I give him a brisk grin and stretch up to kiss his cheek. “I’ll be alright,” I say and abandon him with our luggage.
In the bathroom, I wash my face free of the tear streaked make-up and pull my hair back into a pony tail. Shedding my fake wife appropriate sun dress, I climb into a pair of jeans and a light sweater.
Looking at my reflection, at least I look like myself despite not feeling at all like the old Trista. I sigh for the girl that is long gone, never to return. The new Trista takes one more look at the girl in the mirror. I heave another big breath, blow it out in a rush, and shake out my arms trying to awaken my resolve.
I leave the old Trista in the restroom knowing she is of no use to me now.
“Tris,” a familiar voice catches me off guard, restricting my steps. I close my eyes, hoping I’m hearing things.
Shit. Think fast, think fast! He can’t know. It would kill him.
When I turn to face him, I plaster on the brightest smile I can work up, blinking away a few tears.
“Xander! What are you doing here?” I ask, concocting my best Marvy imitation. “Oh you can’t see me like this! My make-up is in my carry-on! I must look horrible,” I pseudo protest.
The anger and frustration still mar his face, but I can see his eyes transition from despondent abandonment to confusion.
“Marvy? When did you…? How? AND you fucking married him? ”
Pulling him to the side, I give him a big hug. It feels good to have his arms around me, even if it is under false pretenses. “Of course not Xander, you idiot! It’s totally faux to get me a passport and get out of town. And we’re only fake engaged, not fake married yet.”
He pushes against my shoulders to look into my eyes, but his expression does not change as I expect it to. An undercurrent of scrutiny fills his eyes.
“Why are you leaving town?”
“Uuuhhhhgghh! Okay, from the beginning. I woke up at Bryson’s house on the bluff all beat up and sore again. He thinks I’m Trista.” I fake giggle. “He thinks we’re twins or some shit like that. He guessed. I think cuz she’s such a doofus and I’m…well, I’m me!” I shrug coyly. “He came up with this scam to fake marry me cuz I think he’s on the run from something Tris did. I’m not sure about that though knowing her. I overheard him talking to someone about a flight to Germany and then to a place called Makarska, wherever that is. I was gonna call Dawson before we left, but now you can tell him. The meeting was set for last Sunday with someone named Simic, but I don’t know when or where.”
I am a horrible person; a fantastic fuckin’ liar, but a horrible person.
Alex leans back against the wall. For a moment, I don’t think he buys my act, but then he says, “They still had the surveillance room set up at the hotel. Dawson somehow got cameras in Bryson’s suite, so I saw the whole thing. You looked like you were enjoying yourself,” he says with a smidge of derision.
I roll my eyes in a very Marvy way and deliver an Oscar-worthy smile. “Duh! Designer clothes, shoes, and jewelry? He’s actually kinda decent.” Alex doesn’t return my smile, in fact he looks pretty somber. “I mean for a guy that supposedly is a drug dealer, human trafficker, or some shit.”
He crosses his arms and throws his gaze down. “Did she sleep with him?”
“Oh fuck, Xander! How the hell should I know? Want me to ask him?” I figured being defensive is how Marvy would react. My heart is being scored in my chest, each lie cutting deeper lines.
“Did you?” he asks, nailing me with the question. A sharp pain in my gut follows, but I know I can’t react to the intense stab.
I force a steady breath and slit my eyes. Marvy is such a bitch, and I know her self-inflated ego would have posed the question, so I ask maliciously, “Jealous?”
The muscle in his jaw tenses. “No, but it is still her body.”
My turn to cross my arms and I stand with mocking obstinacy. “So…just possessively selfish,” I flippantly retort.
He snatches my arms shaking me. “Kiss my ass, Marvy! I love her, so don’t do anything else with her or her body, got it? It’s bad enough she’s married to him.”
“Fake engaged,” I swiftly correct him.
“Whatever.”
My arms pulse with pain under the fierce grip of his fingertips. “Okay, okay. I got it. Now get off me!”
I want to cry and tell him everything. It takes everything I have not to. Swallowing multiple times through my tightening throat and clenching my teeth only make my head throb more.
Hurried footsteps come from behind. “Trista? Rush, what are you doing here? Get your fucking hands off my wife!” Bryson grabs my hand, pulling me intimately into his arms. It’s more an act of possession, than protection.
“She’s not your wife, asshat! This is a bullshit scheme you talked her into,” Alex seethes back as Hennessey blocks his attempt to retrieve me. “She’s no more your wife than this ‘roid freak,” he says pointing to Hennessey. “I’m gonna kick you’re a—” He stops mid-sentence and turns to peg me with a narrow stare. “Did he just call you Trista?”
I crimp my face when caught in the lie.
Ah fuck.
Nodding, I feed him warped information, hoping he understands my meaning. “Yes, he did. He knows, Alex. Bryson knows Marvy and I are twins.”
Alex intently gazes at me, but doesn’t say a word. Finally he cocks an eyebrow and pinches his lips. “I see.”
The arm around me tightens uncomfortably and I realize Bryson is taking in the whole scene. “Go back to your little night club, Rush. We’re flying out shortly and I’m keeping her safe.”
Pushing forward, Alex fumes, “You need to back the fuck off, Seviride. This is between me and her.”
Hennessy steps to the right when he moves left, and ends up holding Alex’s shoulder to push him back.
“Trista, please come back with me,” Alex implores, his whole body reaching out to me. “We can work this out, I know we can.”
A pull that is so strong tempts my thoughts, but I know this is the only way.
I shake my head slowly, it bears the burden of my deception. “No, Alex. I can’t stay with you. This is for the best and you know it.”
It’s the truth, but causes just as much hurt and damage as the lies. He must know why I need to do this. If I leave, everything I’ve been through will be for nothing.
He doesn’t give up and tries again, “Please, baby, I can fix this!”
The heated chest against my face rumbles with laughter. “Ha! You or your daddy, Capamonte?”
Flames burst through Alex’s body, I can see his entire frame shaking. “Fuck you, Seviride!” Hennessey braces himself with a step back to fight against Alex’s attack. The bodyguard could take Alex down with the four inches and twenty pounds he has over him, but he just passively counters Alex’s movements with ease.
I push back to look up at Bryson. “Who?”
“Oh that’s right, you didn’t tell her. Did you, piccolo lupo?” he taunts. “He’s Mafioso blood. Giovanni ‘Wolfsbane’ Capamonte, the New York Italian Kingpin, is his father, Trista.”
Alex bounces off of Hennessy, but continues to press forward. “I don’t need his fucking help to protect what’s mine,” he spits.
Scoffing at Alex, Bryson sniggers, “Oh little wolf, I can’t believe YOU were the smartest sperm to get to you slut mama’s egg.” He wraps both arms around me snugly. “It seems like you’re confused, mafia boy. Can’t you tell she has made her choice?”
Bearing witness to how Bryson is holding me and with no protest from me, enrages Alex. He growls punching the wall and stalks away. The display of fury and hurt marring the wall with specks of blood is a dagger plunging into my heart. Yet I say nothing opposing Bryson, nor do I speak in Alex’s defense. Or mine. I am a coward.
Bryson holds me tighter, nestling into my hair. “You ok? How did he know you’d be here?”
My choices for survival are killing my soul. I bury my head in the comfort of Bryson’s ch
est, but find nothing there to counter the erosion I feel.
“I guess he saw the paparazzo scene at the hotel and followed us here,” I muffle.
He kisses the top of my head. “What did he want?”
I shrug and gulp against the knot in my throat. “I don’t know. He’s just a stupid, jealous, little boy, I guess.”
My own words drive the dagger even deeper.
THANKFULLY, IT’S GOING to be a long flight so we settle in to our heated leather seats in the First Class cabin. Jason and Hennessey are sitting in the row in front of us messing with the controls on the arm rests. It has every kind of port for electronics, music players for the In–flight’s music selection or movie of choice, as well as controls for the reclining seats with custom temperature controls.
A smiling glamazon member of the flight crew hands them warm, lemon scented hand cloths. I have no idea what to do with mine so I mimic Bryson’s actions, dabbing my face, and wiping my hands before handing it back to the glamazon. My mood sours as she takes a few unnecessary extra seconds taking the towel from Bryson. Her leg is unprofessionally pushing up against his arm. I kind of want to rip off her false lashes and shove the towel down her throat.
“Do you need anything?” Bryson asks, seeing as how I’m still rattled from my altercation with Alex. I don’t answer him and just peer out the window. “I had Serafina pack magazines and a music player,” he adds. I prop my elbow up on the arm rest, lay my chin in my palm and continue to stare out the window. “Trista, we’re supposed to be on our honeymoon, having fun and in love. Don’t let Rush spoil it before it even begins. I should’ve knocked him on his ass.”
He weaves his fingers between mine. I can only give him a weak smile from my weak body that holds my weak heart. I take the music player and ear buds the efficiently considerate Serafina provided. The player is loaded with the Top 100 Pop and R&B songs, a large playlist of 80’s hits and strangely, some really great Techno music. I lean over to Bryson and give him a peck on the cheek.
A scam of a scam, on top of a scam, because of a scam. No wonder I’m tired. I recline my seat and pretend to sleep with the ear buds blaring Top 100 Pop Hits. In actuality, I do fall asleep with the hum of the plane engine and the tunes as my lullaby. It doesn’t take too long before I give up and let my head tip to the side.
In the elixir of my fatigue, I find myself in darkness. Echoes of whispering voices sweep around me.
“Be careful, Trista,”
“He’s not what you think,”
“Betrayer,”
“Run,”
“Get out,”
“Before it’s too late,”
“Don’t trust him.”
The phrases dip and sing in a tormenting, overlapping whirlwind, engulfing my senses. In the complete darkness, it’s pointless to close my eyes so I cover my ears to block the voices. My arms tingle with the fear of their warnings. My breath quickens and heart pounds as the words assault me. They whip past me like barbed lashes across my body.
“Stop! Please stop!” And just like that, they cease, leaving me in a cold sheet of sweat and a thundering heart.
I lower my hands from my ears to hear the black silence. My inhales and exhales sound like wind tunnels and the thumping from my chest pounds in my ears. From behind, I detect footsteps, the clicking of heels actually.
A figure appears from the dimness, getting brighter the closer the person gets. It becomes a spotlight on me, the figure. It is an image of me, but not me. It’s Marvy.
Dressed in a black floor-length, halter dress with a slit up to her upper thigh, she smiles.
“Hello T,” she greets, casually flicking her long, dark curls over her shoulder.
I stand, struck and stunned into silence. Not sure why, but in my mind’s eye, Marvy has always been more beautiful than me. She is a magnificent example of a woman with perfect hair, perfect skin, and a perfect body. Her same brown eyes, penetrate me. I wasn’t wrong, she is gorgeous, but she is not me. I see the shell covering the ugliness swirling behind her eyes. Every moment scarring and corrupting my soul, has warped the figure in front of me. The pain I have caused her to take on shimmers around her in a sick shadow. It is a dark life—our dark life—she has been made to endure.
“Yes it’s me, calm down. And wipe that sad look off your face, you’re not dead,” she says flicking her nails. “I wanted to commend you on a game well-played so far. You hooked Xander AND Bryson in less than a week, I’m very impressed. Didn’t think you had it in you. But head’s up girl, you don’t know all the players yet.”
Still taken aback by my alter standing in front of me, nothing she says makes any sense. It’s easy to let go of the pity I feel for her and be consumed by disgust. Instead, I find myself pushing judgements aside and once I do, I release a breath of relief.
“Marvy? Holy shit! I can’t believe I’m actually talking to you! Where are we?”
“Duh, stupid. We’re still on the plane. You’re sleeping next to your new fiancé. That’s a twist I didn’t see coming, but I guess that was your idea of the next step after you fucked him.”
There is more of an extreme loathing in her accusation than there is antagonism. Something she is not telling me, rages in her eyes. My brow squeezes together and my eyes slit so narrow I can barely see her.
Marvy smiles wickedly. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
“What do you mean? For what?”
Marvy pushes my shoulder back and laughs. “Oh, come on! You don’t think you did that all by your dippy-ass, homely self, did you? Since you couldn’t seal the deal with Xander I loaned you a little guiding push. Besides, I needed to get laid—two birds and all that.”
Her indifference makes me doubt my suspicions, but I swear I can feel bitterness pour out of her. Her words sink in and slowly, awareness creeps on me. “So it was you? What I feel for him…the…the…”
“The lust, the need, the hunger? The crazy, I just wanna fuck his brains out feeling? Yeah hooker, that was me,” she sneers. “I just took over a little. I wanted you to feel it because I knew you’d like it and want more. I want to get laid more: win–win. He was good wasn’t he? I knew he would be even if he does likes the rough stuff. I just can’t believe you didn’t put a hat on that shit.”
Marvy leans on one hip and crosses her arms over her chest. “But don’t put that other shit on me. Anything you feel above your va-jay is all on you. Whatever it is you think you feel for him now? No babe, you own that bullshit.”
My hand flies from my gaping mouth to across Marvy’s face. The slap reverberates around us. “You made me cheat on Alex!”
Holding her cheek, she screams back, “Bullshit! You wanted it! I could feel it. That’s why I came out!”
“I could have stopped,” I say softly.
Marvy snorts. “Like you did in the car? How trashy of you T.”
I know she’s right. Something in me wants Bryson and it has nothing to do with Marvy. “Why are you like this, Marvy? What happened to us? Why can’t I remember any of it? How did I not know how Ty died?” My voice warbles with each question getting closer to what I think happened to us. “What did Kaylon and Guy do? Did they—”
“STOP!” she screeches. Her breaths are heavy and tears gather in her eyes. “They hurt us. That’s all you need to know.”
The knot in my throat doesn’t stop my tears. “I’m so sorry, Marvy. I know it was you that shielded me from them.” It is the weirdest thing ever, but I pull her in and hug her tight. “Please forgive me.”
Her body shakes and a single sob echoes around us. A few seconds go by and her body stills, but she gives me a squeeze before pulling away. Sniffing, she carefully wipes under her eyes. “I hate crying, bitch. You’re going to make me ruin my make-up.”
“This is a dream, you dork,” I razz. “But seriously Marvy, you gotta help me get out of this. All I need to do is get information in order to get Bryson clear from Dawson.”
Marvy holds her hands up. “O
h hell no! Are you fuckin’ crazy? He set me up to get raped! He…He…no, just no,” she says fiercely shaking her head. “Fuck that, no matter what he does to make up for shit, I can’t. I won’t. There is no way I am coming out to help that asshole. You don’t know the kind of man he is or what he really wants from us. I do! If you want to help him, you’re on your own. But I’ll tell you this, he’s not worth it. Want my advice? You get us the fuck away from him any way you can. Get whatever info we need and run your dumb ass out of there.”
Another voice comes from the blackness. In similar growing spotlight a figure with cropped blonde hair and a staunch stride balks, “Quit yer jawin’ skank! We gots shit ta do.”
I recognize the voice. Valeria is nothing like I would have imagined, dressed in army camo pants with an untucked, loose tank top. Her toned body is carved with defined muscle and a tattoo vines up her arm all the way to her neck.
“Who dis?” she asks, ticking her head toward me.
Marvy looks surprised, and then chuckles. “Well, I guess you two haven’t officially been introduced. This is pansy-ass Trista,” she says pointing at me.
“Pansy-ass Trista? Funny name…oooooh wait, Trista. I hearda you, yer boy Alexander, was lookin’ fer ya dat night,” Valeria jeers, her pale blue eyes inventory me up and down. “Ain’t much, is she Marv?”
Marvy scowls, “Don’t call me that. She’s enough—she has to be.”
“Hi Twista!” A small voice from behind Marvy squeaks. A little girl with braided pigtails peers out from behind.
“You!” I accuse.
Marvy stiffens and catches Valeria’s eyes. The exchange is brief but enough to let me know something isn’t right. Dismissing it for later, I turn back to the child.
The familiar little girl tilts her head with a questioning look, but recovers and grins. I wrack my brain to remember every moment we played together. Try to put the pieces together to formulate my past. I was so young, and the memories are mere shadows and blur, yet in multitudes of occasions. I wonder how many times had she preoccupied and infested my mind with games so that Marvy could be abused at the hands of the Rimmels. Mercy innocently blinks and smiles as any kid would, but she is no child. There is a glint dead center in her eyes that tells me as much.
Pieces Of One, Part 2 (The Dark Life Collection) Page 9
