Seven Wakings Read online

  I shrug and look blankly at him.

  “You’ve been here many, many times my friend.” Lou kneels down. “But this time will be different. I’m sure of it. Just stay awhile longer and stick with the program. Next thing you know you’ll be clean and sober. Maybe even get a job and have a little place of your own.”

  “I can’t promise I’ll stay,” knowing DeWayne will be confused when he wakes up, “but tell me again tomorrow how much you want to help, okay.”

  “Okay.” Lou smiles and stands. “If you need to talk I’ll be in my office for another hour or so.” He touches my back again, as if to heal me. “I’m glad you came in tonight.”

  He walks down the lines of people, giving each one individual attention.

  Before dreams, my last thoughts are of the kids— mine and the five that are missing. I can’t believe my children will have to live their lives without a mother. And, if I don’t do my job, five families will have to go on without their children.

  Chapter Seven - Yum-oh!

  Sunlight peeks through slats in wooden blinds, bathing me in rectangles of honey. Opening my eyes slowly, I take in the feel of a luxurious bed: down comforter, feather pillows, sheets that must be Egyptian cotton. Naked, I snuggle in.

  Someone else moves.

  “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!” I grab the sheet and shoot out of bed.

  “Well, that’s a whole new level of rejection.” A man’s familiar voice hangs in the air behind me.

  I wrap the sheet tight and turn toward him.

  It’s Joe, the hot lawyer.

  “Oh my God.” I’m statued.

  “That’s a flattering way of seeing me.” He smiles, but his eyes are filled with concern.

  I gather my thoughts and look around the room. The furniture looks made of old money. The cabinets and tables are carved burl wood. Ornate frames protect classic paintings. Gold sculptures of cherubs adorn tabletops made of marble.

  “This is so…pretentious.” My voice is silk. As I turn, sunlight catches me. Tiny prisms dance around the room. Realizing the source, I lift my left hand… “This ring is insane.”

  He’s married!

  “Have you been taking your medications?” Joe sits up. The sheet drops to his waist. He’s sleek perfection. I want to taste his skin, kiss his mouth, find out what’s hiding under the sheet.

  “Uh…?” Tugging to straighten my sheet— which has coiled around my ankles— I try to act casual, but my heart is beating like a Tsetse fly.

  “You have to take them both every day.” He starts to get up.

  As much as I want to see every inch of him, I don’t want pills handed to me, where I would be forced to take them.

  “I’ll get them. I need to…” I wonder how his wife would word this… “freshen up.”

  When I turn the wrong way in search of the bathroom, he points toward a large walk-in closet. “That way.” He starts to get up. “I’m just going to ‘freshen up’ too.”

  “Wait until I’m out of the room? I’m just feeling a little...” I make a scrambling gesture.

  “Shy? You?” He leans back on elbows.

  “I’m sure I’ll get over it.” This body is overwrought with lust.

  He cocks his head to the side. “What happened to your accent?”

  “Uh. Role play. I’ll be the American girl and you be… exactly who you are.” I give him a wink and head toward the bathroom. I can’t wait to see what I look like. Also, I want to note her meds. Lynette will know what they’re for. It’ll make for good catty talk about the woman married to my man.

  Walking through the center of the closet, I’m blown away. It’s cedar and larger than our living room. A U-shaped track runs along the floor on both sides. Library style ladders sit ready for a second-tiered reach of neatly folded sweaters, color-arranged shoes, and scarves sorted by the season. There are glass drawers filled with bras, underwear, lingerie and hosiery. I look right— more women’s clothes: fur coats, dresses for every occasion, stylish hats, and an assortment of wigs.

  A modest section holds Joe’s clothes and shoes.

  I step onto marble and see myself for the first time in a mirror that runs the full expanse of the farthest wall. Opening my sheet, I see that Joe’s wife is lovely. Her ethnicity is indeterminable. Walking toward my reflection to get a better look, I see that I may be Filipino, Italian, or South American. I lean onto the countertop, searching for flaws. It would be so nice if Joe’s wife were heinous in some way. But she’s not. There’s not a dimple, mole, or crooked tooth that sullies my appearance. She’s dainty, sand-colored, with ink-black hair that touches the small of her back. This body is designed for seduction. And— as if a lover could lose his way— a tidy triangle points toward her vagina.

  The room is equally well-manicured. Everything is stone: a double-headed shower, a Jacuzzi tub, two separate toilet rooms, and a valley sink that runs the length of the counter.

  Joe must be a very good lawyer.

  I look for her medications and find them on the center shelf— Escitalopram and Clozapine. Trying to remember their names as best I can, I use word imagery: “Excited, Recital, Program,” for the first drug and “Clothes-A- Pin,” for the second. Lynette will be able to interpret my mind. I notice her name: Vanessa Montgomery.

  Looking for a toothbrush, I realize my subconscious has made a decision: I’m going to sleep with him. I am pulsing with horniness. It’s not just Joe. This body is beyond hungry for fornication. It’s like my veins are coursing with lust. And who knows if there’s sex after life? I can’t bear the thought of thinking the last time I had fooled around— seven years ago— was my last time ever. I should get right back to the kids and the case, but sex doesn’t have to take very long. And is it cheating if my body is married to him?

  Justifying gets old.

  I walk to Joe, find him lying on his stomach. The white sheet drapes the hollow of his back. His breath is that of dreams. Dropping my sheet to the floor, I crawl onto the bed as weightless as a breeze. Full lips kiss the base of his spine, and every vertebra thereafter. My hands and breasts flirt with his back. I want to know this man’s body. No… I want to ingest every cell of him.

  Joe turns toward me. “I don’t think we should...” He looks deep into me and his expression changes from concerned to mischievous. “Are you sure?”

  “Yah,” escapes like a goose bleat. I can feel my pupils dilate. Never before have I been so turned on. I feel like an animal, hungry for a kill.

  Without hesitation, he turns onto his back, grabs my waist, kisses me— full lips, minimal tongue. Slow kisses grow more passionate. I move on top of him. Silky stomachs touch, breasts meet chest. Morning sun illuminates a glisten of sweat between us. He moans, low. I kiss his neck. Eat his neck. He runs his hands down my back, his mouth down my body, lingering on my breasts. Running my hands through his thick hair, I kiss his ear, nibble the rim, breathe heavy into him. My thigh feels him, hard. He grabs my waist, turns me onto my back, and kisses my stomach and sides. Hungry hands travel his shoulders, back, and strong arms.

  Kissing me lower, he runs his hands up my thigh; his tongue flirts with my pubic line. He looks at me, licks his fingers, and slides them down. Moist fingers trace my shape; find the shivering point, circle slow. He slips a finger inside. I gasp, arch my back, and pull my knees up higher. His mouth meets his hand, they explore warm moisture. My body shivers as his hot breath and soft bites strike deep between my back and belly. It’s like Vanessa’s body has double the normal amount of nerve endings.

  “Stop,” I say in a moan.

  He kisses my thighs, looks at me with intoxicated eyes. “You don’t like it.”

  He knows how to work me. “I like it too much.” I pull him toward me, and kiss him slow. Running my hands down his back, to his ass, I’m tempted to pull him inside. But I want to know him with my hands, with my mouth. I turn him over and kiss my way south. My breasts feel him hard. Straddling, I move my way down, put my hands on him. He’s gene
rously endowed. A grateful growl rises from my belly. I move between his legs, touch between his legs. Both hands slow dance around his shaft. I kiss his stomach and move my mouth toward him. I run my tongue from the base to head, and start to take him in my mouth. He stops me.

  “I don’t remember the last time…” He’s runs his fingers into my hair.

  “I went down on you?” I can hardly focus; I’m so drunk on him.

  “This could be a teenage boy situation.”

  I look at him with a hungry twinkle in my eye. “Thanks for the warning, but I think I’ll take my chances.”

  I explore him with my tongue, mouth, and hands. He moans. Arousing him makes me want him even more. Heat and moisture pulse inside me.

  “You’d better stop,” he says, grabbing the bed.

  Running my hands up his thighs, over hip bones, and up his side, I kiss his stomach, neck, mouth. He turns me onto my back, looks at me deep. Slowly he slides into me. I shiver and arch. We lock eyes, and move together. Slow at first and then faster. Hands and mouths knead and kiss. We are lost in each other. Grabbing the headboard, lightening cracks inside me, he arches.

  Tangled in bed sheets, we moan together.

  He kisses my neck, chest and stomach, then rolls onto his back, “Wow! We haven’t had sex like that since we were first married.”

  “It’s like I’m a whole different person,” I tease.

  “Or maybe it’s just because it’s been so long.” He turns onto his side, runs his hand through my hair, looks at me. “God, I’ve missed being with you.”

  I don’t know what to feel. He has love in his eyes for Vanessa, but I felt so connected to him that it seems like a betrayal.

  “I’ll bring us some juice.” Joe gets up and heads toward the door.

  As he opens it, a dog rushes in. It’s the Hell Dog.

  “Oh shit!” The dog stops his playful romp toward me, starts to growl, bears his teeth and leans in.

  “What in the world?” Joe grabs him by the collar.

  The dog pulls away from him, runs toward me, and barks like he’ll kill me. I find myself standing on the bed, a bed sheet up to my chin.

  “Damian, no!” Joe grabs him again, heads toward the door. “I’ll put him away.”

  My mind starts spinning. I’m the lady dressed in pink. I look for a phone, need to call Lynette. I have to get out of here. Going to the closet to look for clothes, I hear the door.

  Joe finds me in a bra and underwear, tags still on.

  I start to get antsy, want to see my kids and find out if Lynette has connected with Archer. “I should go.” I reach for a grey sweater.

  He takes my hand. “Can’t business wait? I was hoping you’d have time for a shower.” He flashes a mischievous smile.

  This body is overwrought with passion. Besides, it feels like my intuition is nearly yelling at me: DON’T LEAVE YET. Something huge is about to happen. And it’s not talking about sex.

  In the bathroom together, we make love under warm water. It is slower this time, as if bodies are gone and our spirits mingle.

  After we get ready, the doorbell rings.

  We look at each other.

  “I should get that.” Joe heads for the front door.

  I trail behind him.

  He looks through the side panel of the front door. “It’s your people. What should I do?”

  “My people?” I say, tucked behind a column.

  “You know, the men from the church.” Joe ties his robe tighter.

  I feel like I’ve hooked a fish and didn’t even have a pole in the water. “I’ll get it.” I rush the door. “Wait,” I say to Joe, “how do I normally speak?”

  Without hesitation he says, “With Eurasian enunciation.”

  I have no idea what he means, so I opt for Kate Winslet. Opening the door, I move purposefully, wish I had a small dog in the crook of my arm.

  “Good morning, gentleman.” I growl.

  “Mrs. Montgomery.” One of the two men looks at Joe, then to me. “Would you like to step outside? We have something to go over with you.”

  I need to get some information from Joe before I talk to them. “Gentleman, I’m feeling quite… indecent.” I pull the robe together at my chest. “I’ll just need a moment or two to put on proper attire.” Shutting the door, I turn and take Joe’s hand.

  I rush to the closet with him at my side. “Give me my life story in a nutshell… fast as you can.” I pull the tags off my underwear, put on a short-sleeved button up shirt, and the grey sweater.

  He looks like some of the kids I worked with, trying to figure out how to deal with a chemically altered parent.

  “Just pretend I don’t know who I really am. Give me her crib notes. You can take me to a doctor later, but for now I need to talk to these guys. It’s a matter of life and death— not just my own. There are kids involved.”

  After a pregnant pause, Joe takes my hand. “I’ll go with you on this, but then we visit Dr. Morales as soon as they’re gone. Agree?”

  I can tell he has negotiated with Vanessa many times, but it feels like he’s talking to me. “Whatever you say.” I hold up my little finger. “Pinky swear.”

  “This feels ridiculous.”

  “Indulge me.”

  “Fine. You moved here from Singapore at nine; when your mother agreed to marry a wealthy, American man. She died when you were twelve, and you’ve had a… tenuous relationship with your stepfather ever since. But you and your sister seem close.”

  “What is my connection to the men outside?” Finding no jeans, I grab cigarette pants and Gucci loafers.

  “Frankly, I’m wondering the same thing.”

  I rush to the bathroom, remove the towel from my head, and start brushing long hair. Joe follows me. “Do I work?” I ask, knowing Vanessa wouldn’t have to.

  “You work with your stepfather— something about commercial real estate. You haven’t shared that information with me.” He pauses. “Saying all of this out loud makes this marriage sound dismal.”

  “You care about my well-being and privacy. There’s nothing shameful in that.” I start to turn.

  Joe catches my hand. “Don’t wear your hair down.”

  “Huh?” I turn back to him, am caught off guard by his good looks.

  “You twist it up,” he makes a twirling gesture with his index finger, “or cover it with a hat or wig.”

  “Why?” I ask, opening drawers in search of a rubber band or clip.

  Joe reaches into the bottom cabinet and pulls out a box filled with hair accessories. “You think wearing your hair down sends a sexual message.”

  I put my hair in a low ponytail. Even with the meds on the counter, it doesn’t occur to me to ask him what she takes them for. “Would you mind waiting here? I don’t think they’ll open up if you’re nearby.”

  “I’m used to waiting in the wings, my dear.” He leans against the counter and crosses his arms and legs.

  “I promise to include you in everything.” I make firm eye contact; want him to know how a connected relationship feels.

  At the door, I step outside.

  “I’m sorry for the delay.” The men are waiting on the brick driveway. I close the door and walk to them. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

  “We’ve got three more for you to look at.” The young man who looks like Donny Osmond walks over to his bike, gets a manila envelope out of the basket, and walks back to me. Handing it over he says, “I think you’ll like them.”

  Pulling photos from the envelope, I am staggered. Breath catches in my chest.

  The men look to each other, seem satisfied by my response. “We knew you’d like them,” the mousy one says.

  “No… I…” I can’t speak.

  “Just tell us which one you want so we can be done. This isn’t what I signed up for,” the Donny says.

  Why do they want six girls? “These won’t do.” I put the photos back. “Keep looking.” My mind is racing, trying to figu
re out what I can ask.

  “But they’re exactly like the others: young, beautiful, innocent.” The Donny pauses. “We only have five more days to pull this off.”

  Five days?

  My mind flashes to the photos of the five missing girls. “I’d like to see the kids we have again… to make sure they’re still good enough. Can you take me to them?” I tuck the envelope under my arm.

  They look at each other. “We don’t know where you keep them, Mrs. Montgomery. We just find them for you.” They head for their bikes.

  “Right.” I look to the ground, wonder what to say.

  The mousey one gets on his bike. “Have the cop take you, like always.”

  Left alone in the driveway, I try to put together the puzzle pieces: The people involved so far are Vanessa, the guys on bikes, and a police officer. What are they going to do with the kids they’re taking? What’s happening in five days?

  Joe comes out the front door. “Everything all right?”

  I don’t know what to say. Do I keep my promise to include him, even though that would mean telling him about his wife?

  “It’s complicated,” I say.

  “Yes, that’s evident by your expression.” He walks to me, takes my hand. “Tell me what’s going on. Let me in.”

  “How about, I promise to tell you later? To be sure I’m not making false accusations.” I squeeze his hand the way a doctor would before he tells you it’s terminal.

  “Sure.” He looks like he is trying to find answers in my eyes.

  I look away. “Should we go to the doctor now?” I’m planning something.

  He smiles. Vanessa must not normally be so amenable. “I’ll get the keys from the kitchen. Enjoy the sun.”

  I wait for him to close the front door… then make a break for the woods. It’s less than two miles to my house from here. My jogging route was double that.

  Once I’m camouflaged by the woods, I turn back to see Joe standing in the driveway with keys in hand. “Vanessa!” He bellows from the driveway. “Vanessa!” After a few seconds, he hustles to the garage. His Mercedes pulls out slowly and heads toward Ritchie Highway.