Perfect Storm

by Erica Marselas

  Soon I listen to my body and close my eyes and sleep.

  “I feel like shit because on my way back from the bathroom, I ran into Brad. And you know how much I like him.” Gini turns to me, with a deep frown, and I take her hand.

  “It’s okay, it’s not your fault.”

  “If I had known, I would have never left you,” she says regretfully. How can I blame her? We were at a party to have fun. Who would have foreseen that I would have been picked to get roofied? Or whatever the fuck it was that happened. “I got stuck flirting with him for a bit, but then I did remember that you wanted to leave, so we went looking for you. The dance floor was packed, and it took a bit to maneuver through the crowd. When we got there, they were treating her like a rag doll. The one guy holding her up was being a perv, and the other had his phone up, and I guess he videotaped it. Poor Andrea was trying to stop it, but she’s a tiny thing, and one of the jocks was holding her back. Brad and one of his friends helped break it up.”

  “Why didn't you call me?” Dean snaps.

  Oh, now he believes me?

  “I couldn't find Lola's phone at the time. My guess is one of the assholes had it because it's gone. And I just wanted to get her out of there. We called an uber, and Andrea and I took her home, and we managed to put her to bed. I stayed to make sure she was okay.”

  “Jesus Christ.” He thrusts his long fingers into his now messy hair. “Gini, I want to know who these boys were.”

  “I told you I have no idea. I've never seen them before. Brad and the other guy who helped us had no clue either. Alpha Pi's tend to invite anybody.”

  “Oh, now you fucking care?” I snap. “If she didn’t show up would you have even sought her out to even look into what happened?”

  “Lo.” Dean inches closer to me, and I flinch back.

  “No. I tried to tell you, and you didn’t want to hear it. You were willing to give up on me.”

  A running theme in my life. But it’s not something I can think about now. If he was so willing to give up on me then maybe I do need to push back for now. No matter how soul-crushing it is, but I can’t let him destroy my heart.

  He was willing to break up with me over this. So maybe I should give him what he wants.

  Then I think of poor Georgia. The promise I made her. The promise I don’t want to break because her mother is already shitty enough at keeping anything together.

  I don’t want to abandon her.

  “I had no idea what I wanted to do, Lo. I came because I wanted to talk. But that hickey….”

  “I just need you to get away from me right now, Dean. I need space.”

  Space is fair—space to clear out the fog in my mind.

  “Fine. I’ll go, but Gini, let me talk to you.”

  “No. You don’t need to talk to her.” I clutch onto Gini’s arm like a life vest as if I’m going to float away. “Just go.”

  He bites his lip, wanting to argue with me, but I’m thankful when he turns on his heel and leaves. My head collapses into Gini’s shoulder, and I cry, wondering how things turned so messy.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  DEAN

  My fist slams into the drywall of the bathroom across from Lola’s bedroom, leaving a small dent. I can’t worry myself about it now because all I'm thinking about is killing the sons of bitches that harmed my girl. But first, I need a swift kick to my own ass. Staring back at the video, I can see her limp...ragdoll body, and if I turn the volume up, I can make out the other girl telling them to get off her.

  Why didn't I pay closer attention?

  Why did I automatically think the worst from the girl who spends practically every one of her nights with my daughter and me?

  My intentions were to come and talk to her, but the second I saw the hickey the rage boiled in my veins again and I didn't give a shit about what she had to say.

  It's hard to trust when every ounce of it has been broken by a crazy woman who won't let go. The same crazy woman who happened to show up at my door just as all of this was going down.

  I shove my phone in my back pocket and make my way downstairs to collect my daughter. I clear my throat, drawing the attention of Jasmine and Georgia who are watching Cinderella. They both look over at me and smile. Jasmine is sixteen and looks just like her mother, Kiki, with bright green eyes and the blondest of blonde hair. Not a single similarity to Lola. Now that I think of it, Lola bears no resemblance to Kiki or her father, Franco. I have no idea why I’m thinking of this now, after all these years.

  Maybe it’s because you were thinking about your ex-wife's eyes while you were fucking Lola yesterday morning that has you all in a tizzy.

  “You okay there, Mr. Goodwin?” Jasmine asks, calling me out of my deep twisted thoughts.

  “Yeah, I’m good.” I give her a small grin, but inside, I’m being tortured. “Thanks for watching her, Jasmine.”

  “No problem, we had fun.” She smiles, “How's Lo doing?”

  “She'll be okay.” I hope.

  “Daddy.” Georgia tugs on my arm. “I want to see Lola.” She pouts with her bottom lip folded down and gives the large doe eyes that she knows gets me wrapped around her little finger.

  “She's really sick right now. Maybe tomorrow. I don't want you catching what she might have.”

  “But you were in there.”

  “I'm older and know how to take care of myself.”

  “I want to see Lola!” Georgia screams and stomps her foot. I bend down, grabbing the shoulders of my tantruming child.

  “Georgia, this isn't the time to argue with me. You can see her tomorrow if she's feeling better. Now, let's get home. Daddy has some papers he needs to grade.” It isn’t what I want to do today, but shit has to get done.

  “Then who's going to play with me?” she whispers, playing with the gold locket.

  “I can. I won't be that long, and maybe you can help me.”

  “Grading papers is boring. I want to see Lola. We had plans to finish watching a movie. We can do that.”

  “Peanut, please don't fight with me right now about this. You need to trust me that it's for your own good.”

  “Yeah, you don't want to get what she has where you throw up all the time, do you?” Jasmine adds, making a yuck face. “Then you couldn't play with your horses.”

  “I guess so,” she mumbles her forehead creasing, making a giant pout.

  For a second, she reminds me of Lola when she’s upset. The familiar traits are uncanny, it’s fucking mind blogging. I should be seeing my ex-wife in my daughter, not my girlfriend.

  What the fuck is going on with me lately?

  “Come on.” I scoop her into my arms and pinch her frowny lips. “I'll let you put the letter on the papers with your favorite pink glitter marker.”

  My students always get a kick out of that.

  I release her lips, and she smiles. “Okay, you win.”

  Thank fuck.

  I thank Jasmine again for watching Georgia and ask her to call me if anything happens with Lola since she’s without a phone. And she’s s certainly not calling me anytime soon.

  “Hey, Dean. Wait up,” Gini calls as I go to cross the street with my moping daughter.

  “Yeah?” I stop, and she slips a piece of paper into my hand. “What's this?”

  “Brad's number. He might be able to help you figure out who those guys were. He helped me get the guy off Lola and dragged him out of the house. The other fuckers ran like fucking cowards when one of our other friends went after them. I want nothing more than for someone to beat them down for what they did to her.”

  That’s what I plan on doing.

  “Thank you. Can you make sure she gets checked on by a doctor? She’s so pale.” The second time she went to throw up, I swear her skin turned pasty white. I had still been furious, but I knew something was seriously wrong with her, past just being hungover.

  “I am. I’m calling her mom, so she knows we're coming down to the hospital.”

  “G
ood. Thank you.” I’m mid-turn when Gini grabs my arm, spinning me back around. Her eyes narrow at me, and I feel I'm about to be berated by my mother instead of an eighteen-year-old.

  “Listen. I get what it all looked like, but Lola loves you, and she would never do anything to jeopardize that. You do believe that, right? Because she's still freaking out that you don't.”

  “I do now.”

  “Alright.” She nods. “I guess I'll catch you later, Mr. Goodwin.”

  I spend an hour trying to grade papers, but it’s useless when all I can think about are those punk asses taking advantage of my girlfriend. I’m wasting time. I need to figure out who and where they were so I can kick their fucking asses.

  “Daddy, are you okay?” Georgia plants herself on my lap, touching my cheek. She looks up at me with her sweet angelic eyes, and I calm for a moment, thankful for her sense of peace.

  “Yeah, why would you think I'm not?” I give her my best smile.

  “Because you've been staring at that gray dot on your computer forever and given me no more papers to write a letter on. And your face is all wrinkly.” She touches my forehead, trying to smooth out my stress lines.

  “Has anyone told you you’re very perceptive?” She’s always been my little detective, ever since she was a baby. Nothing got by my little Georgia. It’s no wonder she had figured out about Lola and me.

  “Yep,” she pops the ‘p’ with a happy smile on her face.

  “Sorry, I guess Daddy is a little distracted.”

  I had been staring at my computer for too long, the gray dot being the last place Lola's phone had been on. The location sitting about a few miles from the frat house in what appeared to be a grassy area. The last time it was turned on had been eleven thirty last night.

  “How would you feel if I got Jasmine or Andrew to come over and hang out with you for a bit? I have something to do that I forgot all about.”

  “I guess.” She huffs. “But I rather have Lola.”

  Me too.

  I call Jasmine and beg her to come over and watch Georgia. She agrees and by the time I get my shoes on, they are both on the floor playing with horses while My Little Pony plays in the background.

  Unfortunately, the only news Jasmine has on Lola is that she has gone to the hospital with Gini, and when she left, Jasmine thought she looked extremely pale and weak.

  I'm just glad she went because I thought she might fight it harder and not go.

  My fists clench wanting to punch something, and I’m hoping soon it’s these little boys’ faces.

  Though I would find out, I wouldn't have any justice. As I figured, the GPS leads me to a grassy field five miles from the frat house. The phone has seen better days, appearing as if someone stomped or even ran over it. Even if it did turn on, there would be no way to tell considering the screen is totally shattered.

  “Just fucking great,” I mumble to myself. I had been hoping those motherfuckers would have been dumb enough to keep it.

  Fucking wishful thinking.

  I’ve watched the video countless times, but each time I can’t get a clear look at those asshole’s faces.

  They knew what they were doing, but it still made no sense to me why they would record their crime. It's the one thing that puzzled me the most, despite if they thought they might not get caught. They wanted it seen, and I can't help wondering if it had been made for my eyes.

  But realistically, it probably had been made to harm Lola's reputation.

  Honestly, I'm confused as fuck and no closer to finding the creeps.

  Which leads me to my next move. Pulling out my phone, I scan my contacts for the number Gini gave me earlier. At this point, I’ll take any leads.

  At the second ring, he answers, a radio blasting in the background, before he turns it down. “Hello?”

  “Is this Brad?”

  “Yeah? Who's this?” he snaps.

  “My name’s Dean. I’m Lola's boyfriend. Listen, Gini gave me your number so I can ask you about what happened with Lola last night. Thought maybe you would know something about these guys.”

  “Oh yeah, those fuckers,” he says gruffly. “I'm sorry, dude. I asked everyone I know. The only person that stood out to anyone last night was some old lady. As for the guys, nobody had seen them before or even remembers seeing them. I don't think they go to our school.”

  “Old lady?” I question. People remember an old woman and not some jock punks. Great.

  “Yeah, some gray-haired woman in a black dress with her tits hanging out. Probably someone's mother or shit.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Alright. Do you remember what they look like? Anything?”

  “I remember the bruise I left him in the side of his face after I got outside. He was blonde, about six-foot. I don't remember much, to be honest, I was hammered. I was only glad I could get him off, Lo. The other fuckers ran; I didn’t get a good look at them. Gini thinks he had her phone.”

  “Yeah, I found that. It’s destroyed”

  “I'm sorry. I wish I could be more help. I'll keep my ear out around campus. People talk, so if I hear something, I'll let you know.”

  “Thanks.”

  Once I hang up with Brad, I toss my phone to the passenger side and bang my fist into the steering wheel.

  Dead fucking end after dead fucking end.

  The only thing left to do is to get the cops involved. But the only person that has any control over that is Lola. I’m going to have to try and get her to talk to me, even for a minute.

  If anything, I'm dying to know if she is okay and apologize. To hold her.

  Lola Anderson has turned me into a pathetic loved up wuss. Peyton never even made me feel this—lost—when we would fight.

  “Hey, Dean.” Kiki gives me a weary smile, stepping outside the door. “Listen, I don't know all of what happened with you two, but she doesn't want to see you right now.”

  I figured, but it still feels like I've been kicked in the nuts.

  “I know. I came to return Lola’s phone.” I hand Kiki the device, and she examines the now destroyed phone.

  “Where did you find this?”

  “I tracked it to some grassy field just a little ways from the party. Also, has anyone talked about talking to the cops about trying to catch who did this?”

  “I did while we were at the hospital. They found traces of Rohypnol in her system. The thing is though, Dean, she doesn't want to pursue anything. She wants it to all go away. I tried to get her to change her mind, telling her this time she got lucky, but think the next girl might not be, but she’s not interested right now.”

  “I guess I understand that.” I sigh, rubbing my forehead.

  “Yeah, you know how she is,” Kiki says and glances back in the house.

  “I do.” Doesn’t mean I like it.

  Lola never liked a fuss to be made over her. There had been a time when she was still in school, and someone had stolen her purse. They took all the money she had in it, which had been her week’s pay for watching Georgia. I had told her she needed to report it, but she refused. She didn’t want to make a big deal out of it or handle any backlash from someone getting in trouble.

  I wish she understood this is a huge deal.

  “But don't you find it funny they would load the video to Facebook?” Kiki asks the same question that's been swirling my brain for hours. “It seems kind of arrogant and narcissistic? Doing something like that is either asking to get caught or they knew what they were doing.”

  “Yeah, I had those same thoughts. I watched that video so many times and I can’t get a good look at their faces. Nobody at the party remembers them.” My head throbs; this whole thing brings on the mother of all headaches. It’s obvious Lola was the target. “The only thing I can think of is that the video is some kind of trophy. It’s why I think the cops should be involved. Maybe they can link them.”

  “I can try talking to her again, but I think she just needs a day at least to rest and absor
b what has happened to her.”

  “Right. Can you tell her I was here? That I’m here if she needs anything.”

  “Of course.” She smiles and pats my hand. “She’ll come around after some rest.”

  “Thanks, Kiki. I’ll send Jasmine home in a few. That’s if Georgia hasn’t roped her into some Disney Princess movie marathon.”

  “Where’s Lola?” Georgia crosses her arms over her chest as I pick her up at school Tuesday. The day Lola usually picks her up when I have her.

  “She's still sick, peanut,” I tell her and sling her pink sequined backpack over my shoulder as we walk to the car.

  I hate lying to my daughter, but what else can I say? Lola still isn't talking to me, now going on day four. It is killing me not being able to see her or even talk to her. The only thing I know is she’s going to class and she is coming straight home because I always spy her car in the driveway afterward.

  “Can I call her?” Georgia breaks the silence in the car as we make our way home.

  “Her phone is broken, remember?”

  I have no clue if she has even replaced it yet and Kiki said she refuses to take a new one from me.

  The silence is killing me, along with my little peanut in the backseat.

  “I feel like she's not coming back,” she whispers and throws her head against the headrest and touches her necklace.

  “She will. I promise.” I'll make sure of it. I'm not giving up without a fight, but I promised her space, so I'm giving it to her.

  She has two more days before I storm into her house and put her over my shoulder and we talk.

  Or fuck.

  “Promise?”

  “I promise. I miss her too.”

  “Cause you looove her.” She giggles.

  “Yes,” I answer simply.

  “Me too. Do you think if I make her a card, she would like that?”

  “I do.”

  I'm pulling into my neighborhood when I spot Peyton’s blue Plymouth on the side of the road by the house.

  Jesus Christ. Not again.