The morning time came and found Rita Castillo and Grace in the beautiful chick apartment Grace had been renting all these months to hide her forbidden affair.
Shades of beige and white colours covered the tall walls and ceiling creating a beautiful and calm aesthetic. As soon as anyone entered the house there was a vast painting that represented the magnificent art of nudity. Rita was laying on a leather couch with her feet up on a smaller stool dressed up in the same kind of leather fabric the couch was. Her lilac mermaid coloured dress surrounded her body as she sat and covered her ankles. She twisted a dark curl on her index finger and pressed her lips together as she scanned the vast living room with her dark orbs.
"I assume that you ladies had plenty of fun in here."
She decided to break the awkward silence with a sneaky comment. Her voice exited her lips and produced a gravel sound. As soon as Grace made sure to clean up the dust from the top of the table she turned around and replied with a smirk.
"Care to hear about the details?"
"No dear, I'm not asking for a death wish."
The brunette replied and laughed sardonically as the blonde woman across her couldn't help but blush.
"How did you manage to convince her?"
Rita's face turned serious. At some point she would have to leave this place and start over, and that scared the living daylights out of her. Back then, when she used to have money, and all the power a woman could hold in her hands she felt fearless and immune at any kind of pain and difficulty in her life.
Carlo was a terrible husband and definitely one of the most wrong choices she had ever made, but at least he provided her reassurance. Reassurance about the future, which meant that she wouldn't have to sell her body for money ever again.
She really struggled to forget about that chapter in her life. A chapter that only brought up feelings of embarrassment.
"I have my ways with Joan you do not have to worry."
Grace replied firmly with a playful tone gargling at the back of her throat.
"I just find it odd that she accepted to help me when most of the garden club ladies turned their backs on me." Rita croaked.
"Let's say that this is an exchange of information. You protect us and we protect you!"
Grace kneeled down to reach Rita's height and crossed her delicate hands under her chest before a determined look appeared on her face giving her the strength to continue.
"If you promise to keep your mouth shut about our secret then I do not find a rational reason why you shouldn't stay here."
She finished her phrase and winked.
"Your secret has been protected with me for months."
"Very well then. I'm pretty sure that Joan will be delighted to hear that!"
Grace chirped and grabbed her floral hat and white satin gloves.
"Can I get you anything else before I walk myself outside?"
She raised her baby blue eyes and looked at Rita with a serene and satisfied look in her eyes.
"Actually... One more request..."
"What is it now? You're not in place to ask for too much my dear. Let me remind you that."
Grace winked.
"Of course. How could I let that slip when you keep reminding me?"
Rita clenched her jaw and fiddled her fingers together. A shade of light dress spread all over her cheeks making her look like a vulnerable little girl. Grace frowned. It was indeed impressive to watch a cold hearted woman like Rita finally expressing feelings freely.
"Go on."
"Any ideas were Mister Polarsky is recently hanging out?"
She run her fingers through her hair and tried to say in a straight and clear voice. The only reaction she got from Grace was a loud gasp, as the eyelids of her eyes flipped open in astonishment.
"Have you lost your mind? Please tell me you're not thinking of what I'm thinking! Oh dear, god no! This is absurd. You can't meet up with a married man Rita! Especially when Annabetha made sure to learn every single detail about you. Guess what. She hates your guts."
Grace spitted out.
"I just want to talk to him Grace! One day he's ready to leave for New York with me and start a new life and next day... he moves on. He forgot about me."
Her magnificent facial features immediately darkened as she looked down ashamed.
"And were you really foolish enough to trust your gigolo? Rita you were paying for his bills! He can't even have a normal career... or even own the credentials for such a job! He's worse than a gold digger and you better put this in your head. I know that there's a dose of rationality in there!"
Grace scolded her and placed her delicate hand on Rita's shoulder as she smiled sympathetically. Her eyes glimmered under the blurry sun rays intruding the room.
"I just want to see him for one last time."
"That's how you call your erotic games now?"
"I don't need an orgasm Grace! Especially from that... man. All I need is a civil conversation."
She took a deep breath as the tension in the room grew bigger. She never had big dreams for herself and scooter... but he was a great way to spend her time when Carlo wasn't around, or obviously incapable of giving her what she deserved.
"Is that conversation gonna involve long lasting kisses and grabs at forbidden areas?"
Grace lifted a brow and narrowed her eyes.
"For god sake's you're ridiculous!"
"Well I'm sorry, but he's a married man now. And you know very well that women are much sneakier than men. He's Annabetha's bitch now and trust me she makes sure to hold his leash very tightly! Not to even mention your current condition my dear, you are barely able to walk. Do not try anything foolish! The doctors said that you need some time to regain your strength."
Rita rolled her eyes filled up with annoyance.
"And do you expect me to spend my days in this flat doing absolutely nothing?"
"Try knitting! It helps. I'm pretty sure you're gonna come up with multiple interesting ways to spend your time in here."
Grace winked playfully only to receive a disgusted and angry glare from Rita.
"I'm only joking relax... make sure to get well soon. As soon as you get healthy again I'll make sure to book you a seat in the train for New York. I'm getting you out of here Rita as soon as you are sure that you want to leave this place."
The brunette woman threw her head back on the couch and shut her eyes closed in exhaustion. She softly licked her beautifully shaped lips that had a very characteristic scar on the upper part of the right area. She rubbed her temples and breathed out heavily.
"I want nothing with this place Grace. Every time I recall all the things that happened here I want to run as fast as I can."
"I'll make sure to handle it then when the time comes. For now, rest! I'll make sure to pay you a visit on Thursday! My beloved husband will be busy attending the horse rides all day."
She winked again sneakily and gave Rita's hand a tight squeeze.
"Thank you Grace."
"Isn't it odd that good words are finally exiting your mouth?"
The blonde joked.
"Enjoy it while it lasts."
Rita smirked and Grace walked outside while a broad and shiny smile covered her face.
14th of April 1937:
It was late at night when Isabelle's short figure peeped inside the beautifully decorated wooden bedroom. The vast door made of chestnut tree creaked as she pushed it slightly open in order to take a look at the inside. The two figures had been laying on the double bed for a couple of hours now and the sound of snoring tickled her ears as she stood still. Her shaky hand was wrapped around the door handle as she prepared herself for the worst.
Thankfully Harry appeared to be fast asleep. After a long day of meet ups with his greedy and greasy overage friends and three bottles of adulterated whiskey he had returned back home in the mood for a bacchanalia. Not the good kind though. Isabelle was forced to stand still in her room, not making a sound and entirely unable to help her dear cousin who spent the biggest part of her afternoon bawling at her husband and fighting the urge to strangulate him with her bear hands. That would be a dreamy scenario if only she was strong enough to face him. Two women against an alcoholic asshole who cared more about his dirty money and empty bottles of whiskey than the very idea of taking properly care of his beautiful trophy wife.
Rita's figure remained still on the bed even though she knew that Isabelle was watching. She opened her eyes tiredly and looked at the ceiling before her dark orbs landed on the figure laying down next to her that she despised so terribly. His breathing was heavy and almost hard to hear. She couldn't even count all the times that she had woken up at night to check on his pulse while she prayed to find him dead. Even though his money allowed her to buy the fanciest jewels and clothes there wasn't a thing that she craved harder than the sheer idea of her freedom. In the end of the day she would lay back down on their bed blaming herself.
She was the one who got herself and her loving cousin into this chaos. All these unfulfilled wishes and keen desires that she suppressed ever since she was a kid pushed her to sell her body, that never stopped to amaze any male creature on this earth, and become a product of passion and lust. When she first started her "career" she thought that getting rid of an old man and gaining his fortune would be an easy task. But she was wrong. People who held a higher power in their hands were somehow blessed and "immortal". They simply wouldn't allow to themselves to die until they would have used up all their opportunities to walk down on the path of the living.
Isabelle's dark tired eyes roamed the room until they landed on Rita's. Her cousin looked at her filled up with uncertainty and fear as she slowly sat upright on the bed making sure to move her body lightly and slowly in order not to wake him up. She placed both of her feet on the cold wooden floor and pushed her hands against the soft mattress in order to gain the strength to stand up. After an incoherent grunt that left her lips her hands encircled her large abdomen for extra support and slowly walked towards her cousin who seemed to be in a rush. Isabelle extended her hand towards the brunette woman standing across her and intertwined their fingers together before she dragged her outside of the room and slowly shut the door without making any noise.
"Where's the bag?"
Rita asked and her eyes wondered around the house like a tiger who hid behind the bushes and waited for her prey to show up.
"In the car. Everything is settled but we need to be fast and thorough. I managed to get a respected amount of money from his wallet that will allow us to use the train as soon as we reach the station."
"Where to?"
The brunette replied softly as she grabbed a brown fur that was hanging from the tall wooden coat rack at the entrance of the house. Isabelle helped her put it on and placed her hands on Rita's shoulders, making her turn around and look inside her warm eyes.
"The destination is not important Rita! I need to get you and your child out of here as soon as possible! We are not safe under his roof!"
Isabelle exclaimed and her voice came out shaky and urgent. Her cousin pressed her pale full lips together and looked down over her protruding abdomen. Every time she looked at herself on the mirror she couldn't help but feel the guilt and painful memories flood her brain for once again. Every single kick is a constant reminder of the tournament that she had to go through in order to give him an offspring. She couldn't stop replaying the very image of herself laying down on the cold floor of their bedroom, her eyes half open and tired and her body bruised from the gazillion kicks and strikes she had endured. Her head was spinning and the rest of the room seemed blurry and whirly.
And there he was. Standing above her, entirely naked and drunk. His naked flesh radiated a foul odor of sweat and a beery sensation combined. His hands were now wrapped around her waste, holding her still as he entered her dry volva and pushed his hard length against her tight walls. Her breathing was unstable and her heart was aching with every heartbeat that followed. She slowly became even dizzier but seconds before everything blacked out she felt his warm sperm flood her insides and dribble down her thighs and buttcheeks. He grunted before he stood up and her eyes rolled back into her head as she passed out.
Under different circumstances the proud Rita Castillo would have loved to follow a different path in her life and focus on the only thing that made her heart warm up a little bit, but she couldn't love this child. Especially when she had to go through hell in order to acquire it. Women in her age were supposed to have become already devoted mothers and wives, with a big family that offered them nothing but happiness and a tone of responsibilities. She just never felt like she was built to follow such a lifestyle, especially when her needs and desires had been never fulfilled.
She finally gained the courage and opened up the front door of the house while she blinked a couple of times in order to adjust her sight in the darkness of the night that spread all over her garden. She could notice the yellow VW Bug parked outside of her blooming garden. Isabelle glanced over the house that was now standing a couple of metres away from
them and opened the car door waiting for Rita to take a seat. She rushed over the driver's seat and with one rapid movement of her hand, she inserted the car keys in the engine and turned the key to the right direction. The tiny lights appeared on the dashboard above the steering wheel and Isabelle was finally able to breathe steadily and relax her muscles.
She pressed her right foot on the gas and before she managed to pull down the handbrake a loud deafening sound echoed all over the neighbourhood making both women flinch and squeeze their eyes shut! She felt the car founder slowly on the black asphalt and their bodies angled towards the right direction that faced the front door of the house that was no longer closed. Rita's facial expression indicated nothing but fear and pure agony. She was frozen on her seat and her eyes were glued on the man standing across them, who currently was pointing his fumy shotgun towards them.
His body posture was slightly bending over and his face was numb and empty. The inside of his eyes was covered with a reddish hue created by the throbbing blood vessels encircling his iris and the vein on his forehead was ready to pop. He was mad. Furious. And just like that Rita Castillo was now forced to witness the cloud of dreams that promised her freedom fade away. He finally moved, but she hadn't realised until his silhouette became bigger as he approached. Isabelle squeezed the steering wheel in her sweaty palms and murmured a couple of incomprehensible swear words as she tried to press her foot on the gas for once again but it was too late.
It only took him one rapid motion of his hand to open up the car door from Rita's side violently, and another one to grab her from her dark hair and pull her out making her land on the hard pavement and right on her back. She didn't react. The pain her body had been experiencing was sizzling but her face remained numb as her lips quivered and finally shaped a straight line. It was pretty obvious that she was fighting back a wave of warm tears that shimmered inside her eyes until they run down her rosy cheeks and well shaped lips. She batted her lashes a couple of times until his hand wrapped around her wrist and held her tight in position.
"Get your ugly ass inside the house Isabelle! We need to talk!"
His voice came out heavy and raspy but that was enough for Isabelle to acknowledge that they were both in serious trouble...
Present:
A tall dusky man walked down the long dark aisle of the police station that led towards the infamous interrogating room where many brilliant serial killers and psychopaths had been housed for ages. His hands were placed inside the pockets of his vintage stroller suit that hugged his thin but masculine silhouette perfectly. His face was calm and freshly shaved but inside his dark eyes anyone could notice the big amount of confidence and determination taking over. A wise man that he had once met during his frightening mission as an undercover detective during the war world II had once told him that his job required way more than just a big amount of knowledge and Herculean skills. He ought to be confident and he had to learn how to inspire respect among the people surrounding him.
His ability to understand and read people was his weapon. And he always needed to be one step ahead, which was surprisingly easy for Vern Loomis. It was finally his first day after a month of his son's arrival. He couldn't be any happier, his family was the main source of his happiness and he couldn't feel any more grateful for the gift of life he had received from his beautiful wife Dee. After a full month of his non stop father duties he was more than ready to get back to work. He wanted to make sure that his family wouldn't miss any good. He finally entered the interrogating room and placed his envelope bag on the chair standing next to his. The other side of the table was already prepared to greet Alma Filcot's majesty.
There was a glass of water placed at the middle of the table, and a tin ashtray placed next to it. He slid his hand at the back pocket of his brown spring pants and pulled out a crumpled pack of Camel cigarettes. He placed one between his fleshy lips while he rubbed the tip of a new fusee against the back area of the matchbox. An orange flame mirrored in his glistening eyes before he leaned closer and connected the front part of his cigarette with the flame, he inhaled deeply and the heavy sensation of bitter smoke inserted his mouth and lungs. He slowly exhaled towards the ceiling and at this point the door of the room opened up and the familiar face of his friend detective Rowbin appeared behind the slightly open door.
He couldn't help but smile at the sight of his friend and previous partner at so many solved mystery cases. Vern lifted his maroon coloured hat to acknowledge the presence of his friend and greeted him with a small smirk that lifted up the corner of his lips.
"Good morning Rowbin."
He spelled in a soothing voice and the taller man returned the gesture.
"I'm gonna let you two talk and then you can meet me upstairs at my office."
The other man replied and slowly moved aside in order to allow Alma to gain access into the room. The brunette woman glanced over Vern and gave him a broad psychotic smile as she made a couple of steps closer to him revealing her red dusty dress that was not radiating the luxurious image it once did when she had first bought it. The long tail of it slithered on the surface of the wooden floor and her steps became heavier as she finally sat down across him and crossed her handcuffed hands under her chest. She remained silent but her icy blue eyes remained glued on his familiar figure. She took her time and examined him.
The other detective closed the door as he left the room but made sure to stand outside of the closed door in an statuesque pose that indicated nothing but stateliness and bravery.
Vern inhaled the last puff of his cigarette and pressed the cigarettes butt against the bottom of the ashtray, watching closely as the orange sparks turned into dust.
"It's always a pleasure to see a friendly face."
Alma broke the unbearable silence and chirped in her British accent. Vern raised his eyes and finally looked at her with sorrow and sympathy. He found himself very much able to acknowledge the motive Alma held since the very beginning of her madness but what really worried him was the fact that she appeared to be blind enough to not see the pain she had created.
"You're lucky to be alive, but I'm afraid that the judge has already made his decision. You won't be able to see the light of the day for much longer, so you better enjoy it while it lasts."
He replied and his voice came out in a much harsher tone than he expected.
"Allow me to have my doubts. In case they wanted me dead they wouldn't have waited for seven months until they kill me. They want to keep me alive detective Vern."
She gave him a lopsided grin and scrunched up her nose as she studied him.
"The only reason why they need you alive at the moment is the very fact that our analysers are interested over the way your brain works. Once they define your situation you'll be dead and justice will be served."
"What a loyal part of the system that you are detective Vern. I knew that Dee made the right choice ever since that dinner we shared all together. But unfortunately for you I have great news. I may got myself a very dear friend, and her lawyer is further than just exceptional! It won't be long until we will be having this conversation again at some place else. But I won't be imprisoned anymore."
She gave him a sinister smile that made her icy cold eyes become even more bloodcurdling than they were already.
"I was informed about that earlier in the morning. Why don't you tell me more about your friend?"
Although he knew that his question was gonna lead to a failing reply he decided to give it shot.
"Why would I do that? Friends are not supposed to be shared. I'd rather keep her to myself. How's my daughter detective Vern?"
She changed the subject and lifted both of her hands in order to tuck one wild lock of her brunette hair behind her ear.
"Your daughter is doing great Alma. So is your grandson."
"Then I can not wait to meet him."
She replied frankly.
"I'm afraid that this is not gonna happen."
"Oh but I don't need your authorisation. It won't be long until you see my name written in bold capital letters on the newspaper. You see... I'm the kind of woman who's driven by her determination, you can say that the time that I spent around the garden club ladies and Rita Castillo herself was quite educative! And I will be forever thankful to them, considering that they showed me the right path."
"How? I am pretty aware that every single one of them is trying to protect her own secrets in order to maintain their reputation but I don't see how they guided you into the right path."
"Have you ever noticed the way society works? It looks like all of us belong into a social experiment or something. They divide us into groups of people and give us a different entitlement. When it came to me, there was no important role for me left to acquire and I remained with the bromidic role of the housewife. Not that I did not appreciate my daughter and husband, cause I really did, but you see... as soon as I realised that there's more for me to do out there I did not want to belong into the fringe any more. I wanted to watch myself shine bright like a true star. I wanted people to remember my name and admire my confidence and dazzling appearance. I wanted them to acknowledge my true self! My dear husband Bertram had been always a big fan of me, but unfortunately it wasn't enough. Why should I corset myself into less greatness when I could own the world? Rita Castillo fell like a shooting star coursing the night sky and it was my moment to shine. That's the only way to make things fair."
Her words exited her mouth filled up with passion and lust for the most unspeakable actions, and honestly Vern was surprised. He tilted his head to the side and balanced it on top of his wrist. He narrowed his dark orbs and watched her closely as she spoke.
"Is there any chance you can explain to me the reason why Rita Castillo became such a big obsession to you?"
He finally interrupted her endless monologue and regained the guidance of this conversation. The people that belonged to the head quarters of the department needed explanations before they got her out of the way. The media couldn't help but beg for more information about the way this woman functioned. Everyone couldn't help but feel amazed over the fact that Alma Filcot, a desiccated housewife in California managed to clamber up in the social pyramid when her basic position belonged to the bottom.
"I had no idea that you own a psychology degree as well. Good for you my dear Vern! Good for you."
She repeated in a tone that indicated the exact opposite than delight and pride.
"I don't."
He replied coldly and he crammed his manly hand into the back pocket of his pants for once again seeking for his coveted pack of cigarettes for once again. He managed to fish one out of the packet and brought it closer to his lips in order to light it up.
"Then why are you trying to get involved into a profession that you do not pursue? You know what? I learned a very important lesson during this journey of change and transformation. A woman driven by hatred and determination is the most dangerous woman of them all. You better be aware."
"And you should know that killing people in order to become a better version of yourself is not an honest endeavour. In the end everyone pays the price of their actions."
His voice was firm and a muscle in his jaw twitched in an effort to remain calm. He threw the ash of his cigarette in the ashtray but never broke their intense eyes contact.
"And Rita Castillo hasn't paid just yet."
Her face turned deadly serious as they exchanged a couple of glares and silence followed as he observed her words with curiosity.
"You made sure to punish her in the worst way."
"And I failed. I successfully failed on my mission."
"Too bad that you'll be dead soon then."
He replied and he couldn't help but allow a slightly dose of anger and fury become visible in his eyes and voice.
"If I'm leaving this world she's coming with me!"
She smiled proudly as she exclaimed and her very words made Vern stand back up on his feet and push his chair aside. He left the room and slammed the door behind him as he glanced over Rowbin. A big frown distorted his pure facial features and became visible.
"What happened?"
"We're gonna need a psychiatrist to deal with her case. We need to buy ourselves some time. Can you handle it? I'm gonna need to go over the hospital and talk to miss Rita Castillo."
The blonde man knitted his brows together as he peered over his friend and rubbed his well shaved chin.
"Why is that?"
"I believe that Alma Filcot is no longer working alone. And if my suspicions are true Rita Castillo is still in danger!"
Vern admitted in a whisper and placed the packet of cigarettes at the pocket of his pants in case of another emergency.
"Go! I'll make a couple of phone calls and make sure that we have a psychiatrist here by tomorrow. It won't be a hard task considering that the police department in Nevada is fully equipped with multiple psychiatrists waiting in line to get a case. I'm pretty sure that they will be glad to assist us in Alma's case. Especially in Alma's case."
Detective Rowbin replied and pressed his thin lips together before he grabbed a coin that he found in his shirt's pocket and turned around heading over the telephone booth.
It was five o'clock in the afternoon when she finally found the gelato place Grace had told her about. There was an empty table outside of the small ice cream business that she slowly approached and sat down. Her body muscles were aching with every step she took and her head was heavy and slightly dizzy. The doctors had informed her that it was gonna take some time until she would be able to function properly again. But again, no matter how much Grace insisted that she stayed over the penthouse she offered her in order to heal she couldn't help but wait till the blonde woman would leave in order to get ready and start her trip over the centre of California.
It only took her an hour considering how much traffic conquered on the busy streets of California and thankfully Grace had made sure to place Rita's car keys inside her purse that she helped her carry in the apartment. Her car wasn't that far away from
the building Grace had been previously using for her "personal purposes" so finding her car wasn't that big of a deal. She sat down on the table and crossed her legs as she looked around, totally ignoring the long catalogue with a written variety of ice cream flavours laying on the table in front of her. Her dark orbs looked around the busy street and finally landed on the penthouse standing tall across the ice cream shop.
It was a vast white penthouse with tall windows that allowed the pedestrians to take a look at the inside. The owner wasn't interested at their privacy considering the lack of curtains. Across the first window the half open door of a vast sun bathed bedroom revealed the image of a tall red headed old woman sitting on a wooden stool brushing her long curly hair. She looked way too abstracted and devoted and looking at her image on the mirror across her. Her red lips were slightly parted but Rita was pretty sure that was singing.
No one else seemed to be inside the bedroom with her. The second window revealed a spacious brown tiled kitchen with indoor plants standing tall at every corner. No one was in there either... it wasn't until she noticed that the front door of the house opened up and the familiar figure she had been craving so much to see finally walked down the stairs and stood across the street. He was wearing a pair of grey pants with thin white stripes and a white tight shirt that showed of his beefy muscles. His black hair were coated in special wax that kept his coif still and fresh. He looked even better than before and honestly his visible improvement after her "death" made her blood boil.
The green light finally appeared allowing the pedestrians to pass the street as the cars froze in their positions next to each other. His walk was fast but not scurry. He seemed to be lost in her thoughts, which she knew that it wasn't something new for him. He stepped his foot on the pavement across her and walked towards the ice cream shop when his eyes landed on her thin figure and grew wide open in utter shock. He went pale and he looked like he had just seen a ghost.
"R-Rita..."
He managed to say.
"Scooter..."
-To be continued. I hoped that you liked this chapter babies. I'm gonna start writing this fan fiction and a once upon a time one is coming soon as well!