I started with the bedroom. It’s easy to search for something when you’ve memorized every aspect of the place you’re searching. All I needed to do was spot the one thing out of place. I was hoping to find a briefcase or, I don’t know, something that said “hey, it’s me, I’m the answer to all your problems.”
In the end I found nothing.
No stone was out of place, no towel on the floor (that I didn’t put there).
I wish I could say I was surprised but I wasn’t. I returned to bed, Vic still asleep, and submerged my conscious in a cartoon. Anything to numb and drunken the fact that a tempest was brewing and Vic and I were busy building a shelter of straw.
I entered our apartment, carrying three paper bags of groceries. They were fucking heavy, but I hate having to take two trips more than I hate heavy things.
“Lucy! I’m home!” I bellowed, doing my best impression of Desi Arnaz.
“Sorry, no Lucy. Just me.”
Shocked, I let go of the paper bags. They landed on the floor, my groceries spilling out. Apples, soy milk (we’re a lactose intolerant household), and various snacks tumbled onto the tiled floor.
Mia Farrow, aka, Vic’s wife leaned casually against the counter. She eyed me with cool disdain.
It was so easy to forget about the leaky pipe in the basement until it broke and flooded the whole fucking house. That was what Vic’s wife was: a slow leak that suddenly burst and threatened to drown me.
I eyed my fallen paper bags. I could feel myself starting to hyperventilate and wondered if I should grab one to stave off a panic attack.
“Why are you here?” I managed to ask. Super fucking smooth.
She twitched an eyebrow and then smiled. “I could ask the same of you.”
Ugh. I hate her. I hate that she has more authority here than me. I hate that she’s the Wife and I’m the Mistress. I hate that I slept in his bed like it was ours.
I hate that I’ve let myself get comfortable here.
As if on cue, Vic came out of his study. He saw me and smiled, then he saw his wife and his smile disappeared. “What the fuck are you doing here, Alice?”
Alice. Her name is Alice. I immediately hated all Alices. Then I felt like shit, because it’s not like all Alices are evil wenches. I mean, Lewis Carroll’s Alice is pretty neat.
“Is that any way to greet your wife?” Alice sneered.
She actually sneered. My toes curled.
“You wouldn’t be my wife if you would just sign the damn divorce papers,” Vic said, his voice low and threatening.
I felt like a child in the middle of her fighting parents. They began circling each other like two tornadoes on a plain, and I was the plain.
I walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs. I didn’t want to go to the bedroom, because I was reminded that Alice had been there. She had been there before me. I wasn’t naive enough to think I would be the only person Vic would love in his life. I had past loves. We all had past loves. I suppose I was simply hopeful enough that when I was being loved by Vic, I would be the only one he loved during that time.
Instead of the bedroom, I went into the vinyl room. Since moving in, I’d attached a Bluetooth player to the speakers so I could listen to my MP3s. Vic called me a blasphemer, but, whatever. I liked having all of my music at the touch of a button; Vic’s organizational method was literally nonexistent. If I was in the mood for The Pixies, I had to search for an hour among his vinyls. However, all I had to do was type in “The Pixies” on my phone and voilà!
Whoosh. I plunked down into the chair. I turned on “Habits” by Tove Lo and started playing with my hair.
“Lenny, what are you doing?” I was getting used to Vic’s sneak attacks, so I didn’t jump too high when he just appeared in the room.
“Pondering,” I replied. Vic walked toward me then kneeled so we were eye to eye. Vic was a lot taller than me; however, whether by tugging my face up to him or kneeling before me, he always made sure we could look into each other’s eyes easily.
“What are you pondering?”
Life, love, the unfair cancelation of Firefly. “I’m not sure,” I said truthfully. My brain was in analysis paralysis. “What are we doing?” I asked him eventually.
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
Eventually, we were going to be just like him and his wife. Maybe not as vitriolic, but just as separate. “We can’t keep doing this.”
“Why are you saying this?” Vic asked, his voice getting louder.
“How much longer can you stay here?” I asked. “How much longer until you have to leave to another country for some top-secret mission?”
“We don’t say ‘top-secret,’” Vic grumbled.
I leaned in to meet Vic’s face. “Well?”
“I was supposed to be gone a week ago,” Vic admitted.
There it was. I felt like I’d been hit in the gut. “Why are you still here?”
“Why do you think, Lennox?” Vic stood, running a hand through his long, inky hair. He walked to the other side of the room and ran a finger absently along the row of vinyls.
“Me?” I mumbled.
“Bingo.”
I bit on my thumbnail. As far as I knew, Vic’s wife was still downstairs.
Vic paused on a colorful looking sleeve, but I couldn’t see which artist it was. “I love you, Lenny,” he said. His back was to me.
“I love you, Vic,” I said.
Why do I have the feeling that we were saying goodbye?
Vic’s wife is staying with us. Yep, you heard me correctly: she’s staying with us. Apparently, hotels are too good for her. That, or I’ve died and gone to hell. Something along those lines. I didn’t really get the specifics.
“I don’t understand. Why is she staying here?” I asked Vic when he sprung the news on me.
“It’s only for two days. One day, actually. Her flight leaves early tomorrow morning,” Vic said casually.
“That doesn’t answer my question,” I folded my arms, refusing to give up.
I admit Vic and I have an unusual relationship, but his wife staying with us was weird even for us. Vic had yet to offer a real explanation for why she had to stay. It wasn’t like they were friends. Every time they were in the same room, the temperature dropped ten degrees.
Alice is a grade-A bitch. If, and I stress if, she chose to acknowledge my existence, it was only with disdain.
I was sitting at the kitchen bar eating Fruit Loops when Alice walked in. She was dressed to the nines, looking like she had just finished curing world hunger or causing it. It could go either way with her.
She gave me a vinegar smile and pulled an assortment of vegetables out of the crisper.
I eyed her warily and continued eating my cereal.
“That’s adorable,” she said.
I raised my eyebrow. “What?”
“You eating cereal. I can see why Vic likes you. You keep him young,” Alice winked at me and turned away, clicking the stove on.
I frowned. I was unsure of what she’d just said to me. I keep him young? Eating cereal is adorable? I felt insulted and yet she hadn’t said anything pejorative. The chick was diabolical.
I quickly finished and put my bowl in the dishwasher. Taking the steps two at a time, I went to my safe haven: Vic’s vinyl room. I turned on some mellow, mind-numbing music and I let my brain curl around everything that had happened.
Alice had called me young. I suppose I am. I’m only in my twenties. I don’t feel young. I feel like I’ve been through a war. I’ve seen some shit; more than most people see in their lifetime: Chronic mental illness. Suicide. Murder. I would be fine coasting from here on out. I’m good with normal things. I hear Pinterest is pretty cool. I’m totally fine pinning things for the rest of my life. Maybe I’ll take a break to update my status. Yep, that sounds totally fine to me. No more sickness or death, just social media and Pinterest from here on out!
Alice’s stupid remark made me realize something, though
. I didn’t know Vic’s age. He looks like he’s only mid-twenties, but that’s Asian genes for ya. He could be forty. I suppose it’s not important. Society has deemed it only weird when a woman dates someone younger. So we’re good.
There was a knock on the door and I jumped slightly. I’m still wrapping my brain around the fact that Dean is dead and is no longer trying to rape/kill me.
“Lenny?” Vic peeked his head in the room slightly. He might not have given me a good reason for his wife’s sojourn, but at least he had the common decency to act like he felt bad about it.
“Yeah?” I didn’t turn around to see him. I wasn’t mad at him, but I was tired. There was a rift growing between us made by Dean Erosion, Wife Bombs, and Top-Secret Weathering. I was too tired right now to erect a bridge and get back to him.
Alice and Vic had had a brief affair and decided to get married. It had seemed like a perfect plan: they both worked in the same industry and were used to the long and odd hours. She hadn’t been cold then. He hadn’t been as hardened. Life happened, of course. They grew apart. She was different now; he was different now. Neither of them wanted to make it work. Occasionally, they get together to fuck. At least, that’s what he told me. I had a feeling he was leaving some shit out, but then, it wouldn’t be the Vic and Lenny Hour if there weren’t a few things left out.
I asked why he hadn’t told her about me before now. Vic had quickly assured me that he had, but Alice hadn’t believed he’d actually found someone.
I bit the inside of my cheek when he said that.
“How old are you?” I asked.
Vic seemed a little surprised at the question, but he answered it without hesitation.
“Thirty-three. Why?”
I shrugged. “She said I keep you young.”
Vic smiled. “You keep me a lot of things, Lenny, but young is not one of them. I think I’ve got my first gray hair since meeting you.”
I wanted to argue that. His head was still full of black, luxurious strands that I could and would run my hair through.
This was the first time we’d joked since she’d arrived. It felt nice. It seemed right. It was over too soon. Vic kissed me on the forehead and left the room, leaving me alone.
I awoke and stretched out my hand feeling for Vic. He wasn’t in the bed. I sat up and looked at the clock. Three a.m., my least favorite hour. Three in the morning was the dead hour. It was the time when ghost hunters found their targets. It was the hour during which I had had all of my night terrors. If I could remove three a.m. from the clock, I would. Of course, then four would become three and we’d have a whole new problem. I don’t like to think pragmatically at three in the morning, though.
I was about to roll over and go back to sleep when I heard muffled voices. I sat up, trying to discern what was being said.
“You need to get your shit together and stop playing house, Vic!”
I gasped. That was Alice! And she was whisper-yelling at Vic. What the hell was going on? I slid out of bed and tiptoed to the bedroom door, gently easing it open.
I slipped between the partially open door and the frame, and paused to listen. The voices were coming from downstairs. I made it to the top of the stairs and pressed myself against the wall. I could see them, but they couldn’t see me.
“I’m not playing at anything, you heel-wearing, makeup-slathered cunt,” Vic snarled at Alice.
My eyes widened. They were both fully dressed and glaring at each other. Once again, I felt like a child whose mommy and daddy were arguing.
“Oh, sticks and stones, Vic,” Alice purred.
I felt a chill go down my spine. It was like watching a sadistic type of foreplay, not a vicious argument.
“I don’t care who or what you stick your dick in,”—Vic scoffed—“but you don’t get to go AWOL after taking a ten million dollar contract.”
My jaw dropped. Jaw meet floor, floor meet jaw.
Alice jabbed her finger at Vic’s face. “Furthermore—”
Vic smacked her hand away.
There’s more? I blinked, readying myself for more Earth-shattering news.
Alice let her hand fall, but started speaking again, undeterred. “Furthermore, don’t think your little stunt went unnoticed. We notice when you use company resources to help some girl you’re fucking.”
I was genuinely worried about Alice. I’ve never seen Vic so furious before. I could see in his eyes how much he wanted to rip out Alice’s jugular; the twitch in his jaw muscles gave away that he was only hanging on to his self-control by a thread.
“What if I don’t give a shit?” Vic whispered through clenched teeth.
Alice laughed. Her laugh was hearty yet feminine. I hated how strong she was. I wanted to rip out her heart and eat it, just to gain some of her strength.
The next instant, all of the humor drained from Alice’s face. “You know how these things work.”
“I don’t know what I ever saw in you,” Vic said.
Me either.
Alice smiled. “You saw yourself.”
Yikes, okay, I think I’ve heard enough. I started backing up, slowly so as not to be heard. Mistake. I backed into a table, setting it rocking on its legs. Crash! The plant that had been on the table was now on the floor, shattering comically loud. Alice’s and Vic’s eyes shot toward me. I froze, praying they couldn’t see me in the darkness.
Remember how I said I felt like a child around them? Well, those times paled in comparison to this moment. I felt like they were going to simultaneously yell, “You’re grounded!”
I didn’t give them a chance. I ran into the bedroom before either could say anything.
I stayed in bed until I heard Alice and her rolling suitcase leave through the front door. I didn’t feel the relief I thought I would at her departure. She had opened so many cans with so many worms, but she hadn’t taken any of them with her when she stomped out. She left all the worms for me and Vic to deal with.
“You don’t work for the United States,” I said into my pillow when Vic came to talk to me. It was six in the morning and I hadn’t slept a wink since the debacle in the hallway. Vic hadn’t come back to bed, either. I was left alone with my thoughts, analyzing and reanalyzing everything they had said to one another. I’d come to a couple conclusions, but one stuck out the most: Vic didn’t work for the government—he worked for a private company.
I’d seen House of Cards, I read papers (when people left them behind at coffee shops), so I knew what was what between the government and their marriages to corporations. Sort of. I only know what I know from watching a television show and reading used newspapers. At least I know it isn’t pretty.
It actually made me question Vic and, in turn, myself by association.
“No,” Vic answered after some time. Thirty minutes, to be exact. I stared at the clock, watching the minutes tick by.
So many secrets. There were so many secrets between us. I don’t think we’d uncover them all if we had eternity. Secrets had become our norm.
I sat up, hugging the pillow to my chest. “Who do you work for?”
“A company,” Vic said bluntly.
I scoffed. “How generic.” Once upon a time I remember thinking Vic should work for the Acme Corporation. Huh.
Vic shrugged. “I’ve worked for the good ole U.S. of A. at times.”
I frowned into my pillow. “What does that mean?”
“My company is employed when certain governments need certain things done,” Vic said. He left the ambiguity hanging; I’m sure so he didn’t have to lie anymore. He’d already created enough lies to last the rest of our relationship. Hell, he’d created enough lies for all relationships past and present. I didn’t even want to start thinking of the implications of the full truth. I knew what it meant when corporations and governments got in bed together. I read the news. Nothing good.
I frowned even harder. “Gross.”
Vic shrugged. “Someone has to do it.”
“Are you an
oil company?” I asked stupidly. It was the first thing that came to my mind.
“No,” Vic said, “but I’ve worked for them.”
“Who the hell do you work for?” I said. I lowered the pillow into my lap for comfort, as if it would cushion the blows he landed me.
“You wouldn’t know them, Lenny.”
“Try me,” I said, glaring.
“GEM,” Vic responded.
I looked away, “I don’t know who that is.” It sounded vaguely familiar, the way all corporations sound vaguely familiar when you use acronyms as names. I clutched my pillow tighter.
“So, who really is Alice?”
“She’s my wife. And my handler,” Vic said.
I had to give it to Vic, he was finally telling me the truth. I had to wonder if he knew the truth wouldn’t be any clearer than the lies and that’s why he was so forthcoming. I didn’t know what any of it meant. I don’t know who or what GEM was. Maybe they rig elections, maybe they tear apart companies and sell the bloody pieces, maybe they control Wall Street, or maybe they just sell paper.
Knowing Vic, and knowing what he’s capable of, I’m doubtful GEM is just a paper manufacturing company.
I don’t know what this means for our relationship. I’ve already compromised so much of myself so I can be with Vic. I’m still not over Dean’s death. I feel partly, if not entirely, responsible for it. If I hadn’t run away from Seattle, if I had got him the help he needed, he wouldn’t be dead. He might have regained mental stability and we might even still be together.
But—and this is the big, selfish and slightly sociopathic but—then I would never have met Vic. I couldn’t imagine having never met Vic. The possibility not only makes me sick but angry. You know what else makes me sick? Knowing I would do all of it all over again, every last fucking thing. I would leave Dean to fend for himself, mentally ill and all. I would even let him die.
Just so I could be with Vic.
What kind of person would do that?
A bad person. Me. Who was I to judge Vic? I had thrown all the stones at my own glass house and it had completely shattered. If I moved an inch, I would be cut and bleed to death. I bit the inside of my cheek, refusing to acknowledge Vic. I couldn’t disagree with him, but I also couldn’t agree with him.
You Own Me (Owned Book 1) Page 23