Derailed (14 page)

RITCHIE

I call Bradley again.

“Big, Rival’s okay,” he says. “She called me a few minutes ago.”

She called
Bradley
? Not me? Seriously? “Where are you now?” 

“I’m just about to board my flight to Sydney. Managed to get an evening flight. Should be there in three hours, then I’ll head straight to Hornsby jail. Big, can you –”

“I’ll pick you up from the airport.”

“Thanks, Big. I’m gonna need your help here.” Bradley sounds as shell-shocked as I feel.

“Absolutely.”

After hanging up, I pace. Tomorrow is Rival’s court date. She’s walked a tightrope for the last month, only to be ambushed like this. It has to be an ambush. Rival isn’t the type to stab Scarlett. Of that, I am confident.

“Fucking bitch!” Bradley says as he gets into my Jeep. “She set Rival up. I know her. She waited for me to leave to pull this move.”

I’m relieved to hear that Bradley also doesn’t think Rival is capable of the accusations levied against her.

“That’s why she didn’t want to accompany me. Gave me some lame-arse excuse about being ill and shit.”

“Did you talk to her?”

“Nah, fuck her! I need to focus on Rival. And my girls. They’re with Scarlett’s mother. Shit! They must be so rattled. Man, this whole business sucks, I tell you.” He rants and raves all the way to the jail.

Considering it’s almost 10 p.m., I expect the cops at the jail to give us a hard time and refuse to let us see Rival. I am wrong.

“Mr. Murdoch, sir, how are you?” a cop in a voice filled with awe says as he pumps Bradley’s hand. “How is Mrs. Murdoch? I heard she’s in the hospital?”

After a couple minutes of small-talk, we are ushered into an interview room.

“Some coffee, Mr. Murdoch?” the cop asks.

Bradley holds up his hand. “Thanks, but I just wanna see my wife, please.”

Ex-wife
, I want to shout.

“You mean your
ex
-wife?” the cop asks.

“Yeah.” Bradley shrugs off his mistake.

Rival drags herself into the interview room, looking pale and drawn. It takes every ounce of restraint not to rush up to her and hug her. Bradley doesn’t restrain himself. He lunges to take her in his arms.

“I didn’t do it, Bradley,” Rival says in a shaky voice. “I swear. Whatever it was, I didn’t do it. Scarlett is lying. She set me up, Bradley.”

“I know, I know, I know!” Bradley murmurs and kisses her hair while I silently watch.

Rival’s shoulders drop from around her ears.

I shift around in my shoes, not knowing what to say, trying my best not to let my jealousy get the better of me. Right now, we have bigger problems than my insecurities.

We three sit around a table and talk.

“I have got to get to court tomorrow morning,” Rival says to Bradley.

Bradley shakes his head. “Rival, honey, I don’t think that’s gonna hap –”

“No Bradley, it’s
got
to happen. I
have
to be there!” Her voice rises in pitch and her eyes bulge.

“Rival, honey, it’s not –”

“Don’t say that! Please, you have to do something. I
have
to get to court tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll…I’ll see what I can do,” Bradley says, getting up from his seat, looking slightly dazed.

“Where you going?” Rival asks.

“I need to talk to someone in charge,” he says, before turning to me. “Big, keep her calm, please.”

My head bobs. “Sure.”

When he leaves the room, I take his seat next to Rival. Mindful of the cop in the room, aware of how in awe they are of Bradley, I choose my words carefully. “It’s gonna be okay, Rival. Just…just keep calm, okay?”

“Ritchie…oh, God, Ritchie, I can’t lose my family court date. I’ve worked so hard for it. I can’t. I just can’t.”

“I get it. Bradley’s working on it, ba…” I stop in time.

She stares at me, her bottom lip turned down. “Can I get a hug?” she whispers.

Bradley’s in the next room. He could enter any moment. And there’s a cop a few feet away from us.

Rival doesn’t seem to care. “Please. I need your arms around me, Ritchie.”

After a sideward glance at the cop, I give in and hug Rival.

It’s a brief hug, but it’s really tight and she clings to me. I untangle myself just before Bradley re-enters the room.

The look on his face tells me it’s not good news. He sits down, takes both Rival’s hands in his and looks into her eyes. “Rival, I need you to listen to me. Carefully, now. You’re going to Dunhill tomorrow morning, so that you don’t have to stay in jail.”

“What about court?”

“That’s not gonna happen, Ri –”

“NO, Bradley!” She shakes off his hands.

“Rival listen! We’re talking kidnapping and assault with a deadly weapon – that’s jail time, and the
only
way we can keep you out of jail is for you to go to Dunhill for a few days.”

“But I will miss –”

“Rival, appearing in court is a mere formality, that’s all. You have one hundred percent access to your kids already. You don’t need that piece of paper, sweetheart.”

Rival’s head lolls.

“Honey, you have to trust me here. Just spend a few days in Dunhill, get assessed, and –”

“Dunhill is never a few days, Bradley. It’s a few
weeks
!”

It’s a while before he speaks. “Use the time to chill, catch up on your beauty sleep, write some more…” I hear the helplessness in his voice, and I know that if he could, he would get Rival out of here right away.

Rival bursts into tears. Puts her head on the table and sobs loud wails of defeat.

All I can do is watch helplessly as she grieves the loss of her court date.

As I watch Bradley holding Rival, comforting her, seeing the distraught look on his face at her distress, it’s clear to me that he truly loves Rival. If I wasn’t in love with Rival, I’d be rooting for these two to be together.

I get up and pace, feeling helpless and struggling with pangs of guilt – maybe if I hadn’t forced Rival to end her war with Scarlett, this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe she’d have been more wary of Scarlett. Maybe taking her eye off her mortal enemy caused her to lose focus, which in turn caused her to lose her court date.

It is with a heavy heart that I say goodbye to Rival. But I’ll be damned if I leave without giving her a hug. In front of Bradley, I hug her. “It’s going to be okay,” I murmur. Empty words, but…

She doesn’t answer; she just weeps pitifully. 

As we drive to the hospital to see Scarlett, I turn to Brad. “The charges against Rival – what kind of prison time are we talking?”

He looks out of the window and shakes his head, a troubled look on his face. “Kidnapping, two counts,
children
at that, assault with a deadly weapon…” he turns and looks at me. “Eight years? Maybe nine?” His shoulders sag.

Shit! Shit! Shit!

“Where to now?”

Bradley sits upright, his face darkening. “Hospital,” he says through clenched teeth. “I need to see that bitch.”

Random Seduction Tip

Sexiness wins over beauty. Never fear that you aren’t the most beautiful woman in the room. Men are often intimidated by beauty and prefer to admire it from afar. Furthermore, beauty may be hotly argued about, vehemently disputed (it’s in the eye of the beholder), but I’ve yet to hear men dispute the attractiveness of a woman. I’ve yet to hear an argument as to whether flashing a thigh or displaying cleavage is sexy or not. Men are usually in wholehearted agreement when it comes to a woman’s sexiness. Instead of focusing on beauty, strive to create a charged physical presence, a frivolous, playful disposition. Chances are you will resonate in your mark’s memory with great intensity.  

SCARLETT

Eight years behind bars. That’s what the fruitcake is looking at. Is that just beautiful?  A fucking genius, that’s what I am. It was a brilliant plan, you have to admit. Streaks of watered-down mascara streaming down my cheeks, red glossy lipstick over my nose, the crushed look on my face…I really believe I should have become an actress. I mean, here’s a woman who is always suspicious of me, yet she’s dumb enough to buy my act hook, line, and movie tickets? Candy floss from a baby, I tell you.

And her court date to petition for shared custody? History. I mean, what excuse do we give the court for her not showing up? Tell them she attacked someone with a dangerous weapon, kidnapped two
children
, and is now in the nuthouse? Indefinitely, at that? 

Or we could simply show them the front page of the newspaper with her face on it.

Stupid Bradly has no idea just how dangerous shared custody can be. I wasn’t going to let that happen, hence the timing of my ingenious and meticulously orchestrated plan.

And you were wondering why I’m so quiet? I’m never quiet, darling; I’m busy in my devil’s workshop. Busy
plotting
. Always remember that.

It wasn’t easy pulling off this plan. There were many facets to it. Pay careful attention to the sequence and flow.

Bradley had to be out of town during that crucial period, so that he couldn’t race to her rescue.

I had to keep a low profile with Rival and refrain from stirring the pot for more than a week prior to her arrest, in order to take her unawares.

Those movie tickets – purchasing three
children’s
tickets so that the usher would remember Rival trying to scam her way into the movies? Brilliant!

Being at the movies meant that she would have to turn off her phone, which meant no one could reach her for more than an hour. Just enough time to cause a frenzy, bring on hysteria, and add impact to my plan.

A 4 p.m. movie – that way Rival’s arrest would make the 6 p.m. news.

The knife in her bag? I had just a tiny window of opportunity to place it there when she ran around getting the children ready. Not only did I manage to slip in the knife, but I also managed to slip it into a compartment that she seldom used. I had to ensure she didn’t discover the knife before the cops found it. If she had discovered the knife before the cops, she would have probably tossed it, and reasonable doubt would have surfaced. But she didn’t, and the plan went according to…
plan
.

Bat-shit crazy Mabel – I knew she’d see Rival shoveling kids into the car in a hurry. I knew she’d call the cops when she saw my blood all over my white shirt and heard me on my lawn, screaming hysterically. I didn’t even have to call the cops!

So by now you’re probably convinced that I am indeed a genius and that my plan was as I promised, indisputable and crackling with brilliance. 

Yes? No? Well, I really don’t give a shit what you think because you’re probably a retard anyway. I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Your opinion is important to me. Always.

Chapter Eleven

SCARLETT

“Sixty-six bouquets!” my mother says as she counts the floral arrangements in my hospital room. “Wow, that sure is a lot of flowers, Scar –”

“Is that all?”

“All? That’s heaps, honey.” Her head bobs. “Heaps.”

“Mm.” Not good enough. Absolutely not. I mean, I can still see the walls of my hospital room. It’s not on – I shouldn’t be able to see the walls with all the floral tributes I should have been receiving. Think about it; I am popular, I am attractive, I am future first lady of Australia; every person who has crossed paths with me, who wishes to rub shoulders with someone as propitious as me, should have the foresight to send me an arrangement. I’m not talking any old flower arrangement, I’m talking elaborate arrangements worthy of a queen, because let’s face it, I am as good as one. It is an opportunity to impress me and get my attention. Seriously.

“Besides, it’s only been a couple of hours, you know,” my mother chirps. “There’s still tomorrow.”

“Pfft!”

The largest arrangement catches my eye. “Who’s that from?” I sit up to get a better view.
Bradley?

My mother holds up her reading glasses. “Martin…Job.”

Martin Job? You serious? How dare he? The nerve that fucker has to send me flowers after the way he unceremoniously dumped us. I take another look at the flowers. Given the magnitude of the bouquet, he obviously wants my attention, maybe even wants to initiate contact once again. I smile to myself. Of course he will. Look at how far we’ve come even without his help. But that’s how my life is going to be from now on – every Tom, dick and Martin will kowtow to us, beg for a crumb of our attention. It sure feels good to wield such supremacy.

Just then my father enters my ward.

“Hello, Daddy.”

He kisses my forehead. “How are you feeling?”

I shrug. “A bit weak. It’s the blood loss.”

He nods. “Has Bradley been here?”

“Not yet. I don’t think his plane has landed.”

“Oh, yes it did!” he says, waving a finger at me. “He was at the police station talking to the chief of police about
Rival
.”

I jerk to attention.
Seriously, Bradley?

My father paces. “He should have come
here
first. Should have seen his injured wife
before
he went to see her, Scarlett. This is not on. People will talk. Whatever is going on between his ex and him, it has to stop.”

That bastard! How dare he fucking humiliate me like that?
I’m
the injured party here, not her.

“Oh, Daddy, you worry too much,” I say in a voice as soothing as chamomile tea. “He’s probably worried she’s going to hurt herself or something. The woman’s dangerous, totally unstable. He’s really at his wits’ end with her.”

Just then, Bradley barges through the door with Ritchie in tow. His nostrils are flaring, his eyes are hooded, and he gnashes his teeth with each step he takes toward me.

“Talk of the devil!” I sing.

“What the hell happened?” he snarls, ignoring both my mother and father.

“We’ll leave you alone,” my mother says, taking my father’s arm. Together they exit the room.