-HINDLEY-
“A fucking hurricane!” Dana yelled, banging the ticket counter.
“Ma’am, please, mind your language,” the airline lady politely scolded. Her eyes darted around the gate area. Hundreds of other passengers sat about, anxiously waiting for the departure of a nonexistent plane.
I rolled my eyes at the woman. If she only knew Dana, she’d realize this was tame for her. And she’d be thanking the stars above and kissing those silver wings on her shirt that Dana didn’t burst out in a song full of expletives that would have a sailor turning red with embarrassment.
This was just our luck. Leave it to Dana to book a trip to the Cayman Islands smack dab in the middle of hurricane season. I loved her to death, but she wasn’t the brightest bulb on the tree. Hurricane Ethan was making his fury known up and down the Caribbean and was headed straight for the Gulf of Mexico, promising to be one of the largest storms in recent years.
“Hey.” I pulled on Dana’s arm, trying to get her away from the glaring eyes of all the moms with small children who were silently burning her at the stake. “Come on, let’s take a walk.”
“I can’t believe this, Hindley. Of all the days. That stuck-up airline bitch pretty much guaranteed all the flights would be canceled.”
“Dana, I don’t want to get on an airplane heading toward a tropical island that’s smack dab in the eye of a hurricane, I don’t care how fruity the drinks are.”
The tiniest promise of a smile swept across her face. “I’m really sorry.”
“Why?”
“Because. This was supposed to be…” She waved a hand in the air then dropped it with a huff.
I knew exactly what she had been about to say and I didn’t want to hear it. “Look, I’m fine. I wish you and my mom and Paul would get that.”
“How the fuck can you be fine, Hindley? That prick cussed you out in front of like a zillion people and put it on display on every social media site for the whole goddamn world to see. And if that wasn’t bad enough, then the scumbag goes and fucks your stepsister. Hello? Am I the only one here who’s getting this? I can’t believe you’re not more upset.”
“I am upset, Dana. I’ve cried so much, I don’t have anymore tears left. What do you want me to do? Lay down and die?”
“No, I’m just worried about you.” Her eyes brimmed with tears.
Her feelings had nothing to do with Rory and everything to do with the way I normally handled stressful events in my life. “I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl. Look, it’s late and we’ve been at the airport for like five hours. Let’s go home.”
“No. I refuse to give up. We’re going somewhere.”
“Really, Dana, you don’t have to do this. I’ll be fine, I swear.”
“Look, go have a drink at the bar. I’m going to head back to the ticket counter and see if we can cash our tickets in and head somewhere north. Maybe New York City?”
I knew better than to argue with her when she made her mind up to do something. Instead, I nodded, picked up my carry-on bag, and headed toward the bar.
I pitched my bag under the counter and slid up on one of the wooden stools.
“What’s your pleasure, little lady?” the bartender asked with a warm smile.
“To get out of this airport. And soon.”
“I hear you.” He laughed, wiping down the bar in front of me. “Until then, how about something to wet your whistle?”
I wasn’t in the mood to drink, not today anyway. “Do you have lemonade?”
“Nope. No lemonade. Sorry. How about some cranberry juice mixed with seltzer water? It’s one of my trade secrets.” He cupped one hand around his mouth as if to hide the words from onlookers. “Then I throw in a little extra ingredient, but no one knows what it is.” He winked.
I was already in his trusted circle. I smiled, a genuine expression, for the first time in days. “That sounds perfect.”
“Coming right up then, little lady.” He knocked on the bar with his knuckles then slid a square paper napkin in front of me and headed away to prepare my drink. I dug around in my carry-on for my iPad. Now I could finish reading the article on fashion merchandising I’d started when we’d been waiting in the gate area for our plane. The one that never arrived. And probably never would.
Since I’d left the firm, I’d floundered around, trying to figure out what to do with my life. Ideas popped in my head all the time, but it was fashion design I always came back to. I also thought of the joy I experienced helping Rory learn to read. Maybe I should be a teacher.
I shook my head. No. No thoughts of Rory Gregor, it was my new mantra. One I wasn’t always good at keeping.
I took in a deep breath and set the iPad up on the bar, frustrated to see my battery was almost out. “Excuse me,” I asked the bartender, holding up my power cord. “Do you have a power outlet?”
“Not at the bar.” He pointed to a row of booths against one wall. “But there’s one at every booth over there.”
I stared around the restaurant area and suddenly my skin prickled. Staring back at me on at least ten different television screens was the man who’d once captured my heart. There was no place to escape from his face.
Glancing down at my napkin I noticed this wasn’t just any bar, it was a sports bar. How could I not have noticed that before?
The X Games logo flashed behind him on every television. Well, hell. So much for my mantra.
I stood paralyzed, staring at his gorgeous face. Rory was just as beautiful as ever and looked no worse for the wear, unlike me. The only indication that he may feel as shitty as me were the dark circles underneath his eyes. He must not be sleeping either.
I stumbled toward a booth and slowly sunk into the bench seat. The volume was muted and I thanked God I didn’t have to hear his voice.
Rory had left so many voice mail messages over the last two weeks, they’d filled up my entire inbox. I wanted to listen to every single message, to savor his voice, but I knew better. Or, at least I thought I did.
One rainy afternoon, against all my best intentions, I’d sat on my back porch all alone and played a few of them. It had been a mistake and I’d paid the price, spending the rest of the day and most of the night, curled up in a ball on my sofa, crying my eyes out as each message played over and over again in my mind, each one sounding more panicked than the one before.
His desperation echoed in every word. The old me wanted to call him, make sure he was all right, comfort him, care for him. But images of his body wrapped around Geneva’s as they rolled around in his hotel bed always ripped through my mind just as I was about to dial.
“Here’s your drink, little lady.” The bartender broke into my thoughts as he set the glass down.
The multitude of flat screen televisions closed in on me like an angry mob.
“Big skateboarding fan?” He nodded toward the screen.
“You could say that.”
“So’s my son. He loves that guy.”
I stared at one of the screens, Rory’s face filling every inch. After zooming in, I could see he did look just as bad as I did. He’d lost weight, and there were no mischievous laugh lines around his lips when he smiled.
“I can’t remember his name,” the bartender said.
“Rory Gregor,” I whispered.
“That’s right.” The bartender nodded. “Rory. My boy has posters galore of that guy up all over his room. Even has some of Rory’s fancy skateboards too.”
I laughed to myself. That was the target demographic we’d aimed for.
“I don’t get it, personally.” He leaned against the side of the booth, obviously preparing himself for a long stay. “It’s a shame about what all he’s been through though.”
A shame? For Rory? I wanted to jump up and scream, “What about me, man?”
I slid to the edge of the booth to exit. “Umm, excuse me.”
“I saw his interview with that famous Paloma woman the other night,” he said, never moving. His attention remained glued to one of the televisions. “My boy can’t seem to get enough of him.”
I nodded my head, completely understanding his son’s affliction. I couldn’t blame him. I’d been caught in Rory’s web too.
“But after I saw what he did to that poor lady on the videos out on the internet, I pretty much told him ‘Chris, you can’t worship a guy like that, not when he treats women the way he did.’”
I wanted to vomit, or shove my iPad in his mouth to shut him up.
“But then my son forced me to watch that interview, and I tell you…” he paused.
Suddenly I found myself oddly engrossed in his story. I leaned forward. “And what?”
“Well, he’s had a really hard life that Rory fella. And the rumor is he was drugged.”
“Drugged?” I hadn’t heard that. Of course I’d purposely kept myself hidden away for several weeks to avoid anything to do with our story, so how would I have known.
“Yeah, drugged. Paloma said her producers talked to some employees at the hotel who worked that night. They pretty much ratted out another employee. Supposedly the kid told the cops that someone paid him to put some kind of drug in Rory’s food. The doctor Paloma had on her show said that particular drug would cause people to act out and do things they wouldn’t normally do.”
Oh my God, could this really be true?
“Did the doctor say if it would make a person not remember what they’d done that night?” I said. “The drug, I mean?” Could this be true? Had Rory really been drugged?
“Oh, yeah.” The man nodded. “The doc said people who’ve taken this drug have killed people and woken up the next morning never remembering a thing about it.”
My mouth fell open and I slumped back into the bench.
“Well, shit!” Dana shouted from the front of the bar. “Leave it to your dumbass to come to a sports bar during the X Games.”
I stood up from the booth and pushed past the bartender.
Dana snagged my bag from me and wheeled it toward the exit.
“Hope y’all have a good time wherever it is you’re headed,” the bartender shouted at us.
I secured my purse over my shoulder, yanking it tight as I stumbled through the bar.
“Hey!” he shouted at me.
I whipped around, wondering if I’d forgotten something. “Yes?”
“You’re the girl from the story, aren’t you? That skater’s girl.” He nodded toward the television screen.
Dana’s hand gripped my arm and yanked on me, nearly pulling me over. “Thanks for the drink, Tex. We gotta go,” she said, yanking me out of the bar.
My feet stumbled underneath me as Dana hauled me down the long terminal, refusing to stop until we’d reached the bathroom entryway.
“What are you doing?” I yanked my arm out of her superhuman hold.
She glanced around the area as if looking for an escape. “We need to get the fuck out of here.”
“Why?”
“I wanted you somewhere far away from this shit, Hindley, not smack dab in the middle of it. The last thing you need is to watch his smug fucking face on television.” Her chin quivered and tears welled in her blue eyes.
“Hey,” I said, moving closer. Obviously she’d taken this ordeal with Rory much more serious than I’d realized. “It’s okay, Dana.” I put my arm around her shoulders and squeezed her tight, which was ironic given the fact that I was the one who’d been utterly destroyed.
Her ocean blue eyes rolled up to meet mine, not at all convinced I was telling the truth.
“Let’s go home, okay?” I said.
“But I wanted to get away from all this shit.” Dana waved her hand in the air. “You know, get you out of town, out of the country, off the planet.”
“I don’t think NASA allows civilians on the Space Shuttle yet.” I laughed.
Dana smiled. “Good to know.”
“I can’t run away forever, Dana. This whole story will still be here when I get back. And obviously, someone is trying to tell us to stay home. So, let’s appease the travel gods and go home. Okay? We’ll take a fresh look at it tomorrow and maybe find a place to escape to then, all right?”
She nodded.
We left the airport with little fanfare. As we rolled down the highway, my thoughts went back to the bartender’s comment. Had Rory really been drugged?
“Did you see his interview?” I asked.
“What interview?”
She was obviously trying to play dumb, but it so wasn’t working.
“You know what interview, Dana.” I rolled my eyes.
“I saw some of it.”
“Did you watch the part about Rory being drugged?”
“I didn’t watch that part, but I saw a story about it on the Internet.”
“What did it say?”
“Do you really want to hear this, Hindley?” I could hear the fear in her voice.
“I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just—”
“I’m fine. I swear.” I wasn’t but she didn’t need to know that. “Just tell me what you read.”
Dana held her breath for several seconds before sighing. “It said the police investigated the accusations that one of the employees from the hotel had put drugs in his food that night.”
“And?”
“And, what?”
“What did the police find out?”
“One of the employees of the hotel said he overhead someone talking about putting something in Rory’s food.”
My stomach sank. “What was it?”
“They wouldn’t say for sure because they said the boy may be a minor. The police said he’s only seventeen, but the hotel isn’t confirming it because the guy is an undocumented worker.”
I sat silent, trying to process the fact that perhaps Rory had been drugged. Did that mean he hadn’t really slept with Geneva?
“Look, Hindley, why are you doing this to yourself? It doesn’t matter.”
“What the hell did they give him, Dana?”
“They think it was either Rohypnol.” She hesitated.
“Or?” I asked, my heart hammering in my chest.
She glanced over at me, her eyes anxious and fearful.
Images of Donald Lee Westbank flashed in my mind.
“It was GHB,” I said, “the date rape drug, the same thing that scum bag gave to me, wasn’t it?” I didn’t need to see her face to know the truth. She was terrified what this information would do to my mental state.
“Hindley, don’t,” she said, squeezing my leg.
I fought the sobs threatening to break free as tears streamed down my face.
“Goddammit, Hindley, this is exactly why I wanted to get you the fuck out of here.”
I heard her voice but didn’t comprehend the words. All I could see were the videos of Donald Lee Westbank raping my comatose body relentlessly in every room of my apartment.
“I’m taking you home with me tonight.”
I didn’t fight her. I no longer had anything left inside me.
History had taught us both that I had no business being alone with my memories. And there was no way Dana would ever leave me in this state. Not after everything I’d just learned. That’s why I loved her. She always protected me, especially from myself.