Falling Stars (The B–Side)

by J. L. Brooks

  Part of your story is missing

  Unsure of what he meant, I ripped through the second package and felt the stiff paper poke my hands through the lace. Pulling it from the box, my heart stopped and a bloodcurdling scream rushed out of my throat so loud that the driver slammed on the brakes, throwing the car into the middle of the intersection. I was unable to stop my phone from flying out my hands as metal collided with glass. Clenched in my fists were the panties from my night in Vegas, along with photos detailing every moment.

  Feeling the warm crimson ooze down my face, I struggled to get out of the car while growing dizzier by the moment. Resting my head against the seat, I felt the cool gust of air as the other door opened. Strong arms pulled me out and held me close, wrapping me in a jacket as I stumbled away from the wreckage. Hearing the sirens in the distance, I curled into the stranger’s arms. Before slipping into the darkness, I heard a familiar voice call to me from across the void.

  “I got you.”

  At first the light came through as a melon color and then melted into a bright golden warmth behind my eye lids. As the drapes pulled across the metal rod, small clicks brought me closer to a more aroused state. Unable to turn towards the window because of the stiff foam collar around my neck, sharp pains ricocheted through my body. Feeling that my teeth had been brushed, it could not hide the distinct metallic flavor of blood and swelling of the sutures pulled tight on my lower lip.

  Son of a bitch . . .

  “How unlucky could one person be?” I thought to myself. But this was no hospital. The room smelled of clean linen and resembled more of a bedroom from what I could see with blurry vision.

  “Welcome back,” she said.

  The voice was somewhat familiar, but I wasn’t quite sure from where. Opening my eyes a bit more, I recognized who the greeting belonged to.

  “I know you,” I said with a graveled voice.

  She smiled sweetly and approached the bed, sitting on the edge and smoothing out a wrinkle in the cover.

  “Yeah, you do. Kind of. They thought it might help to see a friendly face. You have had quite the adventure since I saw you last. How is the pain? Do you need more medication?”

  Reaching up to feel the brace on my neck, I couldn’t nod.

  “Drugs would be wonderful right now . . . What is your name again?” I asked while scooting to a seated position on the plush bed.

  “It’s Tammy. We met in the Denver airport last summer. You missed your flight for me. I need you to stay awake for just a bit, so before I can give you anything too strong, are you okay with some ibuprofen?”

  I laughed.

  “The pharmacist wants to give me an over-the-counter when clearly she has some pretty good shit stashed somewhere?”

  Giving a knowing smile back, she handed me two orange pills and a small glass of water. She then reached around the back of my neck and removed the brace. Immediately I wanted her to put it back on as the pressure rushed to the muscles which were held still, but it gave an odd sense of relief. The familiar discomfort of a catheter slowly burned as I wiggled around. Looking down at my crotch, she shook her head and put her hands up.

  “I don’t do genitals. The nurse will be in shortly to help you there. Sorry. However, it’s good to know your memory is intact.”

  Scanning the room in confusion, I took a sip of water and asked, “Where am I?”

  There was no hiding the fact something had happened beyond the wreck. Outside of the window, which was now wide open, a strong ocean breeze blew across turquoise waters just a short distance away. It was one of those scenes where a movie breaks into steel drums, no matter what beach the film takes place on.

  Tammy stood up and looked out at the stunning view.

  “This is why you need to be alert. Just know you are safe. Nothing bad can happen to you here.”

  I laughed wildly at her comment. “I’ve heard that before.”

  Reaching up to feel my sore neck once again and examine the bruises on my arms and legs, I couldn’t imagine it getting much worse. I was too tired to be afraid, and waking up in paradise didn’t exactly cause apprehension to flare. Whoever “they” were—

  assumed correctly in having her there when I woke up. It was disarming. Who she really was became the question, and I had nothing but questions now. So I started there.

  “Who are you? Certainly not a pharmacist.”

  She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a small black wallet and opened the flap. Inside was a shiny silver badge. FBI. Touching the smooth surface, she handed it over for me to inspect. The identification card read: Division of Homeland Security-Narcotics Division.

  “Whoa, wasn’t expecting this! What does that have to do with me?” I asked as I handed her back the badge.

  Giving a sigh, she walked over to the French doors and opened one up. Two more agents walked in and acknowledged Tammy before coming to stand at the end of the bed. I could tell by the visible badges they sported around their necks. One was in his mid-forties, quite handsome and ripped like a body builder. The other was a petite blonde named Paula, with a warm smile and a “don’t mess with me” edge to her. As they reached out to introduce themselves and shake my hand, my grip tightened on the man who identified himself more formally as Agent Graves.

  “Your voice . . . I’ve heard it before. But I am sure I have never met you. How is that possible?” I asked apprehensively. He looked at Tammy and grinned.

  “I know who you are, Miss Keaton, but you do not know me. I was there when you were in the wreck and were pulled out. Can you tell me what else you remember about that night?”

  Shaking my head, scattered pieces started to fuse together into a volatile image. Suddenly remembering the package, I flew up and tried to race out of the bed. Nearly falling to the ground, Graves swooped in and caught me before I hit the ground.

  “Whoa, gotcha, calm down.”

  His words echoed and the night came racing back. All I could think of was one thing.

  “The pictures,” I cried quietly. Hot tears of shame forced their way out of swollen ducts. A headache ripped through my skull and started to make me nauseous.

  “Shhhhhh. . . . I got them, they are safe. Every one of them, don’t worry,” he whispered quietly in my ear.

  Somehow that brought an element of comfort in the enigmatic circumstance. As I allowed my body to relax into his arms, he lifted me with ease into the bed. The other agent coughed and took a step forward to speak.

  “Miss Keaton, we have a problem and we need your help. Do you know an Ivan Volkov?”

  I shook my head. I genuinely didn’t know that name.

  Opening a folder, she removed a large letter-sized picture and handed it over. It was Grant, but that didn’t make sense. His name wasn’t Ivan. Confused, I addressed the mistake.

  “This man’s name is Grant. I do not know who Ivan is. There must be a mix-up. And why does me getting into a wreck have anything to do with this?”

  Tammy came forward with another folder and removed a sheet, delicately setting it down. My eyes grew wide. This was fucking impossible. It was an Interpol Report. Accusations listed a slew of horrific charges including drug and human trafficking. On top of that she laid another sheet. It was a photograph. Black and white, a bit grainy, but enough to see clearly what was taking place. It was taken with a hidden camera from a high perspective, looking down upon the woman tied to a bench and blind-folded.

  That woman was me.

  A row of men stood to the side. What my eyes were never supposed to see was right there screaming to be acknowledged. I would never be able to burn the image from my mind. With no going back, I studied it in greater detail. Second from the left, there was no mistaking it was him. Grant.

  “Impossible,” I mouthed.

  Breathing shallow, this had to be a joke. Some fucked up, drug induced dream I was unable to wake from. Sitting back, I crossed my arms and laughed.

  “I am just going to wait for this shit to
wear off, because this is crazy . . .”

  However, the world did not wobble or pulse, giving any indication I was dreaming or high. In that moment I would have given anything for it to be over, to end my life and absolve myself of all earthly ties. My expression grew stone as I retreated further within.

  “Should I give her something now?” Tammy asked the others as she walked to her satchel. Graves put up his hand to stop her.

  “No, have everything removed. Anything from this point on needs to be her choice,” he said.

  The ladies nodded and walked out of the room. The nurse came in and removed the various tubes attached to my body. Looking at the bottle of morphine and syringe on the table, she held it up and asked if I wanted any, but I shook my head. The pain was the only thing keeping me grounded. Leaving me to my thoughts only a short while, Graves knocked softly on the door before entering.

  He was quiet and pulled up a chair next to the bed. Tapping his foot anxiously, he rested his forehead on interlaced fingers and elbows propped on his knees. Looking up after giving a deep breath, I could see how tired this man was. Neither one of us could keep this thing up. Turning my body towards his, tears once again spilled down my cheeks. I finally broke and raised my white flag.

  “What happens next?” I asked.

  His eyes met mine and refused to waver. He needed me, and he hated himself for it. I knew that look well. They all had it. Hunter, Grant, and now him. Desperate, insatiable, violent, and vulnerable. That crack in the armor no one else could see was blinding to me, and I had only just met the man. Though he knew me very well.

  “Let’s take a walk if you are up for it,” he said.

  I reached out my arm and he pulled me to standing. Looking around for my shoes, he winked and slipped his off.

  “You don’t really need them here. I think it will be good for you to feel the sand between your toes.”

  I gave a slight smile and followed him through the large plantation style home onto a stone terrace that lead to the beach. From the outside it looked ordinary, with the exception of tall iron gates around the property. Out on the water, a few boats drifted in the distance but close enough to reach the shoreline in an instant.

  “What is this place?” I asked Graves while taking a few steps backwards to see the house at a different angle.

  “It’s a former government outpost. You are in Puerto Rico. We landed four days ago. After the wreck, we kept you sedated so you would rest. The medication has slight amnesia effects, which is why you do not remember the trip. We brought you here because it was not safe for you in New York. We knew once Ivan found out about the wreck, he would have his men scouring the city for you.”

  “Ivan . . . How could I have been so blind?” I muttered softly. Graves heard me and lightly touched the center of my back.

  “If it makes you feel better, he had me, too.”

  I stopped and tilted my head. After taking a few steps, Graves turned around.

  “How did he have you?” I inquired.

  He nudged me to keep walking towards the water, my feet shuffled as my sore muscles fatigued with each step.

  “I have been following him for three years. When you entered the picture, he did change. His routines, his activity. He delegated tasks to other men and was with you at all times. He became visible, almost normal. I thought for just a moment he wanted something more than what the underworld offered him, that he wasn’t a complete monster.”

  Graves sighed and kicked the sand a few times lightly.

  “But I know better, Lila. He’s not in love, he’s entertained. The moment he got bored, he would put a bullet in your head.”

  I stopped and pulled his arm back. “You are fucking kidding right? He would never hurt me!”

  Denial is a poor coping mechanism. Even I didn’t sound convinced. The facts were presented and could not be disputed. Grant, or Ivan, was a fucking monster and I had been sleeping with him. He who I felt was my savior was only steps away from being my hell. A shiny toy. Everything I despised in the weak female stereotype. I never wanted to be that kept woman, but I settled into the role with ease. Telling myself I deserved a life of luxury and indulgence, knowing where the money now came from, I felt dirty. Although I had my own money, it remained largely untouched.

  Graves gave me a stern look while speaking low.

  “He would and he will if given the chance. We are counting on it.”

  A few more steps forward and once again I stopped and asked, “What do you mean you are counting on it?”

  I wasn’t going to like this.

  He looked out onto the horizon and back to me. His expression softened a bit, an unusual feeling I imagined for someone whose job was to hunt criminals. However he was still human. The moral compass guiding him to what he felt was right and just. It was admirable. Mine must have been broken because I lacked the drive to seek anything outside of myself.

  And there it was . . .

  The men I loved, the choices I made, the trouble I magnetically drew into my life. I was selfish and so were they. How Grant looked at me and why Hunter always jumped into the fire for me.

  “Where are you, Lila?” Graves asked, looking concerned.

  I smiled, which confused him.

  “I know why you are counting on it. It just hit me. He thinks I belong to him like a piece of property. I have to remove myself emotionally from this situation. It’s clouding my judgment. But I need to ask one thing.”

  We started to walk back towards the property as the grey clouds rolled in and started to rumble. The wind picked up and a storm was imminent.

  “How is Hunter a part of this? He doesn’t know him, does he?” I asked nervously.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, the tension left Graves’s body.

  “He knows who he is now, but he does not know him personally. The only thing connecting him is you. When I started to research who you were, he was a part of the puzzle. I felt if anyone could get through to you, it might be him. Normally we try to avoid getting anyone else involved in a case, but my gut told me that it was the right move.”

  I laughed before wiping away a tear. “You know he made me furious showing up like that. Does he know what was in the box?”

  Hoping Graves was going to say no, I knew better.

  “Yes, he does. It wasn’t easy for him to see it, but in the event he were to have to testify, we had to disclose every step of the mission that involved him. We had one shot to pull this off or risk blowing the whole operation, possibly killing you in the process. You are very important to this case, Lila, and we will do everything in our power to prevent you from being a casualty. Do you understand?” he asked.

  “Yes, I understand,” I replied.

  As I made it to the back steps of the terrace, several more agents were waiting to speak to me. After five hours of signing documents, seeing more footage, and having Ivan’s operation broken down, my brain felt like mush. If it weren’t happening to me, this would make a fantastic novel, but this was real life and I had little control. I wanted to talk to Hunter but was told that wasn’t possible at the moment. He put his own life on the line to save mine, and for that I was grateful.

  Sheets of rain battered against the windows as a storm covered the island. The lights flickered for a bit before finally going out. The house was equipped with generators, kicking on and giving a loud hum. Only the basics were powered. Small battery powered lanterns were brought out of the garage and set onto the long wooden table. The white LED lights gave an eerie glow. I chose to focus on the small things like that to try and drown out the emotions of what was going to take place. My role in this was small, but would require me to make a grand performance. I didn’t have to see him thankfully, but I had to talk to him. Convince him that I wanted to see him, that I missed him, and to come to me.

  It should be easy, but knowing the truth made me want to kill him. For five minutes I could pretend.

  Women do it all the time . . .

&nbs
p; The line crackled as I waited for him to pick up. The room was real, but nothing else was. When you discover what the government is really capable of, it can be both frightening, or in my situation, a godsend. The heart monitor was reading a patient in another room, so mine did not give away my agitation. Heplocks were taped into place and bags of saline drips hung from the metal racks. Nervous that my phone would give away the location, I was assured that the signal was coming out of New York, and I appeared to be in Columbia Presbyterian Hospital, recovering from a car accident that knocked me out for a few days. Because Grant and I were not married, there was no reason for them to contact him. My family was instructed not to answer calls and assured that I was safe.

  Hunter did more than just keep me safe; he protected my whole family. Graves’s feeling was on point. Of course the one person who actually loved me got the worst every time. The more I thought about Hunter, the more horrible I felt about myself. I didn’t deserve his kindness for the shit I dragged him into, but it never wavered. Not once.

  Coming back to the ringtone that echoed deep, I heard the click and his face appeared on the screen.

  “There you are . . . What happened to you?” Grant asked a great deal calmer than I expected.

  I didn’t have to hide the emotion. The tears came naturally and clogged my nose and throat.

  “A horrible accident,” I replied.

  “Who are you talking to?” I heard the woman’s voice say just as a shuffle of a hand covered the receiver. Instantly my blood ran cold. Looking up to Graves and Paula, she quickly wrote on a piece of paper.

  I grabbed a tissue and started blowing my nose. I heard him say, “Hello? Hello?”

  Pretending I didn’t hear anything, I dug deep inside and knew what I had to do.

  “I’m here, I had to set the phone down for a moment and grab a tissue. My nose started running. I am just so happy to hear your voice. God I miss you.”