there. But the door was open with no sign of her in the shower.
"Becca?"
Maybe she went downstairs for some breakfast.
Looking at the clock, I saw it was just passed six in the morning. She couldn't have been in a hurry to get up, could she?
Pulling on my bath robe, I ventured down to the kitchen, which I also found empty. Then I walked into the lounge expecting to find her snoozing in the enormous sofa pit. But she wasn't there either.
Has she left for work?
But I saw her clothes were strewn across the floor with her phone nestled against her jeans.
"What the—?"
I walked back out into the hall ready to run back upstairs. It was a big house, after all. Had she decided to go exploring?
"Becca!"
A crunch sounded from beneath my slipper, and I looked down to see broken glass glittering across the floor amid a puddle of water.
"Becca?"
Something didn't feel right.
"Becca!"
Instantly, the hackles rose along my spine. This wasn't adding up. No Becca, broken glass, her clothes and phone still lying around. Walking briskly from room to room, I searched for her, growing increasingly confused and concerned with each empty room I entered.
"Becca? If you're playing around you can quit now."
But I knew she wasn't fooling around.
This felt wrong.
Call it intuition, or a hunch, but there was a squeezing sensation in my stomach, and it was telling me she was in danger.
When I had checked every room in the house, including the garage, pool, and gym, a sense of dread filled my gut.
The security room, I thought. That will give me an answer.
Situated in the outhouse at the side of the garden, the security room used to house a live-in security guard when Olivia had lived here, but I had always found his presence stifling. It was the cameras that did all the work anyway, not him. So when she left, so did he. I seldom had need to enter the place, but now, I barged in and stared closely at all the screens.
"How the hell do I work these things?" I asked myself as I tried to remember.
Twisting the knobs, I focused on all the main doors of the house. Slowly, I rewound through the footage, hoping to find some image of her, but there was nothing. It was like she'd just vanished.
This doesn't make sense. I've checked every room in the house and she's not in any of them. But she didn't leave. And if she did, she left all her clothes behind.
Not sure what to do next, I reached for my phone and called the only person I could think of. Sandra.
"Christ, it's a bit early, isn't it?"
"Are you in the office yet?" I asked, knowing she often liked to put in some extra early hours.
"Is the Pope Catholic? Yeah, I'm here. Just walked in about two minutes ago."
"Is Becca there?"
"No. Should she be?"
"No, it's just that..."
Fuck, what do I say here?
"It's just that I thought she was coming in early today, but she's not picking up her cellphone. Thought I'd give you a quick buzz."
"Well, she's definitely not here. It's just Jerry half asleep downstairs and little old me."
"Well, call me if Becca shows up, alright?"
"She better turn up. You've got that preliminary meeting with the investors' lawyers today, right?"
Shit! How could I have forgotten about that?
"Yeah, I remember. See you soon."
I hung up confused as hell and worried to high heavens.
Where was she?
Dashing back into the house, I searched the lounge, the kitchen and the bedroom again, half-expecting to return to find her sipping an espresso. But there was no sign of her.
"Becca!"
Nothing but the echo of my voice returning to me. I stood on the stairs for a moment listening to the house hoping I could hear her footsteps. My eyes kept darting back to the broken glass. Something wasn't right about that, and somehow, I felt it was the key to everything.
What do I do? Call the police?
No. Not yet. She's around somewhere. Maybe she's gone home or she's back at Bob's. Yeah, that'll be it, she just skipped out on me. She's probably back home laughing to herself about how she spent the night with me and did a runner in the morning.
But why would she leave her phone and clothes?
There was only one logical thing to do next, but my God did I not want to do it. But, knowing I had to, I reached for my phone, took a deep breath, and dialed Bob's number. He answered on the third ring with a yawn.
"Jesus, it's early," he mumbled. "What's going on?"
"Hey. Is Becca there?"
"No. Why would she be? She should be at her apartment."
/> "Oh. Okay it's just that..."
Think quick! Try not to sound so suspicious.
"I was expecting her in really early at the office today. We've got a big meeting coming up."
"This early? Wow. Better you than me. I haven't seen her. Or heard from her since yesterday. She’s probably on her way. Don't fret."
"Alright. Thanks."
"Catch you for a beer later?"
"Sure."
I hung up even more confused than ever.
Something's happened, my mind was telling me. You've got to call the cops. But what will you say? A girl half your age you slept with last night bailed out on you and you think that's a crime? They'd probably just laugh at me.
Then it hit me.
You told her you loved her, you moron. No wonder she ran away.
Moving into the lounge, I took a seat where I had made love to her the night before. Looking down at her clothes and phone, I felt my confusion rise.
Where the hell is she?
I kept thinking about the smashed glass and tried to fit it into the picture. With my head in my hands, I wracked my brain for answers.
Then it came to me. A name I hated so much it felt like a curse.
Olivia...
Could she have had something to do with this?
She was capable of making threats. But she wouldn't hurt Becca, would she?
Becca
I woke up with a searing pain in my head and the sensation of icy coldness beneath my body. Opening my eyes, I tried to adjust to a blistering light that burned my eyes. Reaching a hand to my head, I felt hot blood run between my fingers.
"Wake up, Sleeping Beauty," condescending woman's voice hissed.
Dragging myself up to a seated position, I tried to figure out where I was. The smell of dust and damp and a cold draft filtering through my hair were not good clues. Eventually, my eyes began to focus on what was in front of me. A long, open floor covered in boxes, crates, and plastic bags.
"Where the hell am I?" My voice was hoarse, my throat incredibly dry.
It looked like something straight out of a horror movie where someone has to saw their own leg off to survive. Thankfully, there were no saws anywhere near me. There was, however, a length of chain running from my left wrist to a water pipe on the wall. I yanked on it and it replied with a clanking sound.
"Oh, our Sleeping Beauty is angry," the condescending voice spoke again.
Through the haze of my headache, I could just about make out the shape of a woman in the distance. She walked toward me, her heels clicking along the floor. As she approached, her face and hair came into view, and I saw her expression of pure hatred.
"Olivia? What the fuck? You kidnapped me?"
She bristled inside her long, fur coat and took another step forward. "I didn't kidnap you," she clarified. "He did."
Thrusting a long red fingernail towards the corner of the warehouse, she pointed to a figure dressed in black. The only thing visible was a long, white nose protruding out from underneath a black woolen hat. He looked like an ogre. A beast that could have ripped me to shreds with his bare hands.
I began to shiver and wrapped my blanket around my body tightly with the one hand I could move freely. Olivia laughed and stepped closer, kneeling in front of me so I could smell her expensive perfume.
"What do you want from me?" I asked. "And what the fuck did you do to my head? I feel like my skull's on fire."
"I'm afraid my boy here got a bit too enthusiastic," she explained, her voice dripping with evil. "I told him nothing more than a slap."
"That wasn't a slap! He knocked me out!"
"It's nothing serious," Olivia scoffed as if my bleeding head were nothing. "You'll be fine once the dizziness subsides."
"You're nuts," I spat at her. "Matthew will find me here eventually. You know that, don't you? What do you even think you’ll get from this, huh?"
She gave me a sardonic smile and raised herself to her full height, enjoying the sensation of towering over me in her heels.
"Are you holding me for ransom, is that it?"
"Hmmmm, maybe."
"You are, aren't you? Let me guess. You didn't get as much as you wanted in the divorce settlement, so you thought you'd pull this fucking insane stunt?"
"You're a bright girl," she trilled. "In another life we could have been friends rather than enemies."
"You're not being serious. You kidnapped me for money?"
"Money makes the world go round, honey. What else did you think all this would be for?" She twirled a strand of hair around her finger and walked around in a circle like she was putting on a little fashion show just for herself.
A thought dawned in my head as I looked at her. "It was you who sent those threats too, wasn't it?"
"Oh, I wouldn't call them threats."
"Then what were they? You said you were going to expose Matthew as a sicko. Why would you do such a thing? You'll ruin his life!"
“I didn’t actually say I was going to expose him,” she replied, a cruel smile on her face. “I just hinted.”
“Same fucking difference.”
Olivia stopped strutting and dropped the hair from her hand. Walking slowly over to me, she pulled up a stool from beside the window and took a seat. Crossing her legs, she unbuttoned her coat and made herself comfortable.
"Listen to me," she said. "Believe it or not I actually don't have anything against you. You remind me a little of myself when I was your age. Beautiful, driven, ambitious."
"I'm nothing like you," I informed her stiffly. "And I wouldn't want to be."
"And feisty," she added with a smile. "I like that." Leaning forward, she rested a hand on my wrist. "I have an idea," she said. "One that could benefit us both. I want money, and Matthew has plenty of it. I bet you want your hands on it too. What woman wouldn't?"
I stared at her, hoping the disgust on my face was answer enough.
She moved even closer to me so her lips were next to my ear. "If you join me, we can blackmail him together. Two heads are better than one. Double the trouble, double the money. The police will believe you. Tell them he’s been grooming you since you were a little girl."
Horrified, I stared at her, speechless for only a moment before I yelled, "No! I couldn't do that! Besides, there's no evidence because it isn’t true. It'll never go to trial."
"It won't go to trial, but he'll settle out of court just to hush the story up. Even if it's not true."
Aghast, I could only stare at her. "You're pure evil," I seethed. "I don't know what he ever saw in you."
I reached out my foot and kicked the edge of her stool with as much strength as I could muster. She toppled backward with terror in her eyes, then she fell onto her back, her legs flailing like an upturned beetle. Her hired hooligan rushed over to help her to her feet.
"Tie the bitch up!" she yelled. "And this time you can do more than slap her."
Matthew
I lifted my head from my hands when I heard my phone ring. An unknown number flashed on the screen, and I answered it in a heartbeat.
"Hello Matthew." The voice was like nails scratching down the inside of my skull.
"Olivia. What have you done?"
"Calm down," she laughed. "She's fine. Apart from the nasty cut on her head, she's doing just fine."
"Why? Why would you do this?"
"Why does anyone do anything? For money, obviously."
"But, how could you? I checked all the CCTV footage. Looked over every main door of the house. There was no sign of you or Becca leaving."
"There was no sign of me, obviously. What did you think I did? Clobbered her over the head myself and dragged her out of there?"
She let out a maniacal cackle that was so loud it came out distorted through the phone line.
"Besides, you think I don't remember the layout of the house? You think I don't remember that the patio doors to the back of the kitchen were the only exits that weren't covered by the CCTV because of the c
onifers?"
She laughed again, and I wished I could reach through the phone and throttle the life out of her.
“I think you'll find my man did a good job of remaining hidden.”
"Your man? You mean you've pulled some poor bastard into your orbit?"
"This one will do anything for a fistful of dollar bills. He'd kidnap a girl in a heartbeat. He'd hit her if I asked him too. In fact, he'd enjoy hitting her a little harder. He loves violence, Matthew. It's in his blood. All I have to do is say the word and he'll do anything to her. Anything at all. Things you couldn't dream of."
Fear sliced through me as my imagination went insane with horrific things that might be done to her. "Tell me where she is!"
"Do you really think I'd just tell you where she is? You're not a stupid man, Matthew. Don't make stupid demands."
I was holding the phone so tight it hurt. Inside my bath robe, I was beginning to sweat with anger. "I'm calling the cops."
"Call them and she's dead."
I let the words resonate inside my head for a second. She couldn't really mean that. She was a money hungry bitch, but she wasn't a killer.
"You don't mean that."
"Oh, I mean it. I wouldn't have said it otherwise. Call the police and she's dead. Call her dad and she's dead. Do anything at all other than exactly what I tell you and she'd dead. If you want her back, you’ll have to give me what I want."
"And what do you want?"
"Ten million dollars."
At first, I thought she had to be joking. I had ten million dollars, but it wasn't as though I just had that kind of cash lying around ready to hand over.
"You're actually fucking serious, aren't you?"
"Ten million dollars or your little plaything dies. It's as simple as that. You've got twenty-four hours."
A click sounded and the phone went dead. I stared at it for a second.
No. You can't let that bitch win. But you can't let Becca die either. If so much as a hair on her head was harmed, you'd never forgive yourself.
With a hand shaking with rage, I dialed the unfamiliar number. This time, a man's gruff voice answered.
"What?" he said, his voice sounding like sandpaper.
Knocked Up by Daddy’s Best Friend Page 16