Brent dropped his own f-bomb. Not because Derek was back, or because he was going to have to clean white wine from half the surfaces in the kitchen, but because Derek’s return meant that the schedule for the rest of Brent’s day, and probably the schedule for many days in the future, were going to be hopelessly wrecked.
“Let’s go. I’ll drive,” he said, gently removing the broken wine bottle from Charity’s grasp and tossing it into the garbage. “You’re not going over there alone.”
“Samantha says he’s already gone.”
“Still, better to be safe than sorry. We’ll make sure and I’ll drop you off. Text me later and I’ll come pick you up.”
Charity nodded, rinsing off the spilled wine then drying her hand, slipping on some shoes, and grabbing her purse.
They drove to Samantha’s apartment in silence. Brent could feel the anger coming off Charity in waves. He drove around the building looking for any suspicious vehicles. Derek’s old truck wasn’t there, but they had no way of knowing if he’d gotten a new one in the seven months since they’d seen him. Samantha’s beat-up brown sedan was in the numbered spot assigned to her apartment.
“Do you want me to come in?” Brent asked as he pulled into a visitor’s spot.
“No, it’s fine,” Charity said. “I’ve talked her off this ledge many times before. I can handle it.”
“Really? Because her past history with Derek suggests otherwise.”
“Ha-ha,” she said, flipping him the bird before leaning over and giving him a quick kiss. “Thank you for this. I know it’s kind of a pain in your butt.”
“Are you kidding me? I was facing an entire afternoon trapped on a couch watching a basketball game with a beautiful blonde stuck to my side. Who wants that?”
“It means a lot to me,” she said with a mock pouty face.
“Your friends are my friends.”
“The thing we talked about earlier…” Charity began.
Brent grinned. “You mean that little wedding thing?”
“Yeah, that,” she said. “I want you to know that I’m not going to let this Derek situation derail us again. The wedding’s going to happen, and I’m going to have my maid of honor there with me every step of the way. I don’t care what Derek does.”
“Oh yeah? How do you plan on accomplishing that?”
“As much I’d love to shoot him and dump his body in the river, I think that might complicate the wedding plans in other ways. Instead, I’m going to keep this girl so busy with wedding details she’ll forget all about that loser.”
“Do you really think that will work?” Brent asked, unable to hide the skepticism in his voice.
“You underestimate my devious side, which is a good thing. If we’re going to be married, I don’t want you knowing all my tricks just yet. I may have to use them on you sometime.”
“Can’t wait,” he replied, leaning over and kissing her deeper now. He pulled away and admired her full lips. “I’m going to go home and try to figure out some of those tricks. I might just think up some of my own. Text me when you’re ready for me to come pick you up.”
“Okay, wish me luck,” she said, hopping out of the car.
Brent watched her bounce up the steps to Samantha’s second floor apartment. He admired her form until he saw the door open and Charity rush inside. Then he cursed his bad luck. He knew an afternoon romantic interlude that was sure to be extremely pleasurable had just slipped through his grasp. At least he’d have more time to study constitutional law. Oh, goody.
He also knew that, despite Charity’s best efforts, there was no way Derek’s presence wasn’t going to hamper their recently renewed wedding plans. From what he’d heard about Derek, the man sounded like a ticking time bomb. It was only a matter of time before he went off. Brent just hoped when Derek finally did blow that Charity was well out of the blast zone and the damage was minimal.
Samantha opened the door on the second knock, and Charity practically leapt across the threshold, wrapping the girl in a tight hug.
“What the hell did he want?” Charity asked when she finally released her friend.
“I don’t know,” said Sam shakily. Sam could see in Charity’s face that her friend noticed her bloodshot eyes. Samantha wasn’t going to pretend she hadn’t been crying—ugly crying—ever since Derek left. Sam was still in the clothes she’d worn drinking and dancing the previous evening. Her hair was a mess, and the tears had caused her mascara to run, leaving twin black trails down her cheeks. Worst of all, she smelled like vomit.
“I didn’t think you were in such bad shape when I dropped you off last night. But I can tell by the stain on your shirt and the smell of puke on your breath you had a rough morning,” said Charity.
“I would have been fine, but when Derek showed up, it kind of all hit me, and I threw up on his shoes,” she replied weakly.
Charity laughed wickedly. “Oh, that’s too perfect. What did he say?”
“He didn’t say anything. He just yelled and jumped backward. When he did, I slammed the door and locked it. Then I texted you.”
“Good for you, girl. I bet that pissed him off.”
Samantha nodded, remembering the fury in Derek’s eyes as she stared at him through the peephole. “He pounded on the door for a long time, begging me to open it, but I didn’t answer it.”
“Let me guess. I bet he apologized over and over for what he did?”
“Yes.” Sam nodded again.
“And he said he’s changed?”
“Yes.”
“And it’s for real this time?”
“Yes.”
“And you know that’s total bullshit, right?”
“Yes.”
“And you’re never, ever, under any circumstances, in this universe or any other, even if you are the last two people on earth, going to get back together with him, are you?”
Samantha shook her head.
“Not even if the U.S. government kidnaps you and sends you and Derek to Mars to repopulate, and the entire fate of humanity depends upon whether or not you get back together with Derek?”
“Never.”
“Good girl,” Charity said again. “That’s all I needed to hear. Now, it’s well past time you had a shower. You reek. I’ll order us some Chinese delivery and we’ll binge watch home remodeling shows. How does that sound?”
Samantha nodded and marched to her room to find some clothes that didn’t smell like alcohol, smoke, and upchuck. She decided right then to burn the red shirt she was wearing. Apparently, wearing a garment associated with a demon somehow supernaturally called the denizen of hell out of her past and caused him to show up at her doorstep. Samantha couldn’t risk making that mistake again. She could never be too careful where Derek was concerned.
A few minutes later, Samantha turned the shower knob as far to the left as it would go and let the scalding water wash over her. She hoped it might somehow wash the memories of Derek away, along with the grime and ickiness she’d accumulated at the bar. Unfortunately, the bar grime rinsed away, but the memories were far too ingrained. She’d need to run herself through a car wash to get rid of the filth that was Derek. When she’d opened the door and seen his face after so many months, their entire relationship flashed before her eyes in an instant, both the good and bad. The night he’d emotionally eviscerated her in the coffee shop parking lot was chief among them.
The worst part about that night was that she’d never gotten to tell him how she truly felt. She’d never had the opportunity to tell him what a loser he was. She’d been cheated. She’d been deprived of the chance to stand up like the strong woman she was and tell him enough is enough. She was through with him. That was how it was supposed to happen, not the other way around. After being beaten down for so long, she wanted a chance to stand up to her abuser. But deep down, she didn’t know if she was strong enough. She was still unsure if she would have ever been able to break it off with Derek.
Samantha began to sob. She felt so helpless, so powerless. She hoped the sound of the shower would muffle her sobs so that Charity wouldn’t hear her through the apartment’s paper-thin walls. The couple in the apartment below her repeatedly thwarted the walls’ meager acoustic dampening powers with their lovemaking and domestic violence, both of which was engaged in with equal enthusiasm.
The good memories with Derek were also impossible to ignore. She remembered all the times Derek had been so sweet to her. She recalled every kind thing he’d ever said and every gift he’d ever bought her. She remembered the plans they’d made together. She heard again every promise of devotion he’d made to her and cursed herself for ever believing any one of them was true. She’d desperately hoped they were true. Every time Derek pledged his love, every time he said he’d really changed this time, she hoped against hope with every fiber of her being that he was being honest. But he never was.
It was half an hour later and the hot water had long gone cold when Samantha dragged her shivering body out of the shower. Physically, she felt better. Emotionally, she was still a wreck. She toweled off and threw on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. When she emerged from the bathroom, she saw the Chinese food had already arrived.
“Um, no,” said Charity when she saw her friend. “Get back into the room and put on something else. Sweatpants are for pathetic losers who haven’t gotten over their exes. That’s not you. I don’t care if we aren’t going out. I wanna see you in something cute, now.”
“I’m over him, I promise,” replied Samantha.
“The sweatpants say otherwise. Sweatpants are the garment of the damned. Until further notice, casual dress will consist of yoga pants, at the very least. I’d prefer holey jeans, but I’ll take what I can get. There will be absolutely no moping, no pining, no brooding, no sulking, no second-guessing yourself in any way, is that clear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Sam, dropping her head and stomping back into her room. A few seconds later, she reappeared wearing a pair of jeans that both fit and made her butt look cute.
“Much better,” said Charity. “Now we can eat. If you try a stunt like that again, I’m hauling your butt right back to Club Sprocket.”
Samantha threw up her hands. “No way. I’m going to need a month to recover, at least.” She grabbed a box of chow mein and plopped down on the couch. The food smelled delicious. She’d completely forgotten she’d had nothing to eat since their dinner the night before. Sam snagged an egg roll, as well, and the first bite almost gave her a foodgasm. “You are the best, Charity. I mean it,” she said through a mouthful of food.
“I know,” responded her friend, grabbing her own box. “Now, before we start lusting after all these soon-to-be remodeled ranch style ramblers, I have my own news.”
Sam’s eyes widened. “What?” she asked, her voice muffled as it was trying to escape around a mouthful of noodles.
“The wedding’s back on.”
Sam let out a muted squeal and almost choked on her chow mein. When she’d finally managed to swallow, she threw her arms around Charity. “Oh my gosh, when?” Sam asked.
“Not sure yet,” said Charity. “We just talked about it a little bit ago and agreed that it was time.”
“That’s great,” said Sam.
“Good, because you are still my maid of honor.”
“Damn right I am,” Sam replied. “Then what the heck are we doing watching TV? Let’s look at some dresses.” She grabbed her tablet and started searching bridal websites. They spent the next two hours oohing and ahhing over dresses, rings, and flowers while bouncing around ideas for venues and wedding bands. Samantha got so involved in the planning, she almost forgot to think about Derek and what it might mean that he had shown up at her doorstep just a couple of hours ago. But it was going to take more than a few supermodels in gorgeous white dresses to make her forget him completely. Still, she didn’t mention him once the entire time the girls were discussing the nuptials. Samantha was determined not to let Derek ruin her best friend’s wedding this go-around.
“Okay, that’s it, I’m wedding-ed out for one night,” said Charity a couple hours later as she fell back on the couch. “My eyes started to blur after about the twelve-hundredth A-line dress.”
“Same here,” said Samantha.
“I’m going to text Brent to come pick me up. You going to be okay after I’m gone?” All of a sudden, a heaviness hung in the air between them.
“I’ll be fine,” said Samantha.
“No texting losers after I’m gone, right?”
“I don’t even have his number anymore. Don’t you remember making me delete it from my phone?”
“Yeah, but I’m sure he still has yours. If he texts you, don’t text him back.”
“Yes, Mom,” said Sam.
“Ha! Your mother would probably be wondering why you haven’t texted him already. She’ll be happy as a lark he’s back.”
“Which is why I’m not going to tell her,” replied Samantha.
“Good thinking,” said Charity. “She’ll say you’re crazy not to get back with him. When it comes to Derek, she’s like a pusher waiting outside a Narcotics Anonymous meeting. I’ve never understood why she defends him so much.”
“Guess it’s a family cycle thing,” said Sam. “She’s been in her share of abusive relationships. It’s only right her daughter continues the family legacy.”
“The cycle stops now,” said Charity.
“Sir, yes, sir,” barked Samantha, giving her a mock salute.
“Good work here today, private,” Charity said back sharply, giving her own salute in return.
They each sat on the couch in silence, looking at their phones and lost in their own thoughts while they waited for Brent to arrive. After several minutes, Charity spoke again.
“I know why you don’t like him,” she said all of a sudden.
“Don’t like who?” Sam asked, cocking an eyebrow at her friend.
“The RV guy, Jason. The brokenhearted vagabond.”
“Why should I like him?” Samantha countered.
“You mean besides the fact that he’s hot?” asked Charity.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Well, if you’re going to be watching videos of the same person over the course of several weeks and months, I guess it helps if he’s good looking.”
“But I’m not going to be watching him. I only watch his damn videos when you make me.”
“And I plan on making you watch them all,” Charity said.
Samantha groaned. “Why? I’ve got better things to do with my time than watch some phony guy drive around the country tearing up every time he sees a sunset or a purple flower. I’ve got a wedding to help plan, remember?”
“He’s not phony,” Charity said simply.
“I still say he’s selling something,” Sam argued, though there was a niggling little voice in the back of her mind that called her a liar. “Why are you so sure about him?”
“Well, I searched his marriage license, for one. First, I searched the city of Little Rock and found out that city is located in Pulaski County. A quick search on the Pulaski county courthouse website told me that Jason O’Neal and Bethany Johnson were married on June 20, 2012. Then I searched his wife’s accident. I found her obituary, and the two girls’, still posted on a funeral home’s website. Looks like they just died at the end of last year.”
“You’re obsessed,” said Samantha.
“Maybe,” replied Charity, “but I’ll admit your negative attitude caused me to question his authenticity a little myself. I wanted to find out if he was really telling the truth.”
“Just because part of his story is true doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have some ulterior motive. Actually, it makes it worse. He’s exploiting the death of his wife and children to become an internet star. That’s sick.”
“Maybe, if that’s what he was really doing, but it isn’t.”
“How can you be so sure?” Sam asked. Why was it so hard for her to accept that maybe, just maybe, there was a genuinely good guy out there who’d loved his wife with all his heart and never lied to her or hurt her the way Derek had? She wanted to believe it. She knew Brent was a good guy, so why couldn’t she give this Jason guy a break?
“Do you remember how Tran said he was a good person?”
“Yes.”
“Brent agrees. In fact, he thinks the guy’s on the edge of breaking for good. Brent thinks he’s going to kill himself, drive his RV off a cliff or something. Oh, no, I just thought of something.”
“What?” groaned Sam.
“June 20th is coming up. It’s in a few weeks. I hope he really doesn’t do something terrible.”
“I don’t like the guy, but I don’t want him to drive off a cliff,” said Samantha
“Like I said, I already know why you don’t like him, even though you don’t even know him,” said Charity.
“Go ahead. Give me your professional psychiatric opinion. Why don’t I like him?”
“You don’t believe a man can actually be so good because you’ve only been with Derek.”
“I’ve been with other guys,” Sam countered.
“Sorry, nothing before senior year of high school counts. You’ve never been in a serious relationship with anyone else. The first love is hard to shake for any girl. It was just your bad luck your first happened to be with a gigantic loser who doesn’t know how to let go. Not all men are like that. Some are decent.”
“We can’t all be lucky enough to find someone like Brent,” Samantha said. She couldn’t hide the bitterness in her voice or face.
“Yes, you can. You will be that lucky. But not if you let this creep back into your life.”
“I’ve already told you, I’m not. Give me some credit.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but if I was a bank and you walked into my office looking for credit, I’d tell you not to let the door hit you on the rear end on the way out.”
Samantha stuck her tongue out at her best friend, the only form of retaliation a recovering banana slug had on hand.
“Want to watch the next video?” Charity asked.
“You’re not going to leave me alone until I do. Might as well get it over with,” Sam responded. Charity pulled it up with a couple of taps. She showed Samantha the video she and Brent had watched earlier. Sam was silent as she watched Jason trace his route through the continental United States.
“What do you think?” Charity asked when the video finished.
“Albuquerque, I guess,” Sam said.
“Huh?”
“I guess I’d vote to send him to Albuquerque,” she said with a groan.
“Well that’s interesting, but not exactly what I meant. I was more asking what you thought in general about the video. I didn’t think you wanted to participate in his shenanigans,” Charity reminded her.
“I don’t,” said Sam. “But if you are going to keep pestering me, I guess I might as well play along.”
“Okay, then, why Albuquerque? Which is the opposite of what I already voted for, by the way.”
“I don’t know,” replied Samantha. “Something in his voice made it seem like he didn’t want to go too deep into Texas, like it was too familiar or something. I think it might be a part of his life he wants to put behind him, at least for the moment.”
Charity let out a simulated gasp and put her hand to heart. “What’s that? I think I just heard your heart grow three sizes. Better be careful or the thing might explode.”
“Ha-ha,” said Sam, rolling her eyes.
There was a knock on the door, and Samantha jumped up.
“I got it,” said Charity, moving quickly to the front door. She looked out the peephole to make sure it was Brent before she opened it. He poked his head in and gave a quick wave and hello but stayed outside on the doorstep. Charity gathered her purse and gave Samantha one last hug.
“You remember my orders, private. No contact,” said Charity.
“Aye, aye, captain,” Sam replied.
“That’s navy. I thought we were doing army.”
“Whatever, get out. I’ll see you at work tomorrow,” said Samantha, pushing her friend out the door.
When Charity had gone, Sam stood in the open doorway, staring out into the night. A chill ran up her spine and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She couldn’t shake the feeling someone was watching her. Henry Hyena’s image popped up in her head. Surely not. She narrowed her eyes and looked around, trying to scry figures lurking in the shadows. Samantha swallowed hard as she realized it might be Derek sitting out there watching her. God, she hoped not. After several minutes of seeing nothing other than bushes, trees, and cars, Sam shook her head and shut the door. I’m being a paranoid idiot.
Still, she made sure to lock and deadbolt the door. The rest of the evening was uneventful. She had a low-calorie microwave fettucine alfredo for dinner while watching television then went to bed early. Throughout the night, Sam caught herself nervously checking her phone or listening for any sound outside, terrified Derek was going to text, call, or turn up at her door again. She was also terrified he wouldn’t. Regardless, she heard nothing from him.
Just before she fell asleep, Samantha pulled up Jason’s video and played it again. A feeling of longing came over her as she watched him trace his route across the country. I wonder what it’d be like to just take off and leave all your problems behind. Because I’ve got a problem I really need to run from. Maybe two problems if the hyena doesn’t knock off his crap.
She scrolled down to the comments section and found the online poll. She tapped the button marked ‘Albuquerque.’ The results came up showing her that El Paso was actually leading the vote by a slim margin—fifty-two to forty-eight percent, with almost six hundred votes cast.
Wow, six hundred votes. Apparently, Charity is not the only one obsessed with this guy.
Exhausted, both from the lack of sleep she received the night before, and from the yo-yo of emotions seeing Derek had thrust upon her, Samantha fell into a fitful sleep. But just before she nodded off, visions of herself rolling across the country in the passenger seat of an RV played through her mind.