Because You're Mine

by Marin Montgomery

  Strike three.

  When their car crashed into a concrete barricade, I felt a deep sadness that penetrated every fiber of my being.

  They deserved it.

  I couldn’t trust Heidi not to fuck around.

  I couldn’t count on my parents to be supportive.

  And now Levin. She left without my permission. And she would have to pay for that. No one left me. No one.

  Chapter Eleven

  Levin

  I wake up after a restless sleep the next morning—one filled with flashbacks of my childhood and images of Alec chopping me into pieces.

  I decide to wait to shower at the vacation rental. This place gives me the creeps—there’s noise at all hours of the night and morning, people having sex and making animalistic noises and music echoing through the paper-thin walls. The peeling wallpaper doesn’t offer any sound protection.

  My skin is crawling from the itchy bed, and I ache. My neck and back are sore from the drive, and I’m jumpy but tired—an unpleasant combo.

  I find my way to the other side of town—the houses start to appear better kept, the ailing stucco is replaced by updated versions, and the small, unkempt yards give way to larger parcels with the distinct touch of a gardener and landscaper.

  Coffee is a must, and I pick one up as I head to the vacation rental.

  As soon as I get to my second-floor condo, I decide to calm my nerves down with a glass of wine. No judgment on the fact it’s filled to the brim and midday.

  I can barely hold it steady, my hands still shaking. I have the curtains up, and I stare out the window as I consume big gulps from the glass before I remind myself to slow down.

  The condo is small compared to the mini-mansion I was living in but perfect for me. A place to live that is mine, away from Alec’s watchful eye, is a relief.

  My surroundings are sparse. The furniture is outdated and mismatched, but I love it nonetheless. There isn’t much in the place—some furniture, dishes, and odds and ends—but it is located in what should be a great area for me.

  I like that the flooring is tile and hardwood, and it is small and compact. There’s only one bedroom, but it has a Jack and Jill bath, so the two entrances connect from the bedroom to the bath and also from the hallway.

  I walk through the place lost in thought.

  What a rough couple of days.

  The desire to sleep is overtaking my body almost like I’ve let out a big sigh of relief and can breathe. Almost.

  Until Alec is put away, I won’t.

  But sleep beckons me. I need it badly.

  I turn on the TV trying to get lost in the mindless chatter of a daytime courtroom judge. I take deep breaths.

  As I start to drift off to sleep, my body is rigid as my mind starts to wander back in time to the ever-changing line-up of my mother’s boyfriends. After Jeff, there had been Hank.

  In middle school, my mother started dating him. Hank loved motorcycles and biker bars, so my mom started dressing in leather vests and ripped jeans. They would travel around on his Harley and leave me at home for periods of time. I was twelve. I didn't mind so much since that meant no one was around to bother me. The problem was that they often forgot to leave me money. There would be an empty refrigerator and bare cupboards, and my mom didn’t have a cell phone then.

  Eric and I first bonded over the fact that neither of our parents were around. His dad was always traveling for work, and his mom usually went with him. They felt like Eric was old enough to man the house, and there was a nanny who lived on the property, so they didn’t feel like they were leaving him to his own devices.

  At that moment, the doorbell rings. I freeze, petrified.

  There’s a kitchen knife in the top drawer. I grab it and walk slowly toward the door.

  Who could be ringing my bell?

  There is a small window with curtains near the entrance, but I didn’t dare peek out. He couldn’t have found me already, could he?

  Chapter Twelve

  Alec

  When I arrive in Phoenix, I am always surprised at the weather. Even this late at night, it’s still oppressive.

  Just like Heidi. Just like my parents. Just like Eric.

  All dictating to me how my life should go, all thinking they had a say in it.

  Dry heat, my ass. I don’t know how people survive here. I’d take California any day of the week. Luckily, it is fall, and temps are in the nineties during the day. I can handle this with air-conditioning and water. At least Levin hadn't chosen the middle of summer to leave.

  My jaw clenches in anger as I think of all the trips we’d taken over the summer—Greece, Canada, Mexico, Bermuda, and Fiji. Of course, she enjoyed traveling the world on my dime.

  Growing up, her family vacations had consisted of every state surrounding Nebraska. She might have been to a few state fairs and rodeos, but she had never seen culture or been privy to the best restaurants and shopping. I would think her, of all people, would want our children to be raised in an environment she could only dream of—a home and stability. I had given her that.

  I decide to rent a large Chevy Suburban, the cargo space necessary if needed. A car would have been too small. You never know when you’re going to have to transport something—or someone. I chuckle to myself, wishing I could let Levin in on the joke. It might make her re-think leaving.

  There’s a Plan B if Levin approached me about Eric’s murder or didn’t follow my instructions.

  I crack my knuckles, the noise and the fact I do this out of annoyance always bothers Levin. I glare in the rearview mirror at my reflection. I would almost welcome her chastising me at this moment in time.

  The SUV came with tinted windows that were black enough no one could see inside.

  Maybe it was a blessing in disguise she headed to the valley of sunshine. At least tinting windows didn’t raise suspicions or result in tickets like they did in other states.

  You would think sleep would be imminent, but I’m unglued, mentally and physically with racing thoughts, jittery like I drank an entire pot of coffee. There’s no point in attempting sleep.

  I decide to drive around, aimless at first, but then with a sense of purpose. I should get a handle on the area and at least know certain landmarks—closest gas station, home improvement store, landfill.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Levin

  Glancing through the peephole, I see an elderly woman with a small mixed-breed dog at my door.

  I inch the door open slowly.

  “You must be my new neighbor,” she exclaims. She’s tall and wiry wearing a pink and white-striped tracksuit and orange sneakers.

  I step outside onto the concrete and close the door behind me.

  “Hi.” I’m shy in the face of a new neighbor and potentially someone who could give me away. “Who’s this cutie?” I kneel down to pet the bouncing bronco of a dog jumping all over.

  “Harvey,” she says. “He’s a poodle mix I got from the pound a few years ago.”

  “Cute.” I rub his soft fur.

  “I’m Elsie Bancroft if you need anything.” She waves to her condo.

  “Levin,” I say, shaking her hand. We make small talk for a minute, and then I head back inside the condo.

  I call Maddy, and she answers on the first ring.

  “I’m here,” I say.

  “Thank God.” She is relieved. “I was telling Doug that I better get a call from you soon or I’m putting out an APB!”

  “I stayed in a crappy hotel last night, but now I’m at the place.” I didn’t want to go into too much detail over the phone.

  “Your trainer is asking where you went.” She laughs. “He doesn’t care about anyone else but you.”

  “Oh, no, I hope he doesn’t call Alec. He’ll assume we’re sleeping together.”

  “I didn’t say a word. I said I had no idea where you were.” She pauses. “For all we know, you are living the lap of luxury with a stud you met on one of those dating sites.”r />
  “Farmers Only,” I volunteer.

  We both laugh.

  Maddy’s tone takes on a serious note. “Let me know what you need to settle in.”

  “I appreciate it. I’m going to run and get some groceries.” I tap my foot, the sneaker thudding on the floor, the list of errands growing. “Then I’ll call Amada. I start work tomorrow with her.”

  Amada is her cousin and my lifeline here.

  Maddy is worried. “I just want you to be safe. Are you sure we can’t just heave Alec off a bridge?” She is kidding, but I know she just wants what is best for me.

  I laugh. “Nah, he is too narcissistic to jump.”

  “Well, holler if you need me. If you go more than twenty-four hours without a call, I’m going to find you.” Maddy is struggling to control her emotions. “I am so scared, Levin.”

  On edge, I nod into the phone constantly checking to make sure the door is locked, and no one is peeking through the windows.

  “I know.” I am quiet, pensive. “I will be careful. Tomorrow I’ll be with your cousin.”

  “Thank goodness.” I hear kids screaming in the background. “Okay, doll, talk soon. Call me anytime, you hear?”

  I smile into the phone. Yes. I think to myself, yes, I will.

  Because I moved around a lot as a kid and was ashamed of where I lived, I didn’t build trust or focus on friends.

  Bringing people over to the house was a no-no, first because of the fighting between my parents, then with Jeff and the unwanted and lecherous looks. Next up, who wants to give the grand tour of an eight hundred square foot trailer? Please make yourself at home, the bathroom sink doubles as the kitchen one, I think wryly.

  Madison aka ‘Maddy’ Ferguson is different. I met her at the gym when I dropped a weight, all fifteen pounds punishing my left foot. I was hobbling around in pain, and she came to my rescue—her voice soothing, the ‘mom’ tone in place. She is maternal and savvy and thoughtful, helping me sit, ice my foot, and telling me hilarious stories about other gym patrons to make me laugh. The best one is the man who wears a banana hammock to lift weights—his veins not the only thing popping out.

  It doesn’t take long for Maddy and me to bond at the gym café or attend a Barre class together. Her schedule is prohibitive, as she has a couple of children and a husband to manage, but she always makes time for working out and our conversations.

  I glance out the window checking the surroundings. I watch as a man jogs on the walking path outside, full speed ahead.

  It’s hardly a time-crunch as I unpack my minimal belongings. The place is sparse but comfortable.

  In the bottom of a cardboard box I brought is a tattered copy of the book, Are You There God, It’s Me Margaret by Judy Blume.

  The book brings tears to my eyes. It is Eric’s and my favorite childhood author, and this particular book was a gift from him to me. The value of this is monumental but not monetary—the significance is in the pages as ripped as they are.

  I could never give away the book even though every year my mom had held a garage sale in hopes of paying our rent when she got behind. Other trinkets and toys would be sold, but this book was off-limits.

  One year she had put it in a bin to discard it, and I had flipped out slamming doors and threatening to run away. Since then, the book had been in Eric’s possession, and it had moved with him to his dorm room, our apartment senior year, and then eventually, to his loft. It was our spot for slipping letters and confidences to each other away from the curious eyes of our significant others, though I rarely had one long enough even to invite them over or introduce them. The women he brought home were also disposed of quite quickly as they seemed to realize along the way that he wasn’t going to love them the way they needed or deserved. But through our rocky relationships with others, he remained the glue that held us together. He was mine—all I had in the world—losing him had cost me a great deal.

  The book belongs on a shelf, a talisman that makes me feel Eric’s energy.

  Has Alec ever loved anything enough not to destroy it? Did killing someone give him a thrill? His tagline in business, ‘the thrill of the kill,’ seems like a double entendre to me.

  My hands tremble as I set the book on the desk, a disturbing thought as his motto takes on new meaning. If he’s capable of killing Heidi and Eric, two of the closest people in his life, then there is no doubt that I’m a target.

  I have a bullseye on my back and a stabbing pain in my heart.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Alec

  I don’t want to draw attention to myself and had chosen a non-descript hotel chain that accepted cash payments and didn’t ask for a credit card.

  It goes without saying, it’s a pay-by-the-hour joint, but one can’t be too picky when they’re in the game of kidnapping.

  The cash deposit I hand over to the front desk clerk is for more than the room, it’s for my peace of mind. I don’t want to be bothered. Stay the fuck out of my room. And my way.

  They’re more than willing to cater to my needs, a tip unnecessary but appreciated, the front desk manager offers. I explain to him… wink, wink… that I have a girlfriend visiting. No more questions are needed. No more answers are given. The front desk manager is an overweight, bald, sleazy man, and he likes the fact I allude to my rendezvous. He’s in awe that I have both a wife and mistress, and I am happy to humor him when he suggests we grab a beer sometime. I might need his help. Best to keep him intrigued.

  I would assume Levin had planned to stay at an expensive resort, more her style than a Super 8, but a search of her email tells a different story. Levin must’ve rented an apartment or condo. I search through her sent emails and find a plethora of rentals she has inquired about in the past. She is prone to seasonal depression so it makes sense she would prefer sunshine and mountains over the other states.

  Unless there is someone else. A reason to come here.

  In her email, I find just what I’m looking for. She has transferred money to a lady named Cheryl Bradley. There’s a PayPal email that shows a money transfer a month ago. I clench my fists. A month ago, my future bride decided to leave me. The one Levin ends up renting is a short-term lease and consists of a one bedroom, second floor unit in the south end of Scottsdale. The deposit and two months’ rent is required up front and paid. I am furious that I missed this email. She had deleted it out of her ‘sent’ mail. I found it in the spam cache.

  Of course, I knew she wasn’t going anywhere. I would let her have a few days to cool off, to think I have given her space and start to feel like she could start a new life without me. Then I would pounce.

  I think about the baby we are going to have.

  Her absentee parents.

  She and I would be devoted to our children. With the money from Eric’s inheritance, she could be a stay-at-home mom. Didn’t she realize what she was being given? The opportunity to raise children and get love and attention from not only me, but from them? This would make her childhood all worth the pain and would replace the abandonment she felt from her own family.

  Couldn’t she see this was just as much for her as it was for me?

  It is in her best interest to marry me and conceive my children.

  Our children, I suppose I should say.

  A therapist told me I use ‘I’ instead of ‘we’ too much, and that I have illusions of grandeur. I inflate my self-importance.

  I crack my knuckles. What is the point of paying someone to put you down? This is why I don’t believe in therapy. No one should get paid to label you.

  That therapist. Well, I didn’t see her again. After that last unfortunate accident.

  She fell down some stairs. I waited until after her last client for the evening and hid in the doorway of the office suite next to hers.

  My smiles are terse as I think of the sound the baseball bat made as it connected with her knee, which made her crumble down the stairs.

  Tonya Harding style.

  Wasn’t a ba
d idea. Thanks to the Olympic Trials for that idea.

  Levin isn’t getting any younger. I am her only hope for marriage and a family. At least that’s what I tell myself. The only other person who cared about Levin as I do is gone. Such a shame that Eric decided to take the easy way out.

  He didn’t technically have a choice, I made it for him, even wrapping the noose around his neck and pushing his feet off the chair.

  I don’t want to have to make Levin’s choice for her, but I will.

  I’ll start by giving her some space.

  I decide I’m not going to contact her.

  She won’t know what to do when I don’t show I am chasing her. No phone calls, emails, or texts to her.

  This man... if it is a man she left me for, I want to see him. He probably tried to woo her, tell her she would love the desert and promised her a good life. Why, then, is she living in a shithole condo?

  If Levin thought her lifestyle would come with her, she is batshit crazy. I made her who she is today. If another man thought I was going to give her up easily after all I had invested in her over the past year, he was crazy.

  Crazier, even than me.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Levin

  On Wednesday, I reported for duty, punctuality a must—7:00 a.m. on the dot.

  A staff meeting consisted of myself and the other four household helpers who would be taking care of the guests. The boss was a woman named Olivia Martinez, a thick, Hispanic woman who wore her black hair in a tight bun.

  “Levin Crowdley?” My name pierced through the room as she called my name.

  “Here.” I swallowed my gum and raised my hand.

  “Great, nice to meet you.” Her smile revealed a gap between her two front teeth. “I have assigned you to four rooms, and from your resume and Amada, it looks like you’re quite the addition to the team.” Amada was Maddy’s cousin, and she sat to my left.