Twisted Dreams

by F J messina

  His eyes fell to the table. “You see, she realized that I just wasn’t whole yet. I simply hadn’t put myself back together. And though it felt great to be loved by her, I just wasn’t able to love anyone, not her, not anyone.”

  Sonia’s toe stopped tapping. Her hands remained still. Try as she might, she wasn’t able to silence the little voice in the back of her mind. Remember when John left you at the altar? Remember how you felt? Could you have loved anyone then? No, you couldn’t. You weren’t whole enough, were you? You were too broken. No matter how much someone had loved you, you wouldn’t have been able to love them back. Would you?

  “You know.” He looked up at Sonia. “I tried. I told her that I would try, try to get whole again, get healthy. And I did try. I just couldn’t do it.” He shrugged. “Then one day she came to me and said she was done.” He tented his fingers, his elbows on the arms of his chair. “She wasn’t mad, she didn’t raise her voice. Hell, she didn’t even ask for a divorce. She just said it was over and she’d found a new place to live. She even asked me if I would help her move her stuff, which I did.” He leaned back in his chair, away from the table. “It was all so surreal, helping this woman who was supposed to be my wife move out of our apartment, all ‘let’s get this one next; no, you keep that, I don’t need it.’ Next thing I knew, I was alone again, and honestly, although I missed the comfort of her being around, I really didn’t miss her. I never had really loved her.”

  Try as she may to stay rigid, defensive, Sonia felt some of her energy wane. She sighed. I get that. I know what it is to hurt. Still, she uttered not a sound.

  Brad sat up, his voice stronger. “So, here’s the deal. Last week, when I finished with that client up in Boston and then helped Robbie Alvarez with his case, I took a side trip to Baltimore. I looked her up. I told her it was time, that we needed to get officially divorced.”

  Sonia spoke for the first time, softly, tentatively, not sure she wanted to respond. “And what did she say? Was she shocked, or mad, or what?”

  He shook his head. “No. She wasn’t any of those things. She knew it was coming.”

  Sonia got fired up again. Her eyes blazed. Her voice flamed. “Oh, so she knew it was coming?” She leaned in toward him, venom in every part of her body. “She knew because you stay in touch with her? She knows allll about us. Is that it? Have you been telling your wife all about us?”

  Brad raised his hands as if to protect himself from physical onslaught. “No. No. It’s not like that. She knew because . . . well for two reasons.” He took a big breath. “First, she knew because this had to come sometime. We hadn’t seen each other in several years. We almost never talked. The─”

  “Almost never talked? So, you do still talk to her, don’t you?” Even through her olive complexion, Sonia’s face was bright red. “You’re still connected to her, aren’t you?”

  Brad was silent for a long moment. When he spoke, it was softly, calmly. “Sonia, she knew because she knows you, knows how I feel about you.”

  “What do you mean she knows me?” Sonia screwed up her face─anger mixed with confusion. “How could she know me?”

  His voice remained calm. His eyes rose to meet hers. “She knows you because she’s the one who helped you learn how to hack into the computer system at Dahlia Farm. She’s the one who told you about the woman who was killed by the deranged sailor.”

  Sonia swallowed hard. I knew it. I knew there was something weird when that woman knew so much about him and what he felt. It just didn’t pass the smell test.

  Though not bold, Brad’s voice was stronger. “Listen, I know this is all hard to digest. I know it’s hard for you to believe. But trust me. She and I were never really in love and were never really married . . . not really.” He rubbed his hands together, clearly at a loss for what to do with them. “Sure, the law says we’re still married, but we never really were. And now, this past week, I was in Baltimore setting up our divorce, trying to make everything legal so I could move forward with you. So we could get married.”

  Sonia shuddered. Married? He’s never even said “I love you,” and he wants to get married. No. No way. Not after . . . she shook her head, no. Brushing her pants as if she could wipe away the wine that had already soaked into them, she popped out of her seat, threw her purse over her shoulder, and walked directly out of the bar and into the lobby.

  Brad stood at the table. “Sonia. Sonia. Wait come back. Can’t we talk?”

  Sonia moved quickly through the lobby, directly to the elevators. Working desperately to hide the tears that insisted on trying to spill out of her eyes, she pushed “P” and rode down to the parking garage. Stepping out of the elevator, Sonia was shocked when her forward motion was suddenly stopped as if someone had grabbed her foot. Confused, she looked down to see the red, three-inch high heel on her right foot had gotten stuck in the crack between the elevator itself and its framework. Struggling to free the spindly shank of the shoe, she was even more stunned when it snapped off, leaving her standing three inches taller on her left side than on her right.

  Frustrated beyond belief, there was no holding back the stream of tears that gushed down her face. “Son-of-a . . . .” Trying to right the ship, Sonia leaned one hand against the cold, concrete wall that housed the elevator shaft and awkwardly lifted her left foot, slipping off the undamaged shoe. Staring in disbelief at the peep-toed beauty she held in her shaking hand, she was instantly convinced that its partner would never be functional again. She reared back and threw the shoe as far down the aisle of parked cars as she could, just barely swallowing an expletive. Fully aware that she was now both soaked in wine and shoeless, she took a deep breath, bracing herself. She kicked off the broken shoe and left it lying where it fell as she walked barefoot toward her car.

  Completely immersed in the pain and embarrassment the evening’s rendezvous had heaped on her, Sonia was barely aware of the sound of a car starting and pulling out of its parking space at the far end of the garage. Moments later, however, she instinctively turned around in response to the sheer volume of the engine’s noise. Stunned much more deeply than she had been moments ago, Sonia saw a car speeding right at her. Caught in a small passage in which there were no parking spaces, she had no choice but to turn and run.

  Still barefooted, Sonia ran as hard and as fast as she could. Run! Run! Just feet before the car overtook her, she reached the end of the passage. Diving headlong between two parked cars, she landed face down on the concrete floor, the roar of the car passing while she was still in mid-air. As the squeal of tires disappeared around the end of the aisle, Sonia lay stunned, listening as the car flew out of the parking structure. Her mind quickly grasped the fact that it must have left through an entry point in order to avoid the exit barrier.

  A long moment went by before Sonia crawled to her hands and knees and tried to pull herself together. Standing slowly, she surveyed the damage to her body before heading for her car. Her knees, elbows, and chin were all scraped and bleeding, but what rattled her most was the image of the black convertible she was almost certain was a BMW.

  45

  Sonia walked into her office around ten on Monday morning, coffee in hand, but with no croissant. She sat quietly, not working, just gently rubbing her fingertips over the scrape on her chin. Thoughts of Thursday night’s debacle twisted up her insides, as did the thoughts that came to her every time her eyes landed on the photograph of Mariana that sat on her desk.

  Jet walked in around ten-thirty. “Morning sunshine.” She strolled right into Sonia’s office, put her purse down on Sonia’s desk, and sat in the red chair. “How’re you doing this morning?” The concern in her voice was obvious.

  On Thursday night, they had spoken at length about the parking lot incident, with Jet hot to go to the police. Sonia had pointed out that they had already checked the registration of every black BMW convertible in the area and come up empty. “I don’t have a bit more information to share with them than what we already had
.” When they had finally gotten to the topic of Sonia’s conversation with Brad, Sonia had said, “What he never did was apologize for not telling me what was going on. He never did that, did he?” There had been little forgiveness in her voice or her eyes.

  Jet had replied, “Well, honey, sounds to me like you never gave him the chance. Not that he deserved it.”

  Sonia had not responded, apparently unwilling to acknowledge the possibility that perhaps should have given Brad that opportunity. Jet had let it slide.

  The Monday morning conversation was more business-centered. Jet started. “You realize, don’t you, that tomorrow’s the day that we meet with Nick Petropoulos and let him know we’ve got him by the balls.”

  “Yup.” Sonia took the lid off her coffee. “You know, we were hoping that Brad would be there just to make sure nothing got out of hand.”

  Jet looked at Sonia, wide-eyed. “I would never ask you to let Brad be a part of anything we do.”

  Sonia screwed up her face. “Don’t you think the very idea of it turns my stomach? I never want to work with him again. It’s just that I still think we need muscle at that meeting. We need to protect Mandy, even though she’s not going to be in the room with her creepy husband.”

  Jet spoke tentatively. “And you want me to ask Brad if he’d do that for us?”

  Sonia looked away, hiding the hurt in her eyes. “Do what you have to do.”

  Jet stood and moved to her own office. She put in a call to Brad Dunham. At first, things were a bit tense between them, but Jet got down to business. She asked Brad if he would be present with her at the offices of Hoskins and Hoskins, Attorneys at Law, the folks who would be representing Mandy. She told him about the video they were going to show Nick Petropoulos.

  “Look,” Brad suggested, “you need me to do this for you alone. You girls never want him to know that you’re the ones who’ve hung him up by his own petard. And make sure it’s Bill Hoskins and not Samantha Hoskins that’s in the office with him. This should be intimidating, a scene out of the Sopranos.”

  Jet was a little unsure about not being present at the meeting, but she decided Brad was probably right. “Yeah, okay.” Her voice was muted.

  “What about copies of the video?” Brad asked.

  Starting to feel more comfortable, Jet leaned back in her chair, tapping her pen against her desk as she spoke. “We told Hoskins to indicate in the divorce agreement that copies of the video would be kept in a sealed file in Hoskins’ office safe. That way, Petropoulos would know it was always available to haunt him, and he’d have no reason to ambush Mandy and try to get the video from her.”

  “Good thinking.” Brad was all business, professional. “Also, you and Sonia should keep a copy as well. He might be able to track me down. After all, we’ll be meeting face to face. But if he never hears your names or has any reason to believe you were involved in making the video, he’ll never think to try to get it from you.”

  Jet thought she sensed just a tiny hitch in Brad’s voice when he spoke Sonia’s name. Damn, he’s still got it so bad for her.

  At eleven forty-five on Tuesday, Jet’s phone rang. Looking at the phone, she knew who it was. “Hello, Brad.”

  “Hey. Good news. Everything went down pretty smoothly with Hoskins and Petropoulos. Looks like Mandy’s going to get everything she wants, including Nick leaving her alone as much as possible.”

  “And the kids?”

  “She got full custody. Of course, he’ll get his visitation rights, has to. And don’t forget, the real power in that family is Vasilios Petropoulos, the grandfather. If this agreement had cut him out of seeing his own grandkids, I’m afraid it might have made it pretty tough to get everyone to play ball, agreement or not.”

  “Yeah, Brad, you’re right.” She took a quick breath. “And Nick. Did he get crazy?”

  “You know, I could see him getting a little hot under the collar, but I just used an old trick I learned in NCIS.”

  Curiosity crept across Jet’s face and voice. “Do tell.”

  “Well, Hoskins brings him into the room. I lay back, actually sitting way at the end of the long conference table. I don’t say a word.”

  Jet sat just a bit taller in her chair. “Until when?”

  “Until never. I never said a word the whole time. I just sat there staring at him.”

  Her eyebrows furrowed. “And how did that accomplish anything?”

  “Let me ask you a question. You’re in a lawyer’s office and he’s laying some really heavy stuff on you. At the end of the table is a guy who doesn’t get introduced, doesn’t say a word. What do you think he’s there for?”

  Jet smiled. “If he looks like you? Muscle. No question, he’s muscle.”

  “And exactly how bad a badass is this muscle?”

  “You know,” she chuckled, “I guess I don’t know. But then again, I’m pretty sure I don’t want to find out.”

  Jet could hear Brad’s smile over the phone. “Bingo. Intimidation 101. Just sit there and don’t say a word.”

  Jet spun her swivel chair around and gazed out the window over East Main. “Yeah, Brad. I’ll bet you learned a lot of cool tricks over the years.”

  Jet had expected a snappy comeback, but all she got was silence. Finally, Brad spoke. “I’ll tell you one trick I never learned; I never learned how to get through to that stubborn Italian partner of yours.”

  Jet’s voice softened. “Time, pal, time. Look, I know you’re hurting. I know she’s hurting. It’s just going to take some time. But you know what?”

  “What?”

  “I think it would help if you would tell her you know what you did was wrong. Tell her that holding back the fact that you were married, even though you thought you were taking care of it, was still lying to her.”

  There was a pause before Brad spoke. “She won’t even talk to me.”

  Jet looked out her window as she spoke. “Someday she will, and when she does you’d darn well better tell her you were sorry for lying to her and that you’ll never do it again.” She paused. “You wouldn’t do that again, would you?” The phone remained silent.

  46

  Sonia had spent the better part of Wednesday out in Bowling Green, Kentucky. She was still certain that her plan to talk to all of Mariana’s old classmates, co-workers, friends, and family face to face was the right way to go, but it was turning out to be tremendously time-consuming. When she walked into the BCI offices late that afternoon, she was surprised to see a certain forensic accountant sitting with Jet at her desk, her partner’s long blonde hair pulled in front of her shoulders. “Well, well, well. I can see that while the cat’s away, the mice will play.”

  Sonia could see Burnett starting to blush, but it was Jet who spoke. “Cat’s away, schmat’s away. These little miceys gonna play whenever they want.”

  Burnett spoke up. “What she means to say, Sonia, is─”

  “Burnett, just you hush now.” Jet tapped him on his forearm, her accent all Gone With the Wind. “Don’t you go lettin’ her get you all flustered. It’s none of her business if my accountant feels he has to do an audit of my personal assets every few days.”

  Sonia watched as Burnett seemed to become even smaller in his oversized suit.

  Jet looked back to Sonia. “So, missy, how’d the trip go?” The accent was gone.

  Sonia moved into Jet’s office and took a seat on the wooden “extra” chair against the wall. “I’m guessing you can tell from the look on my face, I got nothing. The girl hadn’t heard from Mariana since graduation and had no idea where she would go if something was wrong. What about you?”

  “Two more trips into the hinterland and the same result you got. I know you’re right about this face to face thing, but geez, this is wearing me out.”

  Burnett came alive, looking at Sonia. “Well, I’ve just been telling Jet that I have some news that might brighten up your day.”

  Sonia reached over and picked up Jet’s coffee cup. She took a
sip and winced. “Cold.”

  Jet raised her eyebrows as if to imply that beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  Sonia reached down to her side and drew a large imaginary handgun. She pointed her finger directly at the accountant. “Okay, Burnett. Go ahead. Make my day.” All three of them chuckled.

  Burnett went on. “You know how those three horses have been doing exceptionally well, until, of course, Frailing just faded at the Bluegrass Stakes?”

  Sonia nodded, “Uh, huh.”

  “Well, it looks like Summer Wheat is running in the Oaks this Friday, as we’d expected, and the other one, Run Lucky, is going off at eight to six in the Derby on Saturday.”

  “Nice.” Sonia didn’t really know what eight to six meant.

  From the look on his face, Sonia could tell that Burnett had expected a much greater response. “No, really Burnett. That’s nice. I’m excited for you.”

  “I don’t think you understand, Sonia. The Kentucky Oaks is this Friday, and the Derby is Saturday.”

  Jet smiled at Burnett. “And . . .”

  “And my firm has reserved seating in a grandstand box for both events.”

  “So?”

  Burnett straightened in his seat and his hands began moving toward his lapels. A look from Jet changed his mind. “It just so happens that it’s my year to take advantage of those tickets. We’re going to the Oaks and the Derby. The three of us, we’re going the whole weekend, and a historic weekend it might be.”

  Sonia smiled at both Burnett and Jet, Burnett because he was enjoying himself so, and Jet because she seemed genuinely pleased to see Burnett letting go a bit. “Well then, looks like we’re all on for Derby weekend in Louisville.” A little chill of excitement ran through her body.

  Jet pushed some papers around on her desk, appearing to look busy. “By the way. How many seats are there in that box?”