Otherwise, I’m sure I’d have been carted off. Maybe for perjury. Maybe for having contacts with the Russian mafia in the Big Apple. Maybe for owning a brothel! Christ knows what I’d have been charged with. As it is, my freedom is still my own.
Before I can put my thoughts in order and reply, Betsy mutters, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business.”
Quickly, before she can think I’m insulted by her curiosity, especially after all she’s done for me this last month ̶ hell, she’s kept me sane after the endless bouts of silence in Nate’s room ̶ I shake my head. “No. It’s just hard to think about that night, that’s all. Nate blames me for the accident, I guess.” That much is the truth.
Betsy frowns. “That’s hardly fair. Unless you pulled the trigger, it’s not like you deserve to be blamed.”
I might as well have pulled it; the guilt still rests on my shoulders but I don’t tell her that. I just shrug and tell her the lie I told the police. “Maybe it’s irrational of him. I guess he deserves it, because I was stupid. I put our safety at risk.
“We went out that night and I was wearing a necklace that was worth a lot of money. I refused to take a taxi back, when it would have been far safer, with a piece of jewelry like that around my neck, to be dropped off outside our hotel. But I wanted to stretch my legs. It was a hot night, too nice to waste on a cab. I didn’t know a mugger would follow us to the hotel. Or that he’d make it past hotel security and force his way into our room.”
“Oh my God. He didn’t just attack you in the street?” Betsy’s mouth drops open as I shake my head.
“No. The police figure that he saw my necklace, thought I’d have more of the same stuff in my hotel suite and got greedy. He sneaked in past security and broke into our suite. He was unlucky, because we’d packed everything away into the safe for the night.
“He waited until we were asleep to break in. I don’t know why the security cameras didn’t pick him up, because he must have been skulking somewhere in a corridor.” Shaking my head, I lift a hand and rub at my temple. The ache gathering there isn’t a fabrication. “Nate woke up when the guy broke in and got a bullet to the gut as a reward.”
The lie burns a hole in my belly and makes me wish for the antacids I’ve been popping like candy. But I manage a weak smile, when Betsy pats me on the shoulder again, her fingers squeezing in a noiseless apology for asking me to talk about something so painful.
Christ, if she only knew the whole tale.
Thankfully, the Russians had done something to the security footage that night, which had made my story plausible. The police hadn’t been able to spot anyone, never mind my fictional mugger on the CCTV.
On top of that, they’d done something to the door to force their way in, which also corroborated my story.
I’d shown the police the contents of my safe, my tablet and laptop, some jewelry and the ‘necklace’ at the heart of the fictional tale. A recent purchase and something that had cost me nearly six grand.
I’ve tried to cover myself at every opportunity and I guess lying comes to me too easily, because they bought the simple story.
“But it’s irrational to blame you. You weren’t to know some creep would do that!”
“No, but I should have listened to him, when he told me we should be careful. That we had to think of our security.” I shrug. “If I’d have listened to him, instead of being obstinate, we wouldn’t be here today.”
“I guess, but still, he’s taking it a bit far, Marina. Nearly three weeks without a peep to you and after everything you’ve done for him? Most people leave that kind of thing to us.” I guess by thing she means my nurse-maiding him. “He should be thankful for that alone.”
I pat Betsy on the shoulder and make to turn on my heel to return to Nate’s silent side. Before I do, I mutter, “He’ll get over it eventually.”
I hope.
****
When my father died, Uncle Sam insisted that if he were to agree to stay on as the guardian of the commune, there were certain conditions I’d have to comply with otherwise he wouldn’t help me.
I’ve been driving since before I was legally of age to do so. It’s like that at Blue Ridge. Kids are treated like adults and can do whatever the hell they want as soon as they’re old enough to leave elementary school. But I never bothered to get a license and that was one of Sam’s conditions.
Another was to take a course in animal husbandry as well as some classes in genetics. Science has never been my forte, but I had no choice but to comply. I understood his reasoning. Eventually, when I returned to the ranch, I’d have to be the head of both the cattle operation as well as the commune. The animal husbandry saw to the former and the genetics to the eugenics project that has a home at Blue Ridge.
The final condition was to learn to fly a plane.
I guess now, with the prodigal daughter returning, it’s a good job he set me on the right path. It means I can fly Nate and myself back home without having to go to the fuss of having someone fly out to collect the plane and return it to the ranch. It also means we can land on Blue Ridge’s private runway. All can be achieved without a lot of hassle and considering the ranch has been without Nate for nearly a month, getting the place back on track is the number one priority.
That isn’t to say the silence on board isn’t excruciating and that for once in my life, I wish I was flying commercial. I’d even settle for the chicken coop over First Class! Anything but this. I want to scream and shout. Force him to do the same. Force him to talk to me. I want to clear the air. Anything but this horrific, endless silence.
Instead, the tension is mounting and not even concentrating on flying us to Montana is absorbing all of my attention.
“So, I guess it will be good to be back at the ranch again?” I expect this attempt at conversation will be batted away like an irritating fly, as has my every other attempt! Only this time, he replies.
For a minute, I wonder if I’m dreaming when Nate’s voice fills the cockpit, but his words wake me up with a bang. Think cold water in the face after a deep sleep.
“Just stop it, Marina. Stop trying to make conversation. I have nothing to say to you. There’s nothing I want to say to you. Just concentrate on getting me home. If you want to do something for me, that’s it.”
Understanding his anger doesn’t make the pain of his rejection hurt less. I nod and feel like one of those stupid dogs you see on a car’s dashboard. The endless nodding as the mutt sways to the car’s rhythm.
The thought jerks me out of my shock at his words and I whisper, “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
Nate sighs and for a minute, I tense, waiting for him to snap at me again. Instead, he bites out, “So you keep on telling me. But it did happen. I was shot by the Russian fucking mafia, no less, and all because my girlfriend of nearly five years has secretly been running a brothel. Apparently, it’s an important enough establishment to warrant some of the mob breaking into our hotel suite to steal the goddamn client list!
“How the hell do you expect me to react, Marina? Do you think I can just be fine with you? I was furious at knowing you’ve been lying to me all these years. Lie upon deceit upon deception. Has anything we’ve had together been true? Christ, I learned more about you that night than I have in all the time we’ve known each other. But you brought criminals into my life, Marina. Dangerous men. Men willing to kill to get what they want. I took a bullet and I can’t just smile at you and play nice. I’m angry, furious. I’m royally fucked off with you and just looking at you, just knowing all the things you’ve kept from me makes me want to punch something.
“So if you don’t like the fact I’m ignoring you, it’s tough shit. You got us into this mess; you have to deal with the fallout.”
“What is the fallout?” I ask, wondering if he’ll sink back into silence or if this sudden conversation will continue.
“Are you asking if we’re still together?”
I’d nod, because my voice is so weak it’s almost mute but with his head turned away from me, he wouldn’t see. Apparently, even glancing my way is more than he can bear.
I clear my throat and tell him, “Yes. That’s what I’m asking.”
“I don’t know. My feelings for you can’t be erased. Just because you’re a liar and because you’ve brought this shit into my life, doesn’t make them not exist. You’re a different person to the one I thought I knew, but deep down, you’re still Marina. The details are new, but the bare bones are just that.” He sucks in a strained breath and grits out, “No. We’re not breaking up. You have to deal with the mess you’ve made and if I let you go, then you’ll just run away like you’ve always done. You’re not running away now, Marina. You’re going to make this better. You’re going to work for my forgiveness.
“This is your punishment. And it’s something only I can dole out. Because don’t think I’m blind. Or deaf. I know what you did for me during those early days at the hospital. But don’t expect me to be grateful for the position you put us both in. I only mention it, because it’s telling. You’re not the touchy-feely sort, Marina. You feel for me. You’re not as distant as you’d like to make out.”
“So what? Because I care for you, you can force me to do whatever you want? It doesn’t work that way, Nate!” I cry, hurt at his interpretation. Stung by his words.
“No. It doesn’t. I won’t be forcing you to do anything. You’ll do it all yourself and convince yourself it’s worth it, because I mean more to you than a quick and easy fuck.”
“Damn you,” I hiss at him.
“You damned us both.”
“I didn’t mean to!”
“Doesn’t matter what you did, or didn’t mean to do. It happened and you have to deal with the consequences.”
I grind my jaw down so hard my teeth ache but I spit out, “I won’t be your personal slave. Just because I have feelings for you doesn’t mean I’ll do whatever you want, blindly.”
“Did I ask for that? A mindless slave? Someone to clean the bathroom with a toothbrush and make me coffee, whenever I want it? You’re misinterpreting what I say. But if you didn’t bother to reveal yourself to me all those years ago, why should you assume that you’ve learned a lot of my true nature. You could have asked and I’d have answered. I’d have told you the truth, but for too long, I was that easy screw and you didn’t want to know. I don’t know what’s changed, but it’s to my advantage.”
“What do you mean?”
His words, the delicacy of his voice, the gentle tone, they all make a frightening combination. I wouldn’t say I’m an easy woman to scare, but he’s putting me on an edge I don’t know how to back away from.
“I’d have changed for you, Marina. Given it up. You’ve opened a can of worms and you don’t even realize it. But you’ll find out. Soon. When we touch down. It’ll start then. No more you in charge.
“I’ve let you hold the reins and look where that’s got us. Me in hospital and you nurse-maiding me, because I couldn’t care for myself. For the first time in my life, in any relationship, I didn’t take control and this has taught me a lesson. I should have done this a long time ago, but I wanted to change.
“For you, I’d have done without. But you need a firm hand before you get somebody killed and I’m the one to give it to you.”
Two
As I landed the plane and set about disembarking, Nate’s words revolved around my brain. I was thinking some kind of weird-ass—maybe corporal?— punishment to keep me in line.
I don’t come from a domestic abuse background, but I know Mona did. There’s no way in hell, not even to keep Nate, will I let myself be bullied into doing whatever he wants simply because he deigns to say it!
Mona is pretty levelheaded about her childhood. She says things, little snippets about her past that to her seem normal, but they have Eddie and me shooting a look at each other. Wondering if we should say something or if we should just leave the subject alone. The last thing we want is to freak her out, even though both of us truly feel for her and the experiences she has endured that no one, not just a kid, should have to see.
One time, we were lounging around in a coffee shop after a shopping spree on a Saturday, just chatting and chilling together. Eddie had been about to drift over to the counter to place another order and she’d asked if Mona had wanted to try out some of the new make-up she’d bought that day.
The pair of us are always trying to make Mona take a real look at herself. She’s the sort of woman who is pretty without make-up but could be a stunner if she wanted to put a little effort into her looks.
Ordinarily, I’d have left her alone. Let her be whatever she wanted to be. However, Mona’s self-confidence and self-esteem seem to ride on her looks and the comparisons she makes between her, Eddie, and me.
Negative ones.
If we can try to improve Mona’s impression of her own self-image, then we do it.
At the suggestion, Mona’s eyes had turned glassy as she looked inward. “My father always said red lip paint was for whores,” she’d muttered. “Made by the devil for sluts, he used to say. Mother tried to wear pink lipstick once. He held her over the sink and rubbed her mouth with soap until it had washed away and then made her eat the lipstick.”
Eddie had stood there, frozen solid and I’d felt as though I’d been punched in the face. To have seen that? To have played silent witness to her mother’s abuse? Christ, it was no wonder make-up was a no-go in Mona’s world!
She’d reached for the bag Eddie had been proffering, obviously willing to test out some of the make-up, regardless of the memory that had just popped into her head.
Before she could, I’d grabbed it and said, “You don’t need to paint your lips, honey. Just add a bit of bronzer to your cheeks.”
Swiftly, I’d changed the subject, but those little glimpses into Mona’s past had always horrified me. So, yeah, having soap shoved down my throat to wash away paint created by the devil isn’t my idea of fun.
Until we landed, not a word was spoken in the cockpit. I think Nate drifted to sleep and his words, the true meaning behind them, had swirled around my brain as I tried to make sense out of them.
It hadn’t worked. Now, stood beside the plane, my feet on Montana soil, I’m as lost as I was forty minutes ago.
Someone from the commune appears out of the darkness, zooming up to the plane on a golf cart. The mini four-wheeler is more SUV than wimpy cart. It’s a pimped-up, patented ride that has been very lucrative for Blue Ridge.
White lights glare at us from the distance. The small dots drowning in the sea of black have both of us turning our heads away. It’s unfortunate that we turn to face each other and that those piercing bulbs show every emotion on both of our faces.
Nate is in pain. I can see it in the lines of tension at his eyes and mouth. He’s suffering, and that it’s because of me, has me feeling so guilty nausea begins to bubble in my belly. But his eyes, they do more damage to my stomach lining than anything. They’re filled with anger, rage and the most painful part? Hurt. There’s no hatred there. Nothing that screams, ‘You fucking bitch. Look what the fuck you’ve done to me!’ Just pain, hurt, and sorrow.
And I did that.
Maybe he’s right.
Maybe I do need to be punished. The law isn’t going to do it thanks to my lies, and after years of covering for myself, nobody is going to be aware of Papillon outside of the old staff and clients. No. I’m a loose cannon. And while technically, I’m in the middle of nowhere, I can still do damage.
I recognize this trait in myself. I hate it. Loathe it, but there’s no point wasting time despising something that’s as intrinsic to me and my character as the color of my eyes. I just have to be proactive. And if what Nate wants to do to me, whatever it may be, will do away with that sorrow, then how can I say no? After what I’ve done to him, after all my lies and secrets, how can I not give him this? My acquiescence.
Ma
ybe he sees that. Maybe, as he looks deep into my own eyes, he can sense my contrition, because his face softens. His mouth relaxes slightly, the lips flattening out from the earlier pinch and his gaze is almost reminiscent of the way he once looked at me. Christ, a month seems like a lifetime. After hours, days, weeks of being avoided; of feeling like I’m America’s number one enemy, or at least in the case of one American, to be gazed at by the man I care for is like a gift from above.
I can feel tears welling up in my eyes and while I feel pathetic, like a real dumbass, it’s a testament to how low this man has brought me. To my knees? Perhaps.
What wouldn’t I do to keep him?
The very fact I’m here and not running away from him, facing him after all I’ve done to damage him, speaks louder than a screech. I’m not about to be mindlessly beaten by way of punishment, but I was a fool even contemplating that, of even comparing Nate to Mona’s father. Nate isn’t cruel. He’s a good man, I know that and I have to have faith in him. I don’t know what his intentions are, but whatever they may be, I’ll endure it. For him. Because deep down, I trust him.
Yuck. I sound like a real pansy. Why don’t I just let him mop the floor with me? Inwardly snorting at the idea, I realize I’m not that far gone. I’ll see how it goes and monitor the situation. But Nate will have to totally disrespect me before I give up on us.
As the cart squeals to a halt in front of us, the engine’s din finally dying down, the driver climbs off the mini-SUV-golf cart and yawns around a greeting. He must be a new addition, because I don’t recognize him but Nate does and he smacks him on the arm with his good hand. “Wasn’t sure if you’d still be here by the time I got back, Jason.”
Jason ̶ whoever the hell he is ̶ shakes his head. “Couldn’t just leave without saying bye to you. Sorry to hear about the mugging. That’s some kind of freaky shit going down, but what do you expect going to the big cities?” At Nate’s snort, Jason grins again and turns to me. “You must be Marina. Heard a lot about you.”
Just A Woman (Marina: Part Two: Naughty Nookie Series) Page 3