Rock Him

by Rachel Cross

  Her fingers hovered by the radio knob — she really should have switched it off, but she couldn’t. They tore her to shreds in minutes. Her face, not pretty; her hairstyle, not hip; her clothes — they had divergent opinions on her clothes. One loved the dress, one didn’t. Her looks they rated on a ten-point scale — and she didn’t even make the upper half. They compared her unfavorably to women Asher had been linked to in the past. They speculated about her weight and joked about eating disorders.

  A vaguely familiar sensation twisted through the pit that was her stomach as disbelief turned to hurt, and, finally, to anger. Those assholes. They were no better than Kimberly Klaus. They may have a larger audience, but it was the same level of bullying nastiness. God, she hoped Ella didn’t hear about it. Maddy bit her lip. She was not going to turn on the regular radio in the car ever again. From here on in, satellite radio that played only music.

  Maddy stared out her front windshield at the automobile blocking her access to the street.

  What the hell? That limo still hadn’t moved.

  She was going to be late. With a disgusted sigh, she tapped her horn again.

  Turning off the car, she hopped out, grumbling, keys and purse in hand. Striding over to the tinted window at the rear, she tapped and it rolled down. She peered in, a polite smile firmly in place.

  “Excuse me, but you’re blocking the driveway and I’m — ” Her voice died as she spotted the woman.

  Oh my God. It was Asher’s mom! It had to be. She looked older than the pictures from the internet, but remarkably well preserved. Her face was in profile as she stared ahead, the sole occupant in the rear of the vehicle.

  She turned, pinning Maddy with an icy stare. Asher’s eyes. But Asher’s eyes had never been that cold. Maddy recoiled, her hand automatically reaching into her purse for her cell phone.

  “Get in,” the woman said.

  Maddy peered around the inside of the car.

  “I’m late for an appointment, Mrs … . er … ” She racked her brain. What was her name?

  “It’s Jacqueline. Get in.”

  Maddy searched her purse. Where was her phone?

  “Madeline?” the woman said in a conversational tone.

  Maddy raised her head and looked right into the barrel of a small pistol. She blinked.

  It was so small, was that thing even real?

  “Do I have to ask again?” the woman said, her voice monotone, face expressionless.

  Well and truly spooked, Maddy dropped the phone into her bag. It took her shaking hands two tries to open the door. Her limbs heavy and clumsy, she slid onto the seat and closed the door. The locks went down. She shot a disbelieving look at the glass partition separating the driver from the back. The car slid away from the curb into the street.

  “We need to have a little chat.”

  Maddy scrunched herself up, getting as close to the door and as far away from the gun as possible. All her limbs were shaking now. She sneaked a glance at the lunatic next to her.

  The little pistol had disappeared.

  The woman offered her hand to Maddy.

  Humor her! her brain shrieked. Stay calm.

  “What can I do for you?” Maddy extended her own unsteady hand.

  The woman took Maddy’s thin hand with swollen knuckles. “Ugh,” she said softly in a calm, well-modulated voice.

  Maddy’s nostrils flared, but she left her hand in the cool, elegant grip of her lover’s crazy mother until the other woman dropped it unceremoniously.

  “I have rheumatoid arthritis, a chronic autoimmune disease.”

  Jacqueline’s face didn’t change, but Maddy was scrutinized by her emotionless, assessing gaze. Asher intimated that his mother was a nightmare. Silly her, she’d taken that to mean annoying, not insane.

  It was difficult to believe this woman was the mother of an almost forty-year-old man. She didn’t look older than fifty. Was it an excess of plastic surgery, Botox, or something more ominous that prevented her from having any expression?

  Maddy couldn’t tear her gaze away from those eyes. Asher’s golden eyes, icily intelligent, but intense and disturbed.

  “Arthritis? At your age?”

  Maddy was pretty sure her eyebrows would’ve risen in disapproval, disbelief or disdain but her frozen face didn’t allow for that.

  “Rheumatoid arthritis. I’ve had it a while.” Maddy’s voice quavered. Stop thinking about the gun. Buck up.

  She made a sound of disgust and Maddy’s eyes widened.

  God. Why hadn’t she asked more about his mother? Why hadn’t he warned her?

  “My son is dating a diseased woman. I was hoping you just didn’t photograph well.”

  Maddy repressed a bubble of hysterical laughter. She bit her lip hard to quash it.

  “What will it take to get you out of my son’s life?” Jacqueline asked, still staring.

  That gun could do a pretty effective job.

  “He deserves better than you. The poor boy has lived without me all his life, thanks to that conniving son of a whore Sterling. I’m his mother and I want what’s best for him,” she said, in that same, flat tone. “That’s not you.”

  “Okay,” Maddy agreed.

  The woman narrowed her eyes.

  Here goes nothing.

  “People were talking about me on the radio this morning. Saying that I’m ugly.”

  Mrs. Lowe nodded.

  “That he deserves better. He’s good-looking and successful.”

  “Yes. Exactly.” Asher’s mother continued nodding like a Bobblehead.

  “And I’m none of those things.”

  Don’t overplay this, Maddy. She’s not stupid.

  “I don’t need that in my life. Especially since we’re not serious. I was going to … you know … end things.” Maddy said.

  The older woman still nodded, her taffy colored hair helmet-like in its immobility.

  She waited, daring Maddy to break eye contact.

  “Oh, you want me to do it now?”

  “I think that would be best.”

  “Sure.” Maddy gingerly pulled out her phone under Jacqueline’s watchful gaze and thumbed down to Asher’s number.

  The phone barely rang once when his hoarse voice answered, “Maddy?”

  “Hey, Asher, listen--”

  “What’s happened? Why is your car in the driveway? I have the police — ”

  “Uh … yeah. That’s not necessary. Um … listen. I think this … thing we’ve been doing is a mistake.”

  There was dead silence on the other end of the phone.

  “Asher?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you hear me?” Her voice shook.

  “Yes,” he said, tone wooden. “Mind telling me why you abandoned the car at the end of the driveway?”

  “It’s your car,” she replied. She studied Asher’s mother, who was staring straight ahead. Was she buying it?

  “So, it’s been great and all but I’m done. This morning there were people talking about me, trashing me, and I don’t need that in my life.”

  He sighed. “Babe. I’m sorry you had to hear that. It’s all bullshit. I never listen to that crap. We talked about this.”

  “I know. I know. But it’s not worth it, Asher.”

  Sell it, Maddy. She looked over at old frozen face.

  “Asher, I’ve had enough bullying for a lifetime, and I don’t want any more of it.”

  “Fuck. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I really am. If there were a way to protect you from —

  ”

  “Yeah, well. There isn’t, is there? So, I’m … I’m done. Okay? I don’t want to see you again.”
/>
  “What about Ella?”

  “Her either.”

  “What?”

  She glanced at Asher’s mother. The woman was staring at her, eyes narrowed with suspicion. Maddy’s spine stiffened and irritation laced her tone. “Look. I don’t want to be with you. Deal with it. You come with too much baggage. Way too much. Good-bye.”

  “Maddy, where are — ”

  She disconnected the phone and snuck a glance at the woman perched next to her.

  Had she bought it? She turned to Jacqueline, who was bestowing a magnanimous look upon her. Her phone started vibrating in her hand and she tucked it back into her purse.

  Okay then.

  “Do you think you could you drop me at my apartment?” Maddy asked, cautiously.

  Jacqueline lowered the partition and Maddy gave directions to the driver.

  Fifteen silent minutes later, the car pulled up in front of her building. Maddy got out, closed the door and stood on the sidewalk, watching as the limo drove off. When it was out of sight, she sagged in relief and collapsed onto the curb.

  She checked her watch. Damn it, she missed her appointment. Still, being the victim of a kidnapping at gunpoint seemed like a pretty good excuse.

  She called Asher back. It went to voice mail. He was probably canceling the police or having the car towed.

  Maybe she shouldn’t be standing here on the street. That woman might decide not to take her at her word.

  She fished her keys out of her purse, unlocked the door to her complex and headed up the stairs to her apartment. She needed to reschedule her doctor’s appointment. Then she would call Justin for a ride.

  Chapter 16

  Asher glared at the phone in his hand. “What the fuck?”

  She called to break up with him? And she was matter of fact about it? He didn’t read gossip sites, had no idea what people were saying and couldn’t care less. His stomach knotted. Just because he had years — decades really — of dealing with all the bullshit rumors, speculation, and lies about his life didn’t mean she would take it in stride.

  Gut twisting, he turned on his laptop. What had he been thinking? That she would roll with the punches? Why hadn’t he seen this coming? Shit!

  He pulled up one of the most offensive celebrity gossip websites and searched on his name.

  Oh no. There were pictures of him with Maddy. And comments. Endless, horrible, cruel comments. About her appearance and weight. About her intelligence.

  It went on and on.

  He read with dawning horror. No wonder she broke up with him. He did a general search. More nastiness, awful stuff.

  Oh my God. Those fuckers! He lifted up the laptop and hurled it across the room.

  Then he picked up his coffee cup and threw it. It shattered on the opposite wall. He looked around wildly for something else to throw. His phone, his fucking phone. He enjoyed throwing it. Roaring, he swept his arms across the desk, dumping papers, files and a vase full of flowers onto the floor.

  Ding-dong.

  Who the hell?

  • • •

  He stalked to the front door and threw it open so hard it bounced against the wall.

  Three men and one woman stood on his stoop. Police officers. All four simultaneously backed up a step and put hands to their side-arms at his threatening posture.

  He stared at them, uncomprehending.

  Oh yeah.

  He had called the police.

  “I’m sorry, officers.” He steepled his hands over his mouth. “Come on in.”

  “Did you call the police, Mr. Lowe?” one officer asked, stepping over the threshold, glancing around.

  “Yeah.”

  “What seems to be the problem?”

  “My girlfriend took her car and left it blocking the sidewalk. I thought something might’ve happened to her, but she just called. Everything’s fine.”

  Varying degrees of suspicion were evident on each and every face.

  “Please, come in.” Asher moved back a few steps.

  The rest of the officers filed in.

  The man standing closest to him stepped forward him and offered his hand. “Sergeant Greene.” He introduced the rest of the group.

  Asher strove for calm, eyeing the officer who stepped away from the group and mumbled something into his radio clipped to his shirtfront. Asher caught the words “domestic disturbance.”

  Asher’s eyes widened.

  Domestic disturbance?

  “Why don’t you all come in here?” He led them into the living room.

  All four officers halted just past the threshold, staring past him.

  Too late, he remembered the mess in the room.

  “Mr. Lowe? Why don’t we step over here.” The sergeant said, standing well away from him as he pointed to the area near the fireplace, an area that had escaped Asher’s rage.

  “So, where is your girlfriend, Mr. Lowe?” the man asked, conversationally, leading him over to the couch in front of the fireplace.

  “I don’t know,” he replied. “She left for a doctor’s appointment at nine thirty. At nine forty-five the landscapers arrived to tell me the SUV was blocking the gates and they were stuck open. I went out to see … ”

  The sergeant was taking notes while the other officers looked around the room.

  “Mind if I check out the house?” the female officer asked.

  Asher raised his hands. “Be my guest. I’m the only one home.”

  She and the mustached police officer left the room.

  “So you went out to see about the car … ” the officer prodded.

  “Yeah. And it was blocking the gate, unlocked, the keys and her purse gone. I was worried so I called you people.”

  “Didn’t the emergency dispatcher keep you on the phone?”

  “Yeah, but I had a call coming in from Maddy — my girlfriend — so I told the operator to hold on and took the call.” He stopped, remembering.

  “And?”

  “And she told me she left,” he gritted out, chest tight.

  The officer indicated the mess across the room with his pen.

  “Did you have a fight?” he asked, calmly.

  “God, no!”

  Did they expect to see bent golf clubs or a bloody knife?

  “It’s nothing like that. After I hung up, I was mad. I … I threw some shit around.”

  “Is this a relationship of long standing?” the officer asked, continuing to make notes on his pad.

  “I guess.” What did that mean?

  “With the nanny?” the officer examining the mess across the room called out.

  Asher and the sergeant glanced over. The man shrugged sheepishly. “It was on the radio this morning,” he said, defensively.

  The sergeant sighed.

  “What was on the radio?” Asher asked.

  “That you’re dating the nanny.” Finished with his examination of the disaster Asher had made of that part of the room, he walked over and stood a foot away. “Two guys on the radio were talking about the premier of that new action film and your name came up. They were talking about your date.”

  Asher groaned and covered his eyes. Hadn’t she said she’d heard that? God. He imagined the radio disc jocks were even harsher than comments on the Internet.

  Poor Maddy. He would fucking kill those people. Grief turned back into rage and he could feel himself flush with it.

  Both men were staring.

  “So the altercation with your girlfriend — ”

  “There was no damned ‘altercation,’” Asher bit out. “I was pissed.” He gestured to the broken laptop. “They were nasty about Maddy — my girlfri
end. That’s why she called to break up with me. Fucking fuck.”

  “Calm down, Mr. Lowe,” the sergeant said in a tone that managed to be both soothing and authoritative.

  “We need to speak with her. Do you have her number?” the other officer said.

  Asher gave them her cell number. “She was on her way to a doctor’s appointment this morning.”

  The officer stepped a few feet away, took out his cell phone and dialed.

  Dialed again.

  “No answer,” he said, unnecessarily, putting the phone away.

  “Can you try the doctor’s office?” Asher suggested. “Doctor’s name is Baxter, he’s a rheumatologist on Camino Real. She won’t pick up the call if she’s in with him.”

  While the other officer researched the number and placed the call, the sergeant asked Asher to run through everything that transpired that morning.

  Asher sighed and repeated what he knew.

  “She never showed.” The officer walked over to stand next to his partner and size up Asher. The other two police officers entered the room.

  “No one here. No sign of a disturbance anywhere else in the house,” the female officer relayed.

  Asher reached into his back pocket for his cell phone. The officer backed up a step, suddenly on high alert. He reached into the other pocket. Where was his … then he saw it, across the room.

  “I’d like to get my cell phone,” he told them, pointing at it. All eyes followed his finger.

  The woman walked over, picked it up and brought it to him. The phone was dead, the screen cracked.

  “Goddamn it.” Asher shook it and pushed buttons.

  “Mr. Lowe,” Sergeant Greene said. “We’re going to need to take you downtown with us, until we can talk to Madeline Anderson. It’s routine.”

  Asher stared at the man, then looked at each one of the officers in turn before shaking his head. “Not gonna happen,” Asher said. “If this gets out — and if I know you people, it will — it could jeopardize my custody arrangement. I get how this appears.” He gestured to the room. “If you can get hold of Maddy — ”