Round N Around We Go (Has Cupid Gone Mad?)

by Belinda Elkaim

  At the moment she cannot foresee what will become by the end of the ninety days. The only thing she is ascertain, is that she must take care of her career first and the rest can wait.

  She clicks on the photo album of her phone and taps on a photo of her and Ivan, taking together at their last vacation in Belize. She touches his face with her fingertips and sighs.

  She loves him dearly but is not willing to become his belonging subordinate. She has tried her best to make him understand, but being equally if not more stubborn than him, she finds it difficult to communicate.

  Heartfelt conversations always seem to turn into meaningless and childish confrontations. No longer desiring to fight with him, she decides to write him a letter instead. Perhaps it will be easier to get her feelings conveyed adequately through a letter.

  She looks for pen and paper in Karina’s desk and begins to compose the first love letter she has ever written. Pouring her heart and soul into words meticulously chosen, she intends to seek his understanding and to assure him of her love and loyalty.

  Signing off with a lip print, she leans back in the chair and review her words. Biting her lower lip while reading, she feels hesitant and uncertain that she should send out the letter. Changing her mind, she lets out a saddened sigh and crumbles the letter in her hands. Aiming for the waste paper bin, she tosses it over but misses it by an inch.

  “Nay.” She whispers to herself. “It’s probably not a good idea. He won’t appreciate it anyway and does not deserve to know.” ************

  Juggling with three tubes of oil paintings tugged under her arm, a briefbag over her shoulder and two bags full of delicacies from the Whole Food Market, Karina opens the gallery and heads towards the office to get organized for the day.

  Accidentally she knocks over a bowl of decorative glass marbles on the coffee table and gasps at her own clumsiness.

  Leaning the tubes against the wall, she places her briefbag and groceries on the desk and bends down on all fours to collect the scattered marbles.

  While scooping up the marbles with her hands, the reflection of a metal object under the sofa catches her eye. She reaches under the sofa and pulls out the object. She studies it in detail then narrows her eyes. She has seen something that resembles this object in a spy movie. Quickly she turns on the computer and searches for images on listening devices. She stares at one of the imagines on her screen and compares it with the object in her hand. There is no doubt in her mind, that she is holding a listening device.

  Sinking into her chair, she backtracks along memory lane and all of a sudden, it strikes her to remember that only one other person besides herself has been in Theo’s office.

  She narrows her eyes into a frown and becomes baffled. Nothing seems to make sense to her anymore. If he desires to learn more about her, then all he has to do is ask. Why plant a listening device? It’s not what people typically do when dating.

  Cautiously and soundlessly, she places the device on top of the pile of glass marbles in the bowl and puts the assortment of salads from Whole Food in the mini refrigerator.

  Expecting Keith for a ‘picnic’ in the office for lunch, she prepares a fresh brew of coffee and is anxious to see him. She needs an explanation.

  Having endured an uneventful and rather monotonous morning, Keith arrives promptly at noon and greets Karina with the warmest embrace. Surprised by her cold return, he notices something different in her behavior. Patiently, she holds her breath while leading him into her office and tries to control her temper. Not yet, she says to herself, just a moment longer.

  She serves him a fresh cup of Café Au Lait, made exactly the way as he likes it and seats him on the sofa inside her office.

  Innocently and unaware that the listening device has been found, he places his hand on her thigh and tries to pull her closer. Swiftly she leans forward, picks up the listening device and waves it in front of his face. Karina clears her throat, raises an eyebrow, speaks softly to manage the anxiety that she feels and sincerely hopes that there is an amiable explanation. “Before we get any closer, please explain this listening device to me. How does it work? Is someone listening to us right now?” She pretends to be naïve and watches him pull back.

  Caught off guard and unsure of how to react, Keith pretends to be baffled. “What’s that?”

  “Keith,” Karina presses for the truth, “Please do not insult my intelligence. I know what this is and you are the only person who has been in this office. You are the only person who could have planted this so tell me, how long have you been spying on me? And for what? I don’t get it, I’m not even rich so you can’t hold me for ransom.” She babbles on, “Who are you? What are you hiding from me?”

  Cover blown, Keith grabs the listening device from Karina and begins to leave hastily.

  “And I thought you like me!” Karina bursts out. “You used me to plant the listening device for I don’t know what. How can you walk out without explaining and leave me like this?” Her feelings are hurt and she demands to know the truth. “So everything is a lie and a giant cover up?”

  Keith pauses at the door and turns around to look at Karina. Seeing how upset she is, he feels guilty of causing her pain.

  Stuttering and trying to find the cleverest words, “Karina, it’s really not like that! I never meant to hurt you. You must believe me.”

  Karina raises her voice just a little, “Fine, if it’s not like ‘that’ as you imply, then what is it? What have you done to me?” Near tears, she presses her lips together and refrains from crying.

  Evasively, he tries to escape the agonizing truth by smooth talking to her. “I was asked to keep an eye on you.”

  Before he can mutter another word, she cuts him sharply to a halt. “Wait a minute, you’re scaring me. Someone hired you to spy on me? How long have you been watching me?”

  He steps forward and tries to move closer to her but is stopped by her hand gesture. Holding out her palm, she ensures a comfortable distance. “The night we met, when you found me lost in midtown, was that staged? Is that how you schemed to meet me so you can do your job?” Karina rubs her forehead and begins to feel as if she were an idiot.

  “Yes,” Hesitantly he tries to explain but quickly corrects himself, “but no! I was just following you and didn’t expect to find you lost with a flat tire. I just had to come to your rescue. That part of it was personal.” He continues quickly before she could stop him again, “Meeting you in person and getting to know you was unintended. It just happened that way and I truly have feelings for you. I’m not lying Karina.”

  The more he attempts to explain and justify, the more repulsive she becomes and the worse he begins to feel. Dropping the listening device on the floor, he steps on it and crushes it in front of her eyes.

  The truth beholds and he finally caves in. “Karina I’m sorry to have lied to you. I’d like to make it up to you by telling you the truth. I hope you’ll forgive me. I am a private investigator for an art insurance company, and the tap is not on you. The mark is Theodore Risso.” He tries to be as evasive as possible and conveys the bare minimum. “My only advice for you is to be careful. I know you have nothing to do with the trail, just don’t get too involved with Risso’s business.” He pauses for a moment. “I do like you. I’m not supposed to, but I do. If there’s a way for you to forgive me for doing my job, maybe we can ..”

  Karina cuts him short and answers bluntly, “No we can NOT.” Though livid, she manages to control her temper with verbal expressions.

  Brokenheartedly she orders him to leave. “I don’t want to see you again, you used me and I detest liars. The way we met isn’t fate as you suggested. I see it’s merely a seamlessly orchestrated setup and I was stupid enough to believe it. Oh my God, and all that cuddling, hand holding, eye gazing moments and sweet gentle kisses, you were just doing your job to get closer to me so you can get more information on Theodore? Please leave before I lose control and throw something at you.”

  “Ka
rina.. I already told you that it’s not like that! You have to believe me!” Guilt consumed and feeling horrible, he knew this moment would arrive one day and have dreaded the thought of losing her.

  “Don’t say a word,” Karina bursts, “they’re all lies anyway. Now that you’re busted, you don’t need me anymore. Go file the report and you can tell your client, whoever it is, that I am livid.” She moves near him and pierces him with her sharp stare. Speaking slowly and meaning every word, “You – are – an – asshole.” She holds her breath and backs away. “You know where the door is.”

  She watches him walk out the door and all of a sudden, the attraction that she feels for him completely dissipates. She feels deceived and is raging with anger. Mixed emotions flood into her mind as she watches him disappear into the street. She heads over to the wet bar, gulps down a shot of vodka and toggles between the thoughts of Theodore and his whereabouts, of Keith and the feelings that she has for him, of like and dislike, of trust and mistrust, of truth and deceit.

  Sighing with the sour taste of displeasure, she recalls his words and begins to wonder what ‘trail’ is he referring to.

  She looks around his gallery and all of a sudden, she feels astray and doesn’t know what to do anymore. Running his gallery is becoming too complicated for her simple mind.

  Karina trusts Theodore with all her heart and knows that he is a renowned painter and legitimate art broker. He will never do anything to jeopardize his own integrity and would never put her in harms way.

  Keith has entered into her life recently and she does not know much about him. Having met him under the most mysterious circumstance, she should have known to be wary. Now that she has proven him to be a liar, she knows she cannot trust a word he says.

  Theodore must be warned.

  Chapter Seven.

  Deadly silence creeps through Amber’s condo and is interrupted by the ring tone of her cell phone. Ringing continuously and vibrating on the kitchen counter top, the screen of her iPhone indicates eighteen missed calls and half a dozen of the unanswered calls are from Conrad.

  Beginning to feel worried, Conrad sits on his sofa inside the study of his condo and impatiently dials Amber’s number again. It is uncustomary for Amber to leave missed calls unreturned and Conrad cannot find one single reason why she would avoid talking to him. Relentlessly, he leaves her another voicemail and asks for her return call.

  In his mid forties and standing slightly over six feet two, Conrad has seasoned youthfully and his attractiveness is undeniably obvious. He sweeps back his short black hair and steps out onto balcony of the highrise. Admiring the panoramic views of Biscayne Bay while sipping his morning coffee, he begins to wonder why Amber is not returning his calls. He has been trying to reach her over the past two days to no avail and misses her presence. He contemplates the idea that she has lost her phone and is eager to see her at the full rehearsal in a few hours.

  Patiently distracting himself, he flips through a stack of old magazines and spends the rest of the morning idly in the comfort of his luxurious condo.

  Counting the hours and minutes edgily, he watches the clock tick away and sharply at noon, he leaves his home and hurries to the rehearsal. He needs to see Amber and to know that everything is fine.

  Sylvester is the first to arrive at the hall, followed by Lizzie. The rest of the cast begins to fill the stage and warms up as Conrad instructs. Thirty minutes into the rehearsal, Amber is still nowhere in sight.

  Conrad frowns and sinks into the producer’s chair. Rubbing his chin apprehensively, he dials Amber’s number once more and unenthusiastically leaves yet another message, “Sweetheart, you have never ever missed a rehearsal before, where on earth are you? Please call me back. We are all waiting for you.”

  Trying to refocus on the cast, Conrad speaks loudly onto the stage. “Alright, let’s take it from the top. Act one scene one, we’ll have to rehearse the scenes without Amber’s part in it.”

  Conrad appears to be focused and in control but deep inside, thoughts of Amber flood his mind and he is worried. He knows that something is not right but there is little that he can do about it. Certainly, the police would not entertain his distress call solely based on the fact that she has not returned his calls for two days and has not showed up at a rehearsal. Unnervingly desperate, he begins to think of different options to track her and is startled by a tap on the shoulder.

  He turns around and is ecstatic to see Karina and Taylor settling in and sitting down behind him.

  “Oh my God.” Relived to see them, he whispers to them audibly, “Where have you girls been? Where is Amber?”

  Karina settles on her chair and leans forward towards Conrad. Not to disturb the rehearsal, she whispers back, “What do you mean where is Amber?” Karina seems baffled, “Isn’t she here for the rehearsal already?”

  “NO!” Conrad raises his voice in concern. “She hasn’t answered her phone in two days and hasn’t showed up today!” He exclaims. “She has never missed any rehearsals before and has never left calls unanswered like this!”

  Karina looks blankly at Taylor, who seems to be as baffled as everyone. Raising an eyebrow, Taylor questions out loud. “That is odd. She told us a few days ago to join her here at the rehearsal and we’ll have dinner afterwards.”

  Taylor pulls out her phone and attempts Amber’s number. She shakes her head and looks at Karina then at Conrad. “She’s not answering. It’s voicemail.”

  “Let me try.” Karina insists.

  Taylor rolls her eyes. “What makes you think that she’ll answer you and when she hasn’t answered him or me?”

  “Oh stop it.” Karina blunts. “You’re right. Voicemail.”

  Conrad appears frantically worried. “Something is terribly wrong. Maybe she fainted and is unconscious?”

  Taylor pulls to a stand and announces hastily, “Something is wrong, we’ll go check on her. I have the key to her place.”

  “Wait, I’m coming with you. I just need a few minutes to wrap up the rehearsal.” Conrad stands and faces the stage, interrupts the music and sends everyone home. “We’ll resume rehearsal tomorrow.”

  He turns around and finds the girls walking up the steps already. He hurries out and shouts from behind. “Wait for me. I’ll meet you in the lobby of her building!”

  Karina answers loudly, “Okay! We’ll see you there.”

  The twenty minutes drive over to Amber’s condo is torturously unbearable. Worried the entire way, he wishes that all the cars on the road would vanish and leave a clear passage for him to drive faster. His heart pounds heavily and he finds his palm covered with a layer of cold sweat. He regrets having waited this long. He should have checked on her yesterday and not today. He should never have let her out of his sight.

  Tires screech as he pulls up sharply at the valet of Amber’s building. Hastily, he tosses the keys to one of the attendants and hurries into the lobby to find Taylor and Karina waiting impatiently for him. They head over to the front desk and Taylor gives the receptionist her name. “Taylor Gibbons. I’m on Amber Winters’ permanent guest list. Apartment 1808.”

  Expediently, the receptionist checks the record on the computer and lets them in. Silence fills the elevator as they ride up to the eighteenth floor.

  Taylor reaches into her oversize Prada bag and brings out Amber’s key.

  “How come you have Amber’s key?” Karina is curious.

  Stuttering in embarrassment, she explains slowly while watching the floor indicators blink as they ascend. “Well as you know, currently I am homeless. Amber was with me on the first day I crashed at your loft, remember? She gave me a copy of the key, just in case I need a second place to hideout. She thought you might need some time alone with Keith.”

  “Oh.” Karina sighs. “I haven’t told you anything about Keith yet.” She laughs to cover up her own set of embarrassment.

  Conrad endures the conversation and is ecstatic when the elevator door opens on the eighteenth floor. H
e rushes to her door and knocks on it loudly. “Amber?” He knocks again.

  “Hold on.” Taylor pushes him aside, inserts the key and turns the doorknob to open.

  “Amber?” Karina shouts out and scans around her quiet condo.

  Taylor checks inside the bedroom and finds no traces of Amber. Karina heads into the kitchen and finds Amber’s bag; she inspects the items contained and finds her wallet and other essentials in it. She sees the phone on the kitchen counter.

  “Now THIS explains why she hasn’t answered any of our calls!” She picks up the phone, waves it in the air and joins Conrad in the living room. “Not in a million years would she leave home without her phone! Conrad, something is wrong.”

  Conrad looks at the displaced coffee table and all the photo frames scattered on the floor, “I know. This does not look right!” He sees a small brown prescription bottle on top of one of the frames and reads the label. “Neyo St. Pierre.” He reads the label out loud. “Latuda. What the heck is Latuda for?”

  He stands motionless for a few seconds and an ugly mental picture plays out in his mind. He comes into one unimaginable conclusion. “Oh God. I think he has kidnapped her!”

  Karina brings out her phone and taps on the Goggle application to research on the brand Latuda.

  “Shit.” Karina mumbles and continues reading the contents displayed on the screen of her phone. “He’s either psychotic or bipolar.”

  Conrad wipes off a drop of cold sweat trickling down on his forehead.

  Taylor comes closer and asks, “What’s the difference anyway? Isn’t bipolar a psychiatric mental condition?”

  Karina tries to explain the difference and is hushed by Conrad, “It doesn’t matter what the difference is between the two, the only thing that matters is that Amber is missing and I’m sure that he has kidnapped her. If Neyo should be on medication and he’s not taking his prescription, ‘cuz obviously the pills are here, then we have a serious problem!”

  Conrad pulls out his phone from the inner pocket of his jacket, “We need to call the police. Damn it!” He dials 911 and places a distress call.