Rendezvous

by Lane, Arie

  Getting back in my truck, I watch for another twenty minutes before he finally gets up from his perch. I watch as he discards a coffee cup into a trash bin and takes off in a hurry. Driving over to the bin, I snatch up the cup lying on top. I’m not really fond of the idea of digging through trash, but I’m even less enthused about the idea that there’s some creep stalking Bentley. I hope for her sake that he’s just some local hick and not someone hired by her mother. Judging by the way he’s dressed though, I’d say he’s neither local nor some back woods yokel.

  Before heading back to my hotel room, I slip the cup into a plastic bag and overnight it to a buddy. I give him a call to let him know it’s on the way. I’m not going to take any chances on her safety, so that means keeping her even closer until I have answers. It will take a couple of days before I have results, but at least then I’ll know who the fuck is watching my cousin’s girl.

  Bentley

  There isn’t much to do in a small town when you’re on your own. Especially when everyone around you is part of the holiday bustle. It’s only the first week of December, but the heavy snowfall seems to have put everyone in the Christmas spirit. Every other shop in town now has some form of holiday lighting or decorations. People are packed in tight on the streets as they hustle from store to store while I’m sitting in a quaint little coffee shop sipping on hot chocolate and stalking Facebook.

  Not the best use of my time, I know, but Dante usually posts about a thing or two he wants. So I’ve been spying and waiting for his wish list so I can send him something, which I’ll have shipped to him directly so my address stays protected. I know he misses me, but it’s just not safe to have him in my life right now.

  Scrolling down, I see Tristan posted a picture to Dante and I click on Tristan's name. I’m glad that they have each other. It makes it a little easier knowing what I left behind. I continued to scroll through Tristan’s page, even though I know the odds are that by now he’s moved on. I feel a pang of jealousy though when I come across a picture of him and some girl. She has her arms locked around his waist and she is standing on her toes while kissing him on the cheek. Something inside of me feels like it is dying in that moment. I know I might be reading into it more than I should, but the picture looks so intimate. Sure, I had told him to move on and that I’d never be returning to him. Yet seeing him with another girl makes me feel like I’m being buried alive. I can’t fucking breathe.

  I know I don’t logically have any right to be upset, but that doesn’t stop the hurt I feel, even if he isn’t mine. Somewhere over that last year, I fell in love with Tristan, and I guess a part of me might always love him, even if he is never by my side again. I’m not sure why, but I put a smiley face in the comments of the picture. I hope that if he ever finds out it’s me; he believes I’m happy for him.

  Looking up from my screen, I damn near have a heart attack. Sitting in the seat across from me is the same guy from Tony’s place. I try hard to hide my anxiety, but the fact that I nearly fall out of my seat makes that almost impossible.

  “Is there something I can help you with? Jacob? I believe that is your name, right?” I ask with no real interest.

  “Funny, this is the second time I’ve run into you and you’re alone again. Let me guess ... trouble in paradise? The fiancé doesn’t like all of the time you spend on social media? Or maybe he doesn’t like to compete with your laptop for attention? Or perhaps paradise doesn’t even exist?”

  “Paradise is highly overrated. Don’t you have some bimbo you can be playing hide the sausage with? And for the record, I like spending time with myself. I don’t need a man fucking up my atmosphere just because he feels like he needs to be up my ass. That includes you too. I don’t mean to come off bitchy, but I thought I made that clear the other night.” I reply with a bit more snark than intended, but he chose a bad time to rub me the wrong damn way.

  “Ah, I see. So then the truth is your man is as fictional as your writing, and you prefer it that way. That works, if I’m being honest Lena, you’re an attractive woman but I’m not interested in you in that capacity. So there isn’t any real need to lie to me on that front. I simply don’t like the idea of a woman, such as you, leaving herself open to the predators that hide in plain sight just because she doesn’t want company.”

  “Really? Because you were coming off pretty strong the other night. Oh, and that predator shit. Trust me, there are worse things lurking in plain sight than some asshole with a hard on. Just so we’re clear: I’m not buying your knight in shining armor shit. I tried that once, and he was nothing more than a douche bag in aluminum foil.”

  “Are you always so affronting, Lena? Honestly, I don’t think it’s a crime to want to enjoy the company of a beautiful woman. I’m sorry if I offended you by prying into your personal life, and I swear I’m not usually a douche bag nor have I ever knowingly dressed in foil.”

  I give a small sigh of resignation before apologizing. “I won’t sit here and lie and tell you I’m sorry Jacob. I’m not in the mood for your analytical bullshit. It’s been a hell of a week, and I don’t really feel like playing nice.” I look out the window at the happy couples walking by, feeling myself sink even lower. “I hate this time of year. It’s always the worst for me. I don’t usually mind being alone. Hell, most of the time I prefer it. But lately it seems to really bother me. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t begrudge anyone their own happiness, it just sucks when my own has moved on.”

  “Moved on? Are you certain of that? I’d find it pretty hard to believe that anyone would be able to forget you so easily,” he said while giving me a small smile.

  “I don’t know if it was easy, I don’t even know when it happened. But I am happy for him. He deserves to be happy and have someone who can be with him completely. Someone who can show him that she loves him every day. That isn’t something I could do at this moment in my life, so I should be happy that he found someone who can.” As I say the words, I know in my heart that I truly believe them. I love Tristan enough that I want him to have someone who can love him the same way, if not even more.

  “Well if that’s the truth, then I’d wager he’s a fool. Nothing worth fighting for is ever won easily, and I have a pretty good hunch that you’re more than worth fighting for. Oh, and I wouldn’t give too much credence to things you see on Facebook. They are hardly ever what they seem,” he quips while giving me a wink.

  I laugh for the first time in months and it actually feels pretty good. Something about Jacob makes him easy to be around and even easier to talk to. Not that I’m about to let him borrow my diary or anything. I tease his heavy southern accent as I reply with a southern twang, “I reckon you’re pretty smart for a good ol’ boy. There’s something to be said about a man raised in the South. I’m willing to wager your mom dished out some mighty fine lessons with either words or that good ol’ fashioned switch, now didn’t she.” Changing back to my normal accent, I continue, “Honestly though, it’s been months since he and I spoke, and frankly, there really isn’t any intention of that happening in the near or distant future. So I really do hope he found someone who makes him happy.”

  He laughs at me while answering me back, “That’s a cute southern impression you got going on there girlie. I reckon you probably met that switch a time or two yourself. Now, onto the subject of your man… Happiness can be greatly overrated, especially if it’s being had with the wrong person. But I still say you’re letting your imagination run wild. I am curious though, when did things end?”

  I’m slightly dumbfounded; I completely ignore his remarks about Tristan, and let my guard down. I don’t know what compels me to answer his question about my own punishments, but I reply, “Ah no, I’ve been hit with a great many things, but a switch was never one of them. My mother favored a more hands-on approach, and a switch might hurt, but not nearly enough for the likes of that woman.” The words are out before I can stop myself. I didn’t mean to divulge so much, but the words slipped off my ton
gue before it even occurs to me to shut my damn mouth.

  More embarrassed than I cared to admit, I made a quick excuse for leaving and said goodbye as I hurried out the door. I chastised myself on the ride home for being so careless. The quickest way for someone to learn who I am is to learn about my past. I make a mental note as I hurry inside to make sure I keep my fucking mouth shut from now on. While Jacob might seem nice, that doesn’t mean he can be trusted, and it doesn’t mean he hasn’t been sent here by my mother.

  Chapter 5

  Tristan

  I pull my phone out of my pocket as it starts to beep. I have been waiting for some kind of progress report from Jacob, either on the whereabouts of Darla or any changes with Bentley. Unlocking the screen, a message pops up.

  A little heads up next time would be nice asshole. You told me her mother was a raging bitch. You never said she beat the ever loving shit out of her every chance she got.

  A minute later, my phone beeps again and it sends me into a fucking frenzy. I re-read the message twice trying to figure out what the hell he is talking about.

  Might want to check out your Facebook dipshit, I saw Bentley scrolling through the feed. Check for a picture of you with another girl. She thinks that whoever she is, you’ve moved on with her. If she’s going to watch your page, maybe you should leave a message. Tell her you’re thinking of her or something. Oh, one more thing. I found someone watching Bentley’s place. I don’t think he’s connected to Darla, but I sent his prints off anyway. I should have the results in a day or two.

  I couldn’t fucking believe it. Even after all of these months, she’s still checking up on me. Although I have no fucking clue as to what picture he’s talking about. Scrolling through my phone apps, I click on the Facebook icon and go to my timeline. Scanning through the pictures, I come across a new one posted earlier this week. It’s from the signing I went to with Electra. She talked me into doing the cover for the woman in the photo. I remember her wrapping herself around me and slapping a wet kiss on my cheek, but I don’t remember anyone taking a picture. She sure as hell isn’t someone I’d fuck around with, even if she did offer.

  I almost backed out actually; I was really fucking pissed when she decided to manhandle my junk in front of her bimbo girlfriends. She made some fucked up comment about testing the merchandise to make sure what I’m packing is 100% real. I told her I won’t be posing nude so it doesn’t matter what the hell I’m packing. Ele spent the rest of the evening apologizing for her friend’s behavior. Why the fuck anyone would want friends like that is beyond me. No way in hell could that skanky hoe ever compare to my beautiful Bentley.

  Looking back down at the picture, I go to hit the delete key but see a comment from a name I vaguely recognize. Clicking the name, it brings me to a page for an author named Lena Jade. There aren’t any pictures to show who she is, but something about that smiley face got my attention. I send a text to Dante to see if maybe she was an author he met at one of the signings he attended with Bentley.

  Hey Man, know an author by the name Lena Jade? She posted something on my page but I can’t recall meeting anyone by that name.

  It was only five minutes or so before Dante texted me back.

  You’re shitting me right? No, I can’t say I met a Lena Jade, but I do know the fucking name. Does that page say where she’s located by chance?

  Searching through the info on her page, I look for anything that might indicate where she might be located. I came up empty and let Dante know as much.

  Nothing on her page says where she is or where she’s from. How do you know the name?

  I’m waiting like a damn idiot for my phone to beep. I’m fucking praying he tells me what I want to hear. Watching the phone intently, I jump when there is a loud banging at the door instead. I open it up as Dante comes through it.

  “It’s Bentley. Although I’m sure you already guessed that. In the year before Cora disappeared, they started calling each other by their middle names. Darla was hell bent they shouldn’t have middle names unless they were named after her. Grant put his foot down though and made sure they each had one put on their birth certificates. Darla refused to acknowledge them, and I’m pretty sure to this day doesn’t even know them. Cora’s middle name is Lenatta, after Grant’s grandmother. She shortened it to Lena though. Bentley’s middle name is Jade. Makes fucking sense she’d hide right under her mother’s nose,” he finished his statement with satisfaction, as if he had just solved the world’s greatest mystery.

  “Oh shit . . . that’s right. Jacob said she’s using the name Lena. I don’t know why the hell that didn’t register. He’s keeping tabs on her for me. Apparently someone is watching her though. He doesn’t know if he is some small admirer or if the dude is a fucking stalker. He’s fairly certain that whoever he is, he’s not working for Darla. There’s a small relief in that, but I don’t like the idea of someone watching her, especially not after the shit with Cora. I don’t think she’d ever leave her fucking house again if she found out she was being stalked. He sent the guy's fingerprints off to a friend and he’s going to put a stop to that shit right quick.”

  I didn’t realize how anxious that knowledge made me until I got it off my chest. Even if she is a world away, I still fucking worry about her. Jacob said she slipped up a bit about her mother and took off right after. I don’t know if it puts me at ease knowing she’s opening up and trusting him, or if I should be worried that he’ll be another bastard trying to take my heart away from me.

  Before I can state my fears to Dante, Cage walks in looking like the cat that ate the canary.

  “We’ve got a hit on Darla. She’s hanging around some hick town in West Virginia. I got the call a few minutes ago. How do you want to handle it?” He asked.

  “Are we absolutely sure it’s her?” I wait as he shakes his head, confirming that the information is good. “Brilliant! I say we go hunt ourselves a bitch. You still got that cabin up in the mountains there?”

  “Yup, cleaned it out while you were away. Figured if nothing else, I’d use it for a hunting trip. It’s fully stocked. You want to take her up there? It’s secluded enough, should be a good place to get rid of someone I guess, especially someone no one is going to report missing.”

  I look at him and mull over his words. Do I really want to get rid of Darla, or do I want to turn her in and let the prison system get her? The rational side of me would say turn her the fuck in, but since she already managed to escape once, I’m not feeling too confident about that decision. Ultimately, my decision comes down to what will make Bentley safe, and the truth is the only way I can assure her safety is to get rid of that fucking cunt myself. I’d almost admit I’m screwed up in the head for wanting to actually cause her physical pain, but in all honesty, I think anyone in my position would want to torture that bitch. It’s only fair she know some of the pain she inflicted on Bentley throughout the years, even if I can’t do all of the things I know she’s done.

  I have just one more bit of unfinished business before I pack my bags and head to the sticks. This shit has been eating at me for a while. Picking up my phone I dial Electra, and she picks up after the first ring. Before she can even say hello, I’m getting shit off my chest.

  “You fucking lied to me and I want to know why, Ele. You damn near went ballistic on me trying to convince me that Bentley had moved the fuck on. Damn it, you told me my girl was engaged to some other fucking guy Ele, and it was all bullshit. I want to know what the fuck got into your head that you’d even try that shit with me.”

  She let out the breath she was holding before she spoke. Her voice sounds small, like she’s afraid. She should be fucking afraid; she tried to destroy the only good thing in my fucking life.

  “I’m sorry Tryst. It’s not what you think. It’s just...Bentley is bad for you, baby. Everything in that girl’s life is toxic. No one around her ever survives very long. You being with her is like signing your own death certificate. Darla will hunt you down
and gut you like some wild animal, then she will tie a pretty little bow around your neck and toss your ass somewhere for Bentley to find. She left for a reason Tristan. Why can’t you just let her go before this obsession with her gets you killed?”

  “You have no idea what my obsession with Bentley is, Electra. You wouldn’t know how to love another person if your life depended on it. You’re the most selfish fucking bitch I have ever met. You pretend to give a shit about people just so you can be on the sidelines to watch them crash and burn after you fucking sabotage them. Got news for you, that’s not friendship.” I’m gritting my teeth so hard that my mouth hurts. She’s lucky I’m not fucking closer to her, because this conversation wouldn’t be so sugar-coated in person.

  “Tristan, it isn’t like that, I swear. You’ve changed so much since you met her. She’s fucking ruining you. She isn’t the kind of girl you should be with. You should be with someone who’s fun and exciting, someone who knows how to have a good time. Bentley wouldn’t know the first thing to do with a man. Hell, all the time you were with her I doubt she even let you fuck her.”

  Her words are like nails on a fucking chalkboard. I wanted to reach through the phone and strangle her whore ass. How did I never see what a slimy cunt she is? All of this because I’d rather have Bentley in my bed rather than a skank who sleeps with every man who smiles in her direction? I’m not a fucking idiot, Ele has always wanted me, but not for anything more than another notch in her 'look who I fucked' belt.

  “You know what Ele, I always knew you were a slut. You’ll fuck any man who will give you the time of day. That’s the difference between you and Bentley. At least my baby girl has self-respect. She doesn’t need some man between her legs to make her feel like she’s worth a damn. You... you’re just some fucking cum-dumpster that’s been laid so many times you probably can’t even feel it anymore. I didn’t mind being friends with you, but if my options were to let you suck my dick or let it fall off, I’d let that shit rot away before I’d let you anywhere near it. You crossed the line, Ele. Never say my girl’s name again. You aren’t fucking worthy of a friend like Bentley. You’re a controlling, manipulative, lying bitch, and don’t ever fucking call me baby. I’m nothing to you. You want me to walk away, well here’s me walking away Electra. You’re a real fucking cunt. No, on second thought, I take that back since you lack both the depth and the warmth. Never contact me again; you’re as good as dead to me,” I seethe before hanging the phone up.