Built for Pleasure

by Sarah J. Brooks

  I choked back tears and felt my phone vibrating and then it stopped, only to repeat fifteen seconds later. It was Bitsy! Something was wrong and that was our signal to find a place and call.

  I apologized to Metallica and pretended to cry so I could run to the ladies’ room. She seemed appeased by my obedience and let me go, glaring at the others in the store to remind them who was queen.

  I locked myself in a stall and quickly called Bitsy. “What is it? What’s wrong? Is Carrie okay?”

  “She’s fine. I need you to come to Mount Mercy Hospital, fifth-floor waiting room. Buddy was in a car wreck and he’s hurt bad. They’ve got him in surgery and you need to pick up Carrie and take her to Mrs. Heathrow’s. Hurry.”

  Bitsy hung up and I was left there, my mouth open as I tried to absorb what she’d said. I washed my hands and emerged from the ladies’ room, heading straight for Metallica’s office. Tapping on the glass, she looked up and nodded for me to come in.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you but I need to talk to you.”

  Her eyes widened and then narrowed. She thought I’d come to apologize and throw myself at her feet.

  “I have to go, now. You never asked, and I have never shared that I have a baby, Metallica. My roommate and I work opposite shifts so she’s cared for properly but there’s been an emergency and I have to go and pick her up. I’m sorry I never told you and I’m sorry about what happened back there in the meeting. I know you’re angry and I hope we can talk when I get back.” The words spilled out of my mouth like an overflowing river—the flood getting broader and broader as I revealed more. Her response was blunt.

  “Leave now.”

  I didn’t stop to sort out whether that meant to leave now because I had trouble, or because she didn’t want me to be there or come back. I’d have to figure it all later, but right then, I needed to get to my daughter and my best friend.

  I pulled away from the curb distracted and a car honked behind me, letting me know I’d been careless. Pull it together, I told myself and headed toward the hospital. In the next second, I turned the corner, deciding to drop by the apartment which was only a couple of blocks away. I would pick up some extra things for Bitsy and pack a quick bag for Carrie. I’d also check in with Mrs. Heathrow. I hoped she’d take Carrie early, so I could go back and see if I still had a job.

  It started to rain; great plops of water from over-burdened clouds and that only added to the dramatic misery I was about to live through.

  Once upstairs, I stopped dead in my tracks.

  Our apartment door was standing open. Bitsy hadn’t left it that way in a hurry—no, this was more. Much more. At a glance, I could see the lock had been damaged and I poked my head around the door to peek inside. It was chaos. The kitchen drawers were pulled open and contents raked onto the floor. The sofa cushions overturned and slashed, their stuffing ripped into shreds on the carpet. My bedroom was a complete disaster: drawers overturned, bedding shredded into strips and worst of all, my beautiful new wardrobe had been slit into grossly barbaric pieces and the smell of urine was fresh and damp upon their cloth. The only things that weren’t touched were those belonging to Carrie. Her crib, playpen, clothes and other necessities were untouched.

  I stared in horror. This was not a random act by a burglar. No, this was intentional and directly aimed at me. The fact that Carrie’s possessions were left untouched spoke volumes. I could feel a panic begin to rise and knew that I didn’t have the luxury of giving into it. I had to find the things I needed in the apartment and take them with me to the hospital. I needed to get to my daughter and not waste any more time. I grabbed an extra diaper bag, stuffing her little things into it. In the kitchen, I made some quick bottles for her and packed them into my baby cooler. The dresser where Bitsy kept her clothing had been rifled through, but nothing had been destroyed. Apparently, whoever had done this wasn’t angry with her—they were angry with me. My hands shaking, I pulled together an extra set of clothes for her and threw them in a paper bag. My luggage in hand, I shut the door and locked it securely, although it was a joke since the lock had been destroyed.

  Mrs. Heathrow said she would be only too glad to take Carrie early. I did not tell her about the mess upstairs. No one would discover it unless they went up there and the less said about it the time being, the better. I didn’t have time to make a police report or to clean up the mess.

  As I drove to the hospital, the few names of people I knew in town rolled through my mind. Obviously, Bitsy and her boyfriend, Buddy, were out of the question. That left our small group of friends we partied with, but nothing had happened recently that would’ve triggered that sort of invasion. I was down to the people at work. Most of the salespeople were on an as-needed basis, polite and supportive as far as work went. I knew this was beneath Metallica and after all, she had been with me when it probably took place.

  That left one person, and only one. That left the one person who could not take no for an answer from me. That one person inserted himself continually in my private life. That man overrode my decisions in favor of his own and he was entirely casual in getting what he wanted. Was this some left-handed attempt to make me more dependent on him? I remembered the note he’d left on the car seat. I looked up the name of the company he told me to visit. Waltham’s, as I remembered. The note was still lying in the seat next to me and as I drove, I double checked the name and then used the search function on my cell phone while sitting at a stoplight to track it down.

  It was a Mercedes dealership. The man had bought me a car. I knew it as sure as I was sitting there, my hands shaking as the realization that I had once again lost control of my life began to sink in on me. I was in serious trouble this time. This man was powerful—he had connections and could make anything happen. He never bragged, but I knew. There was just that way about him. His people were connected; he was a man who knew how to use money. And I was his target. The horror of my predicament left me breathless.

  I pulled into the parking lot of Mount Mercy Hospital, found an empty place, and picked up the bag with Bitsy’s belongings. I went inside and up to the fifth floor as she had instructed me. There was a pair of double swinging doors at the end of the hallway with a large sign that denied admittance. Just before the door was a small room with a glass wall, and as I approached, I saw Bitsy sitting in one of the chairs, her legs crossed and her face in her hands. I knew Buddy was still alive or she would not have been waiting.

  “Bitsy! How’s Buddy? Are you holding up? Come here to Mama, Baby,” I said, holding out my arms to take Carrie. I heard a male clearing his throat and turned around to see the man who had just destroyed our apartment sitting in the same room!

  My hands began to shake, and I could only stare at him, trying to read his face, define any sign of why he had done it. He was extremely intelligent and a gifted actor, that much I knew. He’s got to know I’ve been by the house, doesn’t he? Maybe not. He looked exhausted and was wearing the same clothes he’d worn the night before with me. I knew I had to respond somehow if only to keep them calm until I could escape. I nodded. “Hello. How is Buddy? It’s great that you’re here for him. Do you know what happened?”

  He must’ve felt the force field I was sending out to keep him away because he stood but didn’t approach me. “Hi. It seems like weeks since I’ve seen you. I got the call last night on my way home,” he explained. “I don’t know too many details about the accident, but his car flipped several times down an embankment and they had to cut them out.”

  I heard Bitsy gasp behind me. Obviously, that was the first she’d heard about it. “I’m so glad they got him out in time. How badly is he hurt?”

  Colt shook his head. “We don’t know. They’ve taken him into surgery and he’ll be in there for a while. They’re drilling a hole to release the pressure from his brain swelling, but they need to keep him in there in case that doesn’t work, and they need to do more. I’ve only just gotten back. Bitsy stayed to be on hand, but I went
to grab some breakfast. I’m glad you’re here. Carrie shouldn’t be in this place.”

  More like you went to grab some things in my apartment, I thought to myself but said, “She’s going with me now.” I turned to look at Bitsy. “Listen, I’ll keep Carrie with me or make other arrangements. You don’t worry about anything. Just be here for Buddy. I’ll take care of the rest.” She had no idea of the significance of my last sentence. It was my job to protect her, just as I did Carrie. I would clean up the apartment and she would never know what happened. I had no way to prove what I believed had taken place, and engaging Stillman at this point could prove rather dangerous. “Well, give Buddy a kiss for me. I need to go.” Without another word, I took the carriage handle and wheeled Carrie down the hallway toward the elevators. I heard my name called behind me. It was Stillman. The elevators opened, and I pushed the carriage inside, pretending I hadn’t heard. My escape had just begun.

  I parked Carrie with Mrs. Heathrow, telling her that I was going to paint our apartment and it would be better if Carrie wasn’t in the fumes. Her face was puzzled but she didn’t ask any questions and I didn’t offer any further explanations. Step one had begun.

  I pulled the box of large trash bags from beneath the kitchen sink and started in my room. With a broken heart, I gathered the soiled fabrics and stuffed them into the bags, lining the full bags up in the hallway outside the door. The room stank from the urine and once I’d finished salvaging what was left undamaged, I got a pan and thick dish gloves and scrubbed the room thoroughly. When that was done, I pulled my suitcases out from beneath the bed and began filling them with everything that hadn’t been destroyed. Carrie’s clothes went right in with my own. I took apart her crib, using plastic wire ties to lash the pieces together. From there I moved into the kitchen, once again washing and putting things away where they belonged and gathering garbage for the growing pile in the hallway. I looked at the sofa, but there was little I could do to salvage it. I ended up pulling a flat bed sheet from the linen closet and throwing it over the sofa like a cover, tucking it in around the cushions. There wasn’t much more I could do so I began my multiple trips down to the car and the dumpster until the apartment looked barren, but not so macabre.

  I took the time to sit down and write a note to Bitsy on the inside of a flattened cereal box. I told her I was sorry, but that I had brought danger in on her in the person of Colt Stillman. I didn’t go into detail, but she would see the sofa and know something had happened. I told her I was moving home again, that I was quitting my job. It was more likely my job had already quit me, but I didn’t need to explain that. I told her that as soon as I found work, I would send money for my share of the rent through the end of the lease and if I could spare it, a little extra so that she could ride the bus down and visit me and Carrie. I knew she had become attached to my daughter and I couldn’t just dump her that way. My closing words were to wish her well with Buddy and to beware of his friend. There was nothing left to say, so I scribbled my signature and wedged the cardboard into the edge of the cupboard door where she was sure to see it. I wasn’t sure what to do about the broken lock, so I went back inside and added a postscript to the note, telling her to have it fixed and to bill me for it. It was all I could do under the circumstances.

  I needed to leave town and not waste time. Colt had more than likely read the look on my face. I wasn’t safe. The man had money, connections and he was not stupid. I had nowhere else to go, but home.

  With Carrie in the car seat and our belongings, or what was left of them, stowed in the trunk, we left the Chicago skyline in the rearview mirror. I felt the crushing disappointment that my dreams had failed.

  Metallica had been curt, and I don’t think very surprised. In fact, I had probably saved her the trouble of firing me. It wasn’t so much that I’d lost control of the meeting, as it was that I’d withheld the information about Carrie. I suspected Metallica was not the motherly type and had hoped to see me as a career woman who would settle for nothing less. I would never give up my daughter, but I had to admit that solitude looked pretty good about then.

  Goodbye Chicago. Goodbye Colt Stillman.

  Chapter 17

  Coulter

  It was three weeks following Buddy’s accident and we were moving him into the best physical therapy complex I could find. Every patient was given a personal workup and the therapist to patient ratio was one to three. In between workouts, Buddy was served five-star meals and given massages by the industry’s best. I saw to it that he didn’t need to worry about a thing. Luckily, the surgery had worked and once the swelling reduced, Buddy regained consciousness on his own. Other than the physical therapy needed to regenerate his body strength and flexibility, he had come through it like a champ. He was strong and as I reminded him, I’d never had any doubt.

  My commitment to my friend also required that I look after his business interests until he could return. It added considerably to my workload but I was more than willing to do it. I had no life of my own any longer, not since Gwen left.

  Bitsy was probably the most loyal person I’d ever encountered. Not only was she there each and every day for Buddy, but she protected Gwen furiously and wouldn’t tell me a thing. While I was fairly sure Gwen had gone back to her family, what left me baffled was the reason why. We’d spent that wonderful evening together and I had felt the beginning of something new rising in my chest. It involved pride, a sense of belonging, and yes, love. Then came the accident and everything changed.

  I was breathing, there was no better way to describe it. I had opened my heart and trusted and for some reason, she turned her back on me and left, again. I spent long hours and many bourbons debating whether I should go after her. For the immediate future, it was out of the question. I was too busy with Buddy and his obligations. Then I had my own businesses to look after. All my permits had been restored and the busiest season for building was upon us. Whatever was wrong with Gwen, she needed to sort it out for herself. She needed to put some time and space between us. God, but I wish I knew what had her so terrorized. She didn’t trust me, that much was evident.

  So, it was early winter, and Buddy was finally to the point where he could put a couple hours into work each day and was becoming stronger. He said they told him he would be himself again within a year, to just add to his duties gradually. He asked Bitsy to move in with him once he was able to go back to his condo. She hadn’t hesitated, and I didn’t blame her. Not only was he, in my opinion, one of the greatest guys on the planet, he needed her and she responded to that. I sent a couple of guys with her to the apartment to clear out her things, but they’d returned with an empty truck. She’d told them it wasn’t necessary, she was leaving almost everything behind in the dumpster. I guessed Buddy was her future and I wished them both success and good health.

  That left me with Gwen. Over the interim months, I’d gone through a series of phases. At first, I had been puzzled by her disappearance. Bitsy was not forthcoming and there was no other explanation as far as I could find. I even sent my receptionist back to the dress shop and she asked for Gwen by name but was told that she no longer worked there and could someone else help her. It was a dead end.

  Gwen had never picked up the car I bought her. I probably hadn’t handled that well. I should have given it to her face to face, but with Buddy’s accident, well, there just wasn’t an opportunity. I felt compelled to look after her and her child. Giving her safe transportation was a very small part of what I was willing to do.

  The next phase I went through was anger. I asked myself what I had done to alienate her? Had I not been a good lover, or had I been too good? Had I reminded her of someone and was that someone the person who rooted the distrust in her? Had I ignored her? No, I didn’t think so. If anything, I had pursued her beyond the normal fashion. Maybe that was it. Maybe I didn’t give her the space she needed. Whatever it was, she was gone and that’s when I moved into the final phase.

  I missed her. There wa
s no simpler way of stating it. I was in love with the woman and the woman wanted nothing to do with me. Life became colorless for me. There was no longer any challenge in building a skyscraper or fighting with the unions. Money had never been an issue so making more seemed redundant. My parents could see the change in my attitude and asked me about it over long dinners at their house on weekends. I started going there more frequently than I had before, simply because it gave me a sense of belonging. I became the little boy who was homesick, how silly was that?

  I tried dating other women. It didn’t work. They didn’t have her hair, her eyes, her mouth or that sweet, voluptuous body that had nestled against my back the night we spent together. I rejected each one in turn, almost to the point of cruelty before I finally called it quits and accepted the fact that there was no other woman who would ever make me happy again.

  That left me with one choice. I had to find her, and I had to win her back. The finding part wasn’t hard. I put my guy on it and a couple of hours later, I had an address and phone number. I knew where she was. I told Peter to pack a bag and sent to him down to Brookfield. His job was to lay low but watch high, in a matter of speaking. He was my man on the ground and he reported to me at least six times a day. He found her but she was not aware of it. He made several inquiries in town and just as I had thought, there had been a man early on who was Carrie’s father. He had joined the Army and at some point, the Army decided they no longer wanted him. How that affected her, I wasn’t sure, but I wanted to be certain she was safe. That, too, for the meantime, was Peter’s job.

  I had him scout out a location for a new business. I had no great thirst for starting yet another company, but I wanted a reason to move to Brookfield and to do my own watching. He found a manufacturing company that was on the edge of foreclosure. They produced health and beauty aids for generic brand labeling. The company should have expanded long before and that lack of foresight had led to the competition swallowing them. They held a few patents, which was a plus, but their equipment was antiquated and slow. Their employees were underpaid and frequently injured. In the normal course of things, they would have gone out of business through mere attrition. In my usual style, I was going to interfere with that. Thus, I bought Marshall Manufacturing.