Rendezvous (11 page)

Another two days pass without any progress. Cage went ahead to Cali, but has found no new leads. There is nothing new on any social networks under either of Bentley’s names. I swear I’m losing my fucking mind. How the fuck can one person just disappear over and over? I start to fear that maybe this Oliver guy is some kind of fucking con artist. That maybe he really did kill Cora and was just feeding a bunch of lies to Bentley to get her alone. What if this dude was working for Darla the whole fucking time? My mind is reeling as I sit down on the couch.

Aggie takes a seat next to me and pats my leg. I know it’s meant to be a gesture of comfort and understanding, but I can’t shake the uneasiness I feel. Clicking the remote, the TV shudders before a news bulletin comes on.

Breaking News

The body of a woman found in an abandoned mine two days ago has been confirmed as that of Darla Celeste. An anonymous tip called in by a hunter lead the police to the discovery. A rescue team took several hours to extract the body due to the sensitive nature it was found in. The mine is said to house hundreds of rattlesnakes. An autopsy was performed yesterday evening, and the cause of death has been ruled an accident. It is believed she was camping out in the wooded area in the mountains to flee law enforcement. As most know the area is home to many wild animals, and bite marks found on the remains are consistent with that of coyotes. Authorities believe she fell into the mine while trying to escape the animal attack. Mrs. Celeste was wanted for the attempted murder and kidnapping of her daughter. The F.B.I. confirmed she was a wanted fugitive who earlier this year jumped bail before her arraignment.

I click the television back off, so that’s it then. No more Darla. I wonder if wherever Bentley is if she’s breathing a sigh of relief. I hope her mother’s death gives her some kind of peace. Maybe now she’ll come home, though something inside tells me not to count on it.

Bentley

It’s surreal seeing my mother’s face on the screen, knowing that she is dead. For the first time in my life, I feel like I can breathe. No more death threats, no more fear of what is lurking in the shadows, no more watching every suspicious looking vehicle. I’m free. It’s an odd sensation and one I could easily grow to covet. Yet, at the same time, there is this sadness pulling at me from inside. Being free doesn’t change anything. I didn’t come to Cali to wait for my mother. I came to get to know my father.

My heart isn’t hurting because she is dead. It’s hurting because she is no longer here to keep me from Tristan, yet I still can’t be with him. No matter how I try to slice it, that fact still remains. Tristan has found someone else in the midst of all of my chaos. I need to come to terms with the knowledge that he belongs to someone else now.

I promised myself I wouldn’t spy on him. I swore I would step aside and let him have the love that he so deserves, and I intended to keep my promise. I just need to find ways to distract myself, like finding the perfect model for my next book. I’m running out of time, and Sarah asked if I mind if she calls some potential models that might be a good fit. I told her I don’t mind since I really not sure what it is I’m looking for anyway.

This will be the first book I released under my own name since the abduction last year. It is the first step to a fresh start, one that I need desperately. I received a voicemail that three of the four she requested answered back already and she was just waiting on the fourth. I asked her if I could have a heads up as to whom she’s looking at, but she told me to have some faith in her as she knows me well enough to know what I’d want. In truth, she really does, but who doesn’t mind seeing a little eye-candy now and then, especially when they can’t look where they want to.

I send her a message back letting her know to go for it, and head downstairs to finish up some last minute details for tonight’s party. I brought Marco home earlier this week and put off telling him about the party for as long as I could. Since he had never thrown a party for them before, I didn’t want him to be put out, or feel I am stepping on his toes. He wasn’t upset at all though. In fact, he was quite excited about having a party just for them. He even took it upon himself to up my own party plans.

As it is, there will be thirty-five guests in attendance and the caterers are already starting to get set up. The weather is a little warmer this evening, even though there is new snowfall on the ground. The sky is clear, and you can see straight out to the ocean that lies on the other side of the vast gardens. Stepping out onto the back deck, I make a vow to myself that once it warms up, I’m going to go sit by the shore and let all of this weight I’ve been carrying go with the tide.

I miss the beaches in Florida. The beaches here are more rocks and less white sands and seashells. The ocean is much colder on this coast, but then I’m use to the warm waters along the Gulf. I miss home, and the heat and comfort that comes with it. I long for that feeling of security; not that I don’t feel safe here. It’s a different kind of security. When I walk along the sands back in Florida, I feel like I’m at peace. It’s like a beacon that calls to me. No matter how lost I am, I always find myself there. I wonder if walking the beach here will bring me that same feeling of contentment.

By the time I get back inside, my skin is cold and covered in goose bumps. I guess that’s what I get for reminiscing. My father’s staff has already started to arrive as I enter the living room. I greet them all with a fondness as if I’ve known them for years. I feel rather put out though when I find Dr. Finn camping out by the makeshift bar. Before I can ask what he’s doing here, a hand latches firmly around my arm.

“Play nice, Bambina. It’s just one evening. Tell me, what is it about Brad that seems to make you so uncomfortable?” My father asks.

“I’m not sure,” I reply. “No, that’s a lie,” I say, shaking my head. “He just rubs me wrong. He’s an asshole. He’s an egotistical jerk-off who doesn’t seem to understand the concept of the word no. He’s a raging prick who is constantly passive aggressive to Mrs. Anders, no matter how nice she is to him, and I want to slap that goddamn smirk off his face. He’s a condescending dickhead who constantly undermines everyone else for his own self-serving satisfactions.”

My father starts laughing as I finish my ranting. “Is that all darling? So all in all, he’s what you might call an 'asshat,' no?”

“No! Absolutely not. He’s a lot of things, but no he’s not an asshat. Only one person gets to be an asshat...my asshat.” I say, not realizing the implication of my words. He’s already caught on though, so I can’t take them back.

“Ah, I see. So asshat is a name you use with fondness then?”

I shake my head again and try not to laugh myself, but that little twinkle now sitting in his eyes tells me he knows so much more than he’s letting on.

“How much do you know?” I ask.

“My Bambina, I’ve watched over you your whole life. It seems the only person you’ve ever referred to as an asshat is your Tristan. Therefore, this name must hold an endearment to you, since he most certainly does.”

“Please leave this alone Marco,” I reply with desperation in my voice.

“He’s moved on, he’s happy now. He’ll always be my asshat, he just won’t be it with me.”

I try to hide the sadness from my voice, but I know I’m failing miserably. I just need one night where he doesn’t consume my thoughts, one night where I can be the old snarky, bitchy, Bentley who doesn’t give a shit about any man.

“I will respect your wishes, but know this: Not everything is as it seems. What proof do you have of this newfound happiness?” he questions before walking away.

What the fuck does that mean...'what proof do I have?' I saw the picture of him and that woman. I saw her hands all over him. What more proof do I need? He was smiling down at her and they looked blissful...isn’t that enough?

I stand there contemplating what Marco said when a pair of hands graze my hips to wrap around me. I react quickly, bending my assailant's fingers back until he releases me, then step out of his hold. I’m neither surprised nor sorry to find Brad nursing his swollen fingers.

“Dr. Finn, I’m not sure just how you were raised, but actions such as yours could easily be misconstrued as sexual harassment. I assume you’re here to see my father, so as his guest I must ask that you keep your hands to yourself,” I say before walking away.

My father looks absolutely horrified by either my own or his Dr.'s behavior. For a moment, I believe he may intend to put one of us in our place. Instead, he ushers Brad into the side office to conduct his check-up.

I’m pissed to high hell at that arrogant pricks actions, but like a dutiful daughter, I take it in stride. I make a quick stop into the bathroom, and then head to the kitchen to make my father and his guest a cup of hot chocolate. Not that I really want to do shit for Brad, but I don’t want to get reprimanded for poor manners either, nor do I want Marco taking his medication late because I’m too pissed to accommodate them both.

I notice Maddie eyeing me strangely and I simply shrug it off. Before I finish making the cups, Maddie hands me a small package before giving me a wink and walking away. Opening the wrapping, I find breakable squares with the
Ex-Lax
logo engraved in them. I drop several pieces the chocolate into one of the cups and stir until they melt down completely.

Heading into my father's office, I place the cups down, making sure Brad gets the laced one. I suppress my delight as he drinks the full cup before I get the chance to hand my father his. I guess it’s a good thing the contents weren’t too hot; otherwise he might have taken his time drinking it. I chuckle to myself after leaving the room thinking just how entertaining his night is going to be.

It’s about forty-five minutes later when the commotion halts Mrs. Ander's and my conversation. I follow her into the hall in time to catch a very flustered Dr. Finn trying to scramble to the bathroom. By the way he is moving you’d think he has a large item shoved up his pert ass. Unfortunately, for the good doctor, he doesn’t seem to be able to find the right room.

Much to all of the staff’s horror, we witness the shit that runs from beneath Brad’s pants, down his shoes and onto the tile floor causing a rather large, disgusting, foul smelling mess. My father walks out of the office to see what is happening and nearly slips in the trail that is following behind Brad as a snickering Maddie points him to the bathroom.

I try really hard to hold in my laughter at the sight of Brad’s ridiculously soiled pants. I mean honestly, what kind of grown man shits himself. How utterly embarrassing.

Upon Brad’s return, Mrs. Anders looks at me, then back at the man who just shit all over my floors.

“My apologies Miss Celeste, but I’m simply not paid enough to clean up the feces of a man who doesn’t know how to control his bowels. I’ll send for someone qualified for the task. Or perhaps Dr. Finn would be so inclined to wash the floor, since he’s the one who felt it necessary to shit on it like untrained puppy. Honestly, Doctor, where were you raised…in a sewer? I should expect your mother would be mortified if word got out that her son took such frivolities in his patient’s home.”

I try to hide my laughter behind a cough as my father looks on with suspicion. I’m sure if he’s watched me for as long as he says that he knows damn well this is my doing. Still, it’s hard to keep a straight face when all I can think about is Brad sitting in his new over-priced, imported car with its leather seats, and how he’s going to need one hell of a detailing.

When I was finally able to speak again,I address Mrs. Anders
.
“I in no way would ever expect you to perform such a demeaning task as cleaning up the defecation of a grown man. I truly expect my guests to be house-trained, but obviously someone needs further lessons in potty-training. Please call one of the maids to clean the floors as I don’t believe any further embarrassment needs to befall Dr. Finn, and be sure to add something extra to her paycheck since I don’t believe this falls within her responsibilities either.”

“As you wish, Miss. Celeste, but perhaps next time the doctor visits, we should invest in some of those pads they use to train animals. At least then if he’s so disinclined to use the bathroom, he’ll have his own designated area on which to shit. Heaven forbid we let that man sit on the sofa, as he might piss on it as a show of dominance.”

I laugh at her verbal disapproval and the abject humiliation he must be feeling. Her words have reduced the pompous ass into a blithering idiot. Yet seeing him throw a fit in front of all of these people with whom he considers beneath him, is even more rewarding
.
Marco and a man I don’t recognize help Dr. Finn out to his car. He’s lucky this time I only chose to humiliate him. If he puts his hands on me again, the consequences will be a lot more painful.

Chapter 11

Tristan

I receive a message in my inbox about a photo shoot for a cover job. I’m about to tell her I’m not interested when the location catches my interest. It’ll mean flying out to Cali. While normally that’d be my reason to decline, it gives me an excuse to join Cage in his search.

While I had planned on spending Christmas here with Aggie, she asked if I minded if she went and spent the holidays with her great nieces. I can’t possibly ask her to stay. I have gotten to spend so many wonderful holidays with her, it was only right that she gets to experience the holidays with the new little ones. Her nephew’s wife had triplet girls earlier in the year and they are each getting ready to walk. I know how much Aggie wants to be there for it, so I bought her plane ticket and told her to stay for as long as she wanted.

I call Dante to ask if he still has that envelope from Bentley. I want to see what the city stamp says for the post office. An hour later, I hear back from him. Apparently he’s been busy entertaining his new beau’s parents and couldn’t step away. I wait on the phone as he grabs the letter and hope that the mark is still legible. A minute later, he jumps back on the line and informs me the post stamp reads Eureka, and then gives a quick goodbye.

Opening my laptop back up, I look to see how far Eureka is from the town the shoot is in. Imagine my surprise when it turns out to be just a mere fifteen miles away. I send a text to Cage and tell him I’ll need a ride from the airport, and to find me a room somewhere in Eureka. He questions why I want to go all the way up there. I don’t want to get my hopes up so I tell him the town just sounds lucky.

When my plane lands, I get off and meet up with Cage, who is already waiting for my bags. “Anything new?” I ask.

“Not much. Jacob has been busy with his family so there hasn’t been much on that front. He said he’d meet up with us here after the new year to continue the search if we don’t find her before then.”

“We’ll find her before then. Did you get me a room in town like I asked?”

“Yeah, that’s an interesting little town you chose. Care to explain why? And what happens if you find Bentley and she still wants to be left alone Tryst. What are you going to do then?”

“Are you shitting me right now?” I ask. “I don’t need to hear that kind of shit, Cage. Why the fuck would she still push me away?”

“I don’t know, man. I just think you should consider it as a possibility. It might be a bad idea to get your hopes so fucking high. She’s already taken off twice. She told you flat out she doesn’t want you to look for her. Yet here you are acting like a puppy searching for its long lost master. She had her reasons, Tristan, and they weren’t all her mother. Just think about that before you decide to throw everything you got into the ring.”

“She’s not a fucking fighter Cage; there’s nothing to throw in. Either she wants me or she doesn’t. But I don’t think she had any good fucking reason other than the sheer amount of fear her mother instilled in her. That bitch is long gone. She’s never coming back, and I’m sure by now Bentley knows that.”

“I know. Just be careful. This need you’ve created for her...it’s fucking consuming you. So just promise me you’ll think about what I said. You can want someone to the point where it’s no longer love and becomes purely obsession. Don’t cross that line, Tristan.”

I nod at him in understanding. He’s right. Bentley is my obsession, but not because I don’t love her. My obsession is my need for her to know happiness. To know what it’s really like to be loved unconditionally. And there it is, my one truth. Bentley is my unconditional. There is nothing in this fucking world she could ever do that will make me stop loving her.

When we reach the quaint town of Eureka, I’m awed to see everything so cheerfully decorated. We pull up to the inn where Cage made accommodations for me. I have a few errands I need to run and before meeting with the photographer tomorrow.

We decide to grab some lunch before checking out the scenery. While heading to some mom and pop joint, I see someone who I could have sworn is Bentley. There is just one problem with that theory: She’s holding onto the arm of a man who could easily be her father. Bentley never struck me as the sugar daddy type, and there is no way in hell she would go around fucking some old bag of skin. No way in fucking hell could anyone convince me of that shit. I try to convince myself that my mind is playing tricks on me, yet I can’t help the nagging sensation inside of me screaming that it’s her.

They enter the same place we’re heading into and I decide to ease my idiotic fears by confirming that it really isn’t Bentley. Walking into the small restaurant, I take a look around for the pair that entered a few moments earlier, but I don’t see them anywhere. Cage takes my cause upon himself, flirting with the hostess before discretely asking about the couple who entered before us. She leads us to a section where we are far enough away to see them, but not hear their conversation.

I don’t want to be a creeper, especially if it isn’t Bentley. I watch as the woman stands up, placed a kiss on the man’s cheek and then heads to the restrooms. Cage catches me staring and turns to see her as well. There no mistaking it; it’s Bentley, and she with this older dude. I can’t fucking wrap my head around it. It just doesn’t make any fucking sense. Why the hell would she be with this fucker when she knows how I feel about her?

Sickened by what we both witnessed, we decide to take the food to go. I don’t waste my time waiting for it though; I take off while leaving Cage behind. I’m going fucking nuts. I want to hurt something. I fucking killed for her, and this is what I get in return? She fucking replaces me with some senior citizen? No fucking way! I should storm back through that fucking door and drag her the hell out here, and see what the fuck is up. But there’s just one problem with that fucking logic. I told myself I did this so she could find happiness, I’d be a fucking hypocrite to try and take that away from her now.

I’m pacing back and forth when Cage exits the building.

“His name is Marco. He used to frequent here often until a month ago. The girl said he had some kind of heart attack and no one had heard from him since until this week,” Cage informs me.

I don’t know why he’s bothering...why the fuck should I care about this dude's story. He’s got my girl hanging on his fucking arm. If he’s looking for sympathy, he’s looking in the wrong fucking direction. If he wasn’t some old man, he’d be picking his fucking teeth up off the floor.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “Whoever the fuck he is, he better make her happy. Because if he doesn’t, I’ll tear him the fuck apart.”

“Tryst, you can’t stay here and watch over her. It’s fucking creepy and you’ll be fucking stalking her. She’d never want that and you know it.”

“I know,” I reply while walking back towards the inn. “I just don’t understand. Who the fuck is he? Why would she cross the country to be with this man? Did she know this dude before? Is this the dude Ele thought she was secretly meeting when he took off last year? Jacob said there wasn’t anyone in her fucking life. How can she go from being alone to just up and moving to be with some fucking guy unless she somehow knew him before.”

“Maybe she did. Maybe she knew him before. Give Jacob his name and let him run it, see what he comes back with. He could be something other than a lover, Tryst. I mean think about that for a second. The woman in that restaurant seemed to know him pretty well. She doesn’t recall ever seeing Bentley with him before. And think about the timing Tristan…this dude was in a coma when Bentley took off on Jacob. That doesn’t exactly add up. Make sure you get the whole picture before you go thinking the worst of her. You said so yourself, this isn’t like Bentley. So stop assuming that she’s fucking this dude, because one that’s fucking nasty and two it’s just fucking nasty,” he laughs before shoving my arm, and giving it a punch before walking into the room.

I can’t help but dwell on what he fucking said. What the fuck would she be doing with that guy? He’s old enough to be her fucking father. I keep circling back on that, and then it hits me…

“Son of a bitch!” I say, startling Cage and causing him to drop his food in his lap. I watch him jump up to brush the hot food away from his pants.

“Now what?” he asks, not even trying to mask the aggravation in his voice. Not that I can blame him. The food is scalding and his crotch is feeling the full effects of that heat.

“That’s it! It has to be! When Darla was tied up she talked about how much she hated the man who ruined her. Dante told me he was some director who killed her acting career after she tried to get pregnant and blackmail him into making her a star. She told me when Bentley was two that he tried to take custody of her. Why the fuck would he try and take custody of a baby if that baby wasn’t his? Mother fucker…I’m betting he’s the reason she came out here. He’s not some guy she’s dating; he’s her father.”

“You can’t be fucking serious. Man this just gets shittier by the minute. You’re telling me all of this time, Bentley has been tortured into believing that neither of her parents gave a shit about her, and now she has to live with being abandoned by her real father. Why would she even give that piece of shit the time of day? He left her behind to be abused by that fucking cunt.”

“That’s just it though. He didn’t, at least not at first. When he tried to take custody of her, Darla flipped the fuck out. She cut the brake lines on his car. Only he wasn’t he one driving, his wife was. She murdered his wife, but there wasn’t enough evidence to prove it was her. Darla told me how he still tried to interfere, and how each time he did she made sure to hurt Bentley, making each instance worse until he finally stayed away.”

“Why not go to the police? He was a grown fucking man, Tristan. He should have protected her.”

“Darla said he tried a few times. Apparently that bitch had a lot of connections. Darla wasn’t exactly a pushover. She’s from a very wealthy family, and knew a lot of powerful people. She retained those connections even after she walked away from her family’s influence.”

“So what? You think Bentley is here to make up for lost time?” he asks.

“Wouldn’t you? If you just found out that you had family out there, that they once gave a shit, and that they were sick. You said he was in a coma. If she knew that, no way would she not come. She would never miss the chance to see him. I mean...wouldn’t you want to get to know what you missed out on? When I found out I had family on my mother’s side, a part of me couldn’t wait to get to know them. I can understand that need. She’s always longed to feel like she belonged somewhere.”

“I guess that makes sense. So how do you want to do this? You can’t just go back to that restaurant and just confront her. She’d kick your ass for disregarding her wishes. You need to tread lightly here, Tristan, especially if you’re right and she did come out here for family. Right now you’re still speculating. We don’t know who he is.”

Cage is right. I’d probably end up like one of those poor bastards in her books if I stormed in there demanding answers. I’m not sure how to proceed though. I just know I’m not returning home without knowing where her heart lies. In truth, I don’t know if I’ll be leaving at all. If she says she still loves me, yet insists on staying, I won’t be walking away.

I decide to take it one day at a time, starting with the photo shoot. I want to know who the author is behind this cover. Rumor has it she has a new book releasing. If this is for her cover, I’ll be making damn sure I get the job.

I call Sarah, the photographer. She is reluctant to tell me who the contract is for, but eventually, I wear her down. I’m right; it is for Bentley. Sarah doesn’t know our history so I make a convincing argument that I really need this. It’s amazing what a bit of sweet talking and a little harmless flirting will get you.

Sarah promises to pay special attention to the details of my shoot. She believes she knows what Bentley wants and she’ll make sure to deliver. This job is as good as in the bag. That is as long as Bentley doesn’t reject it, which I seriously doubt she will.

I send Jacob a message letting him know I found her, and caught him up on all of the sordid details. He confirms my suspicions by finding the court documents showing one Marco Linzetti vs. Darla Celeste in a custody battle. It shows that the case was dropped shortly after Bentley’s second birthday. There are also records of a paternity test proving that Marco is Bentley’s father.

Jacob looked even further into Marco and confirmed that his wife Wendy died under suspicious circumstances. He also found that Marco’s recent disappearance and reappearance is due to a cardiac arrest and a subsequent coma. His medical records show that he was released from a private facility just this past week, after waking from the coma.

Bentley recently filed a change of address for a location just north of town on a secluded strip of beach property. Again, records show the property had belonged to Marco until recently. Paperwork was filed around the same time Bentley took off that show her with new ownership of the property as well as several others that belonged to Marco. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Marco was setting his affairs in order, and I can’t help but wonder if the old man is dying.

I decide to check the property out after the shoot tomorrow. For tonight, I’m going to get some rest and find something on which to beat my pent up frustration.

Bentley