Bounty

by Aubrey St. Clair

  It burns me to leave Chase behind with Denise. In her mind, she probably feels like she’s won. For all I know, she and Chase are back there fucking on her big conference table, laughing at the foolish and naive Canadian.

  "Hello?"

  I look up at Mark, but I see him pushing headphones into his ear so that he can speak on the phone while he drives.

  "Yes sir, we're on our way to the airport. Miss Hunter requested that I take her." He pauses for a moment. "Of course." He pulls his headset away from his ear and presses a button on his dash. Suddenly I hear Chase's voice coming through the car's speaker.

  "Lila?"

  "I'm tired of this, Chase," I say, cutting off his excuses before they begin. What can he possibly say this time. Unless Denise was lying and he isn't actually married, I don't really see any outs for him. Even if he’s split or getting a divorce or whatever, it’s certainly something he should have mentioned. He's always claimed to never have had a serious relationship, even Denise wasn't in his life romantically for very long. I think having a wife qualifies as a serious relationship that is important enough to mention. "Just tell me one thing. Is it true? Are you married?"

  I already know the answer. I saw it in his face back at the office. But I still feel myself tense as I wait to hear him say it, praying that he'll tell me it’s just a big lie Denise made up just to fuck with us again.

  "Yes, it’s true."

  My heart sinks. I feel like I am going to throw up. "Then we really have nothing more to discuss. You're a liar and a cheat."

  "Lila, it’s not like that."

  There are so many ways for men to justify running around on their wives and girlfriends. Chase has a silver tongue and I don't even want to hear what he has to say. I don't want him to sway me. I can't believe anything he has to say about this. It will always be suspect.

  "Please don't go, come back and let's talk about this. I can explain."

  "I've heard enough from you. Unless you're planning on telling Mark to turn this car around against my will, I have no plans on coming back.”

  "I wouldn’t do that." he says. I can hear the pain in his voice but as with everything else with Chase Anderson, I have no idea how genuine any of it is. "Mark will take you anywhere you want to go. I just wish you would want to come back here and talk about this."

  "I'm done talking to you," my voice snaps like a whip and I hope he can feel the sting. I want him to hurt like I hurt right now. It's not fair that I'm always the one getting bruised in this relationship.

  "Please hang up the phone," I say, leaning forward so that Mark knows I'm talking to him.

  My voice must be harsher than even I realize because he doesn't even pause to wait to see if Chase has any objections. He just presses a button and silence fills the car.

  I take a deep and steadying breath, letting it out shakily. Lies are one thing, and I hate them, but even worse is a cheat. Cheating in a relationship is the lowest of the low, in my opinion, and it’s unforgivable. I forgave Chase once before for his lies, but I can't forgive him for cheating on his wife. He didn't say ex-wife, so that means they're still married. And even if they're separated, she probably has no idea what he’s doing with his free time. For all I know, she thinks he’s off in Europe at a poker tournament. They might not even be separated. It's not fair to her any more than it’s fair to me.

  "Mark?"

  "Yes Ma'am?"

  "Obviously you heard our conversation. You've known Chase a long time. Did you know he was married?"

  Mark pauses. I can see even from the backseat how uncomfortable he is with the question. He fidgets a bit before answering. "I don't get involved in Mr. Anderson's personal affairs, Miss Hunter."

  Men and their bro codes or whatever. Mark obviously doesn't want to rat out his employer, but I couldn’t care less. "I don't blame you, Mark. That’s not my point. I just want to know whether you knew he was married. Have you ever met his wife?

  He pauses but then finally nods. “Yes."

  “Have you ever driven her anywhere?”

  He nods again. “Yes.”

  "Fine. And did you hear when Chase said you should take me wherever I wanted to go?"

  "Yes, I heard. Are we still going to the airport?"

  "No," I say, drawing in a deep breath again. "I want you to take me to her place instead. Take me to see Chase's wife."

  41

  "Um, are you sure about that?" Mark asks, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. He's not a stupid man, and he heard our conversation. He probably knows, when Chase said to take me wherever I wanted to go, this wasn't one of the places he had in mind. Yet, at the risk of offending me, he obviously wasn't prepared to just pick up the phone and call Chase back. I'm not sure how long that politeness will last, though. He might have second thoughts.

  "Of course. I know all about her, Mark." I decide to try a bluff. Chase might be a poker player, but I'm willing to gamble that his driver doesn't have his same skills at reading people. Especially as I have the advantage of Mark's eyes and attention being mostly focused on the road and not me and my face. "Denise told me everything. I just wanted Chase to confirm if it was true. But now that I know, Chase knows I'm going to want to meet her. For obvious reasons." Let Mark decide what those reasons are. "It's not far, is it?"

  Mark pauses, clearly considering what I'm saying. Finally, he turns the car around and we start heading in the opposite direction as he answers me. "It's about 20 minutes from here."

  "Okay." I pause, wondering how far I can push my luck with him. "Have you known her long?"

  I see him glance at me in the rear view, clearly still uncomfortable answering my questions. He pauses longer this time, and I wonder if he’s re-considering whether or not this diversion in our route is a good idea. If he decides to call my bluff and check with Chase, I have a feeling this trip will be cut short. "I think they had just gotten married right before I first began working for him, must be close to two years ago now."

  "Oh, that's right," I agree, trying to sound like that fits with the information I already know. It's clear by the way Mark keeps looking at me that he’s still unsure about this, so I decide to abandon my plan of trying to bluff him and instead stare out the window to avoid his gaze. Hopefully he'll read that as me being unconcerned and conclude it must mean that Chase really doesn't mind me going to visit her. I'm not sure what he’s thinking, but he doesn't turn the car around again or try to call Chase, so I consider that a win.

  As we continue driving, I try to think about what I'm going to say to Chase's wife. How will I even introduce myself? Hi, I'm your husband's mistress, seems a bit harsh. It's probably better if I figure out their exact situation first, before I say anything, but how would I do that? I had hoped to get some of that information from Mark, but I dare not ask him any more questions. He's the only chance I have at getting there in the first place. Without even her name, I would be dead in the water.

  I'm devastated by this latest revelation, but I don't really feel like it has all sunk in yet. Chase is married. To someone else. A third woman, not Denise. Thank god for that, at least. The only thing that would make this whole thing worse was if he had been married to Denise.

  Of course, we all have a past and our right to it, but this isn't the past. She’s not his ex-wife. And regardless of whether they're separated or have an open marriage or whatever, I'm not okay with this. This is someone who Chase had significant enough feelings for that he married her, someone who was even more important to him than Denise, and he never mentioned her. That alone is enough to make me suspicious. She might be just as in the dark about all of this as I am, and if so, I feel like it might be up to me to let her know. I'll decide after I get there and talk to her. Hopefully I'll be able to figure it all out. Once I do, I'll head to the airport and this time I won't be coming back.

  The car drives through a residential neighborhood with houses that are big, but not ridiculously so. The houses seem average sized, certainly not as nic
e as the house Chase is trying to buy now. How can he be trying to buy a new house and get serious with me when he has a whole other house and wife somewhere? It just boggles my mind. I know the man is cocky, but this takes it to a whole other level. I'm beginning to feel like a fool again, for all of the nice things I believed about Chase. This would have been the last thing I expected of him. He had me completely conned.

  I wonder again what Chase and Denise are doing right now. Whether he’s still there at the office, with her, or whether he left to go back to his hotel. Or maybe he’s hailed a cab and is racing to the airport to make one last effort at convincing me to stay. Spending the whole ride there coming up with some new story, some new lie, to keep me from leaving again. To explain away the fact that he’s married. Why he never mentioned her. That Denise knew, as she seems to know everything, but I didn't. Of course Denise was fine with it. She would be. That woman would probably put up with just about anything to be able to be with Chase. It blows my mind that he took so long to admit that. Or maybe he knew all along, and it was just another lie that he told me.

  We continue to drive, passing through the neighborhood and turning enough that I'm completely lost. Stop signs and speed bumps keep us from moving very fast, protecting the various children we see playing in yards from injury. Finally we pull up in front of a modest size house.

  "This is it," Mark says. "Did you want me to wait?"

  "Please. I won't be long."

  I gaze up at the house. Chase used to live here. With his wife. Maybe he still does. There’s no white picket fence, but everything else seems completely perfect. The lawn is well manicured; the house seems to be in good repair and is freshly painted. There’s a single car garage, and a long driveway that leads down to the street.

  And at the foot of the driveway is a red bike, lying on its side. Dear god. I hadn't even considered that.

  He has a kid, too.

  42

  My heart pounds in my chest as I stare at the red bicycle lying half on the lawn and the other half on the asphalt of the driveway. It hadn't even crossed my mind before, but of course it’s possible. If he has a wife, he can certainly have a child as well. It's like a bad Jerry Springer episode about fathers with more than one secret family.

  I almost tell Mark to leave right then and there. I don't even know if I can do this anymore. How can I confront this woman and her child? How can I tell them about how he’s living the life of a bachelor, out of hotel rooms with possible ex-girlfriends all over the city? Maybe all over the world?

  She must know. How could she not? What lies could he tell her that would keep her in the dark about this? Chase and I have been almost inseparable for the last couple of weeks. Maybe he popped back in while I was home during those few days. I imagine him sitting here, eating dinner with his wife and child, all the while plotting in his head what he could say to me to get me to come back. What kind of a monster can do that?

  She must already know, or at least be suspicious. Sure, Chase travels a lot as a professional poker player, but when I was with him he never really snuck off to make secret phone calls, or disappeared for long enough for secret rendezvous’hback home.

  Of course, it was the time he spent with me that was the secret. Technically I'm the “other woman” in this case. The home wrecker. I feel sick to my stomach. Chase is a master of deception. His work relies on it, and I've seen it operate first hand with the house. It's totally conceivable that this woman could be completely in the dark about everything. I have to at least find out if she already knows. And if she doesn't, then I can decide whether or not to tell her. But first I have to know.

  I push open the door and am immediately greeted by the now familiar Vegas heat. It's like stepping into a blast furnace until you get used to it. I hurry up the driveway, trying not to stare at the bike so that the implications of that don't wash over me again. One problem at a time. Even though it only takes me a few seconds to get onto the porch, the shade from the roof is still a welcome relief.

  I can already feel a bead of sweat dripping down my back, and although I know it’s most likely from the heat, I’m aware of how on edge my nerves are now that I'm standing in front of the door, just a knock away from confronting a reality that I hadn't even imagined an hour ago.

  Turning back to make sure Mark hasn't decided to abandon me after all, I'm not surprised to see him already on the phone. It's not a big leap to guess who he’s talking to. His first allegiance is and always will be to Chase. Chase pays the bills, and Mark has been his driver for almost two years. I can't blame him for ratting me out the second I'm out of the car. At least he brought me here. Still, it adds a little urgency to things, since once he hangs up that phone, there’s no telling what Chase will do. Will he race over here? I'm 20 minutes away. Will he call me and try to convince me not to say anything? I reach into my purse and flip my phone to vibrate. I don't even want to hear it if he does.

  The other alternative is that he calls his wife. Makes up some story about a crazy lady that he beat in a poker game here to spread lies about him or something. I have no idea, but at this point anything is possible. If I'm going to act, I have to do it now. No more stalling.

  I reach up and knock on the hard wooden door before I have a chance to change my mind. I can hear a voice yelling from inside, and then the door swings inward. Before me is the face of a boy, at most about eight years old. But his look is wrong. I expected to see blond hair and blue eyes, but instead I see black hair and brown eyes. And skin the color of milk chocolate. I feel myself breathe out, tension I wasn't even aware of being released from my body. This kid doesn't look anything like Chase.

  "Uh, hi," I say. "Is your... is your mother home?"

  The boy looks at me for a moment and then nods, turning on his heel and racing away as he yells for his mother.

  It seems unlikely that someone who doesn’t live here would answer the door, so I'm not sure what to make of the child. Still, it relieves me that he doesn't look like Chase. Hopefully that means that it’s just a wife I have to deal with after all. Yet I still don't even know what to say.

  I don't have any time to think about it though, as a woman appears. She has a smile of greeting on her face, but a quizzical look in her eyes.

  "Hello," she says. "Can I help you?" Her voice has a familiar sounding accent that I can't quite place, but her English seems fine. Her skin is dark, like the boy's, and she seems older than I expected. If I had to guess, I would think she was in her late 30s. I'm suddenly not sure that I'm even in the right place. Did Mark take me to the wrong house in order to give Chase time to get here?

  "Uh, hi, sorry, I'm not even sure I'm at the right house. Umm, I'm looking for..." I don't even know her name. "Mrs. Anderson?"

  The woman's expression changes, but she nods quickly. "Yes, you're at the right house. That is me."

  Now it’s my expression that changes, I'm sure to one of confusion. This woman doesn't look anything like what I would have imagined Chase's wife would look like. Given the fact that he was dating me, and before that Denise, this woman doesn't seem at all like his type. And yet, maybe that was why he was cheating on her.

  She raises her eyebrow now, and I realize I'm just staring at her and not saying anything more. Her face seems familiar the more I look at it, but I'm not sure why. Suddenly the boy appears beside her, grabbing onto the woman's arm and hugging it. She puts her hand on his shoulder, pulling him close. The resemblance between the two is obvious. That’s likely why I thought she looked familiar. The boy looks just like her. And she’s Chase's wife.

  Which means he very likely could be Chase's son after all.

  43

  "Are you okay, you don't look so well?"

  I blink at the question, barely hearing it or registering the concern that is creeping across her face. Chase's wife has dark eyes that match her hair, and her voice is heavily accented. Her English seems pretty strong, but it’s obviously not her first language. In terms of her looks,
her features are strong but not overly pretty. She’s not an ugly woman, but I'm surprised nonetheless. For some reason I would have expected her to be at least as beautiful as Denise.

  "Are you injured?" The woman's eyes are scanning my body now as she examines me, looking for the cause of my strange behavior.

  "No. No, I'm fine. I just... You're Mrs. Anderson? Wife of Chase Anderson? The professional poker player?"

  "Mirana. Yes. Hello. Do you know my husband? Is he okay?"

  Her husband. Not her ex-husband. The look on her face shows genuine concern as well. "Yes. He's fine. I just... I was wondering if I could talk to you for a few minutes. It’ll be quick." I avoid the question about whether I know him for now. I don't know how to explain my relationship with Chase, and although one of the main reasons I came here was to make sure his wife knew what was going on, now that I'm faced with it I don't know what to say.

  Mirana looks confused now, but she nods and stands back, gesturing for me to come inside. She says something to the boy in Spanish and he nods, quickly running off. I hear a door close in his direction as she leads me into her living room and offers me a seat on a high backed, cushioned chair. "Would you like something to drink, Miss?"

  "My name is Lila. Lila Hunter," I quickly say, embarrassed that I hadn't even introduced myself. I'm about to say no to the drink, but then I realize how dry my mouth is. If anything, I could use the excuse to put this whole thing off just a little bit longer. "Sure, that would be lovely, thank you.”

  Mirana smiles tightly, and I wonder if she had been hoping I would say no so that I would leave quicker. "I was just about to make some tea, is that okay?"