by Robin Cain
“And, if you ever think you can do me any damage, Miss Bitch, think again! I’ll come after you and make you regret every single moment you ever knew me.” With that said, he roughly flung her aside, turned on his heels and headed back to his waiting car. He left her alone and shivering in a heap on the sidewalk.
After Billy’s car pulled out of the parking lot and was out of sight, Sadie regained control of her emotions and stuffed her things back inside her briefcase. Instead of going back inside the building to seek safety, she went directly to her car and locked herself in. With a sort of numbness enveloping her, she took out her cell phone and called the police.
The officer who came to her assistance was very understanding and kind, explaining what was necessary for a case and to what extent his hands were tied. Sadie would have to file a formal complaint before they would go and pick up Billy. No one had witnessed the threat of violence, and battery wasn’t a factor since Sadie simply had a banged-up knee. So it would more than likely result in Billy getting off scot-free.
“Ms. Roderick, I certainly encourage you to file charges, but I want you to be clear on the process. It sounds like he deserves it, but his being thrown in jail is highly improbable. There will be a record of this either way,” he told her, “in case it ever happens again.”
When all was said and done, Sadie decided not to press charges. The publicity, the likelihood of having Frank find out, being mobbed by reporters—it was just more trouble than it was worth. If Billy came back, it’d be a different story.
When the officer left, Sadie got back into her car and drove home. She peeled off her clothes and plopped down on the floor of her shower, letting the hot water cascade over her still trembling limbs. She was unable to shake the stench of Billy Harwood from her skin. The grip of his fingers on her neck as he had hissed into her face had been that of a man teetering on the edge. She had no way of knowing what he was capable of but the bruises she now bore were a warning. No one had been in the parking lot to witness what had happened; no one had been there to help. Though he hadn’t really done anything but threaten her, she felt violated. She knew the bruises would heal but they had sounded a familiar alarm.
How could this be a man I once thought I loved?
She had been impressed by Billy’s fame and fortune; that’s what it boiled down to. But how could she have been stupid? She remembered that last day so clearly. It had all happened so fast—Billy walking in, ranting and raving about some role he’d lost and her trying to be sympathetic but not really caring one way or the other. She had tried to feign interest, but it hadn’t worked. Billy’s entire face turned into a mask of hatred, and he had grabbed her by the throat.
Much of what followed blurred in Sadie’s memory. When the violent blows and angry words ceased, she remembered getting up off the floor, knowing she had to get out of Billy Harwood’s life. She never told a soul about what happened that day and had since tried many times to rationalize her actions. Was it embarrassment for having dated a man capable of such sick behavior? Or fear that she’d be labeled as some crazy, obsessed fan trying to ruin his reputation? None of it made any sense nor helped her self-esteem, but she kept silent anyway—until she had eventually told Frank the other night when they’d run into Billy.
It all seemed beside the point now. What good would bringing it all up again do anyone? She just hoped Billy would stay away from her. She was moving on and letting the past stay in the past. She hoped he would now as well, though the tenderness in her neck was indicating otherwise.
She remained on the floor of the shower and let the hot water cascade over her body.
In another part of town, Frank was trying to get his pants back on. His appetite had been satisfied, and the bottle of wine was empty. It was time to leave.
“We’ve got to stop this one day soon, Citra.”
“Stop what?” She was a little drunk and her sarcasm was showing. “You don’t want to share my bed any longer?”
“I can’t keep lying to Sadie.”
“Christ, it’s not like you’re married.” Citra stretched her long naked leg across her king-size bed and rubbed her toe along Frank’s bare bottom as he bent to pull up his pants. “We’ve been at this for years; you’ve known her for what—a couple weeks?”
“I know, but I’m starting to feel bad.” Frank leaned away from the sensual temptation of her foot.
“You know you can’t live without me. I think it’s time you realized that. We should have married long ago.”
“Maybe I can’t live without you,” he said.
Sensing he wasn’t finished, Citra prodded him, “Well then, isn’t the choice obvious?”
“Citra, I’m sorry; I can’t marry you.”
“So that’s it? You come—and then you go? You reap the benefits of both of us?”
“It’s late. I’m tired. I’m sorry.”
“Fine, be an ass. Go then.” Tired and more than a little fed up with getting nowhere, she rolled over and turned her naked back to him. He would be back, she told herself. He always came back. Sadie would never mean a thing to him.
Frank said nothing more and finished dressing. Once at the front door, he waited a few seconds before heading out of Citra’s house. But, when she never got up or said goodbye to him, he left and walked to his car.
Heading down the 101 at this time of night, Frank had most of the highway to himself. He enjoyed this stretch of road, with its good pavement and few traffic cops. He loved nothing more than to test the limits of his engine and his adrenaline. He liked the freedom of the open road, the freedom of being in control. He had the moon roof open and the A/C off, and the warm June night air felt good. His mind turned to thoughts of the women in his life.
Citra—sexy as hell, successful, spontaneous, exciting and beautiful. Sadie—loving, level-headed, supportive and nice-looking. Each filled different needs. Citra was the spark that ignited a flame, but Sadie offered the reassuring warmth. Why couldn’t he just have both? What was the harm in that?
Citra telling him they should have been married long ago struck him as a ridiculous notion. Their relationship was intricately woven into his business. Marrying her would only complicate things. That would never do. Besides, Citra was a woman with ulterior motives— always was, always would be. Sure, she was his star salesperson, but Frank had watched her juggle white lies, take advantage of people who unwittingly didn’t know the difference and circuitously circumvent rules in her quest to get ahead. These “talents” had greatly profited her career and his business but they were certainly not ones he desired in a wife.
When he hit one hundred and ten miles per hour and closed in on the exit, his nagging conscience hinted there was a decision to make. He glanced at his watch. It was a thirty-minute drive back to his place; twenty if he took a detour. Ah, what the hell, he thought. He did hate sleeping alone and he wasn’t getting any younger. He hit the phone button on his steering wheel and got Sadie on speed dial. Her voice, groggy from sleep, came on the line.
“Hey, lady, you asleep?”
“Frank. What are you doing calling so late?”
“Is it late? I lost track of time, I guess.”
“I was sleeping. What are you doing?”
“I’m thinking of you.”
“Well, that’s sweet, Frank, but it’s late.”
“Can I come over?”
“Frank, it’s late. I was asleep and I’m tired. I’ve had an awful day.”
“Because you haven’t seen me yet?” Frank teased.
“No, because I saw Billy,” she answered. She realized, a moment too late, she shouldn’t have shared that information.
“What?” Frank’s voice had gotten louder.
“Billy showed up at my office today. We had a little incident.”
Frank immediately started yelling into the phone. “What the fuck did he do this time? I swear to God, if he hurt you I’m going to kill him myself!”
“Calm down; I’m fine. It
wasn’t really anything.”
“I’m on my way over,” Frank told her and hung up.
Sadie sat in bed, now fully awake and angry at herself for not keeping her mouth shut. She threw off the covers and went into the bathroom. She wanted to take another look at the wounds Billy had inflicted to see how they would look to Frank.
Ten minutes later the door bell rang and Frank plowed in the moment Sadie opened the door.
“What the hell happened? What was he doing there?” Frank demanded as he gave Sadie the once over to see if she was okay.
“Frank, I told you I was fine. Stop being so dramatic. I just scraped my knee a little.”
Frank, now clearly not in control, grabbed her by the arms. “You’re not being honest. How did you scrape your knee if nothing happened? Tell me!”
“You’re hurting me,” she told him, trying to get loose from his grip and not look him in the eyes. “I tripped on the curb trying to get away from him and skinned my knee. I’m fine, but this time I did call the police.”
Up close to her now, Frank saw the faint but still visible bruises and scratches on Sadie’s neck. His head now felt as if it would explode. “Are you joking? Look at the marks on your neck.” Sadie unconsciously put her hand up to her neck, remembering the last grip Billy had on her. “What did he do to you, Sadie? Tell me.”
Realizing she couldn’t hide the truth any longer, she confessed and told him the whole story. She watched him pace back and forth in the living room as she got to the end where Billy had threatened her.
“But, I’m fine, Frank. Really. Just a little skinned up and bruised. The police know about it now, so if he comes back there will be a record. Really, stop worrying.” She could tell her words were having no effect on him. The veins in his neck and the muscles in his jaw were bulging with tension. It wasn’t a good sign.
“That son-of-a-bitch! He should be made to pay for this.”
“No one saw it. There is only his word against mine. I did all I could and I think he’s going to leave me alone now,” she tried to assure him.
Frustrated beyond words, Frank picked up a vase sitting on a nearby table and threw it against the wall. Sadie jumped as shards flew across the room. His violent eruption was doing nothing for her nerves.
“Frank! Stop! You can’t fix this. It’s done,” she told him, grabbing his arm to make him look at her.
“God damn it. You aren’t being realistic!”
“This didn’t happen to you. It’s not about you,” she said.
“Oh, it did happen to me. You’re my girlfriend and that son of a bitch has no right to touch you. But I’m certain he’s going to leave you alone now. He messes with you again and he deals with me,” Frank flatly told her. Sadie didn’t grasp the definitive tone in his voice. He wrapped his arms around her in a bear hug and stroked her hair. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you ever again.”
“Let’s just let it go now, okay? I’m fine. Really. You can go home now, Prince Charming. This damsel in distress is going to be fine.”
“I don’t want to go home. I wanted to come over, even before I knew what happened. Come on, let’s get you into bed. I’ll sit with you until you fall asleep. I’ll come down and clean up the broken glass later.”
With no energy to argue anymore, she followed him back into her bedroom and lay down on her bed. Frank stretched out next to her and quietly rubbed her arm until she fell asleep.
A few hours later, Sadie was sleeping peacefully when Frank nudged her awake.
“Wake up. I want to talk to you about something.”
“What...? Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”
“No, it can’t,” he said, scooting sideways to see her face. All this craziness had made one thing clear to him and he’d been thinking about it since Sadie fell asleep. There was no way he was going to let Sadie go through this alone; no way was he going to let that madman come after her again. “Come to Vegas with me.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“Let’s go to Vegas—right now.”
“Have you lost your mind?” She had to be dreaming. Still numb from her encounter with Billy, she wondered what else could possibly happen in one day.
“Let’s go. Right now.”
“Now? Are you nuts?”
“Never been saner. Come on. I’m not comfortable with that man knowing where to find you.”
“Frank...”
“I’ll put you up in a fine hotel; I’ll wait on you hand and foot; and maybe, just maybe, I can convince you to marry me.”
Now she was certain Frank had lost his mind. She sat up in bed and looked at him. No funny hat, no crazy eyes—just Frank—and he looked deadly serious.
“Are you proposing?” The idea didn’t exactly turn her off, but he must be drunk to have suggested such a thing. Frank hadn’t really struck her as the marrying kind but, then, what was the marrying kind anyway? She did love him and, after the scare with Billy today (she needed to stay miles and miles away from that crazy man), she could truly appreciate the idea of sane and secure. Maybe Frank could save her from all the ugly in her past.
As tactfully as she could, in the face of his completely irrational behavior, she made a suggestion. “Shouldn’t we discuss this a little bit?”
“Let’s get you packed—at least while we discuss it, okay? I have a feeling I will persuade you.” His cockiness was working its charm.
Sadie shook her head and just had to laugh.
Marry him? Now? What could he possibly be thinking?
six
“DO YOU, SADIE Roderick, take Frank Campelletti, to be your lawfully wedded husband?”
Sadie had to laugh out loud. This wasn’t exactly her idea of a dream wedding but when had she ever been so spontaneous? Refusing to take no for an answer, Frank had gotten down on one knee, telling her he could never live without her and trying to convince her it was the right thing to do.
“I love you, Sadie. Cross my heart,” he’d said and, like an innocent child, he’d actually gone through the motion. Then, when his words didn’t change her mind, he gently laid her down on the floor next to him and, inch by inch, worked at convincing the other parts of her. His salesmanship skills had been extraordinary.
When Sadie eventually ran out of reasons not to, they’d thrown things in a suitcase, driven to the airport to catch the next available flight and arrived in Vegas exactly three and a half hours after he had woke her up the second time. Now surrounded by sad imitations of flowers and plastic chapel decorations and serenaded by a prerecorded music track, they stood in front of a rent-a-minister wearing a solemn, worn-out expression and a cheap, badly creased tuxedo. Romantic it was not, but neither of them cared.
“Sadie, are you going to stop laughing and answer the man?” Frank gently prodded her.
“Oh, yes. Yes, of course.”
They both laughed at her involuntary hesitation.
“Then, by the power invested in me by the State of Nevada, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
And they did—until the rent-a-minister cleared his throat for the second time. Politely declining the sparkling wine included in the “deluxe wedding package” and thanking the minister for accommodating their last-minute needs with an extra hundred bucks, Frank and Sadie headed off to their eight-room suite at the Bellagio where a chilled bottle of Cristal awaited them. Making last-minute arrangements en route, Frank thought he had covered everything.
Many hours later, at nearly three o’clock Tuesday afternoon, wrapped in the arms of the king-size, lavender-scented sheets and surrounded by a mountain of pillows, Frank and Sadie were naked and fast asleep when the cell phone began to simultaneously vibrate and ring. It slowly danced its way across the bedside table. Sadie, her head pounding from too much champagne and too little sleep, couldn’t bring herself to sit up. Frank was still fast asleep.
“Frank, your phone,” Sadie said, poking him with an elbow.
Frank
opened his eyes, as yet unaware where he was. His tongue resembling a big piece of dry cotton, he struggled to form the word, “What?”
“Your phone. Please get it before my head explodes.”
Frank reached without looking, his hand crawling to the source of the noise. He picked the phone up and answered, his voice a pitiful croak.
“Frank? Are you okay? Were you asleep?”
“Yes, but that’s okay,” he said. He recognized Citra’s voice, but none of the circumstance was registering with his brain yet.
“You didn’t come to work and I got worried. I tried your house and got no answer. Where are you? What are you doing?”
His synapses began to process the information. Citra... noon... Sadie... bed... Vegas.
“Fuck,” he mistakenly muttered out loud and sat straight up in bed. The antennas of Citra’s intuition processed the information, as well.
“Excuse me?”
“N-nothing,” he stuttered. “I wasn’t feeling well and took a nap is all. Don’t know why my phone isn’t working. Can I talk to you later?” Hearing his hurried and ridiculous fabrications, Sadie rolled over in bed to face him. On the other end of the phone, Citra was more than a little leery of the excuses Frank was supplying.
“Where are you, Frank?”
“I have to go. I’ll talk to you later,” he said, ending the conversation. He flipped the phone shut and threw it back on the nightstand. Closing his eyes and collapsing back on the pillow, he didn’t look in Sadie’s direction. Without any explanation from him and having her suspicions, she decided to ask.
“Mrs. Campelletti would just love to know who that was who just called, dear husband of mine.”
Frank deliberated. The words sounded strange to him.