Annie slammed the laptop shut and jumped up. She was there! She saw it happened. Oh, God. She began to pace, raking her fingers through her hair. No wonder she’s locked herself up in that apartment. My God, who could do such a thing?”
She walked over to the window and looked out at the city skyline. She couldn’t see the building Trudie lived in, but she knew she was up there, in her self-made prison tower, with her dog and cat. Annie’s single-bedroom apartment was a fourth the size of Trudie’s palatial condominium, plus she shared the floor with five other apartments. Trudie had the entire seventh floor.
Now that she knew the whole story, Annie couldn’t fault Noella for protecting Trudie. She still didn’t like her, though. Too possessive and controlling. But Trudie relied on her, trusted her implicitly, and Noella was probably the only real friend Trudie had. That is so sad.
***
Since becoming reclusive, Trudie’s nightly routine was to have a drink and write until she fell asleep at her desk. On occasion, Krystal would come up for a game of cards or a glass of wine and an episode of Grey’s Anatomy. Then Trudie would go to bed and toss and turn until her nightmares woke her up. It happened so often that it had become part of the routine. Now that she had finished her last book, there was no escape from the oppressive boredom. She knew that she’d have to take a sedative to get through the night. Perhaps her therapist had been right. Maybe she should keep a diary just to have something to do.
Trudie tried to erase the vision of Leigh being stabbed with home movies of Leigh sticking her tongue out at the camera. Sometimes, if she’d had enough to drink, it worked. Most of the time, it just made her cry.
Three years of living like a hermit was beginning to take its toll on her. She exercised daily to keep her muscles from wasting away, but that took less than an hour out of her day, unless Krystal joined her, then it took longer because Krystal loved to talk. Trudie listened to music, read books, baked desserts, and then complained that she was gaining weight, played non-violent computer games, and Skyped with her family regularly.
During filming, the scriptwriter and producers would video chat with her two or three times a week, and she always made sure she was available for their calls. When Leigh was alive, they would fly out to LA and stay for months, so that Trudie could work side-by-side with Blake. Tonight she was waiting on a call from Blake Hubbard, who wrote the screenplay for the first two movies and was now starting on the third movie in the franchise. Trudie thought that he was very good at what he did, but he gave her the creeps. He leered at her when he thought she wasn’t looking, and that was on webcam with a two-second delay. He wanted her to know he was leering, but then tried to pretend he wasn’t. Trudie couldn’t wait for the movie to be done and in the theaters. Then she could slip into obscurity and not have to deal with these late-night calls. California was two hours behind Arkansas.
“Hi, Trudie. Sorry to be calling so late,” Blake said. “Did you get the new script I sent yesterday?”
“Yes. I have it right here.” Trudie held up the script to show him. During filming of the movies, Trudie was on a first name bases with the FedEx courier.
“Okay, I’ve marked the changes and wanted you to go over them with me to see if you have any problem with them.”
“I read through it last night and found one change that I absolutely do not want kept. Tanika would never say that word, even in her darkest hour. Where I come from, refined Southern women don’t call each other a cunt.”
Trudie’s protagonist, Tanika Caballero, was based on her wife, Leigh, and they both thought the word was demeaning and highly offensive, even when one woman said it to another.
“Okay, I’ll change it out with something safer,” Blake said, scribbling on his script.
“Why does she have to say anything at all? In my book, the sentence is: Tanika pulled a shiv from behind her and motioned for the guard to come at her. Just because it’s a female guard, and they’re in an all-women prison, is no reason to throw that word in there. If you want more drama, put a shit-faced grin on Tanika’s face, or something like that.”
Blake nodded. “All right. The fight scene will be dramatic enough, I guess.”
“It was for me,” Trudie said to herself.
“So, uh, this movie will be the last one in the series, and we might not work together again, so—”
“Blake, I told you before, I’m a lesbian. I’m not interested in dating men, gay, straight, bisexual, or transgender.”
Blake was Hollywood’s well-kept little secret. He claimed to be gay, but was in fact, straight. A role reversal that was not only hilarious, but ludicrous at the same time. That was one of the things that creeped Trudie out. That and the fact that he was even now, leering at her.
As soon as their meeting ended, Trudie went straight to the Scotch decanter and poured herself a drink. Then she carried the monogrammed tumbler over to the windows in the living room. She didn’t see the twinkling night lights of the city, or the moon shimmering on the currents of the river below. Instead she saw the smile on Annie’s face, the sparkle in her dark brown eyes, and the tool belt on her strong hips. There was an aura of confidence about Annie, even while Lucy was sitting on top of her. Trudie laughed. What a sight that had been. She lightly swirled her drink and then took another sip.
Walking back to her bedroom, she switched on the light and looked up at the fan. Abstractedly, she rubbed her thumb across her fingertips, until her eyes fell on her wedding picture. She walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. Setting her glass down, she picked up the photograph.
“Oh, Leigh. I miss you so much.” Tears filled her eyes as she hugged the picture to her chest. “I’m so lonely without you.”
The telephone rang, and she picked it up looking at the caller ID. “Hi, Mom.”
Trudie’s parents still worked, though they didn’t have to. Trudie had paid off all their debts, their mortgage, and their cars. They thought it was like winning the lottery, but they still wanted to work. Her father, Troy Youngblood, was a math teacher in grade school, and her mother, Louise, was a high school chemistry teacher. They met at a three-day faculty meeting for all teachers, no matter what campus they taught at.
“Hi, honey. How did the interview go today?”
Bruno jumped up on the bed and curled up on Trudie’s lap, then began to bathe herself. Trudie stroked her velvety hair and smiled when she heard purring.
“I think it went pretty good. I talked about Leigh.”
“Oh, sweetheart. Are you all right?”
“I’m not sure, Mom. Something is different now.”
“How so?”
“Well, there’s this woman… she’s the new building service tech, and…”
“And what, honey?”
“And she’s funny, confident, strong, happy, tall, gorgeous...”
“I don’t understand. If she’s all that then what’s the problem?”
“Leigh.”
“Oh, sweetheart. You are not betraying Leigh. You will always love her, and she will always be a part of your life no matter who else you love.”
“I can’t allow myself to love anyone else, Mom.”
“What on earth makes you say such a thing?”
“Leigh was killed because of me. Because some crazy stalker thought she was in his way. What if he does it again? God, Mom. I can’t live through that again. I won’t.”
“I know, Trudie. But you’re not living now. You’re a prisoner in your own home. That’s not living.”
“And that’s another thing. Who would want to live with someone too scared to step outside her own door?”
“Someone who would love you enough to accept you as you are. And who knows, perhaps her love would be the strength you need to step outside with her.”
“It’s a nice fairy tale, Mom.”
***
The next morning, Annie clocked in and went straight to her boss’s office. “Hey, Uncle Donny, got a minute?”
A short, balding, potbellied man was standing by the coffeemaker, urging the last drip to drop so he could pour himself a cup of coffee. “I told you not to call me that on the job,” he said, turning to look at her. “Damn. You look like hell. Want some coffee?”
Donny Wilcox had hired Annie as a favor to her father, an old Air Force buddy who died two years ago. He was Annie’s Godfather. After her father retired from the Air Force, he did odd jobs as a fix-it man, and he’d taught Annie everything he knew before she went in the service. Still, Donny had to teach her a few things when the need arose. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but she was the daughter he never had. Donny had four sons.
“Yeah, thanks,” Annie replied, pulling out the chair in front of Donny’s desk and sitting down. “I started a new book last night, and I couldn’t put it down.” Man, that Trudie can write.
“How’s your mother, Annie Senior?” Donny asked, handing her a cup of coffee before he walked around his desk and sat down.
Annie was named for her mother, Annabelle, and except for Annabelle’s gray hair and worn face, they could pass for twins.
“Not any better. She misses Dad so much it’s affecting her health.”
Donny shook his head. “What do the doctors say?”
“She’s still in remission, thank God. But her depression has them worried. I can’t afford to pay her medical bills and send her to a shrink, too.” Annie got up and walked over to the coffeemaker and picked up several packets of sugar. She ripped the ends off and dumped the sugar into her cup. Stirring it absentmindedly, she said almost in a whisper, “I don’t know what I’m going to do,”
Donny could hear the frustration in her voice. He knew she was already struggling financially because the insurance company canceled her father’s coverage when he was diagnosed with cancer. Her father, Jonas Nichols, had been a chain smoker all of his adult life. A nasty habit he picked up in the military. Her mother developed cancer from second-hand smoke, and also had her insurance canceled. But her cancer was caught early and her prognosis was good. She had even gone back to work at her old firm part time as a market research analyst.
Annie smoked in high school but quit after a few years in the Air Force, because her father had been diagnosed by then. He was only fifty-six-years-old when he died. Donny was so proud of the way his buddy’s twenty-six-year-old daughter stepped up and took on the financial responsibilities.
Annie not only worked the maintenance job full time, she also freelanced as a security guard for twenty-four-hour grocery stores and hotels, and as a bouncer at the nightclubs when she could get the gig.
Donny waited for Annie to sit down again, and then said, “You know, I’ve been thinking. Why don’t I pay your mother a visit? I haven’t seen her since the funeral; it’s past time I paid my respects.”
“Yeah, that would be great. I know she’d love to see you again. Dad loved to talk about the trouble you two got into on base. Some of those stories would cheer her up, I’m sure.”
“Good. Let her know I’ll be stopping by Saturday afternoon.”
“I will, thank you,” Annie said gratefully.
Donny got up and went over to the kitchenette. “So, what did you want to see me about?” he asked, pouring another cup of coffee.
“Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. I’ve pissed off number seven.”
“Trudie Youngblood? She’s the nicest tenant here. What the hell did you do to piss her off?”
“No, not her. She’s the sweetest, kindest person I’ve ever met. Completely charming and unassuming. No, it’s her publicist, Noella... something.”
“Rutherford. Noella Rutherford,” Donny clarified.
“Yeah, that’s her. She hates me, and you’ll probably be getting a call from her today asking for me to be fired.”
“Don’t worry about it. She calls at least once a month trying to start trouble where there isn’t any.”
“I can believe that, but I don’t want to cause any trouble for Trudie, uh, I mean Ms. Youngblood.”
Donny shook his head. “Oh, you haven’t. Trudie called me yesterday afternoon and gave you a glowing commendation.”
Annie grinned. “She did?”
“Yes. She said her ceiling fan never worked better.” And that you were the nicest, kindest person she had ever met.
“Good, I’m glad. She let me stay and watch while she filmed an interview with NBC. She is one class act. Unlike her friend, Noella.”
“Why don’t you work on the lower floors for a couple of days until Noella forgets about you and moves on to her next crisis?”
“Actually, I was going to ask you if I could do just that, thanks.”
“Annie, can I give you a little friendly advice?”
“You mean like the advice you gave me about Trudie’s dog? You left out the part where she was as big as a house.”
Donny laughed. “I told you she was huge.”
Shaking her head, Annie said, “Not the same thing. So what’s the advice?”
“Don’t fall for her, unless you’re ready to literally give up everything for her. You know she never leaves the condo, never goes outside. I think it’s called agoraphobia.”
“Huh? I’m not falling for Trudie. Why would you think that?”
Donny sat back in his chair and regarded her contemplatively. A thin smile crept across his lips, making Annie nervous. “I’ve known you since you were born, girl. You think you can solve the world’s problems, but you take on too much. You can’t swoop in and save Trudie. You can’t rescue her when she doesn’t want to be. You can’t even get past her security guard.”
“Her dog? We’re pals now; she won’t hurt me.”
“I was talking about Noella.”
“Oh. What the hell are we even talking about this for anyway? The woman is still grieving for her dead wife. I’m not that cruel.”
“No, you’re not. But you are that sensitive.”
***
“Where’s Trudie?” Noella asked, the moment Deidra opened the door.
“When I told her I wanted to give Lucy a bath and groom her, Trudie went back to bed.” Deidra had been grooming Lucy in the dog’s room when she heard the doorbell. Seeing that it was Noella, she knew that Trudie wouldn’t mind if she let her in.
“Back in bed? Is she all right?”
Deidra nodded. “Yeah, I think maybe she was up late or something. She asked me to wake her when I was done with Lucy, but since you’re here, will you lock up for me? I need to walk Lucy now.”
“I’ll be happy to,” Noella said, and stood to the side as Deidra put the leash on Lucy and led her out the door. Then she walked down the hall to Trudie’s bedroom.
Noella stood gazing at Trudie’s sleeping form, her heart aching at her innocence. In repose, Trudie was an angel without a care in the world. Her small hand was tucked up under her chin, her dark hair covering part of her face, her lips gently shuddering in a soft snore. Noella thought she was the most beautiful creature on earth. The cat, curled up by Trudie’s neck, meowed loudly at Noella, causing Trudie to stir.
“Well, someone’s sleeping in late this morning.”
Trudie sprang upright, a pistol in her small hand.
“Holy shit!” Noella ducked down and covered her head.
“Noella, is that you?”
“Hell, yes, it’s me. Put that damn gun away, for Christ’s sake.”
“Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry.” Trudie slipped the handgun back under her pillow.
“You’re sleeping with a gun under your pillow again?” Noella asked as she stood up and smoothed her skirt out. “I thought the nightmares had stopped?” She looked at the empty whiskey glass on the nightstand and had her answer.
“I still have one on occasion, when I’m bored and have too much time to think. It was a rough night. So why is it that you’re here so early this morning?” Trudie looked at the digital clock on her nightstand. “Oh.”
“Yes, it’s after eight, honey, and I’m here because NBC has
been promoting the heck out of your interview and my phone is ringing off the hook. Everyone wants an interview with you. Jimmy Fallon’s people even said that Jimmy would be willing to come to you if necessary.”
“Wow. I love Jimmy. But I’m not really interested in doing any more interviews.”
“Not even with Oprah?”
Trudie’s face flushed. “That’s not fair. How can I say no to Oprah?”
“You can’t. So when do you want me to set it up?”
“Any time after the book signing party on Saturday works for me. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.” Trudie chuckled at her own joke and then admitted to herself that it wasn’t funny.
Every year since Leigh was killed, Trudie hosted a book signing event on her wife’s birthday, just for the people in her squadron. It was the most important event of the year for Trudie, not only because of Leigh, but because she was surrounded by soldiers in uniform, and it reminded her of happier times.
“And I’ll be out of state all next week, so I’ll try for the week after that.”
“Oh. You’re going somewhere?” Trudie asked quietly.
Noella was always there for her, and when she was gone for days at a time, which was rare, Trudie felt abandoned. As irrational as she knew that was, she was still dependent on her being there. Noella would call every day, and they would video chat, but it wasn’t the same thing as having someone physically beside her. Noella wasn’t aware that Trudie was sending her parents on a cruise. Her two brothers lived out of state and her two sisters had young children to raise. For the first time since Leigh died, Trudie would be completely alone and that terrified her.
That first month after Leigh’s death, Trudie’s mother, Louise, moved in with her, and helped her through the night terrors. Trudie was like a baby in her arms again. Her mother had to feed her, bathe her and dress her. Trudie was even too distraught to go to the funeral. She tried to. Her sisters even went out and bought her a black dress, shoes and vail for the funeral. But after Trudie got dressed, with the help of her sisters, and walked to the door to leave, she panicked and collapsed to the floor in hysterics.
Breaking into Prison Page 4
