by Claire Adams
“I'll do that. Oh, man, I owe you big time for this, Jimmy.”
“No, you don't. I'm just doing one of the greatest guys I've ever had the privilege of calling my friend a favor. Buy me a beer sometime, and we're square.”
He helped me to get into bed and then hooked up the drip. He also gave me a shot. After that, he went and fetched my phone for me.
“Here ya go,” he said as he handed it to me.
With dismay, I saw there had been a call from Vivienne, and it was now after nine. I immediately tried to call her, but her phone was off. I sighed, called Maggie to explain that Jimmy would be coming to pick up Jane, and then tried to call Vivienne one more time. Her phone was still off, though.
“Do me a favor, Jimmy,” I said. “Look at the house across the road; are the lights still on?”
“Friends of yours?”
“Kinda.”
“Let me check.”
He moved over to the window and peered out.
“No, man, it's all dark. Guess your friend either had an early night, or they're out.”
“Oh. Man, I'm feeling a bit woozy,” I remarked.
“Yeah, that would be the shot I just gave you. It'll numb the pain and help you sleep.”
“Aw, no, man, I didn't need anything like that,” I protested.
“Yeah, you did,” he said. “Now just relax and get some sleep. I'll take care of everything.”
I felt sleep washing over me, and within seconds of me laying my head on the pillow, I was out.
Chapter Nine
Vivienne
Thankfully, Angie was a bit faster than she had thought she would be and I didn't have to wait too long for her. After sulking inside for a while, and having a glass of wine to calm me down a little, I finally heard the honking of the taxi's horn outside. Well, it was almost nine o' clock now, and there had been no word from Everett, not a peep. No calls, no messages, nothing. I couldn't believe he had done this to me, and it was really hard not to cry when I thought about it. Still, at least Angie had been here for me, and the evening hadn't gone totally to waste.
I got my handbag, walked out and locked the house up, and then headed over to the taxi. Angie was waiting for me inside, looking pretty.
“Hey, Angie! You look great!” I said, doing my best to be cheery despite how down I was feeling.
“Ditto A-, I mean, Vivienne. It's gonna take me a while to get used to your new name.”
“Don't worry about it. Call me Viv. It'll be easier to remember.”
“Sure thing, Viv. Wow, you really do look gorgeous, though. The guys are gonna be falling at your feet tonight, girl!”
“Yeah... after being stood up, I'm not sure I want to have anything to do with any guys, to be honest. But let's see how I feel after I've had a cocktail or two.”
Angie grinned as I said this.
“Where we're going, you're gonna feel like a million bucks after a cocktail or two! Trust me; it'll be the perfect pick-me-up after what that jerk did. Now come on, get in and let's get this evening going!”
I got into the taxi and we took off. As we turned the corner, another car turned the corner, passing us closely but going in the opposite direction, and a jolt of shock ran through me as I saw Everett sitting in the passenger seat. He didn't see me, and I didn't get a very clear view of him, but from what I could see, he was swaying in the seat, looking unsteady. In fact, it looked like he was drunk, almost. Some guy I didn't recognize was in the driving seat. He looked to be about Everett's age, and he was chuckling about something – some drunken joke they had shared, I bet.
Rage flashed red across my eyes. How dare he! He had ditched me without warning to go drinking with some dumb buddy of his! The nerve of it was staggering. Well, I wasn't about to give him the chance to give me some drunken phone call filled with lousy excuses and lies. I took my phone out of my bag, turned it off, and then shoved it back in.
“So, Angie,” I said, trying to get my attention off what I had just seen. “You're on the prowl tonight, huh? I gotta tell you, I don't know much about this 'wingman' stuff.”
She laughed.
“I'm hoping to meet a nice, rich, handsome guy, sure,” she said with a grin. “Whether that happens, we'll see. Don't worry, being a wingman – well, let's say wing woman – is easy! It just makes approaching guys, or being approached by guys, that much easier. Takes the pressure off. A creepy dude might try his luck if a girl is by herself, but if she's got a friend with her, he might think twice about hitting on her. And also, it's easier to approach a hot guy with a girlfriend on your arm for moral support. Makes for a good self-confidence boost when you're feeling shy.”
“I think I can do that,” I said with a smile. “Yeah, I don't think it'll be too hard.”
“You'll nail it,” she said. “And I hope you change your mind about picking up a guy. It'd do you good. Get your mind off the asshole who stood you up tonight. And, you know, get past that thing with Simon.”
Ugh. The mention of that name made my skin crawl, and I really wished that she hadn't brought it up. Still, I could understand, though. She had to be at least a little bit curious about how he could have been such a crazy maniac that I had to move hundreds of miles and legally change my name to get away from him. Anyone would be curious about circumstances like that.
Luckily, though, before this conversation could go any further, the taxi driver interrupted us.
“Hey, ladies, we're here: Swanky Frank's Cocktail Lounge.”
“Thanks,” said Angie, and she leaned forward and handed him the fare.
“How much is that?” I asked. “Can I chip in?”
“No, no way. You're the one who got stood up tonight, A-, I mean, Viv. No. I'm not letting you pay for anything. This is my treat. I want you to feel better and forget about that jerk.”
“Come on, really? It's not that big of a deal.”
“No, I insist. Come on, we're holding the poor driver up, get out already!” she said with a cheerful smile.
She seemed pretty set on this, so I figured it would be pointless to argue with her about it, so I just got out. The cocktail lounge looked really great; flashy and smart, but not too over the top. I straightened out my dress, got a makeup mirror out of my handbag, and checked my reflection.
“You're looking smokin' hot,” said Angie as she walked past me. “No need to stare into that thing. Come on, let's get inside and get this party started.”
“Sure thing,” I said, following her after I put my makeup mirror back in my bag.
Inside, it was fairly crowded; this seemed like a popular hangout spot. Everyone was dressed to the nines, and the subtle lighting inside gave the place a muted but glamorous look. Angie was right; this was just what I needed to get my mind off of being stood up.
“Come on, let's hit the bar,” suggested Angie. “Time to get things rolling!”
“I like that idea,” I said.
We headed over to the bar, where an attractive young bartender, who was muscular and looked to be around 21 or 22 years old, flashed us a bright white smile.
“Welcome to Swanky Frank's,” he said. “What can I get you two ladies tonight?”
“I'll start off with a Bloody Mary,” said Angie. “And my friend will have...”
“A Screwdriver.”
“Alright, one Bloody Mary and one Screwdriver coming right up.”
The bartender went over and fixed us our drinks, and brought them over to us a few moments later. Angie paid, and then we both looked at the cocktails with grins on our faces.
“Selfie time!” said Angie as she pulled out her phone. “We've gotta put this on Facebook.”
“Uh, hold up, Angie,” I said, feeling slightly uncomfortable. “Could I ask you to please not take any photos of us tonight? Or even mention my name on Facebook. It's just that... You know, with Simon, I'm not sure if his friends might be mutual friends of yours, and you know, he and you and I, we were all at the same senior high, and someone migh
t, you know...”
She nodded, smiling sympathetically.
“It's alright, I understand. Wow, he must have done some seriously crazy stuff to have messed you up like this. I mean, you know, to have screwed up your life to the point where you can't even put pictures or get tagged on Facebook because he might hunt you down.”
“I know, Angie, I know. It really is horrible. I had to pretty much erase everything about the person I was before just to make sure he wouldn't find me. And you know, if he does find me, I'm going to have to do it all again to get away from him again. It's not something I want to have to do again. It was hard enough the first time.”
“So, look, I don't wanna pry or anything, so tell me if I'm out of line for asking, but what exactly did he do to you?”
“I don't know if I want to go into the details of it all just yet, Angie,” I said. “But there's a court order, a restraining order against him. He's not allowed within 500 yards of me. He was also not allowed to contact me in any way, but let me tell you, he found out how to get around that. I have to give him one thing: he's smart. Real smart.”
“Yeah, I remember him being a straight-A student,” she said.
“And that's what's so scary about it,” I said. “He is really, really intelligent, and that's why it was so easy for him to find me, wherever I was. That's why I had to go to such extreme lengths – moving all the way out here, and having to legally change my name.”
“I understand,” she said. “God, he must have done some psycho stuff. But hey, I don't wanna get you down, not tonight, so I promise I'll leave it, okay? I won't ask about him again. Now let's get stuck into these drinks and have some fun!”
We clinked our glasses together and sipped on our cocktails through some fancy twirly straws.
“Wow, this place does make a tasty drink,” I remarked, happy to be off the topic of Simon.
“I told you! Swanky Frank's makes some of the best cocktails in Southern California.”
“I don't doubt that now, not after tasting this.”
We each drank the rest of our cocktails quickly, and it wasn't long before I started to feel a little buzzed.
“Wow, we knocked those back pretty quickly!” remarked Angie. “I guess we're both in the mood for a party tonight! You want another one?”
“Sure. Let's do this. You wanna switch cocktails this time?”
She shook her head, smiling mischievously.
“I was thinking it's time we each had a Long Island Iced Tea. How do you feel about one of those?”
“Wow, you really are eager to get the party started huh?” I remarked.
“You bet! If you thought your Screwdriver was good, wait until you try their Long Island Iced tea. It's legendary!”
“Alright, why not? We're out here to have fun, so let's have fun.”
Angie ordered us each a Long Island Iced Tea, and we drank these at a table, chatting and catching up on what we had each been doing over the past couple of years. After I had finished my cocktail, I had to admit that I was feeling pretty tipsy.
“Another one?” asked Angie.
“I dunno, that was pretty strong!”
She laughed.
“You're right, it did pack a pretty hefty punch. Well, do you feel like dancing to work some of that alcohol off? They got a great little dance floor downstairs.”
“Wow, this place really does have everything!”
“I told you, it's an awesome little spot. So, what do you say, shall we head downstairs to dance some of these calories off? We've got figures to maintain, you know!”
“We sure do.”
For a moment, a sudden thought of Everett barged into my mind. I suddenly felt a stab of guilt. Had I misjudged him? Had I been too harsh on him? What if I'd been totally mistaken, and something terrible had happened? I mean, now that I thought about it, why would he just stand me up like that? Maybe I had been too quick to judge. I was about to turn on my phone, just to check if he had left a message or anything, when a deep voice interrupted me.
“Excuse me, ladies, but my friend and I couldn't help but notice you two.”
I looked up and saw a pair of jacked, handsome young guys who were dressed to the nines standing in front of Angie and me.
“Would you ladies like to accompany us to the dance floor?”
Angie looked at me with excitement and eagerness in her eyes. I slipped my phone back into my purse, leaving it off, and stood up with a smile.
“Hi guys,” I said. “I'm Vivienne, and this is my friend Angie, and yes, we'd love to dance with you.”
Chapter Ten
Everett
It was hot, sweltering hot, and beads of sweat were running down my back and the sides of my face. They made me itchy, and I had a maddening urge to scratch at them, but the thick bulletproof vest I was wearing and the combat armor all made that impossible, so I simply had to bear the torture in silence. A hot gust of desert wind whipped sand across our faces, and I turned from it and held up a hand to protect my eyes.
“There they are,” whispered a gruff voice to my left. “The insurgents. You ready to do this, Lieutenant?”
“I am, Mills.” I turned to Jimmy, who was at the back of the squad. “You ready, Jimmy? I can tell you, there are gonna be some wounds to fix after this encounter.”
He nodded.
“Hopefully, we'll be dealing out most of those and not receiving them,” he said.
“That's the aim. Alright, the truck is outside the compound gate, people,” I said to my squad. “As soon as those gates open, we charge. Everyone clear on their positions?”
“Yes, Lieutenant!” they all replied in unison.
“We don't leave a single terrorist alive in there; you got it? These are the bastards who have been shooting women and children in the streets, remember that...”
Then we heard voices from inside the compound shouting in Arabic, giving instructions to open the huge steel gates to allow the munitions truck access to the fortified compound.
“That's it, boys; the gates are about to open! Lock and load; we're going in!” I shouted.
The enormous gates creaked open, hauled by a diesel motor on the inside, and once they had started opening, the process couldn't be stopped until they were wide open, giving us a 20-second window to get into the compound. It was going to be a hard and bloody fight, but for the sake of peace in the region, someone had to do it. Someone had to stop these guys, and that's exactly what we were gonna do.
“Three, two, one... go, go, go!” I commanded, and we all rose up out of the ditch in which we'd been hiding and charged, our assault rifles hammering out a thunderous symphony of aggression as the battle began. Bullets were flying fast and furious around us as the terrorists in the compound scrambled about in confusion to try to fight back against our surprise attack.
Still, their half-hearted efforts couldn't stop us, and we began pouring in through the now-open gates, shooting them down as they ran about in confusion. Now, however, they were beginning to get some semblance of order together, and a defense was mounting.
“Take cover!” I shouted as one of them got behind a machine gun turret mounted on a tower and started spraying us with deadly heavy machine gun fire.
“Someone take that son of a bitch out before he takes us out!” I yelled.
I dove behind a big steel oil drum as the machine gunner started spraying his hail of deadly lead in my direction, and right there I found a trapdoor.
“Well, this is an unexpected find – and just what I needed,” I muttered to myself as I hauled it open and dropped down into it. It was the entrance to an underground tunnel that ran straight to the heart of the compound – and there I would find the leader of this terrorist cell himself. I needed him alive at all costs; he had valuable information that we in the Coalition needed. While the battle continued to thunder above me, I raced through the tunnel, my firearm at the ready. I was going to capture this guy, and I was going to take him alive.
; Then, out of nowhere, a huge Iraqi jumped out from a hidden alcove. He was too close and too fast; I didn't even have time to take one shot before he had his hands on my rifle. We struggled over it with mad violence, and both of us eventually fell to the ground, where we continued to fight.
Then, somehow, a knife appeared in his right hand, and he aimed a stab at my stomach, trying to get the knife in under my bulletproof vest. I grabbed his wrist, but he kept pushing, and the blade kept coming toward me, slowly but surely. My arms were burning from the effort, and I was panting like a dog, and using all my strength to hold him, but he was just too big and powerful, and that knife kept edging closer and closer to me... until it broke my skin. I screamed out in pain as I felt the steel sliding into me, slicing through me, inch by inch—
I woke up with a start, sitting bolt upright in my bed. I was sweating from the nightmare, and I had to take a few minutes to calm myself down. I didn't often get flashbacks or nightmares from the war, but when they did come, they could be pretty intense, as this one had just been.
My shoulder was aching with a dull pain from the gunshot wound I'd received earlier, and my heart was still hammering from the intensity of the nightmare. I leaned over and checked my phone – it was two o' clock in the morning. I felt groggy, presumably from the drugs Jimmy had given me to help me sleep, but I was more or less awake. I stood, gripped the drip stand, and wheeled it over to the window. I parted the curtains and looked across the street at Vivienne's house. All of the lights were off – I guessed she was sleeping.
I felt terrible about standing her up, and couldn't help feeling tremendously guilty about how the evening had gone. I really hoped that she would understand why I had done what I had done, but of course, I had been a complete idiot for not taking my phone with me, and I was prepared to accept the consequences of that. There was no excusing that.
I would go over there in the morning with a big bunch of flowers and some chocolates and ask for her forgiveness. I could only pray that she would give it to me.