Love Undiscovered

by Denise Wells

  I try it again.

  Same thing happens.

  What the fuck? I double check to make sure I’m at the right door.

  Six one five.

  Okay, one more time.

  Beep. Red flash.

  Fuck.

  I head back down the hall toward the elevator so I can get a new key from the front desk.

  “I show we just issued a new one a few hours ago, Ms. Vargas,” the desk clerk says.

  “No, that’s impossible. I’ve been in panels all day at the engineering conference, I didn’t ask for a new key.”

  “Maybe the notes got put in the wrong record. But I will run a new key for you now. Give me just one moment.”

  I wait as she runs the keycard through the magnetizer, drumming my fingers on the countertop just to make sure she knows I’m not happy with having to do this.

  “Here you are, Ms. Vargas. Again, I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

  I fake smile back at her and trudge to the elevator.

  “Remi!” I stop when I hear my name and look around, not immediately seeing anyone I recognize. Until he slows his jog and stops in front of me.

  Trevor. Lexie’s ex. The one she’s still hung up on.

  “Trevor? What are you doing here?” I ask as I move in to hug him, albeit awkwardly. “Wow. It’s been, what? Three months?”

  “That sounds about right.” He looks down at his feet and shuffles them a bit.

  “You aren’t the most popular guy amongst me and my girls you know.”

  “That’s kinda why I’m here,” he says sheepishly. “I was hoping to run into you.”

  “Me? How… why?” I ask. The elevator dings open, but I ignore it.

  “I saw there was a chemical engineering conference, two hours from San Soloman, I figured you’d attend.”

  “No,” I say. “I mean why did you want to find me?”

  “Can we talk? Somewhere that’s not in front of the elevator bay. Maybe get some coffee?”

  “Make it a drink and you got it. Let me just run up and change my clothes. I’ll meet you in the bar in like fifteen minutes. Does that work?”

  “Yes,” he smiles, relief on his face. “Thank you, Remi. I really appreciate it.”

  I take the next elevator up to the sixth floor, marveling over running into Trevor. I’m kind of anxious to hear about what he’s been up to. And he’d better be back to fucking grovel at Lexie’s feet if he knows what’s good for him. God, I hope he’s back for Lexie. That he wants to talk about her. That would be amazing. I find myself suddenly feeling better about things.

  Then my phone rings. I look down. It’s Stephen.

  I hang my head, take a deep breath, and answer the phone.

  “Hello, Stephen.”

  “Remi, I’m glad I caught you. I’d like to discuss how you think the presentation went today.”

  I stop walking, having now reached my door.

  “How I think it went?”

  “Yes, will you be at the mixer?”

  “No, I’m meeting a friend for drinks.”

  “This is a company trip, Remi. Not a vacation. It is strongly recommended you attend all of the events.”

  “I’ll be there after, then.”

  “I think you misunderstand—”

  “I don’t, Stephen. I don’t misunderstand. I just don’t agree. I’m off the clock. I’m on my own time, I can do what I want.”

  “Remi, tsk tsk. There is no off the clock as a salaried career professional. Your time is my time.”

  This guy, I swear!

  “You know what, Stephen? I think you should take your time and shove it up your ass. I quit.”

  I disconnect the call but can’t tell if I feel relief or regret. I swipe my card in the door lock, pissed that I can’t hold my temper better. This time, my keycard swipes green and I move into the room, kicking my shoes off as I go. Groaning at how wonderful it feels to be out of heels. I can’t wait for yoga pants, flip-flops, and a stiff drink with an old friend.

  I turn and put out the ‘Do Not Disturb’ placard from habit and deadbolt the door. Then toss my purse and phone on the floor and walk into the room from the entryway, unzipping my skirt as I go.

  It isn’t until she clears her throat, that I notice the woman sitting in the chair at the writing desk.

  Helen.

  “Why don’t you just zip that back up and have a seat on the bed. No one wants to see your skanky panties anyway,” she says.

  What the fuck is she doing here?

  “No one?” I look around, feigning nonchalance.

  Think fast.

  “Is there someone else here besides you and me?” I sound braver than I feel.

  How did she get in my room?

  Oh shit, that explains the other key that was given out. Don’t they ask for ID with that shit? Of course not, they didn’t ask for mine just now.

  I watch, in horror, as she pulls a gun from under the hand on her lap and levels it on the desk, pointed at me.

  Oh fuck.

  “Sit.”

  I comply, zipping my skirt back up as I do.

  “Why are you here?” I ask.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” she asks, waving the gun in my direction.

  “You plan to kill me?”

  “Kill. Seriously fuck up. Put a bunch of holes into. Maim for life. Yes.”

  “Why?” I ask.

  “Because, Mimi, I can.”

  “That’s not really a reason, Helen.”

  She shrugs her shoulders.

  “I can’t be worth going to jail over.”

  “Oh, I’m not going to jail.”

  “What makes you think you can shoot, maim, or kill me and not go to jail?” I ask.

  She stands up and starts walking toward me, the gun flailing a bit in her hand, her wrist limp. I don’t like how her hand keeps changing direction, yet her finger remains on the trigger.

  “I’m not worried about that. Chance will make sure the charges don’t stick.”

  “Is that what you think? That Chance will get you out of this? Are you sure about that?”

  She looks at me, her eyes defiant, but her countenance unsure. She doesn’t answer. I use that to my advantage.

  “There is no way that is happening, Helen. He’ll be the first one to lock your crazy ass up.”

  She smirks. “He won’t care. You broke up.”

  I choose not to confirm or deny that. And instead, continue to try and stare her down.

  She continues, “You broke up because of the bet.”

  “How’d you—”

  “Know about the bet? Maybe Chance told me.”

  I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me. Why would Chance tell her about the bet?

  And which bet did he tell her about? His or mine? I didn’t think they were even speaking to one another. Are they talking now? It’s been two fucking days! Why would he go to her? Tell her? What happened is personal. It’s embarrassing. Well, only for me. How dare he?

  Asshole.

  Not that he is my concern any longer, because he’s not. And, she’s right, we broke up because of the fucking bet. His fucking bet. So, what he does on his time is his business. And who he talks to or spends time with is his business. If he wants to go back to a crazy whore-bag that’s his problem.

  Except when it becomes my business because that same crazy whore-bag is holding me hostage in my own hotel room. She starts pacing in the small space between the end of the bed and the writing desk.

  “Or,” she continues. “Maybe I found out from your good friend Connie.”

  Connie?

  My Connie? From work?

  Fucking hell. The first time I venture out and get a friend, she turns out to be a backstabbing bitch. See, this is why you never trust anyone. I look back at Helen, trying to gauge which is the more accurate of the two statements.

  “Blood is always thicker than water, Mimi. Connie and I grew up together. She tells me everything.”

>   I really don’t like how this is sounding.

  “Or, maybe after I saw you with Chance at the concert I started following you around and watching your every move. How else would I have found out that my favorite cousin is also your friend. It was like kismet.”

  Everything she’s saying is not only possible but plausible. Why didn’t I notice anything? Why did I tell Connie so much? How the hell am I going to get myself out of this?

  Think, Remi!

  I glance around the room, looking for inspiration. My gaze lands on the mini-bar.

  “Helen, I think I’m going to have a drink. Would you like a drink?”

  Bad idea, Remi. Don’t give her alcohol. It makes people volatile. Especially crazy people.

  Shit.

  Luckily, she doesn’t hear me. Or else she’s ignoring me.

  “And then, to know in advance exactly where you were going to be and for how long. Well a girl just doesn’t get any luckier than that, now does she?” She continues to pace, filling up the space in the small room.

  I count the number of steps she takes each way and try to calculate how much space I would need to attack her from behind. Until I realize I have nothing to use as a weapon against her.

  I’m at the foot of the bed, any lamp, phone, or radio is on a nightstand at the head of the bed. The dresser is in front of me, but all that’s on that is the coffee maker and the TV. Neither of which will do much damage when wielded by me. I stand and look toward the mini-bar.

  “Don’t move!” she yells. She stops pacing to look at me. Her eyes flitting around the room but still on me the entire time.

  “I’m not moving,” I say. “I was going to see if you wanted a drink. Some water. I was going to get some water.”

  “No!”

  “Okay,” I say, sitting back down.

  I need to call for help. I see my purse on the floor by the wall. Just not within reach. Even if I try to stretch my legs and grab it with my toes. I’d have to stand and walk over there to get it. If I stand again she’ll notice. Why didn’t I just keep my phone in my hand?

  What to do? What to do?

  If she wants to shoot me, why hasn’t she done it yet?

  I need more answers. Is Chance involved in this? Does he know she’s here? Is Connie here? Is she involved? What does Helen want to do? Maybe I just need to keep her talking.

  “How do you want to play this, Helen?” I ask.

  “Play this?” she says. “Do you think this is a game, Mimi?”

  “You know it’s Remi,” I say.

  She waves her hand in the air, dismissing what I say.

  “This is life and death. My life and your death.” She laughs at herself. “Besides, with you out of the picture, Chance and I are free to spend the rest of our lives together.”

  “And I have to be dead to be out of the picture?” I ask.

  “Of course you do,” she says.

  “But I’m not in the picture now, right? Because Chance and I broke up. So, I’m not in the way of the two of you being together.”

  She stops and looks at me, tapping the barrel of the gun on her lips, as though pondering my statement.

  I want it to go off, sending a bullet straight through her brain.

  “Yeah, that’s not good enough,” she says, resuming her pacing and shaking her head. “He’s going to feel bad about the bet. He always feels bad. It’s his nature. He’s going to want to make it up to you. And we can’t have that. No making up. So, no, you need to be gone, Mimi. Completely. Gone. Only gone. Dead. Gone. Only dead. Completely.”

  I let the Mimi thing go, under the circumstances, it’s clearly the least of my worries. I’m not even sure why it continues to bother me.

  “What if I move?” I ask, hoping that will appease her.

  “No, I want you to sit over in this chair, actually.” She points to the desk chair that she’s pulled to the side of the room.

  “I meant from San Soloman,” I say.

  “Sit!”

  I move to sit in the other chair.

  “I like your obedience, Mimi. It will help with what I have planned.” She resumes pacing and talking to herself. “This is going to work well. Chance will be so excited. Won’t he? Yes. I’m sure of it. Once he gets over it. No. No. Nothing to get over. You’re gone. Dead. And we’re together and happy.”

  She grabs something from the floor and throws it at me. “Here, fasten your ankles to the legs of the chair,” she says. I bend down and grab the industrial polypropylene twine she tossed over. Which I only recognize because I frequently receive boxes of lab equipment wrapped in it. It’s strong and hard to cut or get loose.

  I start to tie the rope around my ankles and circling the twine on the legs of the chair.

  “Above the footrest,” she says. “So you can’t slide it off the bottom of the chair leg.”

  She’s smarter than I give her credit for.

  “Tighter!”

  I pull the strings tightly, then double knot them. She tries to move my legs with her foot, they don’t budge.

  “Perfect. That’s perfect,” she says. “Now clasp your hands behind the chair.”

  I wrap my arms behind me and join my hands around the back of the chair. Not a comfortable position.

  She ties my wrists together, so tight I fear the twine is cutting into the skin. She secures my tied wrists to the slats in the chair back. I try to pull my wrists apart when she’s through, they don’t budge.

  She goes into the bathroom and I hear rustling around, then the clink of metal dropping to the floor. Light metal, not heavy like another gun. I don’t want to know what she’s got, but I fear I’m about to find out. I see the gun lying on the bed and hope that means my life is spared for a bit longer.

  She appears back in my line of vision, something thin in her hand.

  “Do you know what this is, Mimi?” She holds up a scalpel, her eyes wild.

  I nod.

  “Did you guess that it’s your worst nightmare?” she asks in a singsong voice. “If so, you’d be right. Oh, but poo, there’s no prize. Not for Mimi. No prize except this.”

  I watch in horror as she drags the tip of the knife along my left thigh, cutting through the fabric of my pencil skirt. It falls open and I see little droplets of blood pepper my thigh. I didn’t even feel her nick my skin.

  “Oh, garter belts, well aren’t those pretty.” She slices the elastic strap on the belt, hard, piercing my skin in the process. This time I feel it. The pain is intense. I blink back tears.

  “Oops, I’m not being very careful with this, am I? What a pity, you’re bleeding on your little skirt. Maybe if we do the other side, no one will notice.” She runs the tip of the knife down my right thigh and repeats the entire process. My legs burn where she’s cut them. Making me wonder if there was something toxic on the blade. I know the feel of a regular cut and this is much worse.

  My breath catches as she marks me again. The cuts aren’t deep, and maybe only a few inches long, but they hurt.

  A lot.

  I think about Kat, Lexie, and even Chance, and wonder if I will see them again. Will Helen really kill me or just hurt me? My head throbs. I try to mentally transport myself to another place. A happy place where I can ignore where I am now.

  My leg muscles tighten as she cuts them again. My ankles pull against the bindings trying to break free. The blood tickles as it slithers down either side of my thighs. I scrutinize Helen’s eyes, hoping to find a hint of contrition. But all I see is pride as she watches the blood trails her cuts created. And then glee as she opens my blouse and cuts some more.

  Chapter 40

  Chance

  We hit the city limits right at afternoon rush-hour traffic, which puts us at a standstill. I change the radio station to classic rock. Needing something other than 80s and Motown to get me through this.

  “Hey!” Kat cries.

  “Don’t bother me, woman, I’m fightin’ traffic,” I say to her, with just the hint of a smil
e.

  ZZ Top’s “La Grange” comes on and it’s all I can do to not pull off to the shoulder and blow by all these cars. This song begs to be driven to. But it’s near the end and I’d probably only get thirty seconds of solid balls to the wall speed before it ends.

  I’m still tempted when the next one comes on.

  You’ll accomp’ny me.

  The song I sang to Remi.

  It’s a sign.

  I pull off to the shoulder and speed to the next exit.

  “This is the song, isn’t it?” Kat asks, her eyes twinkling.

  “It is,” I say with a smile.

  “I love it! It’s a sign for sure!” Lexie says, bobbing her head softly to the beat.

  I sing along to the radio, feeling free for the first time in days. The song ends, and Kat changes the station. I glare at her.

  “I know, no 80s and no Motown. I’m compromising with hit singles of today,” she says.

  “The Man” by The Killers comes on.

  “Oh, I love this song!” Lexie says. I smile at her in the rear-view mirror. She says almost everything with an exclamation point.

  I know the song. I hate to admit, but I love it. Like, it’s my theme song. I sit up taller and mouth the words softly to myself. Getting myself pumped.

  “I would so fuck Brandon Flowers just because of this song,” Kat says.

  “Me too,” Lexie says with a sigh, in between singing.

  “Ohmigod, Bauer.” Kat looks at me. “This is your theme song.”

  I laugh at her because I’ll never admit it’s true.

  “I’m serious!” she says. “We’re going to get your girl, and you’ve got to convince her that you’re the man, right. You’re the man. I mean, Lex and I can only help so much, the rest is up to you. You gotta ball up, take your girl, fuck her against the wall, let her see who’s boss. Remind her that she can’t live without you.”

  “Now who’s putting words in Remi’s mouth?” Lexie asks.

  “I’m not putting words in Remi’s mouth, I’m putting actions in Bauer’s head. The guy in that song is exactly what Remi needs,” Kat says.

  “I agree,” Lexie says. Kat turns around and beams at her.