Nobody's Damsel

by E. M. Tippetts

  I didn’t feel forced. His grip wasn’t going to bring up bruises. It was just all so unlike him. I ran my fingers through his hair and massaged his back, willing him to relax. “Jason.” His skin was soft and warm against mine.

  The tension snapped like a string being cut. Jason let out a strangled breath and whispered, “I love you, okay? Chloe?”

  “I love you, too. You know that.”

  His fingers fumbled with the clasp of my bra and I kissed a trail down the side of his neck, feeling the cords of muscle shift. From there, things felt right again. Whatever oddness had possessed him when he arrived was gone.

  And I still didn’t understand it. Afterwards, when we lay facing each other in the semi-dark, I traced an idle pattern on his bare chest and he gazed at me with those deep blue eyes.

  “Do you ever regret marrying me?” he asked.

  “No. Why, do you?”

  “No. I’d been thinking of how to propose to you ever since our first kiss.”

  “No way.”

  “Yes way. The moment the rules changed and kissing was allowed, I was not going back. Ever.”

  “Why?”

  He lifted one shoulder. “You’re the one. I can’t explain it. Ever since we got to know each other, I haven’t wanted to be with anyone else.” His tone changed at the end of that sentence. It was just the slightest bit off.

  My instinct was to call him on it, demand an explanation, but I took a moment to reconsider. There was no point starting a fight. Maybe trust was the right way to go. I grasped his bicep, moved closer, looked into his eyes, and said, “What aren’t you telling me?”

  He let out a long, defeated sigh. “Things got a little complicated this week.”

  “With Vicki?”

  “Yeah. No cheating. I didn’t- I wouldn’t do that. Ever.”

  “So tell me.”

  “She’s one of my best friends. I barely ever see her anymore, but we spent some important years together, working on our show for Disney.”

  “Did you used to date?”

  “Not really.” He slipped his arm around my waist and kissed my bare shoulder. “We’ve hooked up several times – before I met you. We’d get to talking at a party, and then it’d be three a.m. in one of our hotel rooms, and things would just happen. But then one of us would have to leave on a shoot or something and we never really talked about it. I mean, this happened at least half a dozen times over a span of years. I think she thought that everything would just come together organically, whereas I just didn’t know what was going on. And then I met you and things with you were always clear. You’re not the kind of person who ever blurs the lines.”

  I wasn’t quite sure I agreed there. I’d blurred the lines with my former best friend, and our friendship had subsequently gone to pieces. “So what happened this last week?”

  “Vicki and I spent time together for the first time in a long time, and she just fell apart. Said she loved me and didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know you and I were an item until our engagement.”

  I nodded. That was the first public acknowledgment of our relationship. In every prior paparazzi photo of me, I looked like part of his entourage, or had my arm around Dave who was one hundred percent not interested in women. An early morning shot of Jason down on one knee in front of me had been a major bombshell for his fans.

  “It wrecked her, emotionally. She’s had it rough the last ten years, and I guess she always felt like she and I would find each other, and when the time was right, we’d be together forever, which is news to me.”

  “So how do you feel?”

  “Like that was definitely an option, but it never happened. I mean… she usually didn’t return my phone calls, but being mad at her doesn’t feel right.” His gaze was all apprehension. “She’s an old, close friend and we’ve meant a lot to each other and she completely threw me for a loop.”

  I kissed his chest. “So what did the media pick up on?”

  “Me and Vicki met up to talk stuff over a couple of weeks ago. She asked me to go have lunch with her because she had to tell me how she felt, given we’re slated to do this movie together. I guess we looked like a couple because you know how it is. We can’t just eat at a restaurant in public without someone posting a picture online, so we ate in a private room of a restaurant, which also looks fishy, but usually you can avoid being seen, but in this case, one of the restaurant employees talked to the press. So, there was that and… it’s been hard. Things between me and her have always been so stable and now they’re not. And I got photographed with my arm around her this morning.” He looked at me, as if waiting for a flash of anger.

  I suppressed it. Better that he keep talking than we bicker about an arm around. I’d let my guy best friend do that with me all the time in college. Then again, I hadn’t been married or even dating Jason at the time.

  “Which…” he said, “I shouldn’t have done but I didn’t mean as anything more than, you know, support. I’m bad at this.”

  I nodded. “Okay.” Be rational, I ordered myself. “It bothers me that she’s still this upset about your marriage. We got engaged over a year ago. Plenty of time for her to deal.”

  “Well, yeah, it’s more than that. Her career’s on the rocks. She’s basically an unknown.”

  “How’d she end up an unknown? She had a show on Disney.” No sooner had I asked the question than my mind supplied the answer. An acting career was as hard to maintain as it was to launch. A lot of people had a major role once and made good money, only to disappear. These were the sorts of things I was learning, married to an actor.

  Jason chewed his lip, then looked me in the eye. “After our Disney show ended, she got offered the lead in the Vamplore series, and she turned it down for an edgy, kinda offbeat indie movie that went nowhere. She’s done a ton of acting in low budget projects, and the thing is, she’s amazing. A top notch actress who knows her craft.”

  “But not famous.”

  “Not making money anymore. Still living off her earnings from Disney, which she was very careful with so she owns a condo and can pay her bills and all that, but she hasn’t had any work in almost three years. She tried to get back into big budget studio stuff a few years back, but it was Glam Girl.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “Exactly. Bombed so bad that not even the Razzies took notice. She also sang the soundtrack as the first album of a new record deal, and ended up losing the record deal too. That’s what she was going through when I saw her last, a couple of years ago. We spent a long weekend together where we were just… together. She poured her heart out and that’s when we made a pact that we’d work together the first opportunity we got, which is now.”

  “So why didn’t you think this was a relationship?”

  “Because, like I said, she didn’t return any of my phone calls. She was like that. Then the following week I went to shoot this sci-fi movie in New Mexico and there was a cute extra who I tried to get to know and ended up embarrassing horribly.”

  I smiled. “It wasn’t that bad.”

  “And then I tried to make nice by going to her work and she just treated me like I was the weirdest person on the planet.”

  “I did not.”

  “And then we became friends, kind of.”

  I made air quotes and he smirked.

  “Okay, long story short, I met the love of my life and married her. But I never wanted to hurt Vicki and it’s kind of a shock for me to find out that I did and this movie is the result of a pact we made under romantic circumstances, and it’s a lot for me to deal with.”

  “So why didn’t you just tell me about all this?”

  “I didn’t know where to begin, and I wasn’t sure how to bring up the subject of my past with Vicki. I don’t want to hide this stuff, but it’s a little intimidating to tell your wife that you’ve slept with someone and now they’re going to be your love interest in a film... You being a virgin when we got married means I really don’t know
what it’s like to be you in our relationship.” His gaze was all apprehension, as if he expected me to punish him. “On one hand, I wish I didn’t have my past, because you should never feel like there’s anyone else who compares to you. There isn’t. At all. On the other hand, I can’t say that Vicki never meant anything to me. She meant a lot, or else I wouldn’t have been with her. Do you get why this is difficult?”

  Conversations like this reminded me that Jason had a lot more history than I did. Each new story revealed a piece of him that someone else had, and a new facet that I had to integrate into the whole picture. I was back to tracing idle patterns on his skin, this time on his bicep.

  “Please don’t feel like you have to show up unannounced to check on me. I’ll admit, that annoyed me.”

  “You dropped in on me twice the day before yesterday. Were you checking up on me?“

  “Fine. Just… are you mad at me?”

  “Am I acting mad?”

  “I can never tell. Everything’s a slow burn with you. Before we got together, you took months to decide that kissing me was okay. Now I’m worried that you’re angry, but rather than just saying so, you’re going to stretch it out, have it infect our relationship like a cancer.”

  Given I was processing his romantic past with Vicki, I didn’t want criticism. Rather than argue, I kept on tracing patterns on his skin.

  “See, you’re doing it.”

  “What do you want me to do? Yell at you?”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  “Chloe.”

  “I’m not going to punish you for being honest.” That would be illogical. He didn’t deserve it.

  “All right. But for what it’s worth, I would like credit for being honest, not just no punishment.” He sounded defeated, not like the matter was concluded in his mind. “And I do love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. There is nothing at all I regret about us, ever and I just really, really don’t want you to regret me.”

  He was right; this was confusing.

  The next morning Mom called on Skype while I was eating breakfast on the couch. The new housekeeping company was already in action, vacuuming immaculate rooms and scrubbing every horizontal surface. Jason was standing out on the pool deck on the phone. My assumption yesterday that the spotless house was a sign he hadn’t been living here really was false. The place was always spotless. I’d been paranoid.

  When my mother’s grainy picture came up on my iPhone. The first thing I noticed was that she’d cut her hair short, in a kind of pixie cut. It was a major change. She’d had it long and wore it in various updos all my life. This looked so much more casual and low maintenance. Her makeup was bright and overdone as usual, though. She loved glitter eyeshadow. “Sweetie,” she said, “I’m looking at a picture of Jason and Vicki-”

  “We already talked about that,” I said.

  “And?”

  “It’s nothing. They did used to be together. They’re friends. The arm around was a lapse in judgment.”

  “All right.”

  “Don’t gloat.”

  “I’m not gloating, sweetie. Why would I ever do that?” Her eyes were wide and innocent.

  “Everything is fine.”

  “Great.” Her tone was bright and upbeat.

  And I was just annoyed. The fact that she’d picked up on something between Jason and Vicki from just reading tabloids rankled. Did she see that I was on the Esperanza Dominguez case? Did she even know there was such a case? No. She read gossip magazines and only contacted me when I came up in those. The rest of my life didn’t matter to her.

  “Sweetie, don’t fester,” she said. “If you figured things out with Jason, forgive him. You’ve gotta move on.”

  “That’s not the issue, Mom.”

  “Honey… nobody holds a grudge like you do.”

  “I’m not holding a grudge.”

  “Sure you aren’t. And you’re not the least bit embarrassed by me.” Her smile was pure condescending amusement, as if I were three years old and she’d caught me drawing with crayon on the wall, but was going to let it slide because she thought I was cute.

  “Mom, I don’t need this.”

  “I’m not attacking you, sweetheart. We can laugh about this. I can, at least.”

  “You are attacking me. You’re criticizing me and accusing me of holding grudges.”

  “All right, m’dear. Bye now. I love you.” She chuckled and hung up.

  I set the phone down on the table.

  Jason came in from the other room. “Photoshoot. You want to come?”

  I nodded and got up. Have a good weekend, I told myself. Stop scowling. Stop doing exactly what the paparazzi want you to do, and don’t be cold to Jason. Forget about Mom and her annoying calls.

  I was a mess.

  Clayborn stood in the interrogation room, a cold, hollow cube of concrete with a utilitarian table and a mirror on the wall behind her. The interviewee was an older woman with gray hair who said, “I didn’t see anything.”

  CUT TO:

  A young boy. “I’d never hurt Hope. She’s my friend. I just want to help find her.”

  CUT TO:

  A middle aged woman who stared at the detective with fascination. “I wish I could help you, but I work late. I didn’t even know anything had happened until I got home and saw all the police cars and ambulance and all that.”

  CUT TO:

  A middle aged man with a slightly wide-eyed look. “I don’t know nothing about any of this. You got the wrong guy.”

  Clayborn leaned in, ready to play hardball. “People don’t just disappear. Someone must have seen something.”

  “I don’t even know the people in that house. I moved in two weeks ago. They weren’t exactly sociable.” He jumped when Clayborn slammed her hand down on the table. “I swear,” he said. “You got the wrong guy.”

  Detective Baca showed up at the lab just after lunch on Monday, clutching a three ring binder. My mood lifted at the sight of him, only to thud down again when I saw his expression. He was annoyed, frustrated. “Miss Chloe, I hate to impose on you,” he said, “can we talk a moment?”

  I nodded and tried not to let the anger I felt show. The rush request that Miguel had put on the DNA evidence hadn’t been honored. It wouldn’t be back until mid-week.

  The other crims looked at me curiously, but there was no hostility. I ushered the detective back to my desk, swiped a chair from the next desk over, and we sat down. The sunlight streaming in the slit windows at the top of the wall was pale and did little to push away the deadening glare of the fluorescent tubes overhead.

  “Okay, break in reported for a business on Central,” came a voice on the police scanner. “It’s a jewelry shop. Suspect came in the back window.”

  The detective’s gray mustache twitched as he dug through the binder. It was still odd to see him without his uniform and sunglasses. It made him less cop and more regular guy. He could have been a good friend’s dad, or one of my mom’s friends. His wedding ring was scratched up and worn, which at that moment, spoke volumes. I wanted mine to look like that someday. “I need help finding the woman who made the 911 call,” he said.

  “Okay.”

  “We’ve been to the address it was placed from, and no one will own up to making it.”

  That was strange.

  “It’s that blond woman who was giving you a hard time. The call was made from her house, and it’s a woman’s voice, but she denies it’s her. I’m at a bit of an impasse here. We’ve got no other witnesses.”

  “None?”

  “None.”

  “Please tell me you’re kidding.” I’d assumed that over the weekend there had been progress. I wouldn’t know about it because it wasn’t part of my job. The thought of Esperanza being gone all that time without the slightest hint as to her whereabouts made adrenalin surge in my system. She couldn’t just disappear never to be found again. She couldn’t. My mind would never accept that.

  “T
his crime happened in the middle of the day when most people were at work and their kids were in daycare. We can’t find hide nor hair of the father, and believe me, we’ve tried. Been on a wild goose chase all weekend. He’s a junkie, so I’ve checked rehab facilities, hospitals, you name it. It’s obvious that he fled town and we have no leads as to where. We’ve had no sightings of the child, even after volunteers plastered the city with flyers. The mother grew up an orphan. She’s got no parents, no siblings, and apparently no former foster parents who care to check up on her. The father’s name isn’t even on the birth certificate. I was only able to get it by interviewing the child’s day care provider. He’s the guy who gave the kiddo his last name, at least. Assuming it’s the same Dominguez.” For a Spanish last name in New Mexico, that was not a given. “He and the mother appear to still be involved, even though they don’t live together. Other than that, she’s got no one in her life.”

  I remembered the mother’s stark, spare hospital room. “How’s Teresa doing?”

  “The mother? Not good. Temperature’s climbing, infection’s setting in. They’ve been trying to find a next of kin to talk about end of life decisions with. That’s how I know her family history.”

  Wow. He wasn’t kidding when he said this was a tough case. “So what can I do?”

  “I’ll be honest. I’m desperate. Those ladies were all clambering to talk to you the night we covered the crime scene. I know pulling a crim out of the lab is just going to slow down you guys processing the evidence, but you’re comparison, and most of our evidence is blood splatter, ballistics, and DNA right now.”

  I nodded. This was true. My job, literally, was to compare things to see if they matched, fingerprints, tire tracks, footprints, strands of hair, that sort of thing.

  “And Miss Chloe, I don’t want to use you for your connections, but I’ve got nothing else left up my sleeve. Even if I suspected someone, I haven’t got the evidence to leverage a confession. We’ve got no murder weapon. Nobody with gunpowder residue on their clothes, nothing. I can start slapping people with grand jury summons, but if they don’t want to talk, they just don’t.”