My Dark Knight

by Virgini Bellarica

  I tiptoe to the bathroom, untie my wrists and gather my clothes together. I check out my butt in the mirror. It’s red, alright, with a couple of obvious welts. Lucky Max won’t be around to see. I pull the jiggle balls out, wash them with hot soapy water and leave them by the sink – somehow I don’t think I’ll be using these again, fun as they were. I get dressed back into my panties and jeans, gently easing each article of clothing over my sore behind, trying not to graze the sensitive skin. I quickly put my bra and T-shirt back on. My sweater must be in the kitchen.

  I tiptoe past her. “Bye,” I say quietly, but she doesn’t hear me. Or she’s pretending not to. What a fascinating character. It seemed like it was her mission to kiss me, and now she got what she wanted she feels as if she’s won me in some way. But I won’t be returning.

  I grab my sweater and handbag from the kitchen. I check inside for my car keys, but now I remember...I didn’t put them there because they always get lost in an ocean of darkness. Where did I leave them? By the stove? In a bowl? Where? Lucifer trots into the kitchen, light on his paws, and starts doing a pole dance against the furniture and my legs.

  “Where did I put my keys, Lucifer?” I whisper. I don’t want to wake Valentina, I need to hightail it out of the scene of the crime – yes, I do feel as if I’ve broken the law. CSI could be arriving any minute to scan for evidence. I am a naughty girl, no two ways about it.

  As if by magic, Lucifer jumps up onto one of the countertops and starts clawing at another basket piled high with bills. “You clever puss,” I marvel, finding the BMW rental keys right there. “Are you a warlock pussycat? Do you understand human talk?”

  He meows as if answering and stares at me with his shimmering green eyes. Wow, this cat really is magic! I grab the keys from the basket, and then something catches my eye. Again! But this time it isn’t a letter. It’s a photo peeking out from under a bill. I freeze. Is it really...? No, surely not. My hearts starts pounding. I ease it out from the pile.

  Valentina...and yes, unmistakably...Jenny. Nude bodies entwined in an intimate embrace, Jenny’s hand on Valentina’s breast – both grinning away at the camera. The picture tells a story...best friends? Nuh, uh – I don’t think so. They look like a couple in love.

  I grab the photo and shove it in my purse.

  And run.

  11

  I DRIVE THE CAR OVER the creek very carefully, as frogs have gathered for their night time chit-chat and I don’t want to run any over. The noise is impressive as they croak in the pebbled rush of water amongst the bulrushes. Once I am safely out of sight from Valentina’s lair, I pull the car over at the end of the potholed driveway, kill the engine and turn on my cell, which has been switched off for hours.

  There are six voicemail messages. I listen to the first.

  “Arielle darling, we got cut off. As I said, I’m on my way to LA. I’ve organized a plane. Can you meet me at the Van Nuys Airport in...I don’t know, five hours or so?”

  No mention of Jenny. As if he hadn’t heard a word I said.

  Next voicemail: “Arielle, babe, why aren’t you picking up? I’m about to take off. I’m gutted about what you told me. Hang on in there. We’ll talk about all this when I see you. It was not your fault, baby. We all have a past. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. And don’t think I won’t hunt those fuck-heads down for what they did to you. But first we have our marriage to attend to. I’ve organized it all and we’re going to Vegas tonight. Meet me at the Van Nuys Airport and I’ll pick you up there. The pilot will wait and we’ll fly to Vegas.”

  Again, nothing about Jenny or separating the business. This guy has not heard me. He thinks we can just marry and that will be that – everything sorted, solution over! No, Max, I will not just marry you in Vegas before you’ve dealt with Finders Keepers first! Especially now that I know Jenny has been screwing with me and my movie deal right from the beginning – she is Valentina’s LOVER! A coincidence – I don’t think so!

  Next voicemail – sent five hours later. “Landed, baby. Your mobile’s still switched off, what the fuck’s going on? I’m really worried now.”

  Finally, the penny is dropping.

  Next voicemail: “Okay, baby, I get it; you’re really pissed off about Jenny. I swear I’ll deal with it but please, please trust me on this. I just want us to get married. We’ll be a team and we can sort it out together. Where are you? I’ve hired a car, I’m on my way to the hotel in Santa Monica.”

  Next voicemail. His voice sounds as if he’s almost in tears. “Arielle, they say you checked out. I’m so worried, you alone in LA and stuff. The only thing I can think of, right now, is that you’re at Valentina’s. But she’s not picking up her phone either. I’m on my way there now. Please don’t leave. Please, Arielle. I beg you. I need you. I’m coming to find you.”

  Next voicemail...hang on, this isn’t him. A woman’s voice. An English accent. Educated, softly-spoken. “Arielle, you don’t know me. I’m sorry to bother you like this. I finally tracked down your number. My name is Natasha. Max’s ex...maybe you know who I am?”

  My heart is pounding through my sweater, my hands burst with a sheen of sweat – a prickly nausea envelops my entire body. Why I feel so nervous I’m not sure...a premonition?

  The urgent but friendly voice goes on: “I’m calling to warn you. Jenny is really crazy. She could be out to hurt you. I’m sorry but....” There’s a long pause.... “I had a terrible accident several years ago and could have died. It wasn’t an accident at all. Jenny tried to kill me.”

  I press my ear closer to my phone. There’s a slight pause and the voice continues:

  “Why do you think I broke up with Max? I had to keep well away. Stay away from her, too, Arielle. I know you love Max, but your life is at stake. She’s powerful. She’s even more dangerous now than then. She knows people...she could have you topped off at the click of her fingers. Do not go to Vegas. It’s too dangerous for you there. She owns great chunks of it... hotels et cetera, corrupt police officers, officials all in her pocket like little pawns doing whatever she asks. Jenny could do anything and will, believe me. I won’t bother you again, but as one woman to another, I thought I owed you this. Goodbye, Arielle. Good luck.”

  I feel sick – all this information flooding into my exhausted brain like sewerage. Jenny tried to kill Natasha? Then why does Natasha still go to Max’s house in Provence with her husband for vacations, knowing she might bump into Jenny? Max told me they were friends and that Jenny thought ‘the sun shone out of Natasha’s ass.’ Unless...he was lying, sticking up for his sister, as usual. Painting her with a rose-tinted brush when in fact, Jenny still hates Natasha. Jesus – she tried to murder her? That nutcase will stop at nothing!

  And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Jenny and Valentina are a couple????? Or if not a couple, best friends/lesbian fuck buddies. Valentina lied to me, pretended she’d only ever spoken to Jenny, that she didn’t know her personally. I was totally set up by Jenny. It was all planned out! Valentina Gimenez was suggested for the movie role by Billy Gold. Meanwhile, Billy Gold was in cahoots with Jenny from word go. Clever. Really clever. Knowing I wanted a female lead for the role, Billy Gold put the idea of Valentina Gimenez into my head – made it look like it was my choice all along. Or was it my choice? Now I can’t even remember our conversation!

  Valentina and Jenny lovers? But Jenny’s married! She has a stepdaughter. Max never mentioned anything about his sister being gay.

  Never before have I felt such a fool. So dumb. What a dense dumbass I’ve been, congratulating myself on getting a gay female lead, who is not only Jenny’s lover but who also seduced me! No, worse! She didn’t even have to seduce me – I was up for it. Like putty in her hands. Acting like a little slut again.

  I got snagged right into Jenny’s spider web. Tangled right in the middle of her Black Widow trap.

  Natasha’s right, Vegas would be suicide.

  I put the car into drive and move off. Great, I told Valen
tina where I was going. Jenny could have me tracked down in Costa Rica. But I guess Jenny would find me anywhere in the world – she has the means, and with GPS as sophisticated as it is nowadays hunting me down would be a piece of cake if she set her mind to it. She wants me to back off from Max. And I want her to back off. Who is going to win this duel?

  It depends on him. Who does he love more? His own flesh and blood? Or me?

  As I’m moving off, a car is pulling into Valentina’s driveway, but I can’t see the face of the person behind the wheel. Max? Shit, maybe it’s Jenny! Either way, I rev my engine and double my speed. I look in my rear-view mirror and think the driver hasn’t seen me, but I’m wrong. The car’s screeching in a U-turn and coming right after me. I hang a sharp left on PCH in the direction of LAX, just getting the green light in time and flatten my foot on the accelerator. If it’s Jenny, I need to outrun her. Max, ditto. I know him – he’s so persuasive he’ll have me on that plane, abducting me and whisking me off to Vegas to tie the knot. He’s used to getting what he wants.

  Well not this time, buddy.

  My foot is all the way down. I’m cruising fast. This BMW is smooth and speedy – thank God I traded in the Cadillac. I’m outrunning the driver, way ahead but can see its headlights flashing at me. I feel as if I’m in some car chase in a movie, and it gives me a wicked thrill as a surge of adrenaline spikes my veins. The driver is careering about corners with a keen, formula one style. Uh, oh, I recognize that technique – that easy panache, those gear changes. I see what kind of car it is – a sleek, black Mercedes – yes, that’s him, that’s Max. I don’t stand a chance. We are both hell bent for leather, flying two times past the speed limit as if we were on a German autobahn. We’ll both be arrested, for sure. He’s catching up with me now, zooming between two other cars. He has overtaken me and I can’t do a U-turn.

  I’m busted. If I don’t want us both killed, I’d better pull over. I see a safe spot up ahead and pull into a restaurant parking lot. He does the same a little way ahead. My heart’s pounding but I’m secretly enjoying the attention. A sophisticated sex-god, babe-magnet, the best looking man in the Universe is tracking me down and wants to take me to Vegas to marry him! Hello? Am I dreaming? He’s running towards my car now, and I can’t help it; a huge grin is spread right across my face. I zap down my window, trying so hard to stifle my beaming smile, biting the insides of my cheeks. But he’s got my number.

  He leans into the open window of my car. “Quite a madwoman, aren’t you? Trying to get us both killed?”

  “I meant what I said, Max,” I say, pursing my lips to stop myself laughing, my only ammunition against his drop-dead gorgeous smile – a smile that’s giving me butterflies and turning my stomach inside-out. “I’m not going to Vegas with you; I’m going to visit my father in Costa Rica.”

  He opens my door and leans in, his apple-mint breath on my face. He says in a soft, low voice, his face touching mine, “Correction. We are going to Vegas. Now. I’m going to marry you tonight or,” he looks at his watch, “early tomorrow morning as it’s already ten-thirty. “Then we are going to Costa Rica for our honeymoon.”

  “NO!” I shout. But it’s too late. He grabs the keys out of the ignition and scoops me out of the driver’s seat and hauls me over his shoulders as if I’m a weightless doll. He walks round to the trunk.

  I’m kicking and flailing about. “Put me down Max!”

  “No. You’re acting like a child, Arielle, and need to be treated like a child.” He opens the trunk and takes out my suitcase – awkward but he manages. His determination and strength have him holding the suitcase in one hand, and the other clamped about my rear in a tight vice. He locks the car with the remote. He’s marching forward now towards his rental car, his arm still clenched around me. Ouch, my sore, whipped butt hurts! I can’t escape, he has me in a firm hold. The fireman’s lift. Oh yes, he knows I love this fireman thing, however much I’m screaming and kicking.

  “Let me down!” I cry, pummeling his back with my fists.

  “No, Arielle. Stop behaving like a wayward teenager. You’re coming with me. I’m fed up with this nonsense.”

  “I’m not marrying you, Max Knight! Not until you sort–”

  “Stop telling me what to do,” he barks, his gait strong as he strides towards his car. “You’re marrying me and that’s the end of it.”

  We arrive at his car. With one hand he opens the trunk, chucks my case in and, keeping a tight grip on me with the other arm so I can’t escape, lowers me into the back seat and lays me inside as if I were a child not allowed in the front seat with her daddy. Then he locks the door. I try to open it from inside, but it won’t let me out. Child safety locks, no doubt. I pound on the windows.

  He comes around to his side, opens his door and jumps in. “Not so fast, Arielle Watson, soon to be Arielle Knight. You are not running out on me. You did that once in France and I won’t let it happen again.” He starts the engine, puts it into first and revs forward, Formula One style.

  “So I’m your prisoner?”

  “Yes. And then you’ll be my wife.”

  “Also in jail. Do not pass GO – DO NOT COLLECT $200.”

  “There’ll be more than $200 to collect, of that you can be quite sure.”

  “But still in jail.”

  “Yes.” He smiles and adds, “A very pretty, gilded jail where you can have anything you want.”

  “Except my freedom.”

  “Believe me, you’ll be there of your own free will.”

  “Like now? Trapped in the back of this Mercedes being abducted into marriage?”

  A gentle smirk edges his curvy, dark red lips. “I know what’s best for you, Arielle. Trust me. You need to marry me.”

  The arrogance! I would laugh but it’s not funny. I’m crying now, tears trailing down my cheeks. “You’re taking me to my death.”

  He laughs out loud and changes smoothly into fourth.

  “I’m not kidding, Max. Natasha called. She says Jenny tried to kill her.”

  “Nonsense.”

  “She did! She says it was no accident and that Jenny owns chunks of Vegas and will have me murdered.”

  He doesn’t say anything. Just keeps his eyes on the road.

  “What is wrong with you? You sister’s insane, and you’re too blind to see it!”

  “I agree, my sister is a little eccentric, shall we say, but she’s not going to try and have you killed.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I know her. I know how her mind works.”

  “Like she stabbed your father in the groin? She is dangerous.”

  He turns his head abruptly to me. His lips close tightly, bitterly – his eyes flash with rage. “He deserved what he had coming to him. Don’t you dare defend that vicious monster.”

  “It doesn’t let Jenny off the hook. She’s out to get me.”

  “She’s jealous, Arielle, that’s all. She’ll get used to you.”

  “She will not get ‘used to me’ because I’m bailing, Max. I value my life too highly, however much I love you. I’m not going to marry you with your whack-job sister in the picture.”

  “I made some calls tonight. I’m selling her my share of Finders Keepers. Once and for all. Satisfied? Most men wouldn’t let their girlfriends pussy-whip them the way you have with me about this, but because American women have a history of dominating their men, I’ll forgive you. But just this once. It won’t happen again, Arielle. This is the last time you tell me what to do. Do you understand.” No question mark but a statement.

  I am speechless. Pussy-whipped? I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. Instead I blurt out, “I got pussy-whipped tonight. Literally.”

  He looks around at me with a wry smile and then back at the road. “Oh yes?”

  “Yes, A bit of lesbian S&M.” There, said it. “Surely you don’t want to marry a quasi lesbian who got beaten by your sister’s lover? Oh, and by the way, thanks for letting me in on the fact that
Jenny’s gay. Another secret you’ve been hiding from me.”

  “I didn’t think it was my place to reveal Jenny’s sexual preferences. It’s something we never discuss – she’s very private. It was up to her to tell you. What do you mean, ‘my sister’s lover?’ ”

  “What?? So it’s true then, she’s gay?”

  “Yes, she’s gay. She kept it quiet from me for years, but I always had my suspicions. What do you mean, ‘my sister’s lover?’ Are you talking about Valentina Gimenez?”

  “Yes, I found a photo which I stole for evidence, as I’m fed up with you telling me I’m imagining things. They’re lovers. At least that’s what the photo is spelling out loud and clear.”

  He changes the music. Leaving on a Jet Plane. How apt. “Interesting,” he mumbles.

  “What?? Why do you not seem shocked by this?”

  “Jenny must have got together with her when we went backstage that time at the theatre – when we saw her in that play.”

  “What? Max, why didn’t you tell me this?”

  “I did. I told you we saw a play of hers in London. Jenny wanted to congratulate her so we went to the green room backstage afterwards, but I got bored waiting, so I left. Jenny stayed, though. She never told me the two of them had anything going on, or that they’d even met. I had no idea. And you had a little fun with Valentina, too? Oh well...keep it in the family.” He laughs.

  “Stop it!” I yell leaning forward, still riding in the back seat. “I am disgusted! I feel used and dumb and a total freaking idiot. Why did I not see this? She seduced me, Max, and I let her. My ass is so sore I can hardly sit. She whipped me, she made me come, she...she...” I find myself wailing through angry, shameful tears.

  He turns the music down. “Ssh, now babe, it’s so not important in the great scheme of things.” But he still has a slight smile on his face as if the whole thing tickles him somehow.

  “Why the hell do you want me anyway?” I sniffle. “I had a threesome with two guys that went all wrong. I wasn’t the innocent virgin you thought I was. I’m a quasi lesbian. I can’t do a work deal without being totally screwed over. I can’t look a penis in the eye. I’m a basket-case. I’m a disaster! This is all wrong, Max, this is all screwed-up. I am screwed up. Really, I’m not the person you thought I was. I’m not Miss Sweetie-pie, star-spangled American cutie, golden girl. Look at me, I’m all over the place.”