WARNING: This story will be rated M…it's quite a bit darker than my other stories….extramarital affairs, suicide…I started off thinking of Vivienne as a character similar to Kathleen Turner's character in Body Heat….and then the story took itself over.
Vivienne
Daryl lived in an apartment that had once been a motel. It was rundown, but cheap and served it's purpose-a place to stay while he worked and waited for Merle to get of jail again. This time he had been sentenced to eighteen months-as usual he'd been caught for something relatively minor. The man was like a cat with nine lives, Daryl thought with disgust. One day Merle's luck would run out and he'd be sent to the big time for a long time. Daryl was 33, alone with no friends and no family save for Merle. Daryl shook his head again in disgust. Merle would be out in the next week, and then they would leave this place and hopefully find another where no one knew them and they could get a fresh start. Of course, he knew this was a hopeless dream. Where ever they went, Merle would be sure to fuck up yet again and land in yet another jail for weeks or months or longer. And he would be the loser he had always been and find a job and hang around waiting for his brother to get out so they could start the same routine again. He had often told himself that he should just leave Merle in whatever jail he was and strike out on his own-find a job in a place Merle would never think to look for him and at least have some peace and quiet. He never imagined himself being lucky enough to find a woman who cared about him enough to settle down and share a life with him. People like him didn't get to have happy endings. And he told himself that was okay, he accepted that. He could tolerate a life all alone, as long as there was never any more beatings or yelling or drunken fights. Sadly, that old saying-better the devil you know than the devil you don't know-was true in his case at least. So he waited for Merle to get out, like he had time and again before, for years now.
He lived on the ground floor of the hotel, and in the evenings after he'd finished up work at the auto shop he'd gotten hired at for cash under the table, he would lean against the wall by his door and smoke, grateful for the peace and quiet he lived in for the time being. He stayed away from the bars-he had learned the hard way that drinking brought his ever present rage out and he had been in too many fights to want to continue on in that way. So he spent his time either at work or at the motel. He politely refused all offers from his coworkers to join them at a diner, or at a fish fry at one of their houses. No sense in getting to know and like people when he would be moving on as soon as Merle got out. Much less have the people he worked with find out what a redneck loser he was –at least when he worked on the cars and bikes he could forget for a time his past and his family and take some pride in the work he did. It was a lonely existence, but it was quiet and trouble free as well.
He had moved into the motel in early June, about a month after Merle had gone off to jail. About six weeks later he noticed a couple staying at one of the apartments katty-korner to his and up on the second floor. The man looked to be in his early forties, a nice enough looking man who didn't look the type to stay at a motel like this in this part of town. The woman that met him looked quite a bit younger-early to mid- twenties maybe, curvy, about average height, with a mass of dark auburn curls that hung down her back. She was usually dressed more casually than the man. He often looked like he'd come straight from an office or somewhere that you dressed a bit more formally than Daryl had noted in most offices. From watching them, Daryl figured they were sneaking around having an affair. He had heard her call the man Graham, and he had called her Vivi, or Vivienne. Daryl had seen them touching and kissing on the patio, as well as inside the apartment sometimes when Vivienne hadn't closed the door all the way. She seemed to be rather careless about who saw them or what anyone saw-she had a habit of standing on the patio with Graham in nothing but a big tshirt-he knew because a few times she had leaned over to Graham and as her shirt had lifted he caught a glimpse of her bare ass. He'd quickly looked away, embarrassed even though he didn't think they could see him as he stood in the porch shadows smoking. He felt like a perv sometimes, but it's not like he planned on seeing any of this. He was minding his own damn business and they shouldn't have been out there exposing themselves. The nights he happened to see them making out he felt restless and irritable. She looked like the type of girls that used to go slumming in the local bars he and Merle used to hang out in. Snotty, stuck up, rich families, the only way they'd ever talk to a guy like him would be to piss their parents off or as a dare or joke with their friends. He felt that old resentment bubble up in him every time he thought about it. At the same time, the few times Vivienne had shown up at the apartment first and had come over to ask for a light, Daryl had to admit that up close she was even more breathtaking than he'd first thought. She had beautiful creamy skin, a generous and sensuous mouth, her eyes were jade green and very slightly slanted-her eyes reminded him of a cat. Her voice was full of smoke and whiskey, her laugh low and throaty. The clothes she wore revealed more than a little of her ample curves. And her scent, when a slight breeze lifted her curls he was overwhelmed with the scent of honey and vanilla and something else underneath it all that he couldn't place. He felt like a dog when it smelled a bitch in heat-she smelled to him of sex- warm and almost palpable. It drove him nearly crazy on the occasions she had stood by him-the scent lingered in his head for hours afterwards and on those nights he got no sleep from tossing and turning. He had tried to discourage her from coming over to him by being rude and brusque in his replies to her questions or just outright ignoring her-but to his intense discomfort she either didn't notice or didn't care. A few times he had caught her looking in his direction while she was on the patio with Graham and he had shrunk back further into the shadows, knowing if she could see him she'd see the open desire on his face try as he might to hide it.
Time had passed-summer to fall, fall to winter, winter to spring. Daryl wondered when the day would come when the affair would be over and he would never see Vivienne again. He realized he half hoped it would be soon, but dreaded it as well. He knew he had no chance with her, she was clearly out of his league and he wasn't interested in casually bed hopping like Merle did. He had too many secrets to be casual with anyone, and he didn't think there would ever be enough time in the world for anyone to ever earn the kind of trust he'd need to let his guard down.
In the winter, he had heard and seen arguments between Graham and Vivienne. They usually ended with Vivienne storming out and leaving in her car. During the arguments he had started to hear a hint of desperation in Graham's voice. As spring progressed, he had begun to hear a note of pleading in Graham's voice. It made Daryl want to punch the man, yell at him to not be such a pussy, didn't he see this girl didn't care about him? It made him glad he wasn't with any woman, he wasn't anybody's bitch. He wasn't going to get caught up in all that bullshit-the lying, the not knowing, the begging. With his parents it had been his ma getting the short end of the proverbial stick, but he'd seen plenty of men lose it over some slut they'd picked up at a bar. Daryl shook his head in disgust. Merle would be out soon and they would leave this place and he could forget about Vivienne. Merle's ever present voice inside his head would say, "ya sure bout that baby brother? Sure ya can forget that beautiful piece of ass?" and he would want to punch a wall to make that voice stop. Because of course that voice was right, would he in fact be able to put Vivienne out of his mind?
One night in late spring, Daryl looked up to hear the crunch of tires on the gravel in the parking lot. He saw it was Graham's car and was surprised. It was the middle of the week, he hadn't seen Graham or Vivienne here in the middle of the week in a month or so. He leaned back into the shadows and watched as Graham stumbled out of his car. Daryl watched carefully as Graham staggered up the stairs and fumbled with the lock on the door of the apartment. He shook his head-the guy was clearly drunk. Shit faced as they say, he'd never seen Graham drunk. He hadn't looked like the type of man who would drink heavily and then drive.
Daryl lit another cigarette and steadily watched and listened, straining his ears to hear Graham. He could hear some incoherent muttering, but nothing definite. They must've had another fight, maybe she had finally told him it was over. It would be difficult to have a younger, beautiful woman tell you to fuck off, but you should at least try to keep some dignity about you. Daryl shook his head and snorted in disgust. He flicked the butt out into the gravel and headed inside to get some sleep.
Daryl woke to someone pounding on his door. He immediately reached for the gun he always kept on him or at his bedside. "Who is it?" he growled.
"It's Vivi, Vivienne," he heard her voice outside his door. What the hell was she doing banging on his door at-he looked at the clock-two in the morning? He sighed and stood up, quickly pulling his jeans on.
"Hang on," he muttered. He crossed the room and pulled the door open slightly, the gun in his hand just in case.
Vivienne stood in front of him, on the edge of hysteria. She was dressed in a tank top and short jean shorts, sandals. Her hair was a mass of tangles and curls. Her face was white and she looked like she was going to pass out. "Hey, hey, sit down a minute," Daryl snapped and grabbed her arm and sat her down in a chair he had outside his door. He looked around quickly for Graham, but didn't see him. He knelt down in front of her and looked at her sternly. "Settle down. Tell me what's got you so upset," he started and Vivienne looked at him and he recognized the look of shock setting in. He'd seen that look on his mother's face often enough after his dad had beaten her. Daryl scanned her arms and face quickly, expecting to see bruises. "Tell me what's wrong," he urged more gently.
Vivienne took a hitching sob and pointed toward the apartment he had earlier seen Graham go into. "He….he's dead," she whispered hoarsely. Daryl snapped his head around toward the apartment and saw she had left the door ajar and that the lights were on. He looked back at Vivienne, confused.
"Heart attack? Stroke? How?" he asked. Maybe Graham had fallen and cracked his head –he'd looked drunk enough for that Daryl reasoned.
Vivienne covered her mouth with her hands. "Sick," was all she could get out before she leaned to the side and spewed vomit all over the area next to the chair. Daryl quickly stood and stepped to her other side and held her hair back while she continued to be sick. When she looked like she was emptied out, he murmured to her to stay put and he ran in and wet a washcloth and brought it back out and wiped her face gently.
"Shhh, now. Ya gotta tell me what happened or I can't help ya," he whispered. She nodded silently and leaned into his shoulder as he knelt beside her again.
"He's…he hung himself," she whimpered. Daryl took a sharp intake of breath. No, she had to be mistaken. Couldn't be.
"Are you sure?" he whispered again. She sobbed and nodded her head again. Fuck. "Stay here, don't move. Imma gonna check things out," he muttered and he handed her the washcloth and ran over and up the stairs. Stepping into the apartment he was struck by the smell and the sight of Graham hanging from the beam between the living room and dining area. Graham had been fairly tall, so hanging had been slow, as his feet were just barely touching the floor. More like he slowly choked himself to death. Daryl stepped quickly back outside and slammed the door, taking a deep breath of fresh air. Good God, that was nothing for anyone to see. He took another deep breath and headed back down the stairs toward Vivienne. "Okay. I'll call the police. They'll need to be notified," Daryl started to say.
Vivienne looked up at him forlornly, scared. "I can't talk to them!" she whispered fervently. "He's married! I can't be involved in any of this," and she sobbed again.
Daryl thought quickly. Why was he helping this girl? She more than likely was the reason the poor guy had killed himself. Getting involved in any way at all with her was liable to just bring trouble of the worst kind knocking on his doorstep. He grimaced. He'd always been a fool for anyone hurting or scared-his brother had ribbed him mercilessly for years telling him he was too soft hearted, too womanish in his feelings and attitude. He sighed. Just like he couldn't turn his back on a brother who treated him almost as cruelly as their father had the both of them, he couldn't turn his back on this girl sitting here shivering, sobbing and in shock. He held his hand out to her and pulled her up out of the chair, brushing her curls from her face. "Do ya have anythin' that belongs to ya in the apartment?" he asked her quietly. Thankfully she shook her head no. He didn't like to think of having to go back in that room, but if they were to keep her name out of this then she couldn't have any trace of her in the apartment. "Any letters, from him to you, or notes or anything?" Again she shook her head. "What about his phone?"
Vivienne looked up at him. "Graham kept a separate burner phone for us to talk and message on." Daryl nodded.
"Where is it? Was it in the apartment?" He hoped to God it wasn't. Vivienne frowned.
"I don't know. He usually kept it in the car if he knew I was coming here to meet him," she said, thinking.
Daryl nodded and grabbed a towel from the bathroom, then went over to Graham's car and opened the driver's side door. Luckily it was unlocked. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw a phone lying on the passenger seat. He picked it up with the towel and placed it in his pants pocket and gently closed the car door again, making sure to use the towel to prevent fingerprints. He jogged back to where Vivienne was standing and pulled it out. "This it?" he muttered. Vivienne nodded. "Okay. Come inside and lie down on the bed and keep quiet. I need to figure this out," and Daryl gave her a little push into the room and shut the door and locked it. He realized as she sat on the bed that there was just the one bed in the room and he'd been sleeping in it. He sighed. Rubbing his hands over his face tiredly he placed Graham's phone on the table next to his. He'd have to figure out what to do with that later. He began to pace and lit a cigarette as he paced. Vivienne sat on the bed, her back against the headboard, silently watching Daryl pace. She was still very pale, but her stomach seemed to have settled for the time being. Daryl stopped and bent into the refrigerator and got her a soda and crossed and handed it to her wordlessly. Vivienne accepted it silently and opened it and took a long gulp of it. She placed the can on the table and wiped her face. He suddenly realized that he had Vivienne in his room, on his bed, with her married boyfriend dead in the apartment they'd been renting to sneak and see each other in. What the fuck was he thinking? He sat down suddenly on a chair as his knees gave out at the thought of all this. He was not a man given to easy fear, he'd been in plenty of tough situations before with his brother-but this was beyond all his experience. He tried to think of anything he could reference as a guide to this situation. He sighed again and bent over, rubbing his face with his hands again.
"Okay. Lemme ask ya somethin' and then I can decide what ta do," he mumbled and Vivienne nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving him. "Um, where is Graham's wife at?" he asked, thinking mentally of all the loose ends out there to tie up.
"She's in England. She never came with Graham when he came to Atlanta," Vivienne whispered so softly he had to strain to hear her. He nodded. "Has she ever met you, or been over here to even visit?" he muttered again. She shook her head. "Okay, does anyone at the college know about the two of ya? Anyone he works with, or you work with? Any friends? Family?" Vivienne shook her head again and he snorted in disbelief. "Shit, I know you women blab everythin', don't tell me ya kept this whole thing a secret this whole time," he blurted out incredulously. At that Vivienne looked at him angrily. Well at least she wasn't sitting there white faced and glassy eyed anymore.
"I don't go around blabbing as you call it," she snapped. "I didn't tell anyone because I didn't want anyone to know." She huffed. He eyed her suspiciously, not believing this for one second. Every woman he had even casually known would have broadcast this affair to anyone and everyone she knew.
He held his hand up to motion her to hush. "Aight, let's say yer tellin' the truth," and as she started to open her mouth he waved her off. "Lemme think dammit," he snapped and she sat back and snapped her mouth shut. He began to tear at his thumb as he thought. "Would Graham have told anyone about ya?" he asked again. Vivienne shook her head again impatiently. "Okay, so," and here he began to tick off points with his fingers, "No one knew anythin' about the two of ya. No one would ever guess why he would be out here in these apartments-I mean, he'd be meetin' someone but they wouldn't know who, right?" Daryl glanced up and saw Vivienne nodding thoughtfully, her mind following the same track his was. "Where's yer car at?" he asked suddenly.
"Out in the lot, two over from Graham's," she said.
Daryl held his hand out. "Gimme the keys and I'll move it next ta mine. If anyone asks, ya were here with me tonight," he snapped and went out to move the car. He smirked a bit when he saw she was driving a red BMW convertible. She'd gotten a new car since he'd last seen her. When he came back in, he saw Vivienne sitting against the headboard with her knees drawn up to her chest, her teeth chattering. He shut and locked the door again then crossed the room to sit beside her. "This is what we're gonna do," he said softly, "We're not gonna do nothin'." She looked at him in confusion. "We can't let anyone know you were here right? Not to see Graham?" she nodded again. "Well then there'd be no reason that we would know what went on in that apartment, so we can't call the police. We'll have to wait til the housekeepers clean the rooms and they'll call the police. Ya did have the housekeepers clean the apartment, didn't ya?" he asked nervously.
"I think so," Vivienne whispered. "He took care of all that. I didn't know anything about any of it. He's the one found the place and insisted on renting it, so I just stayed out of it," she whispered. Daryl sighed. He sure as hell hoped Graham had arranged someone to straighten up, otherwise it would be days before anyone found him. And if that were the case, he wasn't sticking around here to wait for it. He could help Vivienne out and then she could go back to her place and her life and he would move and try to forget all this.
About that time Vivienne's phone rang and she jumped in surprise. Daryl started also. He looked at the clock and saw the time was 3:30. Well, fuck, no sleep for him at all tonight. He motioned for Vivienne to pick the phone up. "Who is it?" he snapped, his temper getting the best of him. Vivienne looked at the phone and shook her head.
"It's not a number I know," she mumbled softly, frowning. "It looks like it's a number out of the country," and as she finished the sentence her expression turned to horror. "Oh God, he surely didn't tell his wife about us," she whispered.
"Let the voicemail get it, then we can listen and see who it is," Daryl suggested. Vivienne handed Daryl the phone as if it were poisonous and folded her arms across her chest. Daryl sighed and rubbed his face again while he waited impatiently for the phone to stop ringing and waited for the message light to blink. "Okay, let's see who this is," he mumbled and pressed the speaker so they could both hear the message.
"This is Eleanor Langworth. I'm Graham Langworth's wife." Vivienne burst into tears and covered her face. "Graham called me earlier today to inform me he wants a divorce so he can marry you. And now I can't reach him at all. I suggest that you have him call me back immediately because this conversation isn't over. And quite frankly, young lady, you aren't the first woman he's lost his mind over and you won't be the last." She would've continued but Daryl pressed the mute button and clicked the phone to mute.
"Well, she got that wrong-you were definitely the last woman for Graham," Daryl bit out in dismay. "mmmmmm," he hummed, thinking again. "If she knows about you, she'll be callin' the police when she doesn't hear back from ya or him. Which means when they find out his car is here and what's happened they'll be looking for ya." Vivienne continued to sob. Daryl stood and started to pace again. "Are ya sure ya can't just talk ta the cops?' he pleaded and Vivienne sobbed even harder. Daryl nodded and looked around the room quickly. "Kay, this is what we're gonna do. Imma packin my shit in your car, clearing outta here. Then you're gonna drive to your place and I'll follow ya-that way ya won't be here when the shit hits the fan." Vivienne looked up at Daryl quickly.
"I can't go to my place, the cops will show up there and they'll want to question me," she wailed. Daryl nodded again, thinking.
"Then we need ta hole up somewhere no one will think ta look for ya," he murmured. "Can ya drive?" he asked, staring at her intently. Vivienne nodded, taking a deep breath. "Ya got anythin' that ya need ta get first-dog, cat, anything from yer place?" Vivienne shook her head. "Kay, then let me throw my shit in yer car and we'll git. We need to hustle, no tellin' when that woman'll call the cops and we need to be gone." He hurried and threw the few things he had into a duffel and doublechecked the bathroom and around the room. He didn't have much, had been keeping his money in a safe place in the room so he didn't have to bother with banks. "We need ta stop at a bank round here-ya need to draw as much money as ya can, we can't be leavin' a trail once we leave here," and he motioned her out the door. He checked the room once more then threw the key onto the dresser and shut the door. He'd already given his notice at the shop in anticipation of Merle getting out, so there was no worry there if he just didn't show up a few days earlier than planned. He threw his bag into her car and got on the bike and waited for her to get in her car and start it up. He'd grabbed the burner phone and planned on pitching it somewhere along the road into some deep woods. He glanced around the lot to make sure no one was peeking out-of course the place had been pretty deserted lately so he would've been surprised if anyone had been up.