Marnie sat on the passenger side of the rental car with her seatbelt on. She waited patiently for Danny to get in the driver's seat.
How could Danny do this to her? Ambushing her with a surprise visit to see her family? Humiliation, pain, and anger welled up in her stomach. She never wanted to see Paul again, but Adam and his family were another matter entirely. Look at all the things she'd missed out on in his life. She was an aunt and didn't even know it. Poor Adam. Marnie's heart broke remembering the tears trickling down his face. She would've been better off if she had never seen him. He would've been better off too.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Marnie asked Danny as they reached the stop sign at the corner of her parents' street.
“What do you mean?” Danny said, his lips flailing like a fish. “I thought you'd be happy to be reunited with your family, but now you're acting like you can't wait to put distance between them.”
“How could you ambush me like that? You humiliated me.”
“Marnie, what is going on? Your family was happy to see you.”
“I never want to see those people again.”
“Whatever is bothering you, bury the hatchet.”
Who was he to tell her what she needed to do? Marnie reached down and unzipped one of her anklet suede boots.
He glanced as she raised it. “What are you doing?”
“Marnie, stop!”
She took the boot and proceeded to smack him upside the head.
“You son of a bitch. I hate you.” Marnie wanted to kick his ass. She wanted him to feel her pain. This motherfucker thought he could do whatever he wanted to, because he had saved her from being blissfully high. She had never asked him to meddle in her life like this. All he was supposed to do was provide her with a safe environment. Now he'd ruined everything.
She'd worked hard to let go of what Paul had done to her. Now it'd come back, and taken over her life. If it wasn't for her mother, she would've killed him the minute he wrapped his arms around her. Seeing Paul's smile made her slash at Danny again.
He tried to shield himself with his arm and drive.
“Owww!” The spike scratched his forehead. With one hand on the wheel, Danny wrestled the shoe away from Marnie and threw it out the window.
“Stop!”
Marnie grabbed the steering wheel and yanked it hard to the right. The car spun. Danny pumped the brakes and jabbed his elbow into her throat. She yelped like a wounded dog and slumped against the passenger door.
“I'm sorry, but you made me do it.” Danny got out of the car to assess the damage. He used the light of his cellphone to help him see. The dim light showed scratches on the front rim of the left tire. The car had spun around, parking them facing the wrong side of the street. Fortunately the only vehicle parked on the block was five feet away.
Danny got back into the car and started it up again. The rental insurance would cover the damage.
“Do you even have an interview with Samantha Moyer?” Marnie croaked. Speaking was painful since Danny had jammed his elbow into her throat.
“No.”
“You don't have any right to play with my life like this.”
“Woman, I am trying to help you! Why are you freaking out like this?”
“I quit. You hear me? This little experiment is over. Go find some other lackey.”
He ignored her comments. Perhaps with a good night's sleep she'd find a way to forgive him. If she couldn't, he was never getting into another car with her again.
Back at the hotel, Danny eagerly explored the mini bar in his room. He didn't need a drink, he needed a bottle. Tonight was terrible. He grabbed the vodka and tore the cap off, and drained the little container. He examined the gash to his forehead in the bathroom mirror, wincing at the touch of his fingers on the wound. She'd clipped him good. The gash was half an inch long. He broke out the first aid kit from his suitcase and a bottle of Jack, and proceeded to patch himself up.
Damn! Tonight was rough. His hands shook as he applied the gauze. He took another swig of the Jack, but it was no use. His nerves weren't calming down anytime soon. The vitamins in the nightstand beckoned him. He took them into the bathroom and made two fat lines. The sight of himself with a rolled up hundred in his nostril stopped him. What are you doing? He washed the powder down the sink.
Returning to his room, he sat on a lounge chair. It wasn't nerves, he reasoned; it was uneasiness. Marnie was right. He had fucked up royally. He should've never surprised her with a visit to see her family. Whatever his reasons, he would hate it if someone did that to him.
Danny leaned back in the chair and sighed. The look of anguish in her eyes when she'd asked why had hurt. He needed to fix this. There's no way she would stay in Chicago now. He had high hopes. He chuckled. He'd thought she would be so overjoyed to see her family that she would want to stay and he could leave her there. He was going to have to try and make up with her. Perhaps once she cooled down, she would see things his way. After what happened with Kevon, he was convinced it would be better for her to stay with her family. He'd envisioned leaving her in their care and maybe convincing her to visit a local chapter of Habit Relief.
Clearly he was doing a shitty job of helping her. She'd already relapsed twice in his care. It was time to let the professionals take over. A pipe dream. He was a long way off from ever seeing it grow.
He pushed himself off the lounge chair and shuffled out of his room and down the hall, the bottle of Jack still in hand. Marnie's room was at the far end. He plastered a smile on his face in preparation for a shouting match. Perhaps Jack could be his white flag.
His brow furrowed and his lips constricted in anguish. Taped to Marnie's door was a white piece of printing paper. In large capitals, written in what appeared to Danny to be pink lipstick, were the following words: fuck you forever puppet master.
“Fuck!” Danny banged his head against the door.
Marnie, what are you doing? He tore the note off the door and used his keycard to enter the room. A look in her closet told him she had no plans to return. Not even one hanger remained. She had left another message on the dresser mirror. It screamed asshole, with a double underline, in the same pink lipstick she'd used to write the message on the door.
Crestfallen, he sat down on the queen‐size bed. He clutched his chest. An unfamiliar pain attacked him. His heart ached. He leaned back across the bed, his head swimming with questions.
Where had she gone? Had he pushed her to use? Would she overdose? Would she cop from someone that could harm her? Was she angry—or scared? Did she want to come back to the hotel, but couldn't because she was lost? These questions and many others wracked his brain. Whiskey attacked his body, forcing him to rush to the toilet; barely making it, he emptied the contents of his lunch. He flushed it and leaned his head against the cold porcelain of the toilet bowl. Fuck!
He would have to find her, but if he did it was possible that she was perfectly alright, a voice in his head warned. It didn't matter; he wouldn't be able to sleep unless he knew for sure.
He rested his hand on the bathroom countertop and pulled himself up. Marnie, where the hell did you go?