by Heidi Lowe
He'd gone through with the move, even after his little tryst with Oliver. But I was more certain than ever that he would be back in the states with his tail between his legs before the year was out. In fact, it wouldn't have surprised me to learn, when he did return, that he'd been fooling around with Irish guys the whole time he was out there.
Jean came in to get her jacket.
"Pete and Sam landed safely," I informed her.
"Glad to hear it. Has he told you what he thinks of Ireland yet?"
"No, but from the video he sent, I can tell you it looks cold and gray."
She laughed. "That's pretty much what the UK and Ireland look like, yes."
"Are you going to the casino again?" I asked, watching her fix her hair in the mirror. I knew she liked to look presentable no matter where she went, but it seemed, at least this past week and a half, that she was making an extra effort with her appearance when it came to the casino. And she was spending a lot more time there.
"There's still so much to do. Honestly, had I known it would require this much work, I probably wouldn't have bought it."
"I really wanted us to do something tonight. We've both been working so hard. There's a fireworks display on in the park later."
"I'm sorry, angel. Maybe I'll get back early and we can catch some of it." She kissed me on the forehead and left. That was how it had been for a week and a half. Suddenly she had no time for me besides when she got home in the early hours of the morning, an hour or so before dawn.
Something was going on with her. Something between us had changed.
I stayed home that evening and worked on the mock-up for the new gallery catalog. Jean's office had all the equipment I needed.
The door burst open while I was in the middle of printing. Robyn's disapproval and disappointment at seeing me and not Jean behind the desk came as no surprise.
"Ugh, it's you," she said, rolling her eyes. "What are you doing in here?"
"What are you doing in my house?" I shot back, my voice nothing but pleasant. I asked her this all the time, and her response never differed.
"Funny, I don't see your name on the title deeds. Where's Jean?"
"At the casino. Thanks, by the way, for getting her to buy it, ensuring that we never get to see each other."
Her grin was heinous. "You're welcome. Anything I can do to help."
"I hate you," I said.
"I hate you more." She took a seat on the couch, took off her heels and started massaging her feet. "Are you sure she's at the casino? I just saw the construction manager and he didn't mention having seen her?"
I shrugged. "He probably just missed her."
Robyn looked uncertain. Stressed, also. Some strands of her brunette hair were out of place, and her skin lacked that radiant sheen it usually had. I wondered if this woman ever took a break. She was so damn loyal to Jean that she likely didn't ever want a day off to recover. I remembered then what Jean had said about her relationship with Nadine being in the toilet.
"How's Nadine?" I asked, knowing I shouldn't have.
She cleared her throat, didn't answer immediately, as though she hadn't heard. Then she said, "Wouldn't know. I haven't seen her. And I don't want to talk about it, especially not with you."
"Okay. Forget I asked."
She looked miserable, and for the first time ever my heart went out to her. Nadine was the first person she'd loved since Jean, and the heartbreak was written all over her face. Robyn had been there for me to cheer me up when I'd turned, and I wanted to return the favor.
"I'll say this, and then I'll never bring it up again. Even I would choose you over a dude. And that says everything. Men are gross! She'll realize that soon enough."
"Be quiet," she said, but I saw the hint of a smile on her lips. Job done.
It would have never occurred to me that Robyn's unexpected visit could have been fate. But now that she was here, an idea sprang to mind. It was worth a shot, at the very least.
"Hey, are you any good at finding people?" My tone was kept casual, almost indifferent.
"I'm good at everything I do, Lissa," she said matter-of-factly, keeping a straight face.
"There's someone I need to find. To get answers. I wish I never had to see her again, but she's the only one who can fill in the blanks."
She stopped rubbing her well-manicured feet and gave me a curious look, head tilted slightly. "Who are you looking for?"
I sucked in a breath and braced myself for the onslaught of insults pertaining to my stupidity in looking for the girl who'd taken my life. "Dallas."
Her stoic, expressionless face was unreadable. "The Were-girl?"
"Yes."
"Why would you want to find her?"
"She said something to me that night. Something that I can't make sense of." I sat on the edge of Jean's desk, now brimming with enthusiasm. "I don't think she was trying to kill me."
Robyn didn't blink as she watched me, her lips pursed, her posture stiff. My bringing Dallas up seemed to have set her on edge more than it had me.
"What makes you think that?"
"She wanted me and Jean to suffer, not just Jean alone. That's what she said, more or less. Killing me would have hurt Jean, but I wouldn't suffer." I got up and paced the room, trying to put together a jigsaw puzzle that was missing half its pieces. "At first I thought she wanted Jean to turn me, but that wouldn't have been a real punishment for either of us. So now I'm stumped."
When I turned to look at her, she had a dark expression, like I'd irritated her more than usual.
"Forget it, Lissa. I'm not helping you look for the werebitch. You should just let it go. Who cares what she meant? She was probably trying to get into your feeble-minded head. I see she succeeded."
"I care what she meant. It will drive me crazy not knowing."
She slipped her pretty foot back into her painful heels, and stood up. "I'm not helping you. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't know where to start looking for Weres. They live off the grid."
"If you don't help me, I'll find her myself."
She shrugged. "Do what you want. Just know that Jean won't like it. You almost lost her once because of that animal you befriended." She smirked victoriously as she saw my resolve falter. She knew I wouldn't jeopardize my relationship with Jean over Dallas.
But I decided to call her bluff. "I'll tell Jean my plans. We don't keep secrets from each other."
When Robyn faced me, just as she was about to leave the room, she sighed heavily. She studied me long and hard, and for the first time ever, I saw something in her eyes that looked remarkably like sympathy. It must have been the rarest emotion she ever displayed.
"I'm not going to promise you anything, but I'll see what I can find out," she said with reluctance.
I almost hugged her. Almost. But when my smile and thank you were met with a disgusted look and a grunt of irritation, I knew I'd made the right call suppressing the hug. I probably would have lost my arms!
TWENTY-TWO
Back when I was human, the day used to be mine alone, to do with as I pleased. I knew that once the sun went down, my evenings and nights belonged to Jean, just as my body did. Although she always had things to do, she was never too busy for me. She would reschedule international video calls sometimes just to spend an extra half an hour in bed with me.
It could be said that I'd become spoiled by all this attention. We were still in the honeymoon stage of our relationship back then. Now, we'd settled into something that resembled normality, so it stood to reason that we wouldn't spend every waking minute in each other's company.
Problem was, for the past two weeks, we'd spent hardly any time together. Not quality time, anyway. That stupid casino had stolen my girlfriend from me, taken the time that was rightfully mine. It had become her mistress, and I the pathetic wife who couldn't do a thing to stop it.
"You're doodling again. What is it this time?" Rosie said, one quiet evening at the gallery, just as she was about to head home.
She peered over my shoulder at the image I'd sketched on the back of an order form. It was clearly Jean; it was always Jean. "Have you ever thought about doing a proper painting of her?"
I laughed. "Are you kidding? She'd never have time to sit for hours, posing for me. She'd be too busy."
"I don't know," she said with a shrug. "I mean, I've only met her a couple of times, but she seems really devoted to you. You could probably get her to do it. She got you this place, didn't she?"
Elbow on the counter, I rested my chin in my hand, and let out a despondent sigh. "She can afford this. It's her time that she isn't sharing with me."
"I'm sorry." She offered me a sad smile. "Maybe you could do something for her, remind her what's important?"
Just as she was about to leave, an idea came to me. "Hey, do you know of any candle shops around here, and if they would still be open now?"
"I know of one. It's pretty expensive. If you hurry you might catch them before they close."
I retrieved my things, shut up the shop, and hailed a cab.
I read over Jean's reply to my text a second time as I prepared our bedroom and en-suite bathroom. I knew she liked to shower when she got home from work, but tonight would be different. Tonight she would bathe instead, and I would be with her.
In total, fifty candles were lit that night. The scent of strawberry invaded every inch of the rooms. A trail of rose petals led from the bedroom door into the bathroom, where more red candles burned, their flames dancing on the toilet cistern, along the rim of the bathtub. Mellow, romantic saxophone music played.
I'd done something similar for her before, but when it came to this sort of thing, I wasn't very creative. I'd likely overdone it with the candles. Something was bound to catch fire, knowing my luck.
The message was clear: she would be home by ten, she loved me, and she couldn't wait to kiss me when she walked through the door.
I smiled to myself as I read it again, then peeked at the time. A quarter to ten, merely a fifteen minute wait until I had her all to myself for the whole night...
At half past midnight, having tried her phone several times and got no answer, I began blowing out the candles. The smell of strawberries was making me sick. Worry kicked in then. Something must have happened to her for her to be this late. When it came to stuff like this, promising me she would be home at a certain time, she always stuck to her word.
Panic hit next. Who would I call if she was missing? The police couldn't and wouldn't help, not for a vampire. It would be left to me to find her, wherever she was.
I was just about to call the casino and see if anyone picked up, when I heard someone at the front door. I hurried to the stairs. She looked up at me, I looked down at her, and I realized nothing at all had happened to her, that she'd simply broken her promise.
When I stormed off back to the bedroom, she followed after me, though if her leisurely footsteps were any indication, there was no urgency.
She kicked her shoes off, removed her coat, all beneath my unblinking glare; all without saying a word to me.
"Aren't you going to tell me why you're so late? Comment on all the candles, all the trouble I went to in order to make tonight special for us?" I said, when I couldn't take the silence any longer.
Another beat of silence. Then:
"I spoke to Robyn tonight..."
I swallowed. I knew where this was going.
"She let slip that you asked her to look for Dallas."
"I did," I said levelly.
"You didn't want me to know, is that right?" Her voice was scarily calm.
"I was gonna tell you, I just...I just didn't know how to..."
"After everything that happened, after everything we went through because of her, you would go looking for her? And keep it from me?" Here she raised her voice, and something venomous shone in her eyes when she looked at me.
I stood up to face her head on, to defend myself, my decision. Sitting only made me look weak in front of her. "I wanted to find her so she could give me–"
"I don't give a shit why you wanted to find her!" This outburst actually made me jump. I'd never seen her so angry, especially at me. Over something easily explainable. "I don't want you to have anything to do with her, do you hear me? And if you insist on moving heaven and earth to find that bitch, Lissa, you and I are going to have a problem."
It didn't seem to matter at all to her that I'd become a weeping, snotty mess. Her anger was all-consuming, unrelenting. Before that night, I'd never imagined that she possessed this kind of fury, and that even if she did, she would ever direct it at me.
My obsession with finding out the truth about that fateful night was my right, but it wasn't worth losing my girlfriend over. Even though I found her tirade baffling, unprovoked, I knew I had to let it go.
"I'm sorry," I said, sniffling, "I won't look for her, if that's what you want."
I saw her throat move as she swallowed hard. Her breaths were loud and shaky. Then she said in a calm voice, "I don't want you to look for her. She's already done enough damage."
As soon as I nodded my acquiescence, she put her arms around me and apologized over and over, even started crying herself. The whole thing stunned me into silence.
Whatever had just happened, I realized, wasn't about me.
TWENTY-THREE
The day I met Hilarie, I was still in a relationship with another woman. A bad relationship that was on its last legs. When I saw Hilarie and we started talking as we waited for a bus, my first thought had been to speed up the demise of my relationship in order to pursue a new one with her. What followed were a slew of fights about nothing, unnecessary disagreements, and searching for any opportunity to make my ex as miserable as I could so she could break it off. In hindsight, I was the biggest asshole and she didn't deserve it. Nor had Hilarie when I'd done it to her with Jean.
It didn't feel good to be on the receiving end. Because it became pretty clear, at least to me, that Jean had found another, and was in the process of ushering her in. Her, or him. The fight, or rather her attack on me, two nights prior had left me suspicious of her motives. It was almost as if she was looking for a fight, any excuse to cause a rift between us. Why else would my search for Dallas have angered her so much?
I knew it wasn't all in my head.
"I can drop you to the gallery on my way to the casino," she said one evening, soaking herself in expensive perfume. I watched her jealously; inside of me a storm brewed. Once again I felt myself being transported to that time when I was on the outside looking in, when she wouldn't let me have her while everyone else could. I was that outsider again, and she was beautifying herself for another person. The jealousy burned so deep I thought it would cause a hole in my stomach.
"It's all right. I was thinking I'd work from home this evening."
"Are you sure? It's no trouble."
"Yeah. I'll see you later." I kissed her on the cheek.
Her frown said, what sort of kiss was that? And she leaned in for a proper one.
When she was gone, I touched my lips, could still feel hers against them. I cried at the thought of her sharing that kiss with another person.
Then I pulled myself out of it. There was no time for crying, or feeling sorry for myself. I grabbed my phone.
"Did you see her car?" I asked, skipping the niceties.
"Yep, I'm on her right now," Oliver said. He sounded a little far away, so I must have been on loudspeaker. "Look at us, partners in crime. You and I make such a great team. And hey, who knows, maybe when I catch her bumping nasties with some human whore, you and I could even be partners in the bedroom..."
He couldn't see my eye roll, but he must have known I was giving one, seeing as this was my default reaction to his frequent sexual advances.
"Just call me when she stops," I said, and hung up.
And so commenced the agonizing wait.
I thought about calling him back and calling it off. On the one hand I wanted confirmation tha
t my fears were justified, that there was someone else, or at the very least someplace else she was visiting, besides the casino. Yet the other part of me was terrified of learning the truth. Sometimes ignorance was preferable. There had been times, after discovering what she did to my mother, that I wished I'd never found out. In many ways it would have been easier; my mother would still be alive, out there somewhere, planning her big return, and Jean would be my flawless savior whose love for me wasn't marred by the guilt she also felt.
No, I resolved, I had to know. Either way.
I sat on the bed and waited for Oliver's call. He'd used a car she hadn't seen him in, and waited outside the house until she exited the driveway. All my idea, which, thanks to his love of espionage and deviousness, he'd happily agreed to be a part of.
When the call finally came through, some half an hour later, it nearly made me jump out of my skin. The moment of truth had arrived.
"You were right, she didn't go to the casino." His voice was unmistakably gleeful. I could almost see his grin through the phone.
My heart sank to new depths. "Where did she go?"
"To a motel. The Lion's Den. It looks like the type of place one would go to cheat on their girlfriend."
He was enjoying this about as much as I was suffering.
"Did you see which room she went into?"
"I did."
I was already hastily stuffing my feet into sneakers. "All right, text me the address. I'm on my way. Call me if she leaves."
"Roger that," he said, laughing wickedly to himself.
Crass, she'd called it when I told her about Petr's infidelity. I love you, she'd said when we were showering together only a couple of hours earlier, when I had my hand between her thighs, bringing her to climax. She'd said it to me almost every day since we'd been together. But now she was holed up in a sleazy fucking motel with some slut she probably hardly knew.
