Blue, Light and Dark (Chubby Chasers, Inc. Series Book 2)

by Brashears, Angie M.

  He continues in a placating tone. “Once you get a clean bill of health, and the hospital has been assured that you’re not being held against your will, there’s really nothing they can do. The ladies have downplayed the kidnapping role, so it’s Javi’s word—a mental patient’s—against theirs and possibly yours. But we need a therapist to clear you. It’s extremely important you avoid contacting them at this time. Any contact with them will look like they’re trying to coerce you.” I see the question in his eyes. He’s wondering if I’ve got all my wits about me.

  I wonder the same thing as my mouth opens and accusations fall out. “Do you realize that the only kidnapping going on is happening right now? You’ve taken me against my will and left me no choice.” I’m on the edge of hysteria, but he remains unruffled. My accusations don’t even penetrate his calm exterior.

  “That may be so, but do you want the ladies and Javi to go to jail?” I get the reprimand in his voice, I do, but does he have to be so damn smug about it?

  “No! Of course not!” I shake my head for emphasis.

  “Then play your part, Blue. This is the role of your lifetime.” He gets up to leave, pushing the manila envelope towards me. “Keys, your bankbook, an ATM card for your new account. Everything’s all set up for you. Pretty self-explanatory, but if you have questions, my card’s in there, too. There’s also a list of therapists among the papers. My advice—as your lawyer—is to pick one and make an appointment. The sooner you’re cleared, the better.” He’s back in his jacket, hovering over me. I look up and see something in his eyes. Compassion, and I cling to it.

  “I already have one.”

  He’s surprised, but just nods. “Good. I’d advise you to get on that. The sooner your therapist signs the papers, the better. As I said, my card’s in the envelope. Good evening, Ms. Patterson.” As he turns to leave, he remembers something.

  “Oh, and Sara. Stay away from the house.”

  I put my head down, letting the tears have their way. I’m back to where I started. Alone with my cat. “Poor Sam,” I wail. The pity party’s rolling, in full swing. He’s more Sasha’s than mine now. “My cat even got evicted!” I cry and rage in the privacy of this stranger’s cavernous apartment, wishing like hell for the privacy of my tiny little pee closet.

  I can’t contact any of the ladies. Not Sasha. Or Gretchen. Not even Esmie or Daisy.

  If I show my face at the hospital or pull any kind of stunt like my sit-in protest, I just might get committed. This isn’t fair! I sit with my head in my hands until it’s too dark to see.

  Scratching from the back of the apartment scares me into action. I fall over myself to get to the front door until I realize it’s my only friend. Sam! I run down the hall, crying, trying to find the hole they’ve stashed him in. I’m a horrible mother!

  Sam’s fine, tucked away in his carrier, pissed as usual. He has no concern about where his dish and toys land. Only being confined in his carrier for long periods of time does that to him. I reach in to pull him out, hoping for a cuddle, but he flies past me as soon as the gate is opened. I stare after him, dumbfounded. Et tu, Sam? But he’s gone without so much as a tail swish.

  I hear something vibrating from inside his carrier. I bend down, trying to remember if any of his toys make this kind of noise. None come to mind. I pull his blanket out, and find a small phone hidden underneath. Relief floods through me. My hands tremble as I fish it out, seeing Sasha’s name on the caller ID.

  “Sasha!” I cry into the receiver.

  “It’s me, Sweet Cheeks. How you holding up?” Her voice, thick with tears, is the best thing I’ve heard all day.

  Through my own tears, I recount everything the lawyer said to me. “Oh! I’m not even supposed to be talking to you! You could go to jail!” Fresh tears fall at this confession.

  “Don’t worry, Blue. This is a burner phone, untraceable. Listen, I don’t even want to think it, but maybe they’re right. Maybe you fell in love with your kidnappers. Is that possible?” Caution drips from her words.

  Shaking my head, I deny her words. “No! No way! You guys are the best thing that’s ever happened to me!”

  She sniffles. “You should have heard Javi’s doctor. Hell, they even got me thinking that we brainwashed you, and I’m halfway sane! I’m cringing at what Javi must be thinking with all his fucked up thoughts at this turn of events.”

  “Did you see him, Sasha?” Hope and love flood my heart, despite his recent shunning of me.

  “Yeah, but it was days ago, and I was so pissed all I did was yell at him. We got blindsided. They called and said they wanted us to come in to talk about Javi’s treatment plan, but when we got there, our lawyer had already been contacted by the hospital. He met us at the door. Basically told us we’re all in some deep shit over this Blue thing.” She thinks about her phrasing, then adds. “Over you, hon. They said it was either this or jail for Javi and maybe even us. That we could be charged as accessories to the crime.” I’m glad to hear some of her spunk has returned, but I’m also confused.

  “What crime?” I ask, puzzled.

  She sighs. “You, mostly, but they had a whole list. Kidnapping, aiding and abetting, imprisonment, the list just went on and on. Apparently, once Javi met with his new psychiatrist and told him everything, they put the no visitor, no phone call rule in effect.”

  “So…it wasn’t Javi?” I say through tears, as my heart lifts out of the shadows. “He never said he didn’t want to see me?” My voice is a whisper of hope.

  “No, and I fucking should have known something was fishy. That boy loves you. There’s no way he wouldn’t do everything possible to see you, to talk to you. You’d think when his twenty calls a day stopped, I would’ve gotten a fucken clue.” She’s pissed at herself, taking on too much of the blame for this fucked up situation.

  I take a deep breath, feeling both miserable and elated if that’s even possible. “So what do I do, Sash?”

  “The only thing you can do, Blue. Go to therapy and work your ass off! We need a doctor to say you’ve not been tampered with. That your will is still your own. That’s the only way we can all see each other again.” She’s quiet. The dead air tampers with my overstretched nerves.

  “So you’re not mad at me? Is Gretchen?” I cringe, thinking of her tears in the restaurant.

  “Hell no! We love you, girl! I’m just sorry you have to be alone in all this. That’s why I took a chance and snuck the phone into Sam’s box. I wanted you to have a piece of us with you, no matter what Ted said.” She sighs. “But I know that therapy may make you change. Your feelings, I mean. About us and all of this.”

  The sadness in her voice is my undoing.

  “No! Never, Sasha!” How can she even think that!

  “If it happens, I’ll understand. We’re all here for you, Blue. Pulling for you. We love you, sis.”

  “I love you guys, too.” I sigh and wipe my tears. “Sasha, will they let you see him?”

  “We didn’t ask. Too pissed. But I’ll talk to the lawyer tomorrow and find out.”

  “Can you get him a message from me?”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Tell him his Bonita is here for him.”

  “Got it. And Blue? We’re here for you.”

  Javi

  I wait until I’m locked in my room to let loose the rage that is simmering in my gut. Punching a concrete wall, I feel bones break in my bloodied hand. It doesn’t matter. They’ve taken everything from me. I rear back, blood dripping from my knuckles, and aim for the same spot.

  Blue

  Talking with Sasha last night did wonders for my spirit. I wake to Sam stretched across my throat like a fur choker, his light-blue collar making me smile. Without his kindred spirit of Sasha in the house, he’ll take what he can get.

  I’ve got things to do today. It’s only 8:00a.m. Too early to call the therapist’s office. Of the four I saw in my pre-Blue days, the last one was my favorite. I cringe as I remember that I lied to her
. She knows me only as Jessica. I’ll have some ’splaining to do. I get up, hit the bathroom, and head into the kitchen. I’ll need to go shopping, I think, before I check the fridge. I open it and stare, wide-eyed. Inside of it, all of my favorite things, down to Blue Cheese dressing, have been stocked. There’s even Snickers ice cream in the freezer!

  I’m stunned.

  A brand new Keurig sits on the counter with a carousel of flavored coffee pods next to it. There’s even a crystal sugar bowl on the counter, filled! The girls got busy fixing up my safe nest, that’s for sure. I pop a coffee in, Donut shop flavor, and grab my purse from the dining room table.

  I know I have her card tucked away in my wallet somewhere. I kept it in case of an emergency. And if there ever was one, it’s now. Dr. Melissa Timlan. That’s the one. Her office hours start in half an hour. I’ll do a little snooping while I wait.

  Everything in this apartment is in its rightful place. Too neat. Under the sink, I find the trashcan, trash bags—oh! —and Sam’s dry kibble. No cat dish, so I use one of the Fiesta crockery bowls in the cupboard to feed Sam. The kitchen is functional, nothing like the Spice Kitchen, more like the Paula Deen one back at home. Home. My stomach yearns for my blue room and my friends.

  Still feeling homesick but trying to make the best of this shit show, I decide to check out the rest of the apartment while I wait for the doctor’s office to open. I avoid the dining room, though, with a cringe. My back still aches from sitting in that hard chair, crying for hours last night. Instead, I turn right, towards the living room. There’s a leather couch, chair, and ottoman in here, all facing a TV similar to the one I had back at the Chubby House, only bigger. It hangs above a modern fireplace. The kind that takes only a push of a button for imaginary fire to sputter out of rainbow stones. I shake my head. Even the fire’s sterile.

  A slider, hidden behind drapes, takes me out onto a glass-walled balcony, complete with a miniature version of my lounger. No fire pit here, though. I have a feeling that was all Javi. My stomach clenches at the memory of his thoughtfulness. The view is of other impressively wealthy buildings. Everything out here chills me to the bone. I hug myself and make my way back in, making sure to shut the slider. The last thing I need is Sam jumping to his death.

  I head down the hall and into the bathroom where I brush my teeth and pull my hair back. Checking the time, I see the doctor’s office opens in five, so I go back out to the kitchen to make one more cup of joe, and steel my nerves to make the call.

  At 9:00 straight up, I’m on the phone with the receptionist.

  “I really need to get in to see Dr. Timlan ASAP.” I don’t need to fake the anxiety in my voice.

  “Are you a patient?” She asks while typing. I wonder how many ASAPs she hears in a day.

  I’m not sure how to answer this. “I was, about two months ago. I saw her once.”

  “Name please.” The maddening typing continues.

  “Look, is there any way I could just speak with the doctor?” If I could only talk with her, explain my situation, I know she’d help. Her whole aura screamed, I’m a helper!

  “Not without an appointment.” Her receptionist’s aura screams cock-blocker.

  “It’s a little confusing.” Suddenly, I’m ashamed of my lying, therapist-hopping ways. Never sticking around long enough to give anyone a chance to help.

  “Your name’s a little confusing?” Nice sarcasm, I think.

  “Just tell her it’s Jessica, and I’m ready to tell the truth.” The typing stops. I guess that got her attention.

  “Hold please.” I’ve got no choice, the elevator muzak plays in my ear.

  I hold for what seems like forever, the butterflies in my stomach growing to bats. Just when I’ve had enough of Kenny G and am ready to hang up and try again tomorrow, the phone is answered.

  “This is Dr. Timlan. What can I do for you, Jessica?” I hear an undertone of curiosity in her business like tone.

  “I think we both know, you know, that’s not my real name.” I try for chagrin, but it just comes out sounding snotty.

  “Yes, I figured. What is your real name?”

  “I’m Sara—no H—Patterson. But my friends call me Blue.” There. If she remembers me at all, then she’ll know friends are a very new development for me.

  “And Ronnie, my receptionist, said you’d like to talk truthfully?” It’s a question, one that my love life depends on.

  “Yes. ASAP. I really need you.” I hang on while she thinks.

  “Alright, Sara, come in today at 11:00 sharp, if you’re serious this time. I have to say I’m intrigued. There’ve been a few times I’ve thought of you after our session, hoping you’re doing all right. I’m so glad to hear you’ve had some new developments since our one and only meeting.” Her tone has a flavor of a scold to it.

  “Thank you so much for fitting me in.”

  “I said we’ll talk, but there will be some ground rules. You might want to hear those first before you thank me. See you in two hours. Don’t be late.” Click, and she’s gone.

  Two hours! I down my coffee and hit the shower, hoping the ladies remembered to pack my Sara clothes as well as my Blue duds.

  The shower is amazing, like a carwash. If I stand right in the middle, the jets hit every crevice of my body! I don’t have time to luxuriate now. I’ve gotta be across town in less than two hours. The built-in shampoo and conditioner dispensers have been filled with my favorite brands, similar to the fridge. For what feels like the hundredth time today, I think, I love my friends. Knowing I’d be missing them and home, they’ve made sure that I would have everything I need to be at home away from home.

  My clothes are hanging neatly in my closet, divided into two sections. Sara and Blue. I sort through the Sara side, dejected that I used to dress like I was going to a PE class every single day, and head over to the dark side. Pulling a simple grey wool dress with tiny yellow flowers out, I hold it up in front of the mirror.

  It’s a button-front with cap sleeves and a fitted skirt. Nothing says let the healing begin like cap sleeves. I lay it out on the bed, pull on my undergarments, and head in to get the rest of me ready.

  No time to blow my hair totally dry, I settle for a quick once-over on high heat before pinning my hair up in a French twist. I’m hoping I’ll be back in the house before my bangs need a trim. I apply minimal eyeliner, mascara, blush, and a pink gloss. On the phone by the bed is a concierge button. Why not?

  It’s answered on the first ring. Not bad. “Yes, Ms. Patterson.”

  Now that I’ve got him on the line, I feel shy. “Hello, um, I’m not sure if you can. Help me, that is. I have an appointment across town at eleven. Is there any way you can call a taxi for me?”

  “Of course, but Ms. Patterson, do you not want to take your car? Your Mustang was delivered last night. We just need fifteen minutes’ notice.” I think. Mustang? Friggin’ Sasha.

  “No, just call a car.” I’m not even sure how to get there from here. “How about fifteen minutes from now?”

  He chuckles. “We’ll see you then, Ms. Patterson.” I almost want to tell him to call me Blue, but would that help or hurt Javi’s case at this point? So I settle with, “Thank you.”

  I’m downstairs with minutes to spare. The sweater I brought is wrapped around my shoulders. As the elevator doors open, I see a sleek, large, black Lincoln town car sitting just outside the glass doors. Is that for me?

  I have a moment as the driver steps out to open my door where I feel like I’m living someone else’s life. It’s funny, living in the Chubby house felt right at home, but being on my own with everything I’ve ever wanted…Weirdsville.

  We pull into traffic after I give him the address. People on the street glance at the beautiful car, wondering what important person sits behind the tinted windows. Hoping to catch a glimpse of a svelte model, actress, or famous athlete, they crane their necks as we pass. It’s just plain old me, I think, as I do my own people-watching the whole driv
e over.

  We pull in front of the glass building that I remember from my pre-Blue days. I catch a glimpse of myself, looking very put together, as I exit the door the driver holds open for me. “What time should I pick you up?” he asks, tilting his cap.

  “I’ll be ready at one.”

  He nods, and off I go.

  Javi

  Time sucks and knows it. I haven’t been off my bed since my hand was set. The plaster cast itches, but I take the annoyance with pleasure. I deserve that and so much more. The doctor sits by my bed as he’s done every day that I’ve missed my appointment time with him, playing a game on his phone. I haven’t talked, not another secret. He’s proven to me that he can’t be trusted.

  He clears his throat while looking at his watch. “You know, Javier, this stubborn attitude isn’t going to get you any closer to your Blue. The longer you give me the silent treatment, the longer you’ll stay here.” He stands and stretches, exposing his weak underbelly, flabby and unprotected. I want to punch him in his hairy gut, strangle him, and steal the keys to freedom. But I commit no violence, content to stare at the ceiling as he prepares to leave.

  He lowers his voice, making me listen if I want to catch his words. “I’m not the enemy here. Think about that the next time you miss group therapy or a meeting.”

  My door closes behind him. I’m alone. Thoughts of Blue, her smile, her laughter, invade my mind. She’s all I think about these days. There are drugs I can take to help with my obsessive thoughts. The doctor’s offered, but so far all I’ve wanted to do is wallow.

  An hour later, there’s a knock at my door. Right on time. My tendons creak as I lift myself off the mattress and answer it, knowing Eddie—a guy who works in the kitchen whom I’ve bribed with five hundred dollars—is on the other side. I take my nightly ritual from him, giving him a nod as I close the door.

  A jelly donut, oozing filling, sits atop a white cafeteria plate beckoning to me.