Two Wolves For Lizette

by Jessica Miller

  I go on thinking crazy thoughts about Denver’s lifestyle and what the future might have in store for us for a while. He must really need this rest, because even though I’ve gotten up to use the bathroom a couple times he hasn’t moved once.

  I decide that it’s safe to go explore the other rooms because he won’t wake up, and if he does then I’ll just be real with him. If I’m going to let a man have my body like that I need to know he’s not keeping any secrets. I would have checked his phone if it wasn’t dead and I knew where his charger was.

  The orange bedroom belongs to Jill because there are photos of her and Denver all over the place, in addition to photos of what look like her and her family. There is one photo of her and a man that looks greasy, with jet-black hair and dark eyes. Her hand is on his chest in the photo. I go through all of the drawers in the room and the closet but find little, barely anything other than old clothes. It looks like Jill hasn’t been here in a while.

  In the white and teal rooms, it’s pretty much the same. Mae Lin doesn’t really have photos, but just a lot of stuff pertaining to work for Paerotech—a whiteboard, a corkboard, markers, and three computers. Gloria’s room is just sleek and comfortable, straightforward. Will I get a room? I don’t see any empty ones. I’ll be damned if they get a room and I don’t. Hell, I’d better get a whole house. And to be honest, I’m ready to evict these women from his life. He doesn’t need them with me around. I’m more than enough to do everything he needs. Work, drive, clean, cook. I was raised to be a good woman. It’s in my blood.

  I’m on the ground level snooping around the kitchen when I hear a loud BANG at the door. It comes in threes thereafter.

  BANG BANG BANG.

  BANG BANG BANG.

  Someone is at the door, only Denver won’t hear it because he’s fast asleep. The only way I can get back upstairs is to pass by the front door to the stairs—is it possible that they can see through the curtains? I’m still naked, wrapped in a sheet, and when I turn the corner to scope out the caliber of the sheers the sheet nearly pulls down from a chip in the wood doorframe.

  Curling it back around me, I stumble and knock my elbow on the wall.

  “Shit,” I screech, and jump back behind the wall.

  BANG BANG BANG.

  BANG BANG BANG.

  Whoever they are, they’re trying to convey their urgency. Those aren’t light taps. I bet they know the damn car is outside, I think. I put my back against the refrigerator and, looking across the kitchen, see a figure crossing outside of the window.

  BANG BANG BANG.

  Are there two of them? The figure out back goes for the door and jiggles the handle. I’m trapped here, naked, and I need to get upstairs. Just run, Tara, I tell myself. If I book it, at least I can throw Denver in front of me.

  I take a deep inhale and then turn the corner, aiming for the stairs. I make sure not to slide across the floor or miss a step, causing a face plant. The last thing I need is injury right now. I get up the stairs quickly, and the person at the front door bangs another three times. Rushing over to Denver’s room, the knocking reverberates even louder up here. How can he sleep through that? With someone at either door I’m starting to worry if we’re safe in here.

  Entering the purple room, I shout, “Denver! Wake up!” He doesn’t budge. I go over to the bed and tap him on the face a few times. “Denver!” I scream it this time, and his eyes bulge.

  “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” He rises up and looks around the room, raising his arms like he’s ready to go fisticuffs with somebody.

  “Someone’s banging on the front door, and someone else is trying to enter through the back,” I stammer.

  “What? Who?” He stands up, gets his clothes on, and rushes down the stairs.

  BANG BANG BANG.

  “Is it the police?” I ask. I expect to see the officers from Malibu saying they tracked the car to this location.

  “No,” he answers. “The police wouldn’t hammer on the door like that without stating who they were.” How does he know that? “Just stay upstairs and wait for me, my love.” His words leave no room for me to intervene. Casually, he goes to the door as I watch from the top of the stairs, peaking around the corner.

  First, he looks through the curtain. He doesn’t like what he sees and clears his throat before opening the door. “Marty, this is crazy, what are you doing here?” Marty? Is it the guy he referred to earlier, the one who stole from Paerotech, Martin O’Leary?

  “Den, I’m sorry to drop in on you like this, bud,” Martin says, his voice slick sounding.

  “Yeah, it’s strange because this address isn’t listed anywhere in the company and is in fact private information,” Denver says. I can tell by his tone that he’s trying to get the legal jargon out of the way before getting serious with him.

  “Well, I just saw the car and figured you were near by. Also,” he holds up his phone, “I was able to hack in and see where your location was. I was just worried about you, Den. But it’s good to see that you’re okay. Mind if I come in?”

  “Actually now really isn’t a good time,” Denver says. “I’ll catch you at the office tomorrow, Martin. Oh, and if you come banging on my door again I’m calling the police. Have a wonderful day.”

  He shuts the door in his face and locks every bolt. Pouncing up the stairs, he takes my hand and guides me back to the bedroom. “What was that about?” I inquire.

  “That was a message telling me that I might be in trouble,” he says. My paranoia kicks in and I swat my hands to my face. “If you tell me that the omelet was poisoned I might kill you, if I don’t die first.”

  He smiles, but luckily that’s not the case. “Martin O’Leary showing up here is not a good sign,” Denver says. “We should get out of here as soon as possible.”

  “Did you check the back door or not?” I remind him.

  “Oh no,” he says, looking to the bedroom door. “Okay, stay here. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

  “No, I’m coming with you this time,” I say, more because I’m afraid of being alone.

  “If you insist,” he says, nodding his head in the direction of the door. We go down the stairs together and I’m wishing I would have thrown some clothes on, but all I have is the sheet. So stupid. Although the banging has stopped, I’m more on edge than before. I wait in the kitchen doorway as Denver goes to the door. His approach is slow, cautious, and before opening it he flips the shades to get a peak.

  “Nothing,” he says. One by one he undoes the locks on this door, and I’m so scared something is going to jump out once he opens it, and then I have to hurry up and look behind me to make sure no one is there. It’s clear, and I exhale. When I turn back around, Denver has the door open but he’s not standing in the kitchen anymore. The door is just wide open.

  “Denver?” I call out. Did he seriously leave the door open with me standing in a sheet? “Denver, please come back.”

  I’m not about to go any closer to the open door than I already am. I’d rather run back upstairs and lock myself in the bedroom. Right then Denver pops his head into the kitchen. “There’s nobody out here, either,” he says. “I wonder if it was just Martin? He’s got some nerve to try to open the door.”

  “No way, the knocking at the door was definitely at the same time as the door was tried here,” I say. It’s vivid in my mind, there’s no mistaking it.

  “Are you sure?” he asks.

  “Positive.”

  He closes the door and locks it up again. “Well, perhaps he had someone with him. I don’t know who it could have been. Maybe someone from the office. I wouldn’t be alarmed.” Walking back over to me, he wraps his arm around me and we walk to the stairwell.

  “Is it always this crazy around you?” I ask.

  “Not always,” he says, smiling. “Sometimes, but not always.”

  *****

  “Denver, I don’t know if we should stay here,” I say, “you said all that stuff about shields, well, whe
re are they now? Shouldn’t you have some guards on duty or something?”

  “If you’re ready for me to bring on the heavy protection just say the word,” he says. “All I have to do is make one phone call and the place will be swarming with cops, upon which we can leave in the Benz and go wherever you’d like.”

  “I think that might sound like a good idea, but do we really have to get the cops involved? I’m like, kind of tripping enough as it is. Let’s just go. Let’s drive. It’s safe to just go outside, right?”

  His hesitation is daunting. “I’ll leave it up to you, Tara,” he says. “I trust you and your instincts.”

  “Let me get and dressed and we’ll hit the road,” I say. I gather my clothes and get myself together as Denver waits for me in the doorway.

  “Where do you want to go?” he asks. “We can go anywhere, remember that.”

  “I don’t care, Denver,” I say. “I don’t have a job. I don’t really have anything I’m attached to. I told Dominic goodbye this morning.”

  “Good, I’m the only man in your life from now on,” he says.

  “But Dominic is a friend, I still might talk to him,” I say, knowing its not true but wanting to hold on to my power.

  “No, Dominic is not a friend. Dominic is a dude you used to sleep with who got you a job once. You’re never talking to him again.”

  “Well then can I say the same for Jill, Gloria, and Mae Lin?” I ask, getting my shoes on. Now that I’m ready, I head for him and we both go back downstairs.

  “Do you want to stay in the state? In the country?” He holds the door for me to exit first.

  “Denver, I don’t care, wherever you think I’d like,” I say, and as I turn into the lawn I see Jill standing there holding a gun up.

  “I’d get back in the house if I were you,” she says, and I back up, almost falling into Denver’s arms.

  “Jill, this is crazy, don’t do this,” Denver says, walking around me—he would take the bullet if she fires. He really does love me. “Put the gun down, Jill. Is Martin with you? Are you together, the two of you?”

  He’s putting things together awfully quick—something must already be in motion here. Now that I can get a closer look at Jill, I see her eyes are soaked with tears, smeared with mascara. “You don’t know the half of it, Denver,” she says, her hands shaking. “Get back in the house.” I look around the yard and there is nobody in sight—nobody to witness this invasion.

  Denver looks back to assure me that it’s okay, and his hand motions for me to re-enter the house. I do as he wants, because I’m so taken by fear that I don’t know how to react or think. I knew something was wrong with this woman the moment I laid eyes on her.

  ***

  Once we’re in the house, Jill backs us into the kitchen. Why do I keep doubting myself and what Denver tells me? I can’t see another reason for her to do this other than jealousy.

  “Why did you lie to me, Tara? You told me straight to my face that you weren’t with him, but I was right, wasn’t I? And do you want to know how I have proof, now?”

  “Jill, please, we can handle this like civil people just put down the gun,” Denver pleads. We’re sitting back to back on kitchen stools. From the corner of my eye I see someone enter the room—the guy from the orange room in the photo with Jill.

  “I wouldn’t worry about civility,” he says. It’s the voice from the door earlier, Martin O’Leary. The slimy voice matches his face. He would be attractive if he tried to put himself together. Is this what Jill settled for when she couldn’t have Denver? “I would worry about the fact that thanks to the escapades this morning, and the fact that Miss Rogers drove your vehicle, it will be very simple to misplace your whereabouts.”

  “This is what happens, Denver,” Jill says. “Your contract doesn’t say anything about this, does it?”

  “Actually, it does,” he says. “Clause 15 section A states that you may not in any way threaten my life.”

  “For someone so by the book you should know that, right, Jill?” I say, snapping my mouth shut as soon as I realize I opened it.

  “Well, that doesn’t matter any more, now does it?” Jill snaps.

  “Let the calm come over you, my love,” Martin whispers to Jill, now standing at her side. “Denver, Miss Rogers, I’m sorry that it has to be like this. But in order for us to finish out the final tasks, I’ll need some paperwork to be filled out. This paperwork will serve as an alibi, also converting the ownership of the company to Jill and myself.”

  His smile is crooked, and his dark eyes look like a weasel’s. Tara, look what you got yourself into, I think. All for a billionaire. Is it worth it now that you have a gun to you?

  “Just let Tara go, please,” Denver says. Bless this man. “You can do anything you want with me. You can have the company. You can have everything. Just please let her go, Martin.”

  “Why should I, Denver? When the one person I loved was taken from me, I lost her as soon as she started working for you.”

  Is he talking about Danielle?

  “You know that I wanted nothing to happen to her!” Denver yells, getting out of the stool. We’re not tied together, which is what I expected them to do. But I guess the gun does all the work. “Cut this out, Martin. Jill. Is this what it comes to? What did I do to deserve this?”

  “You were you, Denver,” Martin says. “You started the company and you hired employees. You let them get close to you. That’s enough. Oh, and Olecki? He’s rotting in prison for no reason. It was me.”

  “Did you poison her?” Denver cries. The way his veins are pulsing in his neck one would guess that he had deep emotional attachments to that woman, rest her soul.

  “Denver, when is your charade going to end?” Martin says. Jill still holds the gun firm between Denver and me. “Just admit that you did it, so I can tell Jill to pull the trigger. She’s well-trained, I’ll give you that.”

  Behind the gun I see Jill smiling through her tears at the compliment. Why is she so beaten down? Does she have it for Denver that hard? Her eyes catch mine and it’s unmistakable. “He fucks good when he pulls your hair, doesn’t he?” she says.

  “Don’t talk about him like that,” I say.

  “First it was Malibu, now it’s the purple room,” she says, looking from me to Denver. “When are you going to up your style, Denny?” asks, laughing. I’m so nervous that her laughter will trigger the gun.

  “Don’t listen to her, Tara, she’s just been spying on you,” Denver says. Her laughter doesn’t end, and I just want to scream for her to shut up.

  “I loved Danielle, Martin,” Denver says, his eyes no longer on me. “You know that. You and I both did. You’ve been tormenting me for years. If you didn’t do it, and I didn’t do it, then we just have to let it rest, Martin, you know that!”

  His hand is outstretched to him, as if reaching to pull an old friend up from a cliff. Martin’s gaze is rock solid. “I don’t understand,” he says.

  Still, Jill laughs.

  “Don’t you see?” she says. “You’re all so stupid.” She points the gun over to Martin now, cornering the three of us together. “You really think I loved you, Martin? Please, you’re a leech on Denver’s life, sucking him dry. He’s the real genius.”

  She smiles at him, seeking his approval. He doesn’t respond, keeping his posture and head motionless. “Don’t tell me that you did it, Jill,” he says.

  “Yes, Denver,” she smiles. “I poisoned Danielle and set up Olecki using Martin. It wasn’t hard, all I had to do was sleep with the right people. You’d be amazed what sex will get you in this city. Except for you, Denver. You’re impossible to crack. But now you’ve got your perfect dream girl, Chef Tara Rogers, so you can live the rest of your life in blissful harmony.”

  Her lunacy is out the window—the three of us stand here, Denver taking the lead, even shielding Martin. I don’t want to be anywhere near the creep but at the moment I don’t have a choice.

  “However, I do
have proof,” she continues. “And with a new chef I can easily plant Danielle’s death on Tara. That’s no problem. In fact, the three of you can be poisoned. I’ve prepared a small dose for myself so it doesn’t look too inconspicuous when I survive and the three of you die.”

  “If you’re going to poison us then what is the gun for?” I ask. “Why didn’t you just poison us and be quiet about it?”

  She drops the gun and walks forward to me, pushing Denver aside with her gun hand. Inches away from me now, I can feel Jill’s breath on me, exhaling hard. Although she has a calm front, I know that deep down she’s steaming—ready to blow.

  “You see, Tara, when you can’t use sex to get what you want, you have to think of something else,” she says. “See, you were able to get Denver. So you wouldn’t understand what it’s like on this side. You wouldn’t understand what signing your life away is life. Ask Martin, Mae Lin, Gloria. Any of them. He’s sick. I’ll be doing you a favor.”

  “If he’s so sick then why go through the trouble? You love him?”

  “I did love him, but he wouldn’t have me. I wanted him to be my husband and to share in his life. But, since I can’t have that, I’ll just have his life.”

  Jill’s eyes are like glass as they stare into me—I see nothing on the other side of them, just emptiness. In a millisecond there is a CLANK and Jill drops to the ground.

  Martin hit her in the head with the pan I cooked breakfast in.

  She’s passed out on the ground, but not bleeding. Denver grabs the gun from her limp hand and I feel my lungs regain regularity.

  *****

  Denver called his connection, Lieutenant Hasboro, who phoned Simi Valley emergency, and they were at the house in minutes. Martin walked without any hassle, and when they put the cuffs on Jill she was still passed out. The officers put both of them into the back of their squad car and pulled away, leaving Denver alone in the yard.