by Emerson Rose
I place my hands on his big wooden desk and lean over. “She’s gone,” I say quietly.
“What?” he says turning his full attention to me.
“Sasha, she’s gone. I went up to check on her, and it looks like she showered and disappeared into thin air. All of her clothes and shoes are still here, but she isn’t.”
“Fucking hell. Where do you think she is?”
“No idea, maybe she went back to California? Or home to Minnesota?”
“If she took off to protect you, she’s probably going home to California. Did she leave her purse? Credit cards? Driver’s license? Anything I can track her purchases with, and see if she bought a plane ticket.”
“I didn’t look. I’ll be right back.”
“I’m going to ask Matt and Mark if they have seen her since she got out of the pool.”
“Where’s my Sasha?” Tori asks entering the living room and finding us whispering to one another.
“I’m not sure, princess. She isn’t upstairs.” I don’t want to lie to her. It’s possible I’m going to be telling her Sasha abandoned her soon, and she’s old enough to put two and two together.
“Do you think the bad man got her?” she says rushing to hug my leg. I lift her up and hug her.
“I don’t think so. Maybe she went for a little walk?” So much for not lying.
“She wouldn’t go on a walk, it’s too dangerous,” Zion says joining the conversation.
I turn still holding Tori putting her back to Zion. I give her a stern look that she correctly interprets as a shut the hell up look. She wipes her hands on a dishcloth and returns to the kitchen island.
“Do you know where her purse is, bug?” I ask, and she nods. “Could you go get it for me? Maybe we can figure out where she went from the things in there.”
I set her down, and she’s off like a shot up the stairs. Tito stands to follow her. “She isn’t to be left alone for a second from now on in case your girlfriend isn’t as upstanding as you thought,” he says as he passes me. There’s anger in his voice paired with anxiety and frustration. He thinks I’m a fool for getting mixed up with a woman with Sasha’s past. He’s told me in the past just not in so many words.
He doesn’t consider the fact that I didn’t know anything about her ex before I started seeing her, although it wouldn’t have made any difference. I think I started loving her the moment we met in the ER.
Matt comes inside while Tito and Tori are upstairs. I fill him in on Sasha’s disappearance, and he goes to tell Mark. Tito and Tori return with Sasha’s wallet, and he sits down behind the computer to begin his search.
“Dinner’s ready if anyone’s hungry,” Matt says like it’s an afterthought, and it is, I suppose. Nobody’s mind is on food anymore. We have to find Sasha.
Did Enrique kidnap her? Did she go willingly? Is she the woman I fell in love with, or is she a professional scam artist? The latter idea scrapes at my insides. How could I have been so wrong about her?
I wasn’t. That’s what I have to believe whether Tito does or not. We love each other. She had to have been taken or blackmailed into leaving. It’s the only thing that makes sense.
Mark enters the room looking around for Tori. “She’s upstairs with Tito.”
“I checked everywhere… she’s not on the grounds. I asked a neighbor, and she says she saw a woman climb down the drainpipe about an hour ago. She says she took off going east on foot.”
“Alone?” I ask hungry for more information.
“Yeah, she turned the corner, so she didn’t see if she got into a car or anything. I wanted to let Tito know. I’m going back out to see if anyone saw her getting into a car.”
“Okay, I’ll let him know.” The back door opens and closes when Matt leaves.
“Mark talked to a neighbor who saw Sasha climb down a drainpipe and leave about an hour ago. He just took off to see if any other neighbors saw anything else.”
“Alone?” Tito asks.
“Yes.”
“Well, that’s better than nothing. I’ll look to see if she booked a flight.” He holds up her credit cards and dumps the rest of her purse on the desk. “Look through her things for clues.”
“What kind of clues?”
“I don’t know, you’re dating her. You’ll know it when you see it.”
“Tori, are you hungry? Dinner’s ready. I can make you a plate before I go upstairs if you want.”
“Is my Sasha in trouble, Daddy?”
“I don’t know, honey. We’re going to find her, though. Don’t you worry.”
“Promise?”
“I do, bug, I do. Now, dinner?” She nods her head not looking confident regarding my promise but willing to eat.
“I’ve got her,” Zion says taking her hand and leading her to the island where a plate of steak is cut up into tiny pieces alongside potato salad and corn on the cob.
“Thank you, Zion.”
She pats me on the shoulder. “Go find her.”
“I’ll try.”
Upstairs, I go through everything Sasha brought to Florida, her clothes, toiletries, and shoes, but there is nothing unusual. Her phone is even on the night table charging where she left it earlier. I pick it up and try to get in but there is a passcode, and I don’t know what it is. I make a few guesses with no success and decide that Tito might have a way to get into it.
As I’m walking out of the bedroom, phone in hand, it begins to alarm. It’s 5:00 p.m. What’s supposed to happen at 5:00 p.m.? Nothing, we didn’t have plans for tonight even before the Disney World plans were thwarted.
I press the stop button quieting the phone, and when I do, it unlocks giving me full access to everything. I say a celebratory yesss when I enter the living room, and Tito looks up from his computer.
“Find something?” he asks.
“Maybe, she left her phone, and it was locked, but an alarm was set for 5:00 p.m., and it just went off. When I hit stop, the phone unlocked.”
“She left her phone?”
“Yes.”
“That’s strange. You’d think if she went of her own accord, she would have taken her phone to keep in contact. She hasn’t booked any flights, her email is all normal, boring things, and she hasn’t used a credit card. I wish she had taken her phone, at least then I could have tried to track her.”
“So, we’re out of luck?”
“Not necessarily, I can look at her phone, and I have a guy who has connections with the Sanchez family. He says Enrique’s father has been on his ass lately for getting into trouble. He’s been off the rails with a manic episode and refuses to take his meds. I’m guessing that’s why he’s been bothering Sasha so much.”
“Yes, she said he’s pretty bad when he’s manic.”
“That’s an understatement. He’s a menace to society.” Then under his breath, he says, “We would be doing the world a favor getting rid of him.”
I don’t like the idea of murdering anyone, but this guy is ruining my life. If Tito can find a way, I’m not standing in his way.
Sometimes a drug dealer’s son is better off dead.
25
Sasha
The airport is crazy busy today, and Enrique didn’t say where to meet him, just when. It’s 5:00 p.m., and I’m sitting by the luggage check-in looking up and down the terminal for anybody resembling my ex-husband or his family.
Fifteen minutes later, I see him heading my way, and things start to make sense. He’s dressed in a red satin button-up shirt, or blouse if I’m being specific, shorts that appear to be ladies bootie shorts, multiple gold chains, combat boots, and his hair is in a high ponytail with a purple streak and a braid.
“Um, hey, you look uh, great.”
“Hola mi amore, gracias por venir,” he says cupping my cheek. Everyone checking their luggage has been staring at him walking toward me, and now they are staring at me, too.
He leans in to kiss me, and I turn my head away. He takes hold of my chin and turns my head t
o face him again. “I want to kiss my wife.”
“I’m not your wife anymore, Enrique. We got divorced, or have you forgotten?”
“Divorce is a piece of paper.”
“So is marriage.”
“No, marriage is a sacred union between two people who love each other. I love you, my Sasha.”
My Sasha. Shit, he’s trying to be romantic, but he just reminded me of Victoria. “I don’t love you, Enrique. I haven’t loved you for a long time. What do you want from me?”
“I need you to go home with me and tell my papa that you will take care of me and make sure I take my medicine and stay out of trouble.”
I take two steps backward. “No. No way, I’m not going to Mexico with you.”
“I need you, Sasha. He’s going to kill me if you don’t.”
“He’s your father. He’s not going to kill you.”
“He kills people for a living. I make him trouble, he kills me. You come with me, I live… simple.” His accent gets thicker the more agitated he becomes until he’s speaking full-on Spanglish.
I’m pacing back and forth in the terminal wishing I hadn’t left my cell phone at Tito’s house. I need to get out of here before he throws me over his shoulder and hauls me to a private plane and flies me to Mexico.
I stop in front of my he/she ex-husband and poke him in the chest with my finger.
“You have to promise to leave my friend and his little girl alone. Forever.”
“Si, yo prometo.”
“I’m not going to Mexico, though.” He tries to interrupt me, but I put my hand on his mouth. “No, no, this is how it’s got to be if you want me to lie to your father. We do it via Skype.” I take my hand away.
“No. We go.”
“No. We don’t.”
“He will not allow it.”
“You’re going to have to force me, and if you do, I’ll scream bloody murder.”
He throws up his arms mumbling in Spanish and turns in a circle several times like a dog trying to make a nice spot to lie down.
“Sasha, Sasha, you don’t understand my father. He’s insane, he hates me. I’m a failure to him, and he wants to rid the earth of me, please help me. You’re the only person who ever cared about me. Everybody else only wanted money or drugs or power or fame, but you, you made my heart swell, you showed me real love, and I need you.”
I close my eyes and let my head fall back crossing my arms over my chest. He places his hands on my arms softly. He’s right. No one has ever loved him like a person needs to be loved. He was coddled as a child, spoiled with materialistic things and given no attention, which I suspect exacerbated his mental illness.
And now that he is sick and acting out, they are abandoning him, pushing the responsibility for his well-being off onto someone else, threatening to kill him if he doesn’t miraculously get well.
I open my eyes. “Enrique, I can’t be responsible for you. If we do this, either way, face to face or via Skype, your father will be expecting me to follow through. I can’t be with you like that anymore. I’m in love with someone else.”
“Just tell him, tell him you will, and I will hire a professional to help me.”
“Why don’t you just tell him you’re hiring a nurse then?”
“He says only you… he will only trust my wife.”
“You never told him we divorced, did you?”
He looks down at his combat-clad feet. “No.”
“Oh my God, Enrique, you’re such a mess. All right, I’ll do it, but then you have to keep your shit together, or he will be after both of us.”
He starts hopping up and down in front of me. “I will. I will. I promise. Oh, thank you, Sasha, thank you,” he gushes.
“You’re welcome. We have to try it my way first, though. I don’t want to go to Mexico.”
“Okay.” He’s clutching his hands together in front of his chest still bobbing up and down on the balls of his feet. He can hardly contain his manic energy.
“We have to get you changed, you look ridiculous. And where are your meds?”
“In my bag.”
“Where’s your bag?”
He looks around not finding the bag. “Never mind, do you have money?”
“Yes.”
“We can go buy you something to wear and refill your prescriptions. Then we can go to your house and fix you up so we can Skype your dad.”
“Okay, sure. You’re so smart, Sasha.” Thankfully he’s always been complimentary and pleasant when he’s manic.
We make our way out of the airport with a couple of catcalls—for Enrique—and a lot of staring eyes until we reach his truck. He hurries around to open the door for me, but I ask for the keys, and he hands them over willingly. I drive us to the nearest mall, and we choose an appropriate outfit, and he changes into it. Then we make a stop at the drug store for his meds, dose him up, and drive to the summer home his father owns on the beach. The offspring of drug lords don’t stay in hotels… how could I have forgotten?
“How about we sit out by the pool, so it looks like we are vacationing in Florida, and everything’s fine?”
“Yeah, that’s good, real good. I like it,” he says unlocking the front door. Inside I’m shocked to find boxes of… of, everything and anything. Cases of chocolate bars, foreign beers, books, boxes from Amazon with various electronic devices, jewelry, and even kitchen appliances.
Holding down the flap of the box nearest me, I look at Enrique. “How long have you been here?”
“Oh, I flew in this morning, but I ordered all this great stuff before I left California. Amazon is fucking amazing, isn’t it?”
I look around the room full of enough crap to fill a UPS truck and nod. “Yeah, fucking amazing,” I say under my breath. He’s on a buying binge again. I’m surprised his father hasn’t cut up his credit cards yet.
I watch him bustle around the room muttering to himself about cleaning up, and I wish that his medication worked immediately. Unfortunately, it takes at least five days to calm him. In the meantime, I’m going to give him a sedative to help while we are video chatting with his father.
“Enrique, did you take that pill?” He looks up from digging through a box of t-shirts with Eggo waffles on the front that says Why be a ten when you can be an eleven? I love Stranger Things. I’ll have to snag one of those when I leave.
“Yes, no, yes, which pill?” He’s agitated. I don’t need him agitated. I need him relaxed.
“The one to help you relax. I handed it to you in the truck.”
He nods confidently. “Yes, I took that one.”
“Let’s go outside, come on.” I take his hand and lead him to the patio where I sit him down at the table under the umbrella. “Now, where’s your laptop?”
He thinks for a moment, and it’s like I can see the medication working on his brain. He’s getting tired. He looks like he’s melting into the wicker chair. “Is it inside?” I ask trying to jog his memory.
“I don’t know.” His words are beginning to slur. I need to hurry before he’s knocked out. “How about we just FaceTime him from your phone?” I suggest, and he nods lazily.
I pluck the phone from his breast pocket and hold his finger to the home button unlocking it. When I find his father’s phone number in his contact list, I call and wait while the phone chirps.
“Hola hijo, dónde has estado? Te he estado llamando,” Carlos says when he sees his son’s face on the screen. I step into view and greet my former father-in-law.
“Hello, Carlos. We are on vacation in Florida. I’m so sorry we have missed your calls.”
His tone lightens, and a hint of a smile graces the corners of his mouth “Well, hola, my daughter. Why have I not seen or heard from you in so long?” He almost sounds hurt, but the suspicion in his voice voids it out.
“I’m so sorry. Working and trying to take care of your son is a full-time job,” I say playfully.
“You don’t have to work. You should quit that job with th
e shoes and take care of Enrique. He has been making much trouble lately.”
“I did. I quit, and I’ll be on Enrique duty twenty-four-seven from now on,” I say smiling sweetly at the phone.
“Oh, that is good news, very good news. I don’t need him drawing attention to himself, you know? He’s been wild lately.”
“It’s his meds. We have had to make some adjustments. I’m sure when the doctors get it all evened out, he will be as good as new.” I rub Enrique’s shoulder and kiss him on the top of the head like a doting wife would do.
“Did he tell you what’s going to happen if those med adjustments don’t work out?” he asks putting extra emphasis on the words med adjustments.
I stand up straight, and all of the color I got today in the sun drains from my cheeks. “Yes sir, he did. I am confident we will have a handle on it soon.”
“You’d better, or I’ll have someone make a trip to see him, and it won’t be a pretty Florida vacation.”
“I understand.”
“Good. Go put that worthless waste of space to bed before he does something stupid.” He disconnects the call, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I hate that man. I look at Enrique who is holding his head up with his hands, and I almost feel sorry for him.
He can’t help that he was born into a family of terrorist drug dealers. He also can’t help that he’s bi-polar, but he could take his damn medicine, so the rest of us don’t have to suffer.
“Ready for bed?”
“Te quiero mucho, Sasha,” he murmurs into his hands.
“Yeah, you only love me when you’re on the upswing. As soon as you come down from this high, you’ll beat the shit out of me and treat me like a dog so don’t tell me how much you love me, okay? Go to bed. I’m going to clean up around here a little.”
I cringe when the chair scrapes along the concrete. He wobbles when he stands, and I guide him to the French doors. When he has his balance, he swats at me, and I let go and watch him stumble around the boxes and into the bedroom where he flops down face first onto the king-size bed.
I start to go through all the things he ordered taping up the boxes up that he hasn’t pilfered and moving the unopened ones against the walls. When I’m done, I check on Enrique and find him passed out cold. Then I flop down on the couch and look at his phone.