Chasing The O

by LaBelle, Lorelai

  I was about to throw another strike when Danielle surrounded me in a bear hug. “MACI!” She was screaming at me to calm down, to catch my breath.

  I couldn’t. “That fucking asshole!” I yelled, struggling in her tight hold. “I can’t believe it!”

  “What was on the DVD, Maci?”

  “It was Vince fucking some blond bimbo!” I roared. “He set it up and filmed it, the sick fuck!”

  “Maci, listen to what you’re saying,” she said in a soothing voice. “That doesn’t really sound like Vince. Ryan, sure. But that doesn’t sound like Vince, does it?”

  “It was all there, Danielle. I saw him. I saw him fucking that bitch like a fucking bastard!” Releasing me, Danielle scooped up the broken laptop, and popped open the DVD tray. Somehow the disc had survived. I ran at her. “Let me smash that fucking piece of shit!”

  “Wait. Hold on, Maci. I want to see it for myself,” she said.

  “To rub in the humiliation? What the fuck, Danielle?”

  “To see if it’s really Vince,” she replied, racing into the living room where her laptop was. “I just don’t believe it. I have to see it with my own eyes.”

  I chased after her, balling my fists. “Give it back, Danielle, or I swear I’ll rip your goddamn hair out.”

  “I’m not the one you’re mad at, remember?” She straightened to her full intimidating height, towering over me. “Just breathe for a second. You can smash it, burn it, and throw it into the river for all I care—just hold on, all right?”

  It felt like torrents were shooting through my veins, and my vision blurred, tears welling in my eyes. I looked at my fist, realizing I couldn’t actually hit her, and relaxed my hands.

  “I’ll watch in my room so you don’t have to hear it, okay? Are you cool with that?”

  I nodded slowly, unsure.

  Danielle sidled past me and closed her door. Time crept by and it seemed like she’d been in there for hours. Was she watching it over and over? Did she find it entertaining? Was she getting off on it? That didn’t even make sense. My thoughts were running frantically, my temper rising as the seconds passed.

  When I was finally about to knock, the door swung open, and Danielle stood there with a skeptical look on her face.

  “So?” I asked, the word coming out as a hiss.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “What does that mean, you ‘don’t know’?”

  “It means, you never see his face, never hear him talk, never get a real clear shot that shows for certain that it’s Vince. I mean, yeah, it looks like Vince a little, but it also doesn’t. I don’t know though. I’ve never seen him naked. Did you listen to it? Does it sound like Vince’s sex noises?”

  “Of course I listened to it,” I barked.

  She folded her arms across her chest. “I mean really listened to it—not just having the audio on.”

  “You’re insane, Danielle. I fucking heard it all. It’s him. It’s Vince’s bedroom for Christ’s sake!”

  “I think you should confront him with the tape before you destroy it,” she encouraged. “You’re a smart, rational person, Maci. If you watch it again, I think you’d have your doubts, too.” Watch it again? She was definitely crazy, and there she was, telling me to be rational. She stepped back to her bed and pressed the play button. I cringed as I stared at the screen. “Close your eyes and listen to it.”

  A horrible, sick feeling rose in my gut, but I did as she advised, focusing on the sounds. The grunts were so deep and guttural that doubt squeezed into my mind. And hope—hope that it wasn’t Vince.

  “So, does it sound like Vince?” she asked when it finished.

  I shook my head and collapsed onto her bed, hiding in her pillows. “When we’re doing that stuff, most of the time I kind of fall away, you know, into another place, and I can’t really hear him until the last second. It’s hard to remember exactly what he sounds like then.”

  I heard her pop out the disc. “Come on,” she said, shaking my leg. “Let’s go.”

  “Go? Go where?”

  “To Vince’s,” she answered. “This isn’t something you take a day to think about. You need to talk to him now. You’re too unstable and upset to drive, so I’ll take you.” She placed the DVD in an old P!nk CD case. She tugged on my leg, dragging half of me off the bed.

  “Okay, okay!” I got to my feet. “Fine. I’ll just grab the Santoku knife from the block.”

  No smiles or laughs erupted from her. Dead serious, she scowled at me. She herded me toward the stairs and into her car. The trip went by in silence, my head plagued by the graphic images. They made it hard to collect my thoughts. Danielle wanted me to show Vince the DVD, but I didn’t know if I could stomach that presentation.

  If it was him, and if he had sent it to me as a cruel joke, then talking about it would do nothing but make me wish I had the knife. On the other hand, it seemed so out of character, as Danielle had pointed out. With Ryan, you could see it coming—see it in his nature. Not with Vince though, which was the one reason I entertained the idea that it wasn’t him. But who was it then: his stunt double? His doppelgänger? Someone to take his place on a high-risk mission? It all sounded so incredibly unbelievable.

  Danielle parked on the street below the Envoy. “What do I say?” I asked, my stomach roiling, nausea coming on.

  “Try and keep a level head, for one,” she said, “and then just show him the DVD. Be honest and open. If you need me, I’ll be down here.”

  Honest and open, I repeated to myself, opening the car door. I let out a huge exhale. “Okay,” I sighed. “If I’m not back in thirty, it means I’m covering up a murder scene.”

  She shot me an austere face and said, “Don’t forget this.” She pointed at the CD case.

  I nabbed it and headed for the stairs. I figured the longer trip would allow me to come up with what to say first. Only curses filled my head. I climbed all the stairs outside and inside, and paused at the top before the elevator that gave access to his condo. I thought about texting him to open the door for my surprise visit, but the nerve never came, my hands shaking over the screen.

  Pressing the button for the penthouse, I closed my eyes and tried to channel my anger into my breaths, controlling them with deep inhales and long exhales. The elevator shot up the single floor, and when it dinged and the light lit up, I brought my clenched fist to the door. I could suddenly feel all of my saliva evaporate in my mouth, leaving a sticky, sour residue.

  My phone unexpectedly came to life. I gazed at the name and face. Vince. My thumb idled over the green accept button. I hit it and raised the phone to my ear.

  “Maci?” Vince said after a second.

  “Hey, s-sorry.”

  “You all right? You sound a little weird.”

  My mouth dried up even more. “Good. I’m good. I’m actually in the elevator at your front door.”

  “What? Really? Did you forget something?”

  I gulped, unsure of how to respond. My stomach was about to launch the breakfast we had shared.

  He opened the door, lowering his phone when he saw me. “Hey.” His voice cracked.

  When I saw his face, all the anger and hurt and confusion exploded out of me. I hurled the CD case at his face. “You fucking cheating bastard!” I screamed, tears surging. I swung a fist.

  Recovering from the blow by the case, he caught my wrist, wrapped his arms around me, and restrained me with ease. His muscles bound me like thick ropes. “Whoa! What the hell was that for? What are you talking about?”

  “You cheated on me with that whore,” I spat. I tried to bite his arm, but it was safely out of harm’s reach.

  “Cheated on you? Have you lost your mind?” He squeezed tighter as I squirmed to get free. “I’ve never cheated on you. Is that a joke about Skye?”

  “Skye? Is that who that blond whore was? Did you tell me some fake sob story so that I’d feel sorry for you? You make me sick. Fucking sick.”

  “
Maci.” He tightened his grip in a jerk. “I’m going to let that one slide, and say that you’ve temporarily gone fucking crazy. Now before you say anything more—” He jerked again. “I want you to tell me what this is all about.”

  “What’s this about? It’s about that homemade movie you sent me.” I nodded at the floor and the open CD case, the DVD a foot away.

  “Homemade movie? Maci, I’m going to release you now, but only on the condition that you calm down, all right?” His voice was stern and level. “All right?” he said again when I didn’t respond.

  “Fine. Yes. I won’t hit you,” I agreed, his strength subduing my will to injure him.

  He let go of me. I turned and our eyes met, mine blazing with fury, his confused and defensive. “I’m going to pick that up, okay?” After a nod from me, he bent over and retrieved the DVD, reading its title. He started laughing. “This isn’t my handwriting.”

  “Well, it’s certainly you on the video,” I retorted, wiping my nose and eyes.

  His laughter subsided. “Let’s take a look then.” He left me behind, heading for his game room and the giant TV. Afraid I’d unleash my wrath again, I followed at a distance, reflecting on the detail he pointed out. I hadn’t compared the handwriting on the DVD to his penmanship on our fantasy list, which would have helped confirm my suspicion. He powered on one of the game consoles and shoved the DVD inside, before navigating to the “play” option.

  When the man walked onto the scene and stripped off his clothes, Vince’s mouth dropped open. “That’s not me,” he snorted. “That’s Cory.”

  I stepped closer to the screen. “Who?”

  “Cory Michaels, he works for the private security company I own, Three Rivers Security Services. He’s often part of my security detail.”

  “Security detail? What does that mean?”

  “Sometimes I use more than just Terrance as a bodyguard,” he replied. “Look”—he pointed at the man’s hip—“that’s a little tattoo.” He raised his shirt and pulled his gym shorts down a bit. “I don’t have a tattoo.”

  I switched between the screen and his skin. At the angle, there was definitely some color on the man’s hip, but it was hard to make it out with any certainty. It looked more like a smear than anything else, a visual defect of the camera.

  “I will say that I did hire him in case I ever needed a double, as we look remarkably similar,” he said, “but enough for you to doubt my commitment, my loyalty, my trust? That’s painful.”

  I studied the detail over and over. Was it really a hip tattoo? “Why would this Cory guy make the video and send it to me? It’s on your bed, Vince.” I stamped off into his room. The camera was set up again, which he must have done after I left, now with more equipment arranged around the bed. Taken aback, the anger swelled once more. “You have the goddamn camera right here.” My voice must have hinted that I was about to kill him, because he backed away, making sure there were a few feet between us.

  “I just bought that for us,” he tried justifying its presence. “It’s on our list, remember? To make a home movie?”

  I waved my hand for him to stop. “I can’t do it. I can’t take any more lies.” I stormed out of the room, breaking for the elevator.

  “It’s not a lie,” he said, rushing after me. “I’ll prove it to you,” he added, stepping in front of me, slowing me down. “He should be at Terrance’s right now, I’ll have him bring up Cory and you can see for yourself that I’m telling the truth.”

  I shook off Vince’s arms and continued for the elevator. The tears poured out of me as though I were a faucet.

  Vince snatched his cell. He pressed a button and his phone beeped. “You rang, m’lord,” a voice joked on the other side, imitating Lurch from the “Addams Family.”

  “Terrance, bring up Cory.”

  “Cory? Sure, boss.” There were no more exchanges.

  I pressed the button, but the doors didn’t immediately open. Vince grabbed my arms. “Wait. Just wait until they get here. Please?” It was a plea.

  I didn’t have a choice. The elevator stopped at the level below us first. It whooshed up and the doors sprang open. Next to Terrance stood a man with eerily similar features to Vince, but they weren’t twins—not from the front, anyway. The two stepped out of the elevator.

  Cory fidgeted, clearly antsy.

  “Cory, show me your tattoo,” Vince commanded, and it was a command: severe and rough.

  “My tattoo?” he stuttered. “That’s a little odd, sir.”

  “Excuse me?” Vince snarled.

  Terrance turned to Cory, all his former friendliness gone.

  “Do it or you’re fired,” Vince threatened.

  Cory backed up. “Then fire me. I don’t need this wacko shit.”

  Terrance struck fast and hard, grabbing the man by his shirt collar. The bodyguard’s movements scared the crap out of me, and I retreated a step. “Hey, put me down, man,” Cory struggled to say.

  Vince yanked down the right side of Cory’s slacks. “Look familiar?” he asked me, nodding at a colorful tattoo.

  I got closer for a clearer view of a leprechaun standing underneath a rainbow with a pot of gold. Despite the poor angle of the video, it did look like a match. All my rage surfaced. Before I knew what I was doing, my hand slapped the guy across the face, leaving a red handprint. “Why? Why did you send me the video?”

  Cory fought to get free of Terrance’s firm hold. “I didn’t send you anything. I don’t even know you, lady!”

  I raised my hand again, but this time Vince stopped me. “You had sex on my bed, Cory, and made a video of your grand escapade. Did you give it to anyone?”

  His eyes darted all around except at Vince. “I didn’t know . . . I thought it was a joke. I thought he was some perv looking to get off.”

  Terrance slammed Cory against the wall. “Who?” he growled. The bodyguard pinned the other man like a ragdoll.

  “He never gave me his name! I swear!” Cory cried out. “I was approached at a bar a few nights ago by this dude with cash. He wanted me to make a sex video in your bed. He said not to talk or show my face in it. He said it was a joke, a prank. He said he was a friend of yours, sir—an old college friend. He paid me a lot, so I didn’t think much of it. It was supposed to be a prank . . .”

  “And what did this old college friend of mine look like?” Vince asked, releasing my hand and stepping closer to the man. I backed up for a better view, Vince and Terrance standing only inches from Cory’s face.

  “I don’t know, kind of scraggly, unshaven . . . he had longer greasy hair.”

  “Was he wearing a jean jacket?” Vince asked, though it sounded like he already knew the answer.

  “Yeah. Yeah he was,” Cory said excitedly. “So he is your friend then? You know him.”

  “Terrance, let him go,” Vince said, his voice cold and dark.

  Terrance glanced over at his boss. “You sure?” Vince nodded.

  “Thank you—thank you, Mr. Forte. I’m—”

  Vince waved for silence. “Cory, you’re fired for your little stunt, but you’ll receive a one-month severance package for telling the truth. Breaching security like that . . . having sex on my bed—my bed.” He raised his voice, losing his composure. He pressed the button for the elevator. “I mean, come on, what the hell did you think would happen? That you’d get a raise? You’re lucky I’m a generous guy, Cory. I’m a billionaire, remember? Billionaires can make people disappear and pay all the right people so no one will ask any questions. You should remember that in the future.” The elevator opened, and he clapped Cory hard on the shoulder, and then shoved him into it. “Terrance, escort him out of here.”

  The man of few words stepped into the elevator. The doors closed a second later and they were gone.

  I stared at Vince, processing all the events. “I have no idea what the hell is going on right now,” I said, shaking my head.

  “I think you need a beer,” he said with a small laugh. “I’
ll pour you one.” He swept into the game room and poured two glasses from the taps. “System offline.” His loud, clear words shut off the TV, speakers, and whatever else was on.

  I leaned against the back of the couch, looking Vince straight in the eye. “Does this have anything to do with the guy Terrance was escorting out of your office that day I came to see you?”

  “Made the connection already?” He gave me a thin smile and handed me the beer.

  “You said he was someone from your past?”

  “Someone I’d like to forget,” he said, sipping his pale beer. “His name is Luke. I met him in grad school, with Alma. We all knew each other. He was going through some problems of his own, and when I tumbled down into the world of drugs, he tumbled with me. The difference between us was Alma. She tried to help him like she helped me . . . tried to help him to get clean, but he didn’t like that she had a thing for me. He blamed me then, because he was in love with her, and well, you get the picture.”

  “Had yourself a love triangle,” I said.

  “I never chose to be involved in it,” he defended, “but yeah, you could say that. Anyway, he never got clean, never came back to school, and then kind of disappeared. Then a couple of weeks ago he shows up, saying he’ll go to the press, tell them all about my past and all that shit, unless I pay him two hundred million or some crazy figure like that.”

  “So you told him off and then as revenge . . .”

  He hung his head. “He gets at you. Crazy, right?”

  I put down my beer and grabbed his arm. “So what are you going to do if he does tell someone?”

  He looked at my hand, and then met my gaze, his soft eyes glowing. “Well, like I said, it can’t stay a secret forever, so I guess I’ll just deal with it.”

  I nodded. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”

  He placed his glass on the bar. “Hey, if it weren’t for that tattoo, it would’ve fooled me, too . . . and I know you’ve been hurt that way in the past, but I was just hoping you trusted me enough to know that I would never hurt you like that.”

  We hugged each other tighter. “I guess the pain is still there from Ryan, still lingering, reminding me. It’s a hard feeling to get past, how your world can shatter in less than a minute.” The tears were flowing again.