The Rest of Forever

by Kitty Berry

  Amanda opened her eyes wide at his order. “Wow! That’s some order. I guess you were hungry.”

  Brian shrugged a shoulder. He hadn’t thought much about his hunger recently. Since being here in Florida, he didn’t do much other than attend his work seminars and worry over his mother. He’d been pushing aside his needs for a long time now.

  “You’ll help me eat it, right? I might have over ordered.”

  Amanda laughed. “I’d say.”

  “We ate every bite we ordered, then limped out the door. I was staying across the street, so she drove me to the hotel. I asked her to hang out, said I couldn’t let her walk away without getting to know her better.”

  I nod at him, so he’ll continue after he takes another gulp of water.

  “She told me she wasn’t fucking me in my hotel room. I laughed and lied, telling her I hadn’t even considered that. That was the only thing I was able to think about.”

  I knew the feeling. Jordan was barely of appropriate legal fucking age for me, yet I could think of nothing else than getting her naked and under me from the moment I first laid eyes on her at that dinner with her siblings.

  “Did you?”

  “Did I what? Fuck her?” Brian smiles at the memory. “Yes, but technically not that day. We hadn’t gotten back to my hotel room until early morning. Neither of us had slept any, so we ended up crashing while watching a movie. By the time we woke up, it was late afternoon and we both needed showers and food. I asked her to dinner, and she left. We met up at a restaurant later, then once again returned to my hotel. By the time I was inside her, it was technically the next day. She always pointed that out to me.”

  I nod again. Their romance sounds like something Jordan and her sisters were always calling swoon worthy, so I wonder what went wrong. “What happened?” I ask.

  Brian shrugs. “She came back to Boston with me. We moved in together and got married within a few months. Then I fucked everything up by ignoring her, hiding shit from her, and lying. The stress from my job and other shit in my life, that I never told her about, made getting her pregnant impossible.”

  I raise an eyebrow.

  “I was able to get it up. Most times.” He glances my way. “The doctors told me that there was no medical reason I couldn’t knock her up. But it had to be me. She left me. Went to spend time with her friends; her ex was dying. They obviously slept together because she came home and found out she was pregnant. We hadn’t had sex in months.”

  “I’m sorry. Tough break. So then what?”

  “He died. I couldn’t get past her infidelity. I told her to leave. She did and hooked up with” - Brian leans across the mattress to point to Elliot - “him. I filed for divorce and focused on work again.”

  I sit next to Brian and turn to face him, even though it’s the last thing I find comfortable. I live my life as an adult needing to do social things I never could have done as a child. “Car…Brian,” I correct. “Those pictures make it look like you were going to hurt those people. What were you planning to do?”

  Brian heaves in a gulp, then breaks down and tells me his plans, apologizes, and asks for help.

  “I wasn’t going to hurt anyone. I was angry, and I wanted them to feel what I did. I gave up everything for her, gave her everything, and it cost me my mother.”

  A look of confusion must pass over my face because he explains further.

  “She was an alcoholic. I took care of her until I didn’t have the time anymore. I didn’t want Amanda to know about her, so I told her my parents had died in a car accident the year before we met. But really, my father left my mother and moved to North Carolina to play golf with his new thirty-year-old wife.”

  “I’m sorry. Families are complicated and hard to manage.”

  Brian laughs. “Yeah. Anyway, after my dad left her, my mother hit rock bottom but wouldn’t let me put her in rehab. She’d take off for days then show up at my job asking for money. I never let her know where I lived because I couldn’t have her showing up when Amanda was home. It’s my fault she’s dead. She needed me and I turned my back on her for a woman that never loved me.”

  “The thing with your mother isn’t your fault. If you’d forced her into rehab, it wouldn’t have worked. She had to want to get clean.”

  “They found her on the streets with a needle in her arm and semen on her body. I’m guessing she was whoring herself out for booze then added drugs to get a better high.”

  Brian stands and extracts his phone from his pants to show me a picture of his mother. She had been a beautiful woman with love in her eyes for her son. Something had gone wrong. What that was, he may never know.

  “She’s beautiful. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thanks,” Brian says. “I didn’t mean to do any of this. Scare Amanda or feel the way I did. I’m just so angry at everyone that I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “Do you always drink as much as you’ve been since coming here?”

  “No. I don’t drink at all, ever. Because of my mother, I never was much of a drinker, even in college. But I wasn’t sleeping and my doctor prescribed meds that made me feel, I don’t know, different. Then I couldn’t focus on the projects I had in the air for work shit and somehow ended up here.”

  My mind makes quick time of processing the information he shares and juxtaposes it together. Many prescription sleep aids come with a host of known side effects, including decreased awareness, hallucinations, changes in behavior, memory problems, sleepwalking, even sleep drinking. They’re notorious for weird side effects. Some people report feeling hypnotized or as if they’re suffering from amnesia. Others have claimed hallucinations and a sense of paranoia. It’s possible that Brian started drinking while in a hypnotic, drugged state and the effects of the drug and alcohol added to his internal turmoil.

  He looks around the room then meets my eye. “I didn’t mean any of this. I’ve been contacting Amanda, not telling her it was me. I think I scared her, might have threatened her.” His face scrunches up as if he remembers something. “I followed Elliot’s girl around. I wanted to sleep with her. Send him pictures, videos of it, make him feel what I did when he slept with my wife. Oh, my God! What have I become? I think I need help.”

  “I think you need to stop taking your sleeping pills.”

  Brian looks at me. “What? You think that’s why I turned into a stalker? Fuck, I need to turn myself in.”

  “About that,” I begin. “I’ve been lying to you about my name and why I’m here too.”

  Brian opens his eyes wider to study me. He paces the room then takes the last gulp of his water. “What do you mean? Your name isn’t Ian? You’re not running from an ex that broke up with you?”

  “My name is Callan and I work for a private company doing various things as they need doing, you could say. I broke up with my ex to take a job here.”

  “Wait, so you’re what, like an FBI agent?”

  I laugh at that one. If only I would have cooperated with their rules. But no. “I’m not FBI or CIA,” I state.

  Brian raises an eyebrow then nods as he begins to understand. “Holy shit! Are you here to arrest me?”

  I laugh at that one more. “Arrest? Yeah, not so much in my line of work. More like get you to see the error of your ways and if not, make you go away.”

  “Oh, fuck! Someone sent you to kill me. I don’t want to die. I didn’t mean…”

  I silence him with a smile. “I’m not going to kill you. If I told you what I did or who I worked for, well, then maybe, but…”

  My joke, or attempt at one, falls flat and Brian looks about ready to puke or piss himself. Not wanting to be left with a mess to clean, I elaborate. “Listen, I can tell you this much. One of my best friends is Elliot Montgomery, and I might have agreed to investigate the asshole that was scaring Amanda. Now that we’ve worked some of that out, I don’t see any reason why I’d need to,” I clear my throat, “make you disappear. But…”

  “Anything. J
ust tell me what I need to do. Please, just don’t kill me,” he begs, then he turns and runs to the bathroom to heave up the contents of his stomach.

  I use that as my opportunity to text Elliot, asking him to come to the hotel and letting him know it’s not a 911 situation. The last thing Brian can handle is Elliot rushing in here with guns blazing. He’d for sure shit his pants.

  Brian returns to the main room looking not much better than when he left, a little less green in the face, maybe, as we hear a knock on the door.

  “Now, don’t worry,” I state as I walk to open the door. “He’s not here to kill you either.”

  I probably should have told him to sit down or that it was Elliot on the other side of the door. But I didn’t, so as I open the door and Elliot comes into view, Brian hits the floor. It’s better than the alternatives. Watching a man shit or piss himself moments before he dies, isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be in Hollywood movies. The stench alone makes me avoid it at all costs.

  Elliot rolls his eyes at me, exasperated with the situation. “I can see why you said it wasn’t a nine-one-one.”

  “He’s not a psycho. Hear him out when he comes to.”

  Elliot then scans the room and growls in my direction when he tears a picture of Courtney from the wall. “No, he just has pictures of my wife above his bed. That’s perfectly normal.”

  “He was caring for his alcoholic mother when he met Amanda. He lied to Amanda and told her his parents were dead to hide the fact that his mother had a problem. He was stressed out and said he neglected Amanda and their marriage. Then she got pregnant with Todd’s son and had an affair with you. Unable to sleep or concentrate at work as his life was falling apart, his mother was found dead from a drug overdose after, most likely being raped on the street, and he started prescription meds to help him sleep.”

  “That’s when this,” Elliot points to the wall of photos, “started?”

  “From what I can tell, yes. Let’s get him onto the bed and wake him up.”

  We lift Brian Edwards and place him on the bed. The jostling of his body rouses him, and he opens his eyes a slit before closing them again and groaning.

  “You’re okay, man. Open your eyes. You fainted.”

  Brian does as I tell him and props himself up with another moan. “My head already hurts and it’s not even a hangover yet. I think I’m still drunk.”

  “I’m pretty sure drinking on prescription meds is a no-no,” Elliot states. “Even without the history.”

  “I think he started drinking when he was asleep from the drugs.”

  “What?” Elliot and Brian ask in unison.

  “The inability to get a restful night of sleep can be frustrating and debilitating. Our bodies need sleep to recharge and for our general health. But sedatives used to treat insomnia can come with potentially serious side effects, such as hallucinations, dizziness, and increased anxiety. There are cases of people cooking and eating while asleep from the narcotics. I think you may have started drinking alcohol while asleep. Your predisposition due to your family history, may have added to the issue. There’s no way of telling. Then the effects took hold because of the combination of the alcohol and the drugs and you began to get paranoid. You suffered from undiagnosed anxiety and had that doom and gloom effect. Then, I’m also guessing, you started stalking your ex-wife in your sleep as well. From there, it progressed and here we are. Luckily, no one was hurt.”

  “He has motherfucking pictures of my wife in the fucking outdoor shower of our home.”

  I shrug. “Half of New York has seen your wife’s naked body, Ell, me included. She has nothing to be ashamed of, she’s fucking hot.”

  Elliot shakes his head at me and runs a hand through his hair as Brian looks confused and asks, “Is he always like this? This isn’t how he was at the bar, or maybe…Christ, I must have really been loaded.”

  Elliot smiles and chuckles. “Nah, this is his normal. You get used to it.”

  Brian hangs his head and introduces himself to Elliot without extending his hand, figuring that Elliot wouldn’t want to accept it. Then he apologizes. “I’m sorry I spied on your wife. I wasn’t going to hurt her. I just wanted to do to you what you did to me. I clearly wasn’t thinking rationally. I’ll call my doctor on Monday and tell him what he said.” Brian nods toward me.

  Elliot sucks in a sigh then plops down next to Brian and puts his arm around his shoulder. I watch and marvel at the ease in which others can offer and receive physical contact and wish that were so for me. But it’s not. Well, not unless the person offering or receiving the contact is Jordan Collins.

  “I’m sorry, too,” Elliot states. “Back when Amanda and I…well, you know…”

  “Fucked,” I helpfully provide, but Elliot whispers something under his breath before continuing.

  “Not exactly how I was going to say it, but…yeah. She was my childhood crush. The first girl I lusted over. She’s my sister’s best friend and when I was coming of age, they were half naked in my pool. I spent most of that summer jerking off to the sound of her laughter from my backyard.”

  “That came back to bite him in the ass,” I add. “He lost his boner with Courtney and then it twitched back to life when he heard Amanda laugh outside of the B and B.”

  “Do you have to?” Elliot asks.

  I shake my head in the affirmative because it was an integral and relevant part of the story.

  Elliot sighs. “Anyway, I can only say that I was young and stupid. I had no concept that my behavior was hurting you. Now, as a husband, I know what I did was wrong and I’m sorry. I wish I could go back and change things.”

  Brian smiles. “Yeah, me too. Thanks for saying that, though. So, no hard feelings on either side?”

  Elliot looks to me and I shrug. I can’t tell him with any kind of certainty that Brian can get better once he stops drinking and taking the pills he was prescribed. I can’t even say that he isn’t lying and playing us right now, however, after years working in the field, I’m pretty sure one of us would pick up on a tell if he was.

  “I’ll call Justin and Amanda and give them the all clear. I’m sure they’re going to want to speak with you themselves,” Elliot says to Brian’s nodding figure then turns to me. “You’ll call the boss and fill him in?”

  “Yup,” I say. “I’ll call Sven.”

  Elliot smirks at the use of his father’s undercover name then begins to take the pictures off the wall. “I’m taking these,” he states as he pockets the ones of his wife. “Because, quite frankly, I can’t trust either of you with them.”

  I laugh as he flips me the bird and leaves the hotel room, a month’s worth of spank bank pictures in his pocket.

  To be an asshole, I send Courtney a text.

  Callan: Check your husband’s pockets when he gets home.

  Courtney: Fuck you, Black! I’m still mad at you over my sister. A smart-ass text isn’t going to change that. But…WTF is in his pockets?

  Callan: I’ll fix everything soon. Please forgive me and let me explain. I think I might need your help with Jordan.

  Courtney: LOL!

  Then about fifteen minutes later, Courtney sends another text once she’s made Elliot empty his pockets.

  Courtney: If he tells me that you took those pictures, Jordan will be the least of your worries, my friend.

  Callan: If we’re still friends, I can handle anything you throw at me.

  Chapter Four

  I suggest that Brian take a shower while I make a few calls, then he and I can walk through everything one more time for my report that Dave Montgomery will require by midday tomorrow. While he’s showering, before calling Dave, I do a tad more research on the effects of sleep aids and the dangers of mixing alcohol. By the time Brian is shutting the water off, I’m convinced I’m right. Well, rarely ever being wrong, I was certain of that hours ago. Now, I have some studies to back me up during the call I need to make.

  “Hey,” I greet Dave as he answers. “
I’m good. Report will be available by end of day tomorrow.”

  “Make it noon, Black. And you calling in the local PD, or how is this going down?”

  I heave in a sigh because I know I’m going to catch shit for this. Even though Dave understands my heart and emotions are the last things to affect a case, actually, they’ve never once even been a factor, he’s going to flip his shit when I tell him we’re cutting Brian Edwards some slack.

  “No involvement. We’re doing this alone and my way,” I report, then pause to give Dave the in to chew my ass out. When he doesn’t bite like the pit bull he is, I know his wife must be in earshot, and I smirk to myself that I might get away with this one for now. “I’m taking him to a doctor in the morning. I don’t believe he’s psychotic or even meant anyone any harm. He lost his mother, who he was caring for, his wife cheated then left him, he had stress at work and couldn’t sleep. His doctor prescribed sleep aids, and I think he started mixing alcohol with them while sleeping. The mother was an addict.”

  “You got that out in one breath, huh, Black? And I’m sure you hear my wife and grandkids in the background. I can almost hear your smirk through the phone. But just you wait, you and I will be alone soon, and you’ll wish you were back in your training days.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dave growls. “Why are you cutting this douche some slack? It’s not like you to let emotions play a part. It’s what makes you so good at what you do. Don’t go and get all soft on me.”

  I laugh, an inappropriate retort on the tip of my tongue.

  “Don’t be fucking cute, Black. I don’t want to hear shit about how hard your dick gets.”

  “Language, pop!” I hear Dave’s wife chastise.