Hi there! Well, the people have spoken, so let's see where we're going to go. There will still be romance, rest assured, but it's not going to be as easy for our girls as they thought…
Please feel free to review, it keeps the wheels of industry turning ;)
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Jade drove faster than she should, hands clenched on the wheel. Stupid. Stupid. How could she have thought it would turn out any other way? If she made it back before he did, if she was there when he got back, maybe she could pass it off as a mistake, distract him before he made plans. She did some quick calculations. He wouldn't spend much time at the airport - he never checked any bags, he had everything he needed at either end of the journey. And besides, he didn't like to stand in line with the plebs. So give him a couple of hours on the road...
It was going to be tight. Very tight. But she didn't have any other choice.
She couldn't risk him coming to find her. She could still see the text, burned in negative on the inside of her lids. No punctuation. All caps.
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I KNOW WHERE YOU ARE
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How? How had he even known? The money. Of course. He was obsessive about the fucking money. She'd only used the account because she'd wanted to pay her way. Hadn't wanted to look desperate in front of Tori. But of course he'd check it as soon as he knew she was gone.
What if he didn't go home? Shit. What if he was so mad he went straight to Tori's place? She could see him now, sat in the back seat, with Karl at the wheel, pulling on the black leather gloves. She could picture Tori opening the door without a thought, being shoved roughly inside, confused, crying, begging, the sickening crunch of a fist...
No, he wouldn't do that. Not yet. Otherwise he wouldn't have sent the text. He wanted her to suffer first. He wanted her to go home of her own accord, knowing she had no choice, knowing what was in store for her. He'd want her to walk in there and lay right down and take it, knowing what he'd do if she didn't.
She stared ahead at the road. Just a flick of the wheel would do it. Down the banking into the trees. They probably wouldn't find her for days. No one would be sorry. Not now.
But even that wouldn't help. He'd think she was still there. She imagined herself laying in the wreckage, dying, unnoticed, while Marcus drove past in grim serenity on his way towards the apartment.
She pulled the car off into a rest stop, and sat for a moment, head on the wheel. He knew she'd go home. She had to. But there was no hurry now. She could never outrun her mistakes.
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Karl sat behind the wheel, his eyes flickering nervously toward the rear-view mirror. He'd worked for Marcus a long time, and he'd never lied to him. He'd never dared.
But he liked Jade. He liked her, and he'd never been comfortable with the way Marcus treated her. Of course, there'd been others before her, and it pricked what remained of his conscience to think that he'd never protected them, never even noticed them, until it was time for them to take the long drive down to the hotel on Magdalen Avenue. But Jade seemed different. That was why he'd turned away so many times, made excuses not to be at the 'parties', drunk himself to sleep so he couldn't hear the crying.
And that was why, when Marcus asked if he'd heard from her, he hesitated.
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Tori lay face down on the bed, the dregs of the last bottle beside her, the broken glass of its predecessor undisturbed by the door. She'd gone. She'd walked out again.
Because of Heather? Had she assumed that Tori would just turn around and take Heather back, there and then? She couldn't believe that. They'd been so close to the truth, so near to reconciliation, that Tori had already privately decided that in the morning she'd ask her if she wanted to give it another chance. But Jade couldn't have wanted that. She must have been packing her things while they were in the kitchen. Had she just been waiting for the chance, seen Heather as an excuse to bolt?
None of it seemed right. None of it seemed to fit. Her anger started to subside. What if Jade had been called away by an emergency? Maybe a family crisis. Would she pack? Maybe.
She hadn't called her. She crawled off the bed, bleary and unfocussed, and searched for her phone. She pulled up Jade's number and dialled. It rang and went to voicemail. She wasn't entirely sure what it was that she wanted to say, so she shut it off again. Water. She needed water.
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Go to her. The words arrived in her head as though from a distant planet. Go to her.
I can't. I have to go home.
And what will you do then? Stay there forever? Or until he gets tired of you, uses you up, kicks you out of the door with nothing, with your life and your looks gone? Will you go to her then? Press your face up against her window, watch her happy with someone else, turn away knowing it's too late?
He'll come after me. He'll come after her.
He might anyway. And she'll be safer if you're there.
She won't.
You always looked after her.
And now I've put her in danger.
She was always in danger. That's why you stayed. Go to her. Tell her everything. Throw yourself on her mercy.
Mercy?
She's the only one who'll show you any.
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"Had she been at the house?"
"Hard to say, Boss. There was food in, the bed was made. Maybe she's staying with friends."
"She doesn't have any friends."
"Family?"
"She doesn't have any family, either. Not now. I know where she is, Karl. That's not the problem."
"Oh. Then what-"
"The question is, what shall we do about it?"
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Call her. She should call her first. She reached into her bag.
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Tori padded past the sofa with a glass of water. Her head was clearer now. She decided to try Jade again.
She put the phone to her ear, and waited until it rang, feeling a strange echoing sensation as she realized there was a simultaneous ringing from the bathroom. It took her a moment to work out what that meant. Jade's phone was in the bathroom. Was Jade in there too? Had she even looked? She had a sudden panic attack as she thought of Jade unconscious on the bathroom floor, or worse, bleeding out from some desperate suicide attempt. She dropped her own phone on the sofa and ran to the door, pushed it open.
No blood. No Jade. Just the phone, laying the middle of the floor.
She picked it up, and swiped the screen. Unusually for someone so secretive, it had no lock on it.
Her own calls were there, of course, and above…
The same number, over and over again. Dozens of them. She scrolled up in wonder.
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Jade swerved off the freeway at the next exit, and caught it again in the opposite direction. No phone. Damn it. She'd have to go in cold, and bear the brunt of Tori's anger. What in God's name was she going to say to her? Hi, Tori. I'm back. Oh, and by the way, I've just fucked up your life. But at least she'd have time, time to explain, make it right. Marcus wouldn't come yet. He'd know she wouldn't be expecting him for another few days, he'd let her stew for a while. That was his thing. He'd want to wait. She had plenty of time. Unless...
Unless Karl told him she'd called.
The panic hit like a tidal wave. She pressed the pedal down hard, and swore and swore and swore.
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Karl relaxed. The danger had passed. All he had to do was get Marcus home, and his transgression would never come to light. If Jade had any sense she'd run, far and fast. His boss would lose interest soon enough.
"You know something, Karl? I don't think we'll go home just yet."
Damn it. "No problem, Boss. Where to?"
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Marcus. Of course. She looked at the last call from his number. Two hours ago. Exactly the time she'd been arguing with Heather. She sank down on to the sofa. He'd called, and Jade had packed her bags and gone. She tried to imagine what he could have said, what magic he must have worked to persuade her. She'd never met him, but in her head Marcus was a seductive deceiver, a suave snake, venomous fangs hidden behind an easy charm. The idea that Jade could fall for that, prefer it, galled her beyond belief. She felt her anger bubbling up again, and she looked back at the phone. She was about to go through the texts, when she noticed the voicemail alert was showing. Guiltily she activated it.
Her own silent message was there, and then three days ago...
She listened, and tears started to fall.
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Karl didn't recognize the address. He'd driven the boss practically everywhere, knew all his secrets, but this was something he wasn't privy to, and he had a horrible feeling that the danger was still very much clear and present. I know where she is...
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She passed the airport intersection, and realised that the die was cast. There was nothing she could do. Marcus was either ahead of her, or he'd join the freeway behind her. She accelerated as much as she dared. Karl was a stickler for the speed limits - she'd never catch him, but if he was behind her she could at least give herself a head start.
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There was nothing remarkable in the message. It was terrible in its banality, a simple enquiry, the kind of message you might leave for someone who's late for dinner. There was no pleading, or threatening, no apology or explanation, it was just as though…
He doesn't know.
She never left him at all.
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She pulled off the freeway and headed down the ramp, hands shaking. She could still remember the first time. The moment she realized that things were not going to be the way she'd thought they would. Could still feel his hand running through her hair, suddenly tightening, yanking her head back. The look in his eyes and the ice in her stomach.
Living on borrowed time. But borrowed from who?
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Tori slumped over on her side, arms wrapped tightly around her, cold comfort that meant nothing. It was all lies. She'd never left him. So why had she come at all? What did she want? A fling? An affair? A cheap holiday in someone else's misery?
A break from the pain, a tiny part of her said. But what if even that was a lie?
She wouldn't. She just wouldn't. Her pain had been real, Tori could feel it, could see it in her eyes when she spoke.
And that just made it worse, she told herself. Because that's what she's chosen.
Over you.
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"Nearly there, boss."
"Good, Karl. Very good."
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Tori made her mind up. No more. She went to the bedroom and dragged open the drawer where she kept the box, pulled it out and turned it upside down over the bed. The photographs, the gifts, the notes. The things she'd kept, the things that had made up her last, irrational hope that someday, somehow, things would be right again. Heather had never found them. And now no one ever would.
She scooped everything up in her arms and headed, resolute, towards the kitchen. The garbage disposal was almost too good for them.
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She was halfway there, when she heard a heavy pounding at the door.
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I see a bad moon rising...