The Vine

by C. A Ellis

  Stefano introduced me to everyone, and I laughed with him and his crazy friends until my cheeks and sides hurt. It was amazing; especially considering I’d sometimes wonder if I would eventually forget how to laugh. When Stefano dropped me off, he told me all his friends were in love with me. I was flattered by that, and also relieved they were all gay, so there would be no expectations of me.

  I decide I will phone Stefano later and thank him for the wonderful evening I had. As well as a headache, I’m feeling the immense guilt again. I elect in that moment I probably shouldn’t go out too often; the alcohol involved was great, as it did help me to forget, but I really didn’t want to go down that road, using alcohol to erase my demons. No, I would continue my quiet life of working in the café, quiet coffees at quiet bars and then home. I close my eyes again; I need some more sleep, and before I can think anymore, I drift off again.

  Chapter Twenty – Lucas

  A couple of weeks pass before I am finally allowed to go home. It has been driving me nuts being in this place, and not being able to go and find my girl. I’m constantly like a bear with a sore head, barking orders at people and acting like my miserable old self—the old self before Lizzy came into my life like a breath of fresh air, and turned me upside-down in the best way possible. The only thing keeping me sane is Katy; she is as desperate as I am to find Lizzy, so while I have been stuck in here being looked after, eyed up and propositioned by some not-very-professional nurses, Katy has being making calls and visits to any family or friends Lizzy may have made contact with during her disappearance. Unfortunately, they have all been dead-ends so far. George hasn’t heard anything since he got his parting note from Lizzy, and he’s beside himself with worry. I guess he was right all those months ago, not wanting her to get involved with me; I’d hurt her in the end, just as he’d predicted.

  Lizzy’s phone, which had just kept going to voicemail, was now a monotonous dead-line tone. This I unfortunately know because for the past couple of weeks, I’ve been ringing it over and over again whenever I get any time on my own. At first, I used to leave messages begging and pleading with her to come back to me, but after a while, I came to terms that my efforts were fruitless, and she clearly wasn’t getting the messages. So instead, I would ring and listen to her beautifully shy, happy voice on the greeting—Hey, you’ve reached Lizzy. After the beep, you know what to do, and then a small giggle just before the beep kicked in. I’d listen to it again and again, until the pain it caused in my chest got to be too much or I was interrupted, whichever came first, and now I don’t even have that small pleasure to torture myself with.

  I am dressed and waiting to leave; Mum, Dad and Cole have all been arguing over who gets to pick me up and take me home, but I soon put a stop to all that, telling them Katy is coming to pick me up and drop me off. Having Mum and Dad here is just too emotional, and I can really do without Cole’s sarcastic wit this morning, especially if he makes any comments about Lizzy. He has really been pushing his luck recently, and to be honest, I am very close to putting one on his chin.

  My door swings open, and I stop pacing and grab my bag expecting it to be Katy, but as I swing around, I’m staring into the hard, dark eyes of Saskia. I never in the past really noticed just how cold her eyes are, but since meeting Lizzy, and staring into her innocent, caring, loving, brown doe eyes, they positively make Saskia’s look like mud pits.

  “Hey, handsome, you ready?” she chirps, bouncing in, which is odd and very unlike her usual, serious demeanour.

  I think I’m sneering at her when I sigh and say, “Ready for what, Saskia?”

  “To go home, of course, silly.” She snorts, as if I’m out of my mind. I’d barely seen this woman smile in the past, let alone be witty, so why is she acting like this—all weird and well…nice? Since I woke after my accident, I have had to put up with Saskia popping in every day, and although she gets on my nerves with her my-shit-doesn’t-stink attitude, I must admit, she has been as sweet as pie to me. It’s a little unnerving, as I’m really not sure why she keeps coming. At first, I wondered if she had an agenda, especially since Lizzy is missing, and maybe she thought she could crawl back into my affections. But I threw out the idea, thinking, No way, she’s seen first-hand the effect Lizzy leaving has had on me. Maybe I am being too harsh on Saskia, as it is kind of her to take time out of her precious schedule of Botox and manicures to keep me company, even if she does just irritate me.

  “Sorry, Saskia, it looks like you’ve had a wasted journey. Katy is coming to collect me and drive me home,” I say only slightly apologetically. I see a look of pure annoyance hit her eyes, but as soon as it hits, it’s gone again, so I almost think I imagined it.

  “Well, since I am here and she isn’t, why don’t you give her a call and tell her I will drop you home? Saves anyone from having a wasted journey then, doesn’t it?” I sigh again as I pick up my phone to call Katy, hoping she’s already on her way so she can take me home. It rings and rings, and then I hear Katy answer with, “Lucas, I’m so sorry I’m running late, but I’m leaving in five and will be with you as soon as poss—”

  I cut her off and say, “Katy, calm down and stop getting your knickers in a twist.” I hear her laugh, and I continue, “Saskia’s here and can give me a lift home, so stop stressing.” I hear a gasp from Katy as she abruptly stops laughing.

  “Lucas, what is that witch doing there again? Would you seriously rather take a ride with her? I’ll be there in half-an-hour max.”

  I look over to Saskia, who is still smiling sickly-sweet at me. “No, but she’s here and you’re not, so it’ll save you a journey,” I state.

  “Okay,” she huffs, “but I’ll meet you at yours so we can get started on a plan for our search for Lizzy. You do remember Lizzy; don’t you, Lucas?” Katy asks nastily.

  Just the mention of her name starts a worried ache in my belly, but Katy being so hateful—like I would ever forget my Angel—just makes me feel sick.

  “Enough,” I bellow as I hang up on her.

  “Let’s go,” I say to Saskia as I walk past her and out of the door, leaving her to totter behind me in some obscenely high heels. After saying thanks and goodbyes, and kissing a crowd of nurses, I finally get into Saskia’s car. The journey home doesn’t take long and is fairly uneventful. It would have been nice to have some peace and quiet to get my head in gear, but instead, I had to put up with Saskia’s irritating, grating voice reminiscing about the odd good time we had when we were together.

  Luckily, I can tune her out as I stare out the window; a part of me is grateful to be going home, but another part of me dreading it. Not having my beautiful Lizzy throwing open the door for me when I arrive is going to be hard.

  We pull up and I see Katy sitting on the steps, looking forlorn. As I jump out of the car, I thank Saskia. I hear her splutter something about coming in to help settle me in, but I just ignore her. I get my bag out of the boot and as I head over to Katy, I see her stand up. I can tell she’s upset. I stop in front of her and she throws her arms around me, as she says how sorry she is and what an awful thing it was for her to say.

  I pull her back as I tell her, “It’s okay,” and when she realises she really is forgiven, her blubbering subsides. I throw my arm around her shoulders, open the door and then take a deep breath as we enter my house. I close the door behind us, not even giving a backward glance to Saskia.

  If I had taken the time to look back at her, I would have seen a look of venom in her eyes and vengeance on her face. She isn’t a woman any normal guy would want to cross, but I’m no normal guy—I’m Lucas Castle, and I don’t give a fuck. My arrogance could be my undoing with this woman, because if I had seen the look on her face, and knowing her as I do, I would have realised she had revenge and retribution on her mind.

  As soon as the door is shut behind us, I can hear the squeal of tyres as Saskia drives away. As I take a look around, all the memories come flooding in and it hurts—it hurts terribly. Katy, on seeing
the effect the house is having on me, leaves me alone and goes to put the kettle on.

  I walk around taking everything in, touching things I know Lizzy’s touched, hoping to feel her presence. I walk over and sit down in my favourite chair; I lean my head back and close my eyes. The visions of Lizzy in my head are so vivid and real that being in this house without her is pure torture. I had sat here so many times with her curled up on my lap, which was funny because this room is huge, with seating everywhere, but we always chose to be as close as possible—a bundle of entwined limbs on one chair. I’m smiling; I can almost feel her lightweight body against my muscular one.

  I remember just a few short weeks ago, when I came in and found Lizzy’s glorious, naked body draped over this very chair—naked, that is, except for her shoes, which winked at me as I came through the door. I know it must have taken guts for her to do that, but I’m so glad she did, because it led to one of the most amazingly erotic nights of my life.

  After kissing her beautiful mouth for the longest time, she eventually sat on this very chair and gave me the blow job to beat all blow jobs. I know she would have been concerned she wasn’t doing it right, as I know I’m the first guy she had ever taken in her mouth, but she needn’t have worried. I’d looked down at her in action; I remember stroking her hair back from her face so I could see every movement—her open sensual lips as she kissed me, every lick from her glorious tongue and every nip of her perfect, white teeth. And then, when she took me in her mouth, oh, my God! Even with all my experience in the bedroom, I thought I was going to explode in her mouth right there and then.

  Lizzy took it slowly, and she was so gentle with her light touches, treating me like my knob was made of glass. It was a magnificent experience; Lizzy made something that in the past was always hard and rushed, into a beautiful experience. Not a blow-job at all, Lizzy’s version was a slow-job. We had laughed about that later, the fact I had been so impressed I had renamed it for her.

  The smile leaves my face as I remember our embrace afterwards. It was wonderful the way Lizzy and I never had to say anything; we were so connected, our bodies and emotions spoke for us. Then, just when I thought she could shock me no more with her sexual prowess, she straddled me and slowly rode the life out of me.

  That was a truly amazing night, and I find myself internally pleading it’s not the last time we have a night like that. I need to find her, we need more of those nights, we need to make more memories and we need to get engaged, married and eventually make perfect Lizzy babies. My mood has just sank to the deepest, darkest depths of despair. What if I can’t find her? What if I find her, but she’s restarted her life, and has even fallen in love with someone else? My fists clench, and a knot forms in my stomach in anger at just the thought. It’s unimaginable for me, but it’s not impossible; after all, she thinks I’m dead. I’d be a selfish fool if I thought she wouldn’t eventually find love. If anyone deserves love, it’s her, but with me, not with some other prick. It’s no good; I need to find her. I can’t go on like this—in limbo, not knowing where she is and what has happened to her.

  What is the point of surviving that terrible accident if I’ve lost her? I might as well be dead, as I’d be dead inside anyway. Every time I feel positive I can and will find her, it is quickly followed by the feeling of doom if I can’t; hundreds of people go missing without a trace every year. There is a strong possibility I will never find her if she doesn’t want to be found.

  I can vaguely hear a phone ringing in the background, but it’s not my home phone, or my mobile, so I ignore it and go back to wallowing in my thoughts. I am startled back to the present by Katy calling me from the doorway, and as my eyes flick open, her concerned and confused expression immediately attracts my attention.

  “What’s the matter?” I enquire.

  “I just had the strangest conversation with an old friend. Do you remember Jett? He’s a friend of ours who did mine and Lizzy’s tattoos, and who’s now gone off touring the world with his band.” Katy goes on and on.

  “Yes, Katy, I remember, now get to the point.” I’m being curt with her because for one, I don’t like Lizzy having any male friends, especially handsome rock stars, and for two, I have a feeling this is going to involve Lizzy.

  “Well, Jett said he heard from Lizzy a couple of weeks ago. He said he was back stage, waiting to go on while his warm-up band was performing, and his phone rang. He said normally he wouldn’t have answered it, but when he saw it was Lizzy, he just automatically did.”

  “I bet he did,” I growl.

  “What?” Katy asks, hearing me mumble.

  “Nothing, carry on,” I order.

  “Well, Jett reckons that she sounded really weird, —quite abrupt, but also dazed, which is obviously nothing like Lizzy. He said it was really noisy where he was, so he couldn’t hear her that well, but she was going on about someone was going to die, or had died, and there was going to be a funeral that she wouldn’t be able to attend, and she wanted him to have musical input at the funeral.

  “She apparently didn’t give any details of where or when, but just told him to ring me for the details. I remember now there had been a couple of missed calls from him, and I’d tried to ring him back a couple of times, but with all that’s been going on here, and with his schedule being manic, we’d just kept missing each other—until today, when he just rang again and filled me in. I told him, that fortunately, there is not a funeral to organise after all, but I explained everything to him and let him know Lizzy’s now gone AWOL.

  Jett’s now worried, knowing this is so out of character for her, and he’s told me that if we need his help at all, or if we find her, to call him.”

  I’m thinking hard when Katy finishes with a big gulp of air. She had been pacing as she relayed the conversation in a rushed and excited voice.

  “So, time-scale wise, she came to see me in the morning, then an hour or so later she called Jett. So he is the last person we know of who spoke to her. If you can get the exact time off of him, Katy…in fact, it would be helpful if we could get hold of his actual phone…I know a few people high up in the MET who might know someone who can trace that call she made,” I ramble.

  “Lucas, I can probably get the timings, but Jett can’t give us his phone; he’s in the U.S at the moment. And anyway, even if we did get that information, it only tells us where she was an hour after she saw you. It’s now weeks later; she could be anywhere,” Katy says realistically.

  “I so wish Jett hadn’t answered that damn call, and then she would have left him a message,” I murmur sadly to Katy.

  “Why? What difference would that make?” Katy asks, confused.

  “Because then I would have been able to listen to her voice again. What if I never get to hear her voice again, Katy?” At this point, I am close to breaking down again, so I wave Katy out of the room so I can have a moment of weakness before I pull myself together and fight like hell to get my girl back.

  Once I have composed myself, Katy and I go through everyone who she’s rang and visited. I then make her go back through everyone she and Lizzy have known since childhood—friends, family, extended family, distant family, extended distant family—but she hasn’t left a stone unturned this past couple of weeks, and everyone on the list has been contacted by Katy in some shape or form. I don’t want to admit it, but I am feeling despondent about our search; it also doesn’t help I feel mentally and physically exhausted.

  Katy must see the look of strain on my face, because she says, “Shall we call it a day, Lucas? I know you’re as desperate as I am to find Lizzy, but you still need to rest.”

  I nod, but I clearly have other things on my mind. “Do you think this is a fruitless effort, Katy? Will we ever find her? As you said yourself, it’ll be nearly impossible if she doesn’t want to be found.”

  “Lucas, are you giving up on her?” she whispers.

  I shrug my shoulders, which are laden down with misery.

  “I can’t b
elieve this!” Katy shouts, clearly exasperated. “Look, Lucas, I’m going to go home now. We are both going to get a good night’s sleep and we’ll meet up tomorrow. I think you’re tired and it’s forcing you to lose focus. If it was Lizzy here and we were searching for you, she’d never give up on you.”

  “But that’s just it, Katy; she’s not here, and technically, she did give up on me,” I say calmly. I see Katy flinch at the words that, up until now, I’ve only thought in my head and have been afraid to say out loud. She nods, kisses my cheek and leaves, and I know then that she has had those very same thoughts, and she feels as guilty about it as I do.

  I’m hungry, but my tiredness beats out my hunger, so I go up to bed—our bed. I open the door, but I don’t enter. All the conflicting thoughts I’m having about Lizzy at the moment, ranging from how much I love her, want to find her and have her with me for the rest of my life, to wondering how she could have left me in that state, when I was meant to be the man she loved beyond all else. I shut the door and head into one of the spare rooms.

  Although I’m desperate to get some sleep, I lay there for a while, asking the house to help me, to give me some clue as to where Lizzy’s gone. The house stays silent, and I eventually fall into a restless slumber.

  Morning light pierces through the blinds and wakes me and as my eyes flicker open, pain hits me—not physical pain from my scars, but the heartache of knowing I’m facing another day without my Angel. I jump up to try and ward off the pain by keeping busy and being pro-active in my search for Lizzy. First, I need coffee, and lots of it, and then I’m going to contact some friends in high places who owe me some favours and can maybe assist me in my search.

  As I get the coffee machine going, I look around and see the box with Lizzy’s ring in it. Although, technically, it isn’t Lizzy’s yet, I feel my mind veer off when I go to pick up the ring. I know this will lead to flashbacks of the accident, so I try to steer clear by thinking happier thoughts, more positive thoughts, like what it will be like when I do propose to Lizzy. It leads me into thinking about Verona, and what a beautiful place it is, and how Lizzy would have adored the villa I had booked for us to stay.