Crazy For You

by Sandra Edwards

  She began to plot her demise in intricate detail. As far as she could see, the least complicated way to die was simply to go to sleep and never wake up again. There was only one way she knew of to do that. Pills. But Jerry wasn’t going to let that happen easily. All Roxanne had to do was outsmart him. She had the advantage because he, and everybody else, thought she was crazy. And maybe they were right. But she wasn’t stupid. Stupid and crazy were two entirely different things. And she wasn’t so stupid that she couldn’t pull off a simple little plan. No, she intended to outsmart Jerry. No matter how long it took, she would find a way. It might take her a while because it had to be the perfect plan. But who better than Roxanne to come up with the perfect ending?

  Not even the release of the Oscar nominations deterred Roxanne from her intentions. The knowledge that Bad Company had been nominated for eleven awards held no meaning. The fact that both she and Candy had been nominated for the same award—Best Actress—was of no great consequence. She didn’t care about any of it.

  The only thing Roxanne cared about now was escaping the grips of Frank Garrett’s wrath. She knew it wouldn’t do any good to run away. She’d tried that before. It hadn’t worked then and it wouldn’t work now. Roxanne didn’t intend to make the same mistake twice. There was only one way out. Now that she’d accepted it, she was determined to get on with it.

  The first thing Roxanne had to do was get her hands on a generous supply of her meds from Jerry. That wouldn’t be easy. She spent a lot of time in her study, staring out the window, trying to figure out just how to do it. Then one day the perfect solution came to her. A honeymoon.

  Yes, that’s it. A honeymoon was logical. First, she’d charter a boat. A big one. No one would believe she’d willingly step foot on any boat that was considered to be anything less than oversized. A private yacht. One staffed with only a few crew members. Yes, that was the way to go. Everybody would buy it because Roxanne valued her privacy. Nobody but Roxanne, Frank, and a small crew. She shouldn’t have any problems passing that one off.

  Roxanne began the necessary steps to plan a thirty-day honeymoon cruise as if she really intended to go. All along, she never lost sight of the fact that the cruise would never happen.

  Once she had her plans laid out, she went to Frank. This part wouldn’t be easy. She’d have to talk him into going before she could set her plans in motion. With no easy way to do that, she had her work cut out for her. But where there was a will there was a way, and Roxanne had the will so there had to be a way.

  The fact that she had to track Frank down just to be able to talk to him only reinforced her belief that she was doing the right thing. As she should have guessed, she found him at the rehearsal studio with the band, working on the new album.

  When your pride goes

  You know you’re going to fall

  But you never let it get you down

  You just keep standing tall

  You know that getting through to me is like

  Beating your head against a brick wall

  But you never give up

  And I don’t know why

  I should even care

  But I always need to look back

  I need to see you standing there

  That was about as close to an apology as Roxanne was going to get from Frank. But it didn’t matter anymore. He had accomplished his goal. Now she intended to carry out hers.

  Frank strolled out of the booth and plastered on an expression of indifference as he stopped at her side, towering over her instead of sitting. “What are you doing here?” Well at least he acknowledged her presence.

  “I want to talk to you.” She knew the best way to get anywhere with him was to be direct. “It’s about our honeymoon.” She wished she could see behind those damned shades.

  “Roxanne, I don’t have time for this.”

  “When you’re done with the album,” she said, one step ahead of him. “That’s when I was thinking of going.”

  “That’ll probably be late in March, at least.”

  “That’s about when I had in mind.”

  “Whatever,” he said, lacking enthusiasm. “Just fix it and I’ll go.” He shrugged and walked away, probably telling himself he had until March to find an excuse to back out.

  But she didn’t care. Let him knock himself out trying to find a plausible reason to renege. Wait until he found out it was all for nothing. That’d serve him right.

  Roxanne hopped down off the stool. “Wonderful.” She gave his backside a smile derived in distaste before heading out.

  In the parking lot, she marveled at how easy it was going to be to carry out her plan. Really, she’d expected Frank to put up more of a fight. But oh boy, was he going to be surprised. She would win. She would get away from him. It might be the last thing that she ever did, but she would succeed in doing that one thing—escaping.

  Next, Roxanne paid for the yacht in advance. She did everything to indicate that her plans were legitimate. Now the time had come to pay Jerry a visit. With all those details she’d seen to—and a little luck—she’d be able to persuade Jerry that she actually intended to go on this trip. The task shouldn’t be too hard for her. She had the Oscar statuettes to prove she could act. If she gave an award-winning performance today, she’d be rewarded with three hefty prescriptions right before the ship set sail—worth more than any Academy Award.

  Wrapped in an air of elation, she waltzed into Jerry’s office as if she were on top of the world. And in a way she was. She’d definitely be the happiest person around if she got what she came for today.

  “Roxanne…” Jerry uttered her name softly, eyeing her with a measure of suspicion. “You seem to be in an unusually good mood today.”

  “Life is wonderful.” Well, at least getting out will be.

  “I’m happy to see you’ve had this sudden turn around. The basis behind it is...?”

  He wasn’t going to be nearly as easy to convince as Frank. But that didn’t bother her. She’d just have to come up with a new angle.

  “Frankie and I have decided that we want our marriage to work,” she said. “We’re trying really hard to get past the pain we’ve caused each other.”

  “And you believe that he can actually forgive you?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “And that’s going to make life wonderful?”

  “Well we have a beautiful son together. I have a fabulous career, as does my husband.” She rattled off supporting motives to suggest that she’d at least thought about it. “If we can regain what we’ve lost—” She shrugged, as if it were just that simple. “What more in life could a person want.”

  That’s just it. There was nothing left to wish for. Nothing she wanted more than getting out.

  “Your theories are all fine and well,” Jerry said. “But just how are you going to accomplish this great feat?”

  “Well for starters, Frankie and I are going on our honeymoon.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. We’re taking a cruise on a private yacht.”

  “And just how long is this private cruise going to last?”

  “Thirty days.”

  “Roxanne…” Jerry shook his head. “I just don’t see how I can give you a thirty day supply of potentially lethal narcotics.”

  “Look…” She tried to bite back the frustration clawing its way out. “It was your idea for me to take this stuff in the first place. And you’re the one who’s been ranting and raving about how important it is for me to keep taking it.”

  “I’m sorry, but under the circumstances I cannot give you that much at once.”

  “Fine,” she said with a sullen shrug. “I’ll just go without it. Frank’s more important to me than your drugs anyway.”

  Culpability stiffened Jerry’s face with a tight-lipped scowl. Good. She was wearing him down and it had come more easily than she’d expected. It was more important now than ever to keep her cool. Just a few more minutes and she’d have Jerry wound tight
ly around her finger.

  “Do you mind if I check with Frank about this?” he asked, and then waited.

  She said, “No, I don’t mind.”

  Jerry knew he shouldn’t trust Roxanne. But what if she was telling the truth? What if they really were planning a honeymoon? Who was he to stop them? God knows Roxanne wouldn’t last a week alone with Frank Garrett without her meds.

  “But when you do talk to him,” she said. “And you find out that I am telling the truth…you owe me an apology.” The way she appeared to be insulted gave credence to her claim that the trip was real.

  Jerry felt like a heel. Yet he couldn’t shake the bad feeling imploding inside him.

  As soon as Roxanne left, Jerry got on the phone to track down Frank. He was surprised to find that Roxanne was telling the truth. This was the first time Jerry had misread a patient. And believing that she’d lied when she hadn’t—well that was unsettling. Especially with this patient. Jerry had treated her for damn near seven years. He should know her by now. But far be it from Jerry to refuse to admit when he was wrong.

  Without hesitation, he snatched up the phone and dialed her number.

  She answered the call with a friendly, “Hello.”

  “Roxanne…it’s me, Jerry.”

  “Hi, Jerry.” She could tell by the anxiety in his voice that she’d won. “I take it that you’ve talked to Frank.”

  “Yes, I have. And I’m sorry.” His apology was swift, but serious.

  “Well you should be,” she scolded him. “After everything we’ve been through…I was beside myself that you could have so little faith in me.”

  He didn’t say anything for a long time, and she wondered what was running through his head. “Roxanne,” he said in a self-loathing tone, “I really am sorry.”

  She didn’t doubt that he meant it. And she hoped he felt like shit for it too. But she had a part to play. “It’s okay. I know you’re just trying to look out for me.”

  “You can pick up your prescriptions the day before you set sail.”

  Great. Nothing could stop Roxanne now. Finally, she was going to be free. She’d convinced herself it was the right thing to do. The crazy thing was, she was actually looking forward to her grand escape.

  ***

  Chapter 23

  January turned into February. And while Roxanne grew more and more distant, Frank was having his own moment of indecision. But rather than change course in mid-action, he chose to put his feelings into the last song on the album. No matter what he thought or how he felt about things, it didn’t change the fact that Roxanne had to be punished and Frank refused to let his feelings get in the way.

  Don’t walk away

  Just hold on tight

  Hold on to me

  I promise it’ll be all right

  Let’s give in to the pleasure

  Let’s give in tonight

  As the days passed, Roxanne’s excitement grew over the event that would soon take place. Not even Frank’s apathy toward her could dampen her spirits. Nonetheless, it amazed her that no one bothered to wonder why she was in such a good mood when things really weren’t so good at home. Not that it mattered. Nothing could stop her. Not even Frank. Especially not Frank.

  The yacht she’d chartered was scheduled to set sail at eleven-thirty in the morning on February 25th. She doubted Frank had plans to show up at the marina before eleven twenty-nine and fifty-nine seconds—if he showed at all. But she didn’t care. Mainly because she wasn’t going to be there when and if he did turn up. By then, she’d be long gone. By then, she’d be free.

  Candy and Frankie were going to stay with Rich while Roxanne and Frank were away. The day before the cruise they moved into his place temporarily.

  It was important that Roxanne had the house to herself, so that evening she sent Jameson and Rose out for a night on the town. With the house empty, she prepared to set the next phase of her plan in motion. It’s not like she’d have to worry about Frank raining on her parade. There wasn’t a chance in hell of him coming home.

  Frank was quite content sitting in a little pub in St. Pete, nursing a beer. He’d had lots of time to kill during the last couple of days since the band had wrapped up the album.

  He hadn’t found it surprising that Roxanne was on his mind. She’d been trying so hard to make their marriage work. Frank hadn’t made that easy on her, and he ridiculed himself for it. He’d been working hard at subduing his own feelings, keeping them tucked neatly away. That feat had gotten harder and harder to do with each passing day.

  Frank took a drink of his beer, hoping the feelings of remorse would pass, and wondering what the chances were that Roxanne might change her mind and opt out of the trip.

  The one thing Roxanne had decided on was a bath. If she was going to leave this world, she wanted to be clean when she did it.

  She sank down into the bath water, strengthened by the notion that soon, very soon, it would all be over. She wouldn’t have to spend another day with Frank Garrett. She wouldn’t have to waste any more time wishing and wanting him to show her love and affection. She wouldn’t have to spend one more day wondering where he was or when he was coming home. Best of all, she wouldn’t have to live with his hatred.

  Roxanne hated to leave Little Frankie and Candy behind. But she knew Rich would take good care of Candy. And as much as she hated Frank and wanted to get away from him, she knew he’d take good care of their son. In the end, she needed to escape more than she wanted to stay.

  This was the last bath she’d ever take. There were a lot of things she’d never do again. She’d never drive her Porsche. No more talks with Candy. And she’d never hold her baby again. That thought splintered her heart into a thousand pieces.

  No. Don’t think about all the things you’re going to miss. Forgetting her objective wasn’t smart. Neither was thinking Frank gave a shit. The fact that he wasn’t here was proof enough.

  Frank was still perched on his stool at the pub in St. Pete, drinking his beer. Part of him hated that he was excited about tomorrow. He didn’t want to be thrilled about going anywhere with her. But he was. The thought of being alone with her for thirty days had his mind tripping over the possibilities.

  Maybe she’d suffered enough. Maybe the time had come to put the past misfortunes to rest, to look ahead and not behind. Maybe it was time for forgiveness. Frank peeled off his sunglasses and laid them on the bar. He felt a smile tip the corners of his mouth as he got up and walked out the door.

  After Roxanne got out of the bathtub she put on her silk nightgown. She dug around in her purse that was on the dresser, searching for the meds Jerry had prescribed. She sat down on the edge of the bed and put the pills on the nightstand. Deciding she needed something to wash them down, she headed downstairs to get herself a drink.

  She was about to grab the OJ out of the fridge when she remembered that she wasn’t supposed to mix alcohol with her medication. That was a better idea. If she used vodka or something, that might help move things along.

  But why not do this in style? Nothing could compare to serving up her salvation on the best silver and china her money could buy. She collected a silver tray, saucers made of fine china, and happily tucked the bottle of vodka under one arm and carted everything upstairs.

  Humming merrily, she put the tray on the nightstand and sat down on the bed. Carefully, she positioned the saucers on the tray and poured the contents of each pill bottle onto the tiny plates. She let the empty containers fall to the floor and paused momentarily to straighten the contents of each saucer.

  Now, she thought, looking at the bottle of vodka. Damn. She’d forgotten a glass. But there was one in the bathroom. She hopped off the bed and ran to get it. Smiling, she returned to the bed. This time she had everything she needed.

  The rings on her finger—Frank’s rings—caught her eye. She stopped and inspected them closely. They were certainly rare and beautiful. But they were a lie. Just like his love was a lie. Roxanne took t
hem off and dropped them onto the tray. She didn’t want to die with his rings on her finger.

  She filled the glass with vodka and grabbed a handful of pills from one of the saucers. Casually, she popped a few of them into her mouth and took a drink, forcing the pills and the liquor down at the same time. She repeated this process methodically until all the pills in her hand were gone. “Don’t worry,” she assured the other two saucers, “I’ll get to you.”

  In all her madness she didn’t want any of the pills to feel slighted. She knew what that was like. Very soon she would get to them all. She refilled the glass with vodka and returned to the pills, grabbing another handful from a different saucer. Once again, she did as she’d done before, throwing a few pills into her mouth and washing them down with vodka.

  After she finished the third handful she started feeling queasy. That was not good. Getting sick wasn’t part of the plan. If she got sick, that meant she could vomit. That was the last thing she wanted to do. Maybe she should give the pills a rest. She wondered vaguely how many she’d taken. Maybe one-third of each prescription...was that enough to get the job done?