“Ouch!” Okay, I wasn’t dreaming. That pinch hurt.
Confusion set in and I felt fear creep over my thoughts. What if this was all some sick game where they pretend to let a prisoner go just so they can capture them again for the thrill of it?
There was a neatly folded slip of paper on the dresser. My hands were shaking when I opened it. The words made my stomach clench into knots.
You are free of me, Strawberry. Go. Do not try to come back here or find me, I will not be here and I do not want to see you again. Enjoy your life Kitty, may it be better than you imagined it could be.
I was pissed as hell. How cowardly of him to break up with me in a note! Wait, did I just think that? This was not a break up; it was a release of a prisoner. I should be grateful and I was. I longed to be outside of the walls of this house of horrors, but another part of me was saddened by the prospect, and more than a little scared.
Below the note was a small black bag. I opened it and a stack of hundred dollar bills greeted me. Hello! I had a vivid image of myself throwing it on the bed and rolling around but it quickly faded. I counted — five grand, the amount I was supposed to have been paid for the LARP scene.
I knew I needed to leave but I just stood there feeling incredibly uncertain. As weird as it was that was the first time I did not want to run away. Yesterday night had been amazing; Owen’s humanity had shone through, past any monster in him and the sight had been incredible to behold.
I was free but I could not leave. There was a pile of clothes on the dresser too — jeans in my size, a pretty top I would have bought myself and a bra and panty set decorated with strawberries. The set was almost childish but it made tears burst from my eyes. He had left but I was still his Strawberry.
Stockholm syndrome much? The nasty little voice in my head startled me and I spun around, looking to see if there was anyone else in the room, that voice sounded nothing like the voice I used to talk to myself. It sounded older, cynical and tired. I felt my shoulders slump. I was all of those things and heartbroken to boot.
I got dressed, brushed my teeth and hair and stared at my face in the mirror. The neck wound was gone and my skin had regained a tiny bit of color but not enough. I was eerily pale. Under my eyes there were slight lavender colored circles and my cheekbones had hollowed. I had bruises on my upper arms from our lovemaking and a purple mark on my shoulder from hitting the wall while escaping from Loretta. There were also the marks of the cuff but otherwise I looked… damn good. I looked like a beautiful woman suffering a terminal illness and suffering it well.
I slid my feet into the strappy little sandals. I was confused and feeling sick from hunger. I had no idea of how long Owen had held me, the days had all slid together in long taffy–like string of dawns and sunsets and nights. The walls of my cell seemed to press in on me. I could feel myself losing my breath.
The clothes in the dresser caught my eye and I stroked the ruined dress I had worn the night he had taken me to the mountain to have dinner. I tossed everything onto the bed and tied the corners of the sheets together to form a bundle. I went to the bathroom and cleared all the fine toiletries and make up into the cash bag. I felt like a kid running away to join the circus when I hoisted the cumbersome lump and walked toward the door. It seemed petty to take these things with me, like a tourist stealing soaps from a hotel, but be damned if I was going to leave it all here. Bag of cash aside, I felt more than entitled. I had no plan and no idea of how I was going to get out of there. I was just leaving. I had the clothes he had given me and the little black bag. I had freedom and wasn’t sure I still wanted it.
The doorknob would not turn for a moment my hands were so slippery with sweat but it finally did. I walked out the door. It was the first time I had not been carried or fled too fast down the hallway to appreciate the place but as soon as I got to the third door I knew what was wrong with it. Only a few rooms were furnished. It was obviously unused and empty. The furniture and paintings were all simply window dressing.
I wandered into the kitchen, trying to recall exactly where he had stood the first time I had opened my eyes to see him standing in the shadows. The wall showed a slight repair where he had manacled me that first day. Kneeling, I could see a small dark stain on one base board, a missed spot of my own blood.
The silence echoed endlessly around me. I sighed and took one long breath, then another. I closed my eyes and waited in the red veined darkness, hoping to find one last trace of him, to smell his particular smell or to hear a soft footfall but there was nothing but the dry wind outside tapping lightly against the windows.
I finally found two rooms on the lowest floor. One had no furnishings except a tiny nest of blankets curled into a corner that had a rank wild smell. This had been Loretta’s lair then. The other was Owen’s room, where we had made love. His wardrobe had been cleared out. No clothes left, no books. Owen was gone.
His smell lingered in one of the pillows though and I held it for hours, crying until my eyes felt like someone had blasted them with sand.
“Come back you cowardly bastard!” I screamed but there was no answer. He had left me.
It was late afternoon when I decided I might as well go.
In the driveway sat my car. I stared at it, disbelieving. It was mine all right, the same dinged fender and fading paint job. I put my hand on the hood, certain I was hallucinating and the metal scorched my fingers. I yanked them back and stuck the burning tips in my mouth to cool them.
My windows were open, the keys in the ignition. I really was free. I got in, cranked the engine and pulled down the driveway. My cell phone blinked on and I stared at it, sitting there in the apex between the drive and the street.
I lifted it up. Five messages, three from bill collectors, one from a girl I knew asking if I wanted to go out to a club that night and one from my mom. The date showed me I had been with Owen for over three weeks. Three weeks and all I had were two personal messages. How sad. I really needed to concentrate more on people, real, living people, and forging friendships in the future.
I clicked on my navigator and headed back to the city.
Chapter Thirteen
My roommate, Lisa, stared at me as I walked in the door. Lisa is a tall thin redhead with a face that is covered in adorable freckles and a tongue like a viper. She’s one hell of a guitarist though and makes a decent living doing session work and gigging with whatever band she has managed not to get fired from at the time. The house we all lived in had belonged to her grandparents and she had inherited it so she rented rooms out to other struggling wannabes to make the rest of her ends meet.
“Where the hell have you been? We were just about to toss your stuff into the living room and have a free-for-all with it.”
Her eyes swept down my body, taking in the quality of my outfit and I glared at her. Lisa was a clothes thief of the worst sort. She would wear other people’s stuff and put it back reeking of cigarettes and beer and sweat then swear she had never touched it. She had ruined more of my clothes than I could count.
I gave her a level smile. “Oh, you know,” I waved a hand in the air in a casual gesture. “I met this guy… He had this awesome motorcycle and was headed down to Mexico for a few days…” I added a half-embarrassed titter.
She shrugged before answering, “Yeah, that happens. You got some shit bad bruises there. You guys take a spill?”
“You could say that. You know how it is, there’s no fun unless it’s dangerous.” My tone was light but the words felt wooden. Her bird-bright eyes drifted to my wrist then back to my face, a catty smirk saying she knew I’d been up to dirty things.
“You have to pay your rent today or I really will have to boot you out and keep your clothes.”
I answered her with, “I’m moving out.”
“You still owe from last month.”
I gave her a tight smile and handed her the four hundred bucks that was my share of the rent. She counted it, her slender and calloused fingers runni
ng across the bills expertly. “You still owe utilities.”
“Take it out of the cost of all my clothes you fucked up,” I said. I could feel a hardness surfacing in my eyes. She must have seen it too because her tongue stilled and she took a long step back. Normally she would have used sixty seven swear words by now. I walked past her and grabbed my things, stuffing it all into a couple of battered suitcases. I discovered my roommates had changed and that all of my stuff was in a box under a bathroom cabinet. Since I had not been there using the space they had rented it out to someone else. They all had just figured I had got a big gig and moved on or something. To see first-hand how little impression I made in the world had opened my eyes in a big way. That was my life, or rather it had been. I had settled and half-stepped as long as I was going to. I had my life back and damned if I was going to keep living it in half measures. It was time for me to soar.
A tear crept out of my right eye and slid down my cheek. Owen had taught me to trust that even if there was nothing below my feet I could survive a fall.
I walked out, my head held high. I never looked back.
Chapter Fourteen
Harvey stared up at me, his moon like face registering first shock then dismay then a leer that made me want to shower immediately.
“Damn, Kitty, you look great! Did you get a facial or your teeth professionally whitened or something? Hey, I got your money from the LARP game here.” He reached in his drawer and pulled out his check book, hastily scribbling one out. I took it from him. Who cares that Owen had paid my wage out of his own pocket as well. The jackass agent owed me. I was not going to quibble the facts.
I shoved the check into the pocket of my jeans, tapped a foot and glared at him, “You mean great for someone you thought would be dead by now?”
His face went pale. “Aw c’mon, what’s that supposed to mean?”
“You were the only person who knew where I was, Harvey. Did you report me missing? Tell anyone? No, you were just damned glad one of your troublesome clients was gone. You send a lot of the porn girls out to the games, don’t you? How long have you been expecting one to never come back?”
His lips twisted. I could see the wheels spinning in his head while he tried to think of something to say to me that would keep him out of trouble. “Always knew the games could get a bit rough, vampires have that whole snuff fantasy vibe. When you didn’t come back I kind of figured… hey, it’s not my fault all right? I’m just a guy trying to help new talent get a start in this town. I didn’t want my name getting dragged into some investigation.” He spread his thick hands out and gave me insincere smile. I answered by spitting in his face.
He rocked backward in his chair, his eyes narrowed down to slits. “That ain’t nice, Kitty. You could get hurt playing like that.”
I saw his hand just then. He had a new ring. Black tarnished silver and a bloody tear-drop shaped ruby twinkling malevolently.
I blinked. Could it really be real? And did Harvey really deserve it? If the legend was true, then he did. Maybe he did a lot worse than sending porn stars to rough games. God knows what fates he’s been sending girls to.
Still, I almost considered warning him, but knew I’d just sound crazy even if I tried.
“Kitty, Kitty. It’s all water under the bridge anyway. You’re here, you’re fine, and I think I got a part for you,” he said, leaning back in his chair so hard it creaked. He must have decided we were still friends after all. Of course he believed I was there to see if he had any other work for me. He really thought I still needed him. His arms lifted to reveal sweat stains under his pits. Large yellow tinted patches that made me curl my nose. Had I ever really been so naïve as to think this guy had my best interests at heart?
“I’m getting a new agent, Harvey,” I said and walked out the door. “Enjoy your evening.”
The door closed behind me, cutting off his retort and I leaned against it. My heart was pounding and a goofy grin creased my face. It had been an odd day, to say the least. I had left my prison, and left my home and roommates. And now Harvey was dealt with.
I dusted my hands and headed out into the twilight. As I was getting into my car I saw a thick clot of shadows gathering around the doorway to Harvey’s office. I stared at them in horror, remorse filling me. Then I cranked my engine. Harvey would face the ones he hurt, as we all do eventually. I had not brought that on him, he had done it to himself.
It only took a week for me to make the decision to go to Owen’s club and try to see him. The façade was boarded up, under renovations. I could see the large chrome letters reading “Dark Raine” being taken down, and a new neon sign going up. A banner pasted across the front of the boarding said, “Under New Management. Re-Opening Soon.”
I went into full on stalker mode. I hunted down any information about Owen Raine online. There were a few basic entries about his business life, and one new article which did little more than say that the reclusive businessman had recently become more reclusive.
I told myself to get over it, to forget him, move on, and consider myself lucky he was gone. But I couldn’t. God, I missed him so much I thought my chest could implode. Every night as sunset fell I waited for him, expecting him to walk into my life again. Maybe I just needed counseling, but it felt like more than that. I hadn’t known love before, but if this isn’t what it feels like, I don’t know what it would.
I drove by Owen’s house every day. It was always empty and abandoned. It had begun to take on a sort of derelict appearance by the time I saw a man outside of it. I pulled into the drive, eager to find out what was going on and he came to meet me, his eyes taking in my crappy car with something like dismay.
“Hey there, Walter Longbow.” He said, reaching out a friendly hand.
“Kitty French.”
“Are you here for the open house?”
“Open house? I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware it was on sale.”
“Oh well, it still is a private listing,” he hastened to add, his face saying he doubted I was there to buy.
The house was being sold. Another tie to Owen severed. “I was actually here to see Owen.”
“You know Mister Raine?”
“Sort of. I don’t suppose you know where I could find him?”
Walter shook his head and raised an eyebrow skeptically. “I wouldn’t be able to share his private address, even if I could.”
I tried to laugh casually and not seem like a stalker. “Oh no, I didn’t mean like that. I meant right now, like, if he were just around the back or something.”
“No. I only really deal with Mister Raine by email. I handle a few of his properties for him, and to be honest, I was surprised he decided to sell this one. It’s been in his family the longest.” Walt loosened up. “You know Mister Raine’s great-grandfather built this house in the nineteen twenties. He was a heavy player during the prohibition, then one day he just retired. He retreated to this house and shunned everyone. Nobody knew why.”
Because he was not aging would have been my guess. Because the isolation suited him. Because he had grown weary of trying to fit into a world in which he did not feel he belonged. I said none of those things.
“Anyway he left it to his son, who left it to his son, not that they ever came here except on the rarest of occasions. The house was only used a few months of every year which seems a shame given it’s so lovely. But Mister Raine has properties all over the country, and abroad.”
He could be anywhere. Anywhere in the world.
I stared at the mansion, using it as a distraction while I fought to hold back tears. It was lovely in a stark and forbidding way. “It really is an amazing house.”
Walt touched one hand to his too-perfect-to-be-anything-other-than-fake hair. “Since you’re here, would you like to look at the inside of the home?”
“I’ve seen it. I lived here for a short time.”
Walt perked up, leaning toward me conspiratorially. “Is it really haunted?”
“Not a
nymore,” I said and climbed back into my car. I gave the house one last look because I knew I would never come back; there was no longer any need to. All hopes I had that Owen would return had been dashed by a real estate agent in a toupee and off-the-rack suit. Dreams get killed by the most mundane of things sometimes.
Chapter Fifteen
Six months later I was walking in a farmer’s market, basking in the smell of flowers and freshly baked bread and a last few moments of anonymity.
It had been a hell of a time for me in many ways both good and bad. I had marched into the office of John Kurtz, the best agent around, darting past his security and secretary like a baby mama looking to score some DNA. I made it into his office where he was talking with a well-known producer.
I looked at both of them and said, “I’m Kitty French. I’m your newest client. You may not remember taking me on, because you haven’t yet. But I know you will.”
John had laughed out loud. The intense little man sitting in the chair across John’s rosewood desk had asked me to stand in the bright sunlight coming from the windows. I had and he had gotten very close to my face, surveying it like it was a work of art and he was looking for minute cracks. Then he handed me a script and asked me to read a few lines with him.
I did. The part called for me to be angry and I was plenty that. It called for me to be hurting and I damn sure was. It was a role made for me.
The very next day I was screen testing for that role. They wanted to see how I looked on film and lo and behold I got the part. It was a supporting role, but a major one, in a major film. It would be released in cinemas worldwide tomorrow.
Things were good. I had a brand new agent, one of the best who was determined to push me to new heights. I had just finished filming four television appearances and John was already negotiating my role in three new films.
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