Doll

by Juniper Bell

  “I dunno. A couple hours and a bottle of rum ago. He said he had enough now, and I could stop. Gave me more cash.”

  Dustin froze. “You mean he’s here? He gave you cash here?”

  “He was holed up at the Garwood place. Came the same day she did, on a water taxi. Didn’t want anyone to see him.”

  Dustin pushed past Gary with a growled, “I’ll deal with you later,” and ran out of the fish house. He’d called Chloe about half an hour ago. Her voice had been so cold and strange. Of course he’d figured she was giving him the brush-off. But what if something else was going on? As fast as he’d ever run in his life, he hurtled down the gravel road that led to the Barnes cottage.

  Chloe was naked from the waist up, and her jeans were unzipped. Following Burt’s rough-voiced instructions, she squeezed her breasts together and pinched her own nipples into erect peaks. She bent forward and shimmied her shoulders, making her breasts swing back and forth. Burt was reaching greedily for them when a pounding on the door interrupted.

  Burt grabbed her by the waist and sat her onto his lap, a heavy arm anchoring her around the middle. “Make them go away.”

  “Who is it?” she called.

  “It’s Dustin. Let me in.”

  “I’m busy. I don’t want to see you.” Burt moved one sweaty hand to her right breast and squeezed until tears came to her eyes. “Go away!”

  “I’m not going away. Either you let me in, or I’m breaking in.”

  Burt growled in her ear. “If he gets in, he’s going to get an eyeful.”

  “Dustin, please. I’ll call you later, I promise.” Burt wormed his other hand into her jeans and spread her legs apart with his knee. He shifted his position so he faced the door, with Chloe, half-naked, splayed on his lap. “Please!” She nearly shouted the word through the door.

  One strong kick at the old wood, and the door swung open. Dustin stood outside, like a firefighter ready for battle, legs apart, arms swinging. She saw him take her in, in that humiliating position, one breast filling the rough hand of the beast under her, her other breast exposed, its nipple standing erect. The beast’s other paw was working deep inside her jeans, and her legs were far apart. It probably looked like she was enjoying this. She closed her eyes and prayed a hurricane would sweep them all into the ocean.

  Dustin felt the sight of Chloe scorch his vision. It enraged him to see her delicate skin in those grubby hands, and her body twisted in that uncomfortable way. But what he hated most was seeing that glazed look in her eyes. She’d given him some idea of what Andrew had done to her, and now he was seeing it firsthand. This creature worked for Andrew. Maybe he’d been sent to debase and demoralize Chloe. Well, he, Dustin MacDougal, wouldn’t allow it.

  “Let her go,” he ordered the man.

  The man with the dead eyes sneered back at him. Dustin knew the type. Bullies who took out their frustrations on anyone weak or vulnerable.

  “Who the hell are you? Oh right, the boyfriend. Didn’t recognize you with your clothes on.”

  Dustin saw something flicker in Chloe’s blank gaze. “Let her go,” he repeated. The rage he was struggling to contain must have shown through. The man let go of Chloe and pushed her off him. She didn’t leap away from him, as Dustin had expected. Instead she walked slowly, with her head ducked, toward the pink sweater that lay on the floor. Dustin seethed. Where was his vibrant, passionate goddess?

  “You got this all wrong, buddy,” said the man, zipping up his pants. For the first time, Dustin noticed he wore a chauffeur’s uniform. What was he, straight out of the mob? “This one’s no innocent. She might look all pure and clean, but I got pictures that show different.”

  “I don’t care about that. I want you off this island before I call in the constable. He’ll file a police report.”

  “Constable?” The chauffeur laughed. “Who’s that, the little drunk I paid off? He got some good shots, by the way. Persistent little fucker.”

  “It so happens that I’m the constable.” The man’s smile disappeared. “And I’d rather not file a police report, but if I have to, I’ll make sure Chloe looks lily-white, and you look like the criminal you no doubt are. And I doubt the Garwoods want their good name tainted by the likes of you. If I remember Andrew right, I bet he still worries about what his old man thinks.”

  An expression of uncertainty crossed the man’s face, and Dustin knew he’d struck a chord. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chloe put her bra back on, and her sweater. His heart ached at the way her head drooped. She looked like all the life had been drained out of her.

  “Lily-white? You ain’t seen these pictures. You file a police report, you better include these.”

  Dustin held out his hand, and the man slapped several Polaroids into his palm, while holding onto the bulk of them. Dustin didn’t want to look, but he knew he had to. He had to know what he was dealing with. Quickly, he flipped through them. They all showed Chloe in various provocative poses, either naked or dressed in outrageous outfits. In one, her nude body was crisscrossed with shiny black-lacquer bindings, leaving only her nipples and sex exposed. Her hands were tied behind her, her head yanked back by a gloved fist twisting her hair. In another, she was on her hands and knees, arched like a cat, chains on her nipples, while a masked man entered her from behind. He may have been wearing a mask, but Dustin would have recognized Andrew’s wiry build anywhere. In a third, Chloe was lashed to a long table, her long hair spilling to the floor. Around the table sat several men, all masked. One was pouring a bottle of tequila over her belly, while the rest drank it from the concave hollow of flesh before it spilled out. Salt was being licked off her nipples, limes were piled on her sex. One big body shot. The absurdity of it reminded Dustin that Andrew was, at heart, nothing more than a cruel frat boy. And as he looked closer, he saw an opening. Andrew’s mask had slipped, just a bit, as he poured the tequila.

  “Andrew’s not going to like this,” said Dustin, holding the photo up to the light. “I’m surprised he let himself get caught on camera. I thought he was smarter than that.”

  “He is. That’s a mask. You can’t see anything.”

  “Wrong. Anyone who knows him would recognize him here.” He held the Polaroid so the man could see it. That pale, sweaty face shifted as he saw what he had obviously missed before. “I suggest you hand over all the photos, unless you want me to go public with this one.”

  “You wouldn’t. Chloe would…”

  “Andrew has a lot more to lose than Chloe. No one’s going to vote for him after they see this. You want to be responsible for the end of his Senate campaign?”

  The chauffeur spat at him, but Dustin stood his ground. With a grunt of disgust, the man finally tossed him the rest of the stack of photos. Dustin didn’t look at the others. He went to the wood stove, opened the glass door, and threw them in. As the edges curled and blackened, he looked over at Chloe. She was now fully dressed, but shivering from some combination of cold and shock.

  “Why don’t you come warm up by the fire, Chloe?” Dustin said gently. But she shook her head, and stayed where she was, rooted to the floor in the corner of the room.

  “You’re stepping in something that’s none of your business.” The chauffeur swaggered, obviously trying to regain the upper hand. “This little lady and I made a deal. I didn’t get what I wanted, so it looks like the deal’s off. She can kiss her kids goodbye.”

  If possible, Chloe turned even paler.

  “What deal?” asked Dustin.

  “Like I said, none of your business. But you just ruined any chance she had of getting her kids. They’ll stay with Andrew, and good luck to them.”

  Dustin’s stomach tightened. He looked over at Chloe. From her burning eyes and white face, he knew the man was telling the truth. That’s why Chloe had gone along with his demeaning demands. Because that was, somehow, her only hope for negotiating with Andrew. What had he done? Had his urge to ride in to her rescue made things worse for her?

&nb
sp; “Chloe? What’s he talking about?”

  Chloe didn’t answer. Almost as if she hadn’t heard him. As if her mind had completely drifted off into some other world, leaving only an empty shell behind.

  “Chloe? Chloe!”

  Chloe heard Dustin’s voice as if from very far away—from another time, another place. Her body felt weighted by numbness, but her mind floated free. This was a familiar state, but usually her mind occupied itself with pleasant images, clouds and fairies and memories of favorite places. But now her thoughts were taking a different direction. Coldly, analytically, she went over everything Burt and Dustin had said. Andrew didn’t want the girls. Andrew was afraid of what his father would think. Andrew had more to lose than she did. And suddenly it was all clear.

  Andrew didn’t have all the cards. She did. As long as she had a voice and a memory, she had power over Andrew. Unless, of course, he decided to get rid of her entirely. But Andrew was no killer. He was weak, cruel, twisted, but he wouldn’t murder her. All he wanted was for her to go away so he could advance his career. Find a wife more suited to his political ambitions. That was why he hadn’t argued too much about the divorce. It had become clear to both of them that Chloe, shy and dreamy, was the worst possible choice for the next stage of his life. No one could be more ill suited to life in the public eye. He’d probably already found her replacement. Andrew would be happy if she took the kids and retired from the spotlight, as long as she never talked about what she’d been through.

  Well, it was a small price to pay, as long as she was the one setting the terms.

  Yes, it was all clear now. She knew how to handle Andrew now. But what to do about Burt? Drifting down from her pleasant haven, she faced the bully who had witnessed so many of her most humiliating moments. “Burt, I’m sorry, but the deal’s off.”

  Burt and Dustin both looked stunned by the firm tone of her voice.

  “What you are blathering about?”

  “I’ve decided I don’t need your help. It was very kind of you to offer, but I will deal with Andrew by myself.”

  His fish-eyes turned an uneasy shade of pale blue. “What are you gonna tell him?”

  “What he needs to know. Please leave now.”

  “You heard her,” said Dustin. “She owns this house, and if she doesn’t want you here, you’re trespassing.”

  “Stay out of this.” The man turned on Dustin with a look of pure hatred. It didn’t seem to faze Dustin a bit, he didn’t even shift his stance.

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to complain to the good people of Bellhaven. I’m just doing my job. I didn’t even want to be constable, but you can’t argue with an eighty-one to zero vote.”

  “Shut up, you son of a bitch.” Burt lunged toward Dustin, who braced himself. Chloe saw Burt’s hand sneak toward his back pocket. At one point during her striptease, she’d seen him move something from his front pocket to the back. Something bulky that was getting in his way. Gun or knife—she didn’t know what it was. It didn’t matter. He was going after Dustin, who had stuck up for her even after seeing her at her most degraded. Dustin, who hadn’t betrayed her. Dustin, who had brought her back to life. Without thinking, she put a hand behind her, grabbed a familiar smooth shape, then raised her hand high. Two long strides in Burt’s direction, and she hurled her weapon down on his head with all the force in her body. All the force of ten years of buried anger.

  Burt crumpled to the floor. The statuette shattered over his fallen body in a shower of shining white fairy dust.

  Chapter Eight

  Chloe, wearing black sunglasses and a pink sun hat, waited at a tiny table in the back of the Cool Beans coffee shop in Northampton, Massachusetts. It was several towns away from the home she and Andrew had shared. She’d never been there before, and neither had Andrew. Neutral territory. Nervously, she checked her watch. Andrew was already ten minutes late. Probably a power move on his part. Once he arrived—most likely in the next two minutes—she could already predict his next moves. He would send his driver/assistant/bodyguard for a short walk, but only after making sure she knew he had brought one. He would demand they change tables, choosing one that would put her in a corner. And he would charm the waitress so anything unpleasant would appear to be Chloe’s fault.

  Exactly two minutes later, Andrew’s limo pulled up outside the coffee shop and stopped in a clearly marked No Parking zone. The driver got out, opened the door for Andrew, and then followed him into the shop.

  “Hi, gorgeous.” Andrew greeted the young waitress with a two-handed handshake and a blinding smile. “You mind if I leave the old wreck out front for a minute?”

  The waitress, freckled and wide-eyed, blushed and shook her head. Chloe smiled into her iced tea. She knew Andrew’s moves all too well. The driver was someone new. Perhaps Burt was still recovering from the bump on his head. Or maybe he was too embarrassed to face her.

  Andrew strode to the table and loomed over her. Chloe had to admit he looked good. His face was tanned—lots of tennis at the country club, probably—and his green eyes gleamed at the sight of her. “Back of the bus, huh?” he said. “You’re always hiding in a corner. Haven’t you learned anything from me?”

  “Oh, a thing or two. How about that table over there?” She pointed to a table where one chair was wedged between the bathroom and a wall. It had the added advantage of being fairly isolated from the other tables. The café was almost empty, but it was still better to be as private as possible.

  “Fine. Sikes, go ahead and find a spot for the jalopy. If you see a car wash, go wild.” Andrew handed the driver a couple of bills, while Chloe smiled to herself again. It was all going exactly as she had predicted. Maybe it mattered to Andrew where he sat, it sure didn’t matter to her. Let him think he could still get the upper hand with such cheap tricks. She had her eye on a bigger prize.

  Gathering her tote bag and iced tea, she made her way to the other table, and sat in the chair next to the bathroom. Andrew signaled the waitress, chatted her up for a few minutes and ordered a coffee. Chloe waited patiently. Finally he settled down and looked across the table at her. He looked ready for battle. “So? You called the meeting. That means you start us off.”

  “Fine. I think you’ll be happy with what I have to say. I’ll sign your document. I’ll promise never to speak to any public person or media outlet about anything regarding our marriage. If I choose to share something with a friend or a therapist, I will make sure they never speak of it publicly, and if something somehow does become public, I will disavow it.”

  “The confidentiality agreement forbids you to talk to anyone, even a friend.” Andrew stirred non-dairy creamer into his coffee. He seemed taken aback by her businesslike tone.

  “I consulted a lawyer, and that clause is unlikely to hold up. It might even jeopardize the whole agreement. It’s in your interest not to insist on it. Andrew, what happened is part of me. You can’t keep me from ever mentioning it. But that doesn’t mean I think it’s the public’s business.”

  “Maybe you don’t want to be shamed in public.” His eyes dropped to scan her body. “I wouldn’t if I were you. You were a consenting adult, after all. It’s not like you ever resisted. I was just trying whatever I could to turn you on. I should have given up on that when I first saw how frigid you were.”

  White rage made the world shimmer around her. She leaned forward, not caring who could hear. “You think I’m frigid? Maybe Burt didn’t tell you, but I found a man who made me come over and over, with his mouth, with his fingers, with his big, beautiful cock.” Andrew, looking over his shoulder, tried to shush her, but she wouldn’t be stopped. “I found out what it’s like to be with a man who knows what to do with a woman’s body. You have no clue. You’re a twisted bastard, and a terrible lover. And that’s what I’ll tell the world if you don’t sign my papers.”

  The blood seemed to drain from Andrew’s tanned face. “That fisherman?”

  “Yes, that fisherman. He’s ten times, a hun
dred times, the man you are.”

  She watched him struggle with himself. Calculation seemed to win out. “Then you won’t want him to know your sordid little secrets. This is an empty threat. You’ll never go public, unless you want lover boy to see you splashed over every tabloid in the supermarket.”

  The image sent a chill down her spine, but she ordered herself not to react. Be honest, that’s all she had to do. The truth was, she held all the cards, and Andrew just wasn’t ready to admit it.

  “No, I don’t want to be in the tabloids, and neither do you. That’s why we’re sitting here right now. But Dustin already knows what happened. I told him, and Burt showed him those filthy little Polaroids. Kind of careless of you, Andrew. You’re lucky Dustin got rid of them. He doesn’t blame me, he doesn’t think worse of me. There’s nothing you can do that will change Dustin’s opinion of me. And the people who love me will understand, even if they see a few salacious headlines. Then the media will move on, and no one will remember anonymous little Chloe Barnes. But senate candidate Andrew Garwood—that’s another matter. They’ll remember your name.” She switched to the voice of an imaginary voter. “Andrew Garwood, wasn’t he the one in those photos, doing all those nasty things? And he seemed like such a nice guy. I can’t believe I was going to vote for him.”

  Andrew’s hand tightened on his coffee mug, his knuckles whitening. “You little bitch.”

  “Names aren’t going to solve this. Face it, Andrew, I have nothing to lose. The only thing I care about is the girls. They will always love me, and when they’re grown up, if I have to, I will try to make them understand. But you—you have everything to lose. Your political ambitions, your good name, your public standing. The country club will ban you. You’ll no longer be welcome in the best homes.”

  Andrew no longer looked tan, now he looked sickly.