This Is Not About Love

by Carissa Ann Lynch

  Chapter Ten

  Penelope parked her Escalade on the side of a deserted road and grabbed the siphoning hose that she had borrowed from her neighbor, Tootsie Daniels. She glanced up and down the street for cars, and it appeared as though the coast was clear. She started siphoning the gasoline out of her car into a rusty old gas can she’d found in the shed. She had read how to siphon gas online, but it was not as easy as it sounded.

  However, after a while she got the hang of it, and when she was finished, she felt oddly proud of herself for figuring it out all on her own. She placed the evidence of wrongdoing in the trunk and slid back in behind the wheel. She made it approximately two miles before the car began to sputter. “Showtime!” she squealed with delight. She pulled the car over to the side of the road and pulled out her Blackberry.

  Her mood blackened as she realized she was cheering herself on for tricking her fiancé. There was nothing about this situation worth cheering about. She covered her face with her hands, and for the first time in days, she didn’t try to stop the tears. She felt awful. Her fiancé was sneaking around, and she was sneaking around in order to find out what he was sneaking around about. How ludicrous! she thought. How can I get married to a man whom I barely even know or trust? Why are we keeping secrets from each other already? Isn’t that what people who have been married forever do when they suddenly get bored with each other?

  Penelope let out a loud sigh in exasperation. She had to go forward with her plan, and in order to do that, she had to send a text to Michael. She took her time typing out the text, and reread it a few times to make sure it didn’t sound fishy. I ran out of gas! she reminded herself. There is nothing fishy about running out of gas, she thought with a sigh. She hesitated for a moment longer and then pressed the send button.

  Penelope had chosen this road purposefully for two reasons. One, it contained very little traffic, and in fact, she had not even seen one vehicle so far. Two, it was only a couple of miles from Michael’s workplace, so he had no excuse not to come to the rescue of his soon-to-be wife no matter how busy he was at work—not to mention the fact that he’s not even really at work, Penelope thought, and she was filled with disgust and anger.

  She glanced down at her phone, eagerly awaiting his response and growing more nervous by the minute. What if he really did have his phone off today? It’s not like she could call B & J Shipping, considering the fact that he really wasn’t there. Was she going to have to walk two miles to get gas on her own?

  She groaned at the thought. “That would be just my luck. Drain out my own gasoline in the hopes of getting rescued, only to discover that the only person who can rescue me is myself,” she muttered under her breath.

  Penelope was relieved when she heard the familiar beep of her Blackberry. It was Michael! His text read that he was on the way.

  Forty minutes later, he showed up with a plastic gas can in tow. Penelope had covered up her tear-stained face with another coat of concealer, and she brushed her long, blonde hair. She was going for the whole “damsel in distress” look. But Michael paid her no mind. He went right to work filling up the tank with gas, and he seemed irritated when she explained she had gone into town and forgotten to look at the gas gauge. Michael once again appeared to be distracted by something, and he could barely look her in the eye.

  “All done,” he said. He screwed the cap back on the gas can and headed to the back of the car, presumably to place the empty can in the trunk. “No wait!” Penelope cried out, “I don’t want the gas to leak out onto my shopping bags. Will you put it in the backseat?” she asked. He did as she requested and leaned forward to give her a quick peck on the cheek.

  “Michael?”

  “Yes?”

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, dear, just overwhelmed with these new clients of mine at work,” he responded, finally looking into her eyes for longer than three seconds. He paused for a second, as though he wanted to say more, but then he just patted her arm and told her he had to get back to work.

  Penelope watched him pull away. She felt certain something was going on, and after the package Elijah received this afternoon, she was convinced it had something to do with Lexi Ambrose.

  She started the car and pulled out behind Michael. She followed him to the stop sign. She watched him go left, and then she turned right. After driving for several blocks, she pulled into a church parking lot and turned around. The whole point of this charade was that she wanted to tail Michael and see what he was up to. But now she just felt so damned depressed that she considered going back home. She could hear her mother’s voice very clearly in her head as she instructed her at an early age to, “Never chase after a man, Penelope!” According to her mother, Jeanie, no man was worth chasing.

  “If he’s not chasing you, then go find a man who will,” Penelope reminded herself aloud. Even her voice was starting to sound like her mother’s, and that scared her. Her mother’s advice on love obviously didn’t work for herself because Penelope’s father had finally left her five years ago, and her mother lived alone with a cat and seldom dated anyone. She seemed shrewd and miserable, and Penelope didn’t want to be either of those two things.

  Penelope picked up speed and hurried to catch up with Michael. After all, he was the man she loved and wanted to marry. She was willing to chase him around if it meant getting to the bottom of this mystery.

  Chapter Eleven

  The hotel room at the Filmont Inn was extraordinary. Violet had arrived an hour earlier with her new heels in tow and had been happily surprised to find a room filled with daisies (her favorite), chocolate-covered pecans (also her favorite), and champagne. As soon as she arrived, she kicked off her tennis shoes and jumped on the bed.

  Jumping on the bed was a ritual that she and Granny had started when she was young. Anytime they went to a nice hotel, which was not very often because Granny couldn’t afford it, they would both try out the bed first thing. Trying out the bed meant estimating its softness by seeing how close they could get to the ceiling when they bounced on it. After she concluded that the bed was indeed pretty soft, she poured a glass of champagne and hungrily ate three pecans. She decided it was time to check out the bathroom facilities, and she carried her champagne and an unlit cigarette in with her. The bathtub was like a Jacuzzi, and there were two his and hers sinks lined with tons of soap, shampoo, and toiletries.

  Michael had errands to run, and he had encouraged her to go to the hotel whenever she liked and check herself in. She was thankful to have some time to relax and get ready before his arrival.

  Violet started her bath water and sat on the toilet, lighting her cigarette. She felt great. Michael would be here in two hours, and that gave her just enough time to take a long, hot bath before slipping into her new lingerie, dress, and heels. She’d bought a curling iron at the boutique also because she wanted to fix her hair for once.

  Violet peeled off her clothes and examined her naked body in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. Even with her hair tossed up in a loose bun and no makeup, she had to admit that she looked pretty good. She felt like she was glowing, and she knew it had to be because she was truly in love.

  She took down her bun and let her long, dark locks fall to her shoulders. Her eyes were bright blue, and according to most people, they were her best feature. She was short and stocky, but her curves were in all the right places. Granny used to tell her that she was naturally beautiful without even trying. Maybe the champagne was going to her head, or maybe it was love, but for the first time, she actually saw what her grandmother was talking about. She did have natural beauty, and although she had always been insecure about her height and small, curvaceous figure, today she liked what she saw in the mirror. She could not wait for Michael to see her tonight too.

  Chapter Twelve

  Penelope was beginning to feel rather foolish. She had been following Michael at a safe distance for hours now, and although he definitely wasn’t at work
, as he had earlier claimed to be, he wasn’t doing anything too suspicious either.

  After filling up his Jeep Cherokee with gas, he’d driven to a local restaurant for lunch. At first, she wondered if he was meeting up with someone, but after watching him through the restaurant window from across the street for nearly an hour, she decided that he was doing just what it appeared: eating lunch. He finished his shake, paid his bill, and then drove to a barbershop. Unless he was gay, she didn’t think he was cheating on her in a barbershop. She chewed on her nails for nearly an hour waiting for him to come out. She nearly fell asleep waiting, but perked up just in time to see him walk out, sporting a new haircut and shave.

  Michael was so handsome, and she felt so guilty for following him that she was half tempted to just pull up next to him and end this whole charade. Most likely, he just wanted some time to himself…just like I do occasionally, she scolded herself.

  But instead of turning around and driving back home to get the kids off the bus, Penelope decided to finish what she had started. Michael’s next two stops were the post office and dry cleaners. “This is getting boring…” she complained. After he exited the dry cleaners with two clean suits in hand, she was about to give up. But somehow she had a gut feeling that she hadn’t seen all there was to see yet.

  Michael’s next destination was a gas station, and since there were limited areas where she could hide her vehicle, Penelope drove on up to the Filmont Inn and parked her car in the back where she still had a good view of the nearby gas station. Michael went into the store and returned with two paper sacks. “Wow, Penelope! You managed to catch your husband running errands today on his day off. Whoopee!” she exclaimed sarcastically and slumped down in her seat. Boy, did she feel pretty stupid—not to mention pathetic, paranoid, and psychotic!

  Michael turned right out of the gas station and right in the direction of where she was parked at the Filmont Inn. Originally, she had planned to pull out after him as he passed, but at this point it was almost eight o’clock, and he was probably heading home from work. She needed to go home. The kids were probably starving to death and rotting their brains with that damned Xbox, she thought, shaking her head.

  But just when she was starting to feel better, her whole world came crashing down. Michael was turning into the hotel where she was parked! Had he seen her?

  Apparently he hadn’t, and his reason for coming to the Filmont Inn had nothing to do with her, since he parked his Jeep and headed inside, carrying his two suits and his two paper bags.

  Penelope imagined herself jumping out of the vehicle and confronting him right then and there in the parking lot. She wanted to smack him across the face and then throw her engagement ring on the ground. But in reality, she stayed in the car. She was too shocked to move yet, and her stomach was twisting and turning as she realized that there was no way Michael was up to anything good. It’s Lexi, she thought. That careless bitch is back in town, and she’s lured him here to try and win him back. But then she remembered the email from earlier, the one about a business meeting at the Filmont Inn with a woman named Violet. Was the name Violet merely a pseudonym for Lexi? Or perhaps he really is seeing a woman named Violet. Penelope’s thoughts were racing and her body shook with a mixture of adrenaline and fear.

  She should have felt like crying right now, but suddenly she felt like doing no such thing. Reaching for her Blackberry, she decided to call her mother. Her friends and family were still in Mellville, and right now she needed someone to talk to.

  Penelope’s mother, Jeanie, picked up on the third ring. Without giving her a chance to say hello, Penelope opened her mouth and let the whole story spill out. At the very least, her mother’s voice could help her abstain from crying right now. But Jeanie did better than that. She told Penelope exactly what she should do.

  Chapter Thirteen

  When Lexi opened her eyes, she was lying in a hospital bed. It only took a second for her to remember the beating, and she quickly tried to sit up, only to find herself tangled up in a web of IVs and other strange cords.

  “Will somebody get me out of these cords!” she yelled as loudly as her sore throat would allow. A nurse came quickly to her aid and pushed her back against the bed with a little more force than necessary.

  “Hey, bitch! What do you think you’re doing?” Lexi demanded. But the nurse just ignored her. She started checking her IV and messing with other gadgets around the bed.

  “Hello!” Lexi tried to say, but it sounded more like a frog croaking. She finally gave up on getting a response from Nurse Ratched, and let her finish whatever job she was supposed to be doing.

  “I know you’re upset, Mrs. Ambrose, but I assure you the doctors and I are taking good care of you now,” Nurse Ratched informed her.

  “It’s Ms. Ambrose. I’m divorced.”

  “Okay, Ms. Ambrose.”

  Nurse Ratched finished fooling around with the IV and took a seat on the edge of the bed. She gave Lexi a stern look that reminded Lexi of her own mother, that is, when her mother was sober.

  “Your boyfriend beat you pretty badly. I don’t know how much you remember, but you were very lucky.”

  “You call this lucky?” Lexi croaked. “I feel like dog shit, lady.”

  “I can imagine that you do, Ms. Ambrose. You have a concussion and several of your ribs are broken. Your nose is broken, and, no offense, but not only do you feel like shit, but you look it too.”

  Nurse Ratched handed her some ice chips to soothe her parched throat and then provided her with a handheld mirror, per Lexi’s request.

  Lexi groaned. She looked like the bride of Frankenstein, only worse. Both of her eyes were black, and although her nose was covered with gauze, she could tell it was swollen three times its normal size. “I guess my career as a model is over,” Lexi whined sarcastically.

  Nurse Ratched raised her eyebrows questioningly. Lexi rolled her eyes and attempted to laugh, but every inch of her body hurt too badly. “I’m only kidding,” she said. Nurse Ratched leaned in closer and there it was again: the motherly look.

  “Well, you’re certainly pretty enough to be a model, young lady. And it doesn’t take a social worker to figure out that someone like you can do much better than a jerk like that.”

  “I suppose by jerk, you must be referring to Reggie.”

  “Is that your boyfriend’s name?”

  “No.”

  Nurse Ratched raised her eyebrows and gave Lexi a confused look.

  Lexi explained, “I don’t have a boyfriend. Reggie and I just dated from time to time, and I assure you, he won’t be dating anyone anytime soon after I get my hands on his woman-beating ass!”

  Nurse Ratched’s eyes widened, and then she let out a low, hearty laugh. Her laughter was contagious apparently, because the next thing Lexi knew, she was laughing right along with her.

  “Ow! My ribs hurt…”

  “And they are going to hurt for quite some time. Broken ribs take time to heal, and you’re going to have to take it easy until they do.”

  Lexi groaned and covered her face with her hands. “I swear I’m going to kill him.”

  Nurse Ratched shook her head. “You do not have to kill anyone. Your neighbor beat you to the punch. In fact, I probably should not be telling you this, but Reggie is down the hall in intensive care. Apparently, your neighbor downstairs was trying to ignore your screams and mind his own business. But when he heard you stop screaming all of a sudden, he worried you might be dead. Not only did he call the police, but he busted into your apartment and beat the living daylights out of Reggie. There’s a chance he might not make it, and if he does, he has a sheriff waiting to arrest him. Either way you look at it, Honey, that boy’s fate is sealed.”

  Lexi smiled at the nurse, whose real name was Betty, according to her tag. “Thanks, Betty,” Lexi whispered hoarsely, and she allowed herself to drift back to sleep.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Michael showed up at eight on the dot. It was a
good thing he’d brought two sacks of wine, because Violet had finished off the entire bottle nearly an hour earlier. She was not normally a big drinker, but she had so enjoyed primping for her night with Michael that she had drunk more than she realized while she was getting ready.

  Alex would have been irritated by her drunkenness, but Michael found it endearing, and he scooped her up in a big bear hug as soon as he laid eyes on her. Her dress was spectacular, but she’d kicked off the heels an hour ago because they were killing her feet. But that didn’t stop her from putting them on for Michael, and she spun around in a drunken circle, singing “Ta da!”

  She did not get to show off the dress for long because the next thing she knew, he was taking it off of her. She had decided on a bra and panty set instead of a negligee, and as he pulled her back, he examined the lacy bra and low-cut thong.

  “Wow! Violet, you are gorgeous,” he moaned, keeping his eyes on her as she spun around again, repeating her performance. Michael was mesmerized by her beauty, and he couldn’t help but love her childlike excitement and joy. He reached for her, but she pulled back, and he recognized the seriousness of her expression. “Michael, we have to stop…”

  Michael put up a hand to keep her from saying the words he was not yet ready to hear, but she took his hand in hers and pulled him over to the edge of the bed where they could talk.

  “I know I’m a little tipsy tonight, but I need to say this first, and I hope it comes out right,” Violet said. Michael did not like the sound of it, and he told her so.

  She explained, “Michael, I love you. I have loved you since I was a girl. But right now I need to say that if we’re going to leave our significant others, it should be for more reasons than our feelings for each other.”