by Annie Jocoby
It had been a fruitful trip, but I had to admit that I was worried. I called Iris at 8 PM her time, 10 AM my time, just like I promised, but it went straight to voice mail. I called several times after that, straight to voice mail. After not getting her for several hours, I gave up, knowing that she probably was asleep.
Then, I waited until 8 AM her time, 10 PM my time.
Straight to voice mail.
Yet, here I was, entertaining the Japanese business men with my colleagues, and my mind was literally thousands of miles away.
We were all making small talk, and making plans to go to a strip club later on. The very last thing that I wanted to do at that point, but I obliged like a sheep.
“Before we go to the next place, do you mind if I make a phone call?” I asked them.
“No, no, of course not,” Hirohito, the point man for the merger, said to me, bowing his head a little.
“Thank you,” I said, then went outside and called Nick.
It was around eight AM there on Saturday, ten PM here, and Nick was at work, as he always was on every other Saturday. He was the lead architect for a large firm in town, and was often away from the phone.
I prayed that I would get him.
To my surprise, he did answer the phone. It turned out that he was in his office doing some drafting of a major project in town.
“Buddy,” he said, his familiar greeting for me. “How's Tokyo?”
“Fine. Listen, I need for you to do me a favor,” I said.
“Anything.”
“I need for you to go our house as soon as you can and check on Iris.”
“Sure,” he said. “But she has a bodyguard there. I'm quite sure she is in capable hands.”
“Even so, I need you to check. I can't get ahold of her, and I'm worried.”
“Isn't she kinda an airhead?” he asked.
“She tends to be kind of forgetful. So what?”
“Well, she's the type who would let her phone run out of a battery, then forget where she placed her charger.”
“I know that,” I said, feeling impatient. “But I have a bad feeling. So, please, do this for me?”
“If you say so.”
“Call me when you find out?”
“I get off at noon, I'll swing by there before I go home, then call you.”
“Call me immediately,” I said.
“That'll be around 2 AM your time,” he said.
“That's fine.” I just hoped that I wasn't still at the strip club at that time.
Then we headed over to the strip club. I was laying off the alcohol that night, so far. I was drinking club soda, and waiting for the phone to ring.
Jackson, one of the management team that was also on this trip, came up to me. “You having fun?” he asked flirtatiously. I knew that the boy was gay, which wasn't a problem, but, since everybody in the office now knew that I swung both ways, it seemed that men were coming out of the woodwork to ogle me. I never cared about that, though. People were people, and it was flattering, if anything, but I let them all know that I was happily married, thank you very much.
It was bad enough getting the female attention constantly, now I had to put up with the male attention, too.
“Sure,” I said, looking at my phone anxiously. It was only 1 AM this time, around 11 AM Nick's time, but I was hoping that he would get off early and give me an answer. Not that I expected it, I just willed it.
“This trip has been the time of my life,” the boy said. “I've only been out of college for less than a year, and here I am, sitting in on takeover negotiations halfway around the world. Who'da thought?”
I nodded, distracted. I saw Hirohito motion to me to tip the dancer, and I gave her a hundred dollar bill from my wallet. I felt a little showy doing that, but impressing these people was the name of the game here, and whatever I could do to facilitate the best asking price for this bank, I would do it.
We were still at the club at 2:30 AM, when I looked at the phone and saw that Nick was calling.
“Excuse me,” I said to my companions. I answered the phone in the loud bar, then made my way outside to talk to him. Outside, the night air was warm, unseasonably so, seeing as this was December, and the parking lot was full. There was a loud group of people who were entering the club, so I walked a bit further, under a barren cherry tree, and sat down on the grass. I could still barely hear him.
“Did you go by the house?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said.
“And?”
“Her car is there. But she is not.”
My heart was in my throat. I knew that something was wrong, I just knew it. Iris and I have almost a psychic connection, and I knew somehow that she was in trouble.
“What about Andrew?”
“Nowhere to be found.”
“What about Daniel? Maybe he drove her somewhere?”
“I called him already. He hasn't seen her either.”
My mind started searching, wandering. “What about the other cars? Maybe she took the Jag, the Porsche, the Escalade?”
“All the cars are at the house.”
“What about Maximus, Brutus and Madison?” I asked, knowing that Iris would never, ever, just abandon the animals.
“They were there, looking pretty hungry and thirsty. The dogs were kenneled. I gave them food and water, then brought them to my house to care for them.”
Shit. She just left the animals there? Now I was really starting to panic. “Thanks,” I said. “I need to make some other phone calls.”
“Sure. Do you need anything else?”
“No, just please be on stand-by?”
“Of course.”
Good old Nick. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for me, nor I for him. It was nice to know that there was somebody who always had my back, no matter what.
Besides Iris, I mean.
I called Charlene, her mother. But I didn't want to panic her, so, when she answered the phone, I asked for Iris as casually as possible.
“Iris isn't here,” Charlene said.
“Oh, I'm so sorry. She said that she might be paying you a visit today, so I wanted to call and wish her happy anniversary.”
“Anniversary?”
“We met a year and a half ago today,” I said, which was actually true.
“Well, I'll be sure and tell her that you called when I see her,” she said. “I guess you couldn't get ahold of her?”
“No, but you know how she is,” I said, trying to sound as light as possible, disguising the panic in my throat, “she no doubt lost her phone charger.”
“She should wear that thing around her neck,” Charlene said with a laugh.
“Right,” I said, trying to fake a laugh of my own.
We hung up, then I called her two best friends, Richard and Debbie, repeating the same light-hearted scenario, panic rising with each time I heard that nobody knew where Iris was.
My phone calls made, I went back into the club, and tried to take my mind off of the whole thing for now. There were a few women in the club, and they came onto me, which I am more than used to by now. I was always polite with everybody who hit on me, because I hated to hurt people's feelings, but I was not in the mood for sexual advances. So, I rather rudely rebuffed them.
I sat back down, and drank a beer. Somebody was talking to me. Hirohito. I had to charm him - he was the point man for the takeover - so I mustered up my actor energy, flashing a smile, and laughing at the jokes he was making. I had taken some acting classes at Harvard, just because I thought that they would be fun, and they were. I learned a lot, and I used what I learned to fake my way through much of my life, putting on a brave face for the world, when I was dying inside all those years.
It was really only after I met Iris that I no longer had to fake anything, because I was finally happy and at peace with my life.
Now, here I was, digging into my repertoire once again, the comedian disguising the deep well of hurt. Only now I was disguising a ris
ing sense of panic. My gut told me that something was wrong, something was terribly, terribly wrong.
Yet, here I was, laughing at jokes, talking about American popular culture, telling jokes of my own. Drinking scotches, which I started ordering after I got back into the club, knowing that I had to drown my sense of panic in something, and also knowing that my familiar crutch, heroin, could not be accessed. Not that I couldn't find it. It was always easy to find, if you look. Rather, I knew that I couldn't do it, even if I could find some. That road led to ruin once before, or near-ruin. I barely escaped with my life, then was sure that, the second time I became addicted, after I met Iris, it would lead to ruin once more. I had something to live for, more than I ever had before, and that something was Iris. That helped me clean up my act the second time. And it was what kept me from turning to the drug this time. Iris would be disappointed in me. She might even leave me. She had shown remarkable patience and resilience through everything that she had gone through since she met me, but I knew that her patience and resilience were not boundless.
And I had no desire to push it.
So, I drank my scotch, and turned on the charm full force.
Then, after the evening was finally over, and we all turned in around 4 AM, I started to panic again.
I called Iris' phone. It was now around 2 PM her time.
Straight to voice mail.
Chapter Sixteen
I didn't sleep a wink last night. I kept calling Iris' phone, every fifteen minutes, then every five minutes, until I was calling it every minute. I was willing her to pick up her phone, talk to me, tell me that she was okay.
But I knew that she wasn't. I knew it the very first time I called her, and her phone went straight to voice mail.
How was I going to get through this next week? I would be here in Tokyo for one more week, as we finalized our negotiations for taking over this bank. Yet, Iris was out there somewhere, in trouble. And Andrew, the person who was supposed to be protecting her, was nowhere to be found, either.
I felt so impotent, so helpless.
Who could help me find her?
I tried to get into her mind, willing myself not to think the worst, which was that Rochelle had nabbed her, somehow, under Andrew's nose.
I called the police in Kansas City.
They answered the phone, and I said “I would like to report a missing person.”
“Ok, sir, who is missing?”
“My wife, Iris Gallagher. Could you please give me an e-mail address, so that I can send a picture of her?”
The dispatcher gave me this information, and I sent a picture of Iris immediately.
“How long has your wife been missing?”
“About two days. There, uh, have been threats against her recently, so this is why I’m so worried.”
“Does she have a history of running off?”
“No.”
They took down some more information, then told me that they would call the hospitals and morgues to check on her. They also would assign a detective on the case.
My blood ran icy when I heard the word “morgue.”
I wasn’t satisfied with just the police looking for her, though. I didn’t feel that they would do enough to find her. So, I paced the floor, and decided to call my father.
“Dad,” I said, mystified anew that I ever would be calling him. He was remarkably getting better - now the doctor was giving him several years to live, as opposed to weeks, which is what he had when I first arrived to visit him.
“Son,” he said. “What can I do for you?”
“Iris is missing.”
“Impossible. She has a bodyguard, you know.”
“He's missing as well.”
“Oh. Let me put my people on it, and find out where he is.”
“Put your people on it and find out where she is, first.”
“Andrew is the best, you know. He wouldn't let anything happen to her.”
“Even so, I need an APB on her.”
“Right. I'm on it as we speak.”
We hung up. I shrugged off, for now, the oddity that I would be calling my father for this, then made another phone call. To one of my underworld connections that I made when I was an addict all those years. I kept in touch with a few of them, knowing that sometimes having friends in low places could be the very best thing in life.
“Gino,” I said, after calling several other connections, and getting nothing but voice mail.
“Ryan?” Gino said. “I never thought I'd hear from you again.”
“Listen, I need a favor.”
“Ah, a favor. Well, you know, I am in serious need of a fix, and I can't seem to find the funding for it. You know of anybody I might ask about this?”
“You still got the same bank account?” I asked.
“I do.”
“I'm wiring $10,000 to your account as we speak,” I said, tapping on my phone, and wiring him the money. It probably would be going down the drain, but I really couldn't care less. It was pocket change, especially compared to the life of my beautiful wife.
“Just a second,” he said, and I heard him tapping on his phone, and checking his account. “Ok. Now, what favor do you need?”
“I'm going to send you a picture of my wife. I need for you to be on the lookout for her,” I said, sending him her picture.
After a few seconds, he said, “cute girl. I'll look out for her. But why would she be hanging around here?”
“Just a hunch,” I said.
“Ok. What should I do if she shows up?”
“Call me. Detain her somehow. I need to find her. If you find her, there’s another $100,000 in it for you. That would keep you set up for awhile.”
He gave a low whistle. “I’ll be looking for this cat for sure.”
“Oh, and Gino?”
“Yeah?”
“If you fuck me over, you're cut off for good.”
“Don't worry. I got your back,” he said, one drug addict to another.
I felt that my bases were somewhat covered. I had the police and my dad's team looking for Iris, and I had also had my underworld connection looking for her. Now, all I had to do was try to concentrate during these interminable meetings that were coming up this week.
I called Iris' number.
Straight to voice mail.
Chapter Seventeen
I was like a ghost that week, sitting through meetings, then calling Iris during every break. I called my father, the police, and Gino every night, being sensitive to the time change, knowing that I was a good 14 hours ahead of them. This meant that I had to call around 10 PM every night, so that I could get them around 8 in the morning. They always answered the phone when I called, and always told me the same thing.
They got nothing.
Still, I kept up my acting job. Nobody knew that there was a thing wrong. Typical. Nobody ever knew that there were things wrong with me, all my life, except Nick and Alexis. Everybody else saw the charmed boy who rowed, played football, and got straight As. All the while, I was dying inside from all my trauma. Now, it was acting time again, and I managed to help guide our takeover for the best possible asking price, and the best possible terms.
My hell week was finally over, and I boarded the corporate jet for the 15-hour flight from Tokyo to Kansas City. In-flight movies were playing, and my seat mate, Harry, who was the CEO of the company, was trying to make small talk, but I was exhausted from all the acting I did that week, and really needed a break. So, I shut my eyes, and pretended to sleep, and Harry eventually gave up talking to me.
We finally arrived in Kansas City, and I drove my Porsche to my home. I prayed for a miracle, that, somehow, someway, Iris would be there waiting for me.
I realized that my prayers were not answered when I arrived to my empty house.
I did such a good job with the takeover negotiations that my work allowed me to take the rest of the week off. Which was amazing to me, considering all the time that I took off before thi
s trip, but I really needed the break, so I was grateful.
But I wasn't sleeping, at all. I found myself up all night, every night, calling Iris' phone every five minutes, and mindlessly going through Internet pages. I also ended up in the seedy parts of town, combing the streets, showing Iris' picture. I had a hunch that I would find her there, among the dregs of society, which was where I myself used to haunt, back in my drug days. I never used to hang around here, except to buy my dope, but I still knew people on the streets. Gino was still on the lookout as well.
I also went to Rochelle's house, in a much tonier area, and banged on the door.
She opened the door, then smiled like I have never seen her smile before. “Well, well, well, handsome, imagine seeing you here.”
“Where is she?” I demanded.
“Where is who?”
“You know very well who. My wife.”
“I don't know.”
“Bullshit. Where is she?”
“I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“You've made threats against her, and now she's missing. Coincidence?”
She just shook her head. “I'm all talk, you know that.”
“Bullshit. All talk, my ass. Were you all talk when you almost murdered her? And what about your minions who also have it out for her?”
“What minions?”
“You know. The people you hired to come for her.”
“Are you alright? Why would I do that? I'm out on bail, don't you think that I would be put right back into my tiny little pen if I did something like that?”
For some odd reason, I ended up believing her. I had a keen ability to read people. That had always been a talent of mine.
And I read her as being completely above-board.
“Sorry for bothering you,” I said, then turned and got back into my car and went home.
I was completely jet-lagged, and, night after night, I stayed awake, getting no sleep. I was a ghost again, like before I met Iris, only worse this time. I was vaguely worried about my lack of sleep, knowing that not sleeping causes strange things to happen, like hallucinations, and my body seemed to be shutting down. But every night, I tossed and turned in the big empty bed, then ended up back on the streets, driving around, looking for her. I talked to every vagrant I saw, and even ran into a few people I knew from before.
