Illusion of Luck

by Robert Burton Robinson

  She decided to leave it at that. He didn’t need to know that her real name was Geoffrey Chaucer Reed. “Thank you.” She smiled. “In your email you said something about wine.”

  “Oh, yeah. I’m sorry, but I didn’t have time to pick up any.”

  “Well, that’s okay—as long as you read some poetry. I’m really looking forward to that.”

  He took her hands in his. “And up he rist, and by the wenche he crepte.” (And he rose and sneaked up on the girl).

  Chaucey immediately recognized it as a quote from Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales: The Reeves Tale.

  He drew her closer. “This wenche lay uprighte, and faste slepte.” (This girl lay across the bed, fast asleep.)

  His voice both soothed and excited her.

  “Til he so ny was, er she myghte espie.” (Until he was so close before she saw him.) He put his left arm around her and began to unbutton her blouse.

  She began to feel uneasy. What was she doing here? She had envisioned a tasteful recitation of lovely poetry, sipping fine wine from a chalice, falling into her poet’s arms in passionate love. But this was not love. This was dirty and tawdry.

  “That it had been to late for to crie.” (That it was too late for her to cry out for help.) He opened her blouse and began to run his fingers across the top of her lacy, low-cut bra.

  “Wait. I don’t know if I—“

  “—and shortly for to seyn, they were aton.” (And soon they were one.)

  “I’m sorry, Barry. I shouldn’t have come here.”

  “It’s okay, Baby. I’ll be gentle.”

  “No. I really don’t want to do this.” She tried to push him away.

  “Barry,” yelled Cynthia from the other room. “I want you, Baby.”

  Chaucey was startled. “You’ve got another woman here?”

  “If you’re trying to make me jealous, it’s working,” said Cynthia. “Come on, Honey. I got naked for you and I’m ready to go.”

  Larry released Chaucey. “Hang on. I’ll be right back.”

  Larry opened the doors and went into the other room. He shut the second door behind him so Chaucey wouldn’t hear the conversation. Then he realized Cynthia had turned off the lamp. He was standing in the dark. “I know you’re lying. So, just shut up and let me have my fun.”

  “I’m not lying. I really am naked. Come feel for yourself.”

  Larry followed the wall to the night stand and felt for the lamp. When he turned it on, he barely had time to see that she was notnaked before something flew at his face. It was Cynthia’s shoe—and her foot was in it. There was no time to react.

  The heel made direct contact with his nose and kicked his head sideways. His body followed, but not quickly enough. It was like a failed hanging attempt—the sudden jerk to the neck, stretching it a bit longer than nature intended before the faulty rope gave way.

  “You’re gonna be sorry you did that.”

  She thought he was about to beat her to death.

  But instead, he turned and walked back through the doors to the other room.

  Maybe he’s going after his gun…or the watch bomb remote.

  He was even angrier when he came back. “She’s gone!”

  Good, thought Cynthia. She didn’t know what had attracted Chaucey to him, but it had quickly become clear that she regretted it. Cynthia had heard her tell him ‘No,’ but Larry would not have stopped. He would have raped her. And then killed her. Maybe Cynthia couldn’t save herself, but at least she had saved Chaucey.

  Then Larry did something unexpected. He went out the door and locked it without saying another word. She heard him get into his car and drive away.

  Would it be wrong for her to pray for his death? She pictured him driving down a two-lane road. He would be smoking his pipe, thinking about how lucky he was when he dropped the pipe and it fell to the floorboard. After reaching down to get it, he would look up to realize he had drifted into the other lane, putting his car directly in the path of a dump truck.

  He would only driving 55 mph, but so would the trucker. He would pull the steering wheel hard to the right, causing the Jaguar to skid down the road sideways for a split second before the truck slammed into the driver’s side of the car. It would be like hitting a battleship at 110 mph—if the Jaguar had been seaworthy. But either way, he’d be sunk.

  It didn’t seem likely Larry would get himself killed before returning. But thinking about the various ways he could die helped her ignore the squeaky springs in the room above her.

  **********

  Greg, Sandy, and Rebecca were on their way to Sugar Land in the Bonneville.

  “By the way,” said Sandy, “have you talked to Cynthia’s mother?”

  “No,” said Greg. “She called my cell earlier while I was checking parking lots for Larry’s car, but I didn’t answer.”

  “So, she doesn’t even know her daughter has been abducted?” said Sandy.

  “No. But I’m sure she thinks we just left our phones in our hotel room, and that we’re having a ball at Disney World. Her cruise ship took off from Galveston this afternoon.”

  “Well, don’t you think she has a right to know?” said Rebecca.

  “Yeah, I do. And I feel bad about not telling her. But she would have skipped the cruise. And there’s not a thing she can do to help right now.”

  **********

  Crow enjoyed reading the newspaper. His reading ability had improved dramatically since high school because of his paper reading habit. He always tried to read every word in every section—even stuff he wasn’t interested in, like the obituaries.

  He picked up his paperback dictionary from the coffee table and looked up the word substantive. He was pretty sure he knew the meaning. Yeah, he thought. It’s almost the same as substantial. Why do lawyers always say substantivewhen they could say substantial, like everybody else?

  The page fell out and glided to the floor. He picked it up and put it back in its place. He would buy a new dictionary soon. They had a nice one at the store.

  His concentration was weaker than usual tonight because he was worried about Chaucey. He had upset her and she had gone somewhere. He couldn’t imagine where she went dressed that way. She rarely ever went out at all—especially at night.

  Maybe he’d been wrong to tell her how he felt. But he was only telling the truth. Now it seemed like she didn’t wantto know the truth. Before he had told her, everything had been fine. They had spent time together almost every day.

  He should have just left well enough alone. But he really wanted to hold her in his arms. He wanted to marry her and make love to her. Not that he knew how. He was a virgin. But he was sure he could figure it out. And she would help him. Chaucey always helped him with stuff. She was always patient with him. It was just one of the many things he loved about her.

  The wall clock said 9:29. He hoped she would get back soon.

  Then he heard her door opening. She was being so quiet that he almost missed it. She probably didn’t want him to know she was back because she thought he would bother her. But he wouldn’t. He would give her time to think. Time to realize that she loved him too.

  Chapter25

  Chaucey heard a knock at the door.

  She felt bad about the way she had walked out on Crow earlier in the evening. He had been so sweet to prepare a special meal for her. She shouldn’t have reacted that way when he said he loved her. She already knew it, but didn’t want to hear him say it out loud.

  “I’m sorry.” She opened the door.

  “Good.”

  He stepped in. But it wasn’t Crow—it was Larry. He had a knife in his hand and she didn’t doubt he would use it.

  She stepped back.

  He closed the door, locked it, and hooked the safety latch. “Why did you leave? It was just about to get fun.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lead you on. I should never have agreed to meet you.”

  “But you did. And you got me all hot for you.” He un
buckled his belt. “Take your clothes off.”

  “No, please…”

  “I’d rather have sex with you than stab you. But it’s your call, Honey.”

  “You don’t have to do this. Just leave now. I promise I won’t call the police.”

  “Apparently I’m not making myself clear. You will either strip naked and get down on the floor with me right now…or you will die. Your choice.” He held out the knife, ready to use it.

  She began to unbutton her blouse.

  He took off his shirt and threw it on the back of the couch. “Hurry it up.”

  She took off her blouse and began to cry.

  “Shut up,” he whispered loudly and looked around as though he could see the neighbors through the walls.

  She couldn’t stop crying, but managed to muffle the sound. She took off her high heels, then the mini skirt and the fishnet stockings. She had hooked up with a stranger she met on the internet because he seemed intelligent, well-spoken, and sexy. It had been so exciting. And so stupid. Here she was, standing in her underwear, about to be raped in her own apartment.

  “Now we’re getting somewhere,” he said. “Keep going.”

  Suddenly the locked door exploded.

  Before Larry could turn around, something big and heavy collided with his back, hurling him toward the kitchen bar. It was like a monster sack of an NFL quarterback. But the floor was harder than a football field.

  Larry managed to roll Crow’s body off of him. The behemoth had apparently hit his head on something that knocked him out.

  Adrenaline gushed through Larry’s bloodstream, producing an all-powerful rage. Just when he was about to enjoy doing anything and everything with Chaucey’s sexy body, this ogre had butted in. And now he would die. Larry would stab him in the gut so many times that his organs would be indistinguishable.

  He would lift the knife far above his head and—. Then he realized the knife was not in his hand. Where was it? He frantically looked all around the room. Then he saw it—two yards to the right, on the floor.

  He was about to dive for it when he saw Chaucey. She had run into the kitchen and grabbed an iron skillet. He turned to check the status of the giant, and saw that he was beginning to wake up. Larry jumped up, grabbed his shirt off the back of the couch, and ran out the door.

  Chaucey heard him race down the hallway and out to the stairs. She set the skillet on the bar, rushed to Crow, and knelt down beside him. “Are you alright?”

  “I think so. Got a headache though.” He looked up at her through blurry eyes. As his vision focused, he saw that she was wearing only a bra and panties. “Oh, I’m sorry.” He put his hand over his eyes.

  “It’s okay.” She pulled his hand down. “I don’t mind.”

  “You’re so beautiful, Chaucey.”

  She was surprised how good the words made her feel—coming from him. Similar words, spoken that night by Barry Undermine, had made her feel like a prostitute. “Thanks for saving me. But how did you know I was in trouble?”

  “Well, I heard you when you got home. And then I heard somebody knock. And you never have company—except me. So I snuck into the hallway and put my ear up to your door.”

  She grinned. “Well, aren’t youthe nosey one.”

  He blushed. “Sorry about that.”

  “No—I’m so glad you did.” She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead.

  He was in heaven. She had never kissed him anywherebefore. Her soft, smooth, warm, moist lips felt so…

  “Excuse me?” They were both startled by the man’s voice.

  They had forgotten her door was wide open. In fact, her door was completely destroyed.

  Two men and a woman were standing in the doorway.

  “Uh, sorry to bother you, but are you Chaucey Reed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, my name is Greg Tenorly, and I’m looking for Larry—I mean BarryUndermine.”

  “Is he a friend of yours?” said Chaucey. She got up, grabbed an afghan from the couch and wrapped it around herself.

  “No. He abducted my fiancé.”

  “Oh, no,” she said.

  “What?”

  “I met Barry at a motel tonight and he tried to force me to have sex.”

  Crow felt an overwhelming urge to hunt down Barry and smash his skull.

  “But then a woman yelled to him from the adjoining room. So he went in there—to shut her up, I think. He was definitely upset with her.”

  “Thenwhat did he do? Did you hear anything?”

  “No. When he went into the other room, I took off. He was going to rape me.”

  Greg was heartbroken. Had the savage already raped his Cynthia? And maybe even killed her?

  Chaucey went on. “And then he followed me here. He would have raped me or killed me if Crow hadn’t come to my rescue.” She smiled at Crow.

  Rebecca jumped in. “How long has he been gone?”

  “Five minutes or so. He took the stairs.”

  “What motel? What’s the room number?” said Rebecca.

  “The Lovelong Motel. Room 109.”

  “I saw it on our way in,” said Sandy.

  “Thanks,” said Greg to Chaucey. “And I’m glad you’re okay.”

  Crow and Chaucey heard the trio run down the hall and out to the stairs.

  **********

  Larry had been denied the luscious Chaucey. He had hungered for her body. He had longed to devour her. Had his hot streak of luck finally gone cold? Impossible, he thought. He had been lucky his whole life.

  And after all, he had escaped unharmed. He should have been dead—or at least have had some broken bones. Any mere mortal would have. But hehad walked away unscathed. So, no—he hadn’t lost his luck. He had just been barking up the wrong tree. Barking up the wrong she, he thought. Oh, how clever he was.

  Larry parked the Jaguar, hopped out, and went into Room 110. “Hope you got a nice nap.”

  “I need to go to the bathroom,” said Cynthia.

  He took the cuffs off and she went into the bathroom.

  “Hurry it up,” he said through the door. “We’re getting out of here—now.” He knew there was a possibility that big Chaucey’s friend would come after him. No need to presshis luck.

  Cynthia walked out. “Where are we going now?”

  “Oh, you’re gonna love it. It’ll bring back old memories.”

  She had no idea what he was talking about, but she knew it couldn’t be good.

  They got into the Jaguar and drove away.

  Cynthia wondered where Larry had gone and what he had done. She hoped Chaucey was okay.

  **********

  “I don’t see his car,” said Rebecca.

  “Maybe he parked it in back,” said Sandy.

  Greg jumped out of the Bonneville and ran to Door 109 and started banging.

  Sandy was close behind, banging on the door right next to Greg’s—110.

  After they had made a lot of racket for thirty seconds or so, a woman wrapped in a sheet came out of 108 and started to scream at them. “Stop it, you idiots!”

  They stopped and looked at her.

  She walked over closer to them and spoke confidentially. “I’ve got a client in there.” She nodded at her room.

  “Sorry,” said Greg. A client? Is that what they call them these days?

  Greg and Sandy looked to each other for direction. But before either of them could say anything, Rebecca got out of the car and ran at Door 110. Sandy jumped out of the way. She burst the door open, and then turned on the light. Greg and Sandy followed her in.

  They looked around for clues that Larry and Cynthia had been there. Nothing had been left behind.

  Greg walked over the bed and bent down to smell the bedspread.

  Sandy cringed. “What are you doing, Man?”

  “Cynthia was here. I can smell her perfume.” He felt the bed. “It’s still warm.”

  “Well, at least we know she’s still alive,” said Rebecca.
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  “Yeah, but we don’t know where they went,” said Sandy.

  “Let’s go back to The Woodlands,” said Rebecca. “Hopefully, he’s taking her to the apartment.”

  Greg had tried not to think about how frightened Cynthia must be. Because when he did, it made him sick to his stomach. Cynthia was his wife. It was his job to protect her. He was a total failure as a husband.

  Chapter26

  Rebecca got out of the car to check Larry’s apartment. In two minutes she was back. “They’re not here. He probably saw the broken window and took off. If he even came back here at all.”

  “Great,” said Greg. “If he knows we’re on to him, he’ll be more careful. And we may never find him.”

  “Yeah. But I don’t think he’s been back. Why don’t you and Sandy stay here and watch for him while I drive to the coffee shop and check his web page.”

  “Okay.”

  Greg and Sandy got out of the car and sat on the curb at the back of the parking lot.

  Rebecca drove to the nearby coffee shop, bought a cup of coffee, and powered up her laptop. She was excited to see that Larry had posted a new chapter. Funny that he would take the time to write at 11:00 PM while on the run, she thought.

  In previous chapters, Larry’s alter ego, Barry Undermine, had accurately described what Larry had been doing or was planning to do. But this time he had fictionalized. He told about meeting a beautiful woman in a motel while having his redhead in the next room. That much was true.

  But then he went on to detail the woman’s insatiable appetite for sex. And he painted himself as one of those shirtless hunks you see on the cover of a romance novel. But, in spite of his considerable strength and endurance, he could barely keep up with her. She told him she didn’t know what had come over her. Never before had her passion been so…voracious.

  Rebecca had to admit it—Larry was a talented liar.

  He talked about how he had succeeded in making his redhead jealous. And now he would take her home and she would be eager to help him reenact their first night together.

  Rebecca wondered what home he was referring to. And what would they be reenacting? Sex in the back seat of his car? Probably just more fiction, she thought.