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  I turned to the raspy voice expecting to see another Grizzly Adams. The deep tone didn’t match the body at all. Nick was my age. Maybe younger. Unlike Lane dressed in black slacks, crisp white shirt, and tie, Nick wore jeans, brown leather shoes with a tan blazer. I loved it when Paxton dressed like that. Oh, Good Lord. The man wanted me to die in prison and my mind went right to a picture of him in his preppy clothes. I was a prime example of delirious.

  Lane waved an open hand to the dark-haired young man with messy hair. “Gabby this is one of my partners, Nick. He does a little more of the psychosis stuff than I do.”

  “I’m not crazy,” I said with an assured snap, frown and tone matching the feistiness.

  “Nobody’s saying you are, but you’re not capable of defending yourself right now. You don’t even remember what happened. Nick here is just going to confirm it.”

  Nick looked at me with a cocked brow and a nod. It wasn’t until he waved a hand toward the door that I realized he wanted me to follow him to his office. Dick. I didn’t know. I figured since we were already in Lane’s office we’d talk there.

  Unlike Lane’s egg-shell colored walls and peaceful atmosphere, Nick’s was boisterous. Blood-red walls and shiny chrome furniture with glimmering accents decorated the room. I sat in front of the black marble desk and Nick plopped to the leather chair in front of me. His head jerked, sending long bangs to the right side of his forehead at the same time his knuckles cracked. One by one with his thumb. Paxton did that.

  “Oh, Jimmy John’s. Hang on,” he said while recollecting his lunch order. Nick jumped up and ran from his office, more interested in his food than helping me. That’s promising. Not.

  My head tilted to the side and my eyes narrowed when I caught the headline in the framed magazine article. Curiosity forced me to the embossed document. Ohio State student, Nicholas Thomas Xavier, helps Alzheimer’s man find his family through hypnosis.

  Nick talked around food in his mouth as he entered, rejoining me and closing the door. The instant smell of steak and cheese reminded me of the last time I’d eaten. I was given a big fat cheeseburger in exchange for information during my interrogation. I ate the tomato and cheese, unable to answer any of their questions, mostly because I didn’t know. That was it in over twenty-four hours, a thin slice of cheese and an unripe tomato. I was hungry.

  “Got that award my freshman year. The guy was three hundred miles from home.”

  Anxious energy filled my body at the same time the saliva saturated my mouth.

  “What?” he asked, smile changing to a frown when I didn’t speak, when I stared at him with the most amazing idea ever.

  I swallowed the dry lump in my throat and walked to him in four rapid steps. “Can you do that to me? Can you make me remember before my accident?”

  Nick sucked from a straw, eyes cautiously watching me sit in front of him. “Of course I could, but I won’t. It’s against company policy. Besides; it wouldn’t hold up in court anyway.”

  “I don’t care about that. I have to know if I hurt her.”

  “Lane says you didn’t. I believe him.”

  My fingers laced together as I placed them on his desk, hoping the added prayer gesture showed my desperation. “Please. I’ll pay you,” I said while promising money I didn’t even have.

  “I’m not going to hypnotize you. Now tell me your earliest memory.”

  A deep breath entered my lungs as my body collapsed to the back of the overstuffed chair. My arms crossed and I sank. Inside myself, not the seat. “It doesn’t even matter,” I said with defeated words. “I’d rather go to prison than live without my girls, not knowing whether or not I hurt my sister. I don’t see much point. Do you?”

  “Look—”

  My posture stiffened again when I went in for round two, cutting him off before he had a chance to explain. “I don’t want to look. Just one time. Please. Will you just try it? One time. That’s all I’m asking.”

  “No way. Lane would have my ass. I’m not going to hypnotize you. A brain injury is a lot different than a mental illness.”

  Round three. “So is a diseased mind. You helped that man. I just need to know about that night. Please, Nick. It’s not like it’s against the law.” I wasn’t exactly sure that was the truth. That’s how it worked on television, anyway. I tossed his name in there for a little added personable desperation.

  Nick dropped his half-eaten sandwich and scratched his head. Paxton did that, too. Weakness invaded the space around him, and like a hungry wolf, I sensed it. Victory to Gabriella. Total knockout.

  “Forget it. I’m going to ask you some questions, and you just need to answer them as best you can. There’s no wrong answers.”

  My lungs depleted with my body while a hopeless feeling washed over me. He didn’t understand, nobody did. I knew that if he would do it one time, just the day of the accident, that’s all I needed.

  “Gabriella?”

  I studied Nick for a moment, ignoring his stupid question. Something about me preferring a kitten or a cat. Something familiar washed over me, but I wasn’t sure what it was.

  “Do we know each other?” I asked out of the blue, sensing that we did.

  His eyes darted to his desk, quickly leaving mine, and I knew we did. More so than what he said. “I’ve seen you around. Cat or kitten?”

  “Seen me around where?”

  “I don’t know, just around. Would you rather have a cat or a kitten?”

  I didn’t let up. Nick was also hiding something. Intuition, his toe-stepping, and the way he’d suddenly become self-conscious of our meeting, was a dead giveaway. I was right. “Around where?”

  “Will you just answer the questions? I’ve got a paying client to get to.”

  I crossed my arms and looked at him cautiously. “You just gave me another piece of this screwed up puzzle I’ve been working on. I’ll find out where it fits.”

  “Is that some sort of threat?”

  One shoulder shrugged as I cockily replied with a question. “Is it?”

  Two

  At least my hotel was nice. Lane dropped me off at the front door with a hundred dollar bill. For a brief second, I recalled the last time I’d been dropped off in front of a hotel and handed money. I was with Izzy, my mom was drugged out of her mind, and a little bit of both our personalities had been taken away from us.

  “Gabby?”

  The zoning on my past was interrupted by Lane’s quiet words, and a soft touch to my arm. I moved my arm from the contact and blinked away the image of two broken little girls. “Huh?”

  “This is all going to work out, but you need to think about what you’re going to do.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s not going to let you go. He’s going to want you back.”

  “No he won’t. He thinks I’m Izzy.”

  “You are,” Lane said in a flat tone, sarcasm noted while reminding me what I already knew. “I better not come up. Go to Target and get yourself something to wear. I’ll call your room later if I get a chance.”

  A young couple walked past me, laughing and holding hands, pulling my attention from the crisp money, new like it had just come off the press. I turned to the joyful noise, feeling disorderly, and tired. Nostalgia fell upon me when a mom, holding a little girls hand, followed behind the couple in love.

  “You don’t have to call. Thanks for your help,” I said gratefully. I was grateful. I’m not sure what I would have done without Lane, but the truth is everyone I talked to knew something I didn’t. Everyone.

  “You’re welcome. Don’t worry, Gabby. It’s going to be okay, I promise.”

  I held the door handle and turned to Lane with a tilt of my head. “Why do you have Candace’s car?” I don’t know why I asked that. No clue. I should have been asking what the hell he was to me. Instead I questioned his motives for driving his wife’s car.

  “Oil change. The garage across from my office. You’re in ninety-four. That’s all you
have to say,” he said, eyes hooded by crooked brows.

  “Oh, well thank you again. I’ll repay you.”

  A hint of irritation pervaded his voice when he answered. “I’m not worried about the money, Gabby.”

  I opened the door, rejecting the urge to say anymore. Ninety-four, that’s all I had to say. That was instantly peculiar to me, but I didn’t know why. Everyone was suspicious, and I didn’t trust anyone. Not even Lane. I walked away without turning back to him, nodding at a lady who smiled at me.

  As much as I wanted to go right to my hotel room, shower, and crash, I didn’t. Not only did I need something clean to put on afterward, I needed food. Real food with actual nutrition. Candace’s car took a right at the light and I watched it disappear, thinking about Rowan and Phi, what they were thinking, and what Paxton told them. Surely he wouldn’t tell them I wasn’t their mom. Would he? Or that I was in jail. I would kill him if he told them that.

  A deep breath of muggy air filled my lungs and then depleted. My shoulders dropped with the exhale while I wondered about my fate. My gigantic attorney assured me that he didn’t have a case. At one point he had even called Paxton a coward, saying he was the crazy one. Still yet, where did that leave me? Paxton had a motive. That much was a given.

  “Excuse me, can you tell me where the Target store is?” I asked an older man wearing a suit and tie. He had to be roasting from the heat. August in Florida wasn’t the place for that attire, not outside anyway. The guy didn’t even look at me, he told me it was right around the corner with a quick glance up from his phone, and a point.

  Once I rounded the corner where Lane had gone, I felt silly. The store was right there on the corner, but it didn’t look familiar to me at all. I didn’t feel like I shopped there.

  Walking through the department store felt strange. I could have sworn the people around me were staring, like they knew I was an imposter. It was silly. It wasn’t like I was on the six o’clock news or anything, but nonetheless, I had that feeling.

  I bought three pair of panties, purposely defying Paxton’s rule for thongs. Cotton briefs with little pink bows, two pair of shorts from the clearance rack, a few needed toiletries, a couple t-shirts, and a pack of boy boxer shorts to sleep in. The thought to buy a prepaid phone crossed my mind, but I didn’t know how long I needed my hundred dollars to last. I used it sparingly, not even using it for food. I bought a salad from the deli, and a bottle of water. Eating out was the furthest thing from my mind. A shower to wash the stench of the jail from my body was all I desired at that moment.

  Walking back to the hotel, I wondered whose name Lane put the room in. I’d forgotten to ask and he never told me. Great.

  “Excuse me,” I said, fingers armed over the shiny bell.

  A young girl smiled at me, closed a file drawer, and walked toward me.

  “Hello, welcome to Coast Inn West. How may I help you today?”

  “Well, I have a room reserved, but I’m not sure whose name it’s in. I forgot to ask,” I said, my smile fake and stressed.

  “I’m sure we can figure it out. What name is the credit card in?”

  “Um, try Lane, Lane—oh, it’s ninety-four. That’s what he said, ninety-four,” I said again, just in case she didn’t get it the first time.

  “Hmmm, ninety-four is reserved for Pierce.”

  “That’s it. That’s me. Gabriella Pierce.”

  “And you’re Paxton’s wife, correct?”

  The instant confusion was hard to hide. “Yes, but that shouldn’t be the name on the credit card. It should be Lane.”

  “That’s what I have for ninety-four. No worries, you’re good. I don’t need anything else. Do you have more things?” she asked, neck stretching to see my one and only shopping bag. She spoke a polite hello to the couple behind, and got my key-card.

  I wanted to ask more questions, but I refrained. That made no sense at all. How did Lane get Paxton’s credit card? Why would he get Paxton’s credit card. Lane was in on something. That was the only explanation, but what?

  “Ma’am?”

  “Oh, sorry. Thank you.”

  I took the elevator to the third floor in a daze, oblivious to the business chatter going on between the three other guests. Two girls, both in corporate attire, and a guy in a suit. He smelled like Paxton, a clean, subtle smell. Not too strong, yet sexy.

  The hotel room had one bed, a large TV, and a horrible shower. The water was warm, I could barely turn around without hitting my elbows, and it had a bleachy smell. My lavender shower gel barely masked it, and my cheap shampoo did little for my hair. I sputtered water from my mouth and laughed. I was being accused of horrible accusations, and I was worried about the way the economy shampoo made my hair feel.

  With my head wrapped in a not so soft towel, I sat at the little table with my salad, and a heavy sigh. The street below the window was on the opposite side from where I’d come in, but just as active, people busy with their normal lives. An elementary school set on the corner, a drug store right across the road, and—

  “Oh, my God,” I exclaimed aloud when I saw him, my heart beat in my chest thumping hard.

  This was perfect. This was an omen. We were meant to cross paths. A fancy apartment building with a doorman sat directly across from my hotel. I took a bite of wilted lettuce and watched him shake the doorman’s hand, and then talk to him, like they were old friends. What was his name again? Another bite of salad and a crunching crouton distracted me from remembering while I watched him. He walked through the double doors, and I wondered why. The clock told me that it was just after one in the afternoon. Maybe he was on his lunch break.

  “Nick!” I yelled when it came to me. That was no coincidence. Everything happened just as it was supposed to happen. I sat down to eat my bland salad at the exact same time Nick entered the building across the road. I continued to somewhat enjoy my lunch while I waited. It couldn’t have been more than five minutes before Nick returned to the sidewalk with a dog. Not a manly Rottweiler or a German Shepard either. This was a prissy little hairless dog. A Chihuahua with skinny legs. Rowan and Phi would have loved the little brown mutt.

  Nick walked his beloved pet around the fence of the school yard, and crossed the road. I finished my entire salad, minus the cucumbers before I saw him again. He walked the entire block, but the dog didn’t. The sissified thing rode in Nick’s arms with its tongue hanging out the right side of his mouth.

  The thought to run outside and grovel at his feet crossed my mind for a second. I had to know what happened the night I wrecked, where my sister was, and the biggest question of all—did I kill her? Nick was the only person I knew who might be able to give me some answers.

  Regardless of which twin I really was, I had to know what happened that day. Award-winning Nick Benson would be the one to help me with that. Whether he wanted to or not, how? He had to. Nick was my only shot. Even the doctor told me I may never regain my memory.

  As soon as the nerves settled from Nick, they started right back up from Paxton and Lane. Why was Paxton’s credit card on file for my room? Reverting back to the days when you had to use a phonebook, I flipped through the pages in search of the number for the counseling center Lane worked at. A secretary answered the phone, but refused to put me through. She wouldn’t give me his cell number either, not that I thought she would, but anything was worth a try. I left a message for him to call, but he never did. I didn’t know his cellphone without mine, and all I could think about was the time wasted. He would be home soon, around Candace where he couldn’t talk.

  I laid sideways across the bed and turned the television on for the noise. My eyes closed at the same time my lungs took in a long breath of air, and I tried my best to relax. Concentrated feelings about my childhood permeated my mind, but that’s all they were. Feelings, no memories. Trying my best to summons the recollections, I fell into sleep.

  No thoughts. One hour and fifty-one minutes of nothing but needed sleep. Not one memory to hel
p with my puzzling situation. My eyes opened to a rerun of ‘House Hunters International.’ An instant grunt from pain in my ankle echoed throughout the hotel room when I stretched my legs. I still forgot that I couldn’t do that, not yet anyway. I did that exact same thing at least three times a week, cursing myself every time. Other than that one pain, caused by my own stupidity, I was physically all better. If I could force my mind into catching up, I’d be in a much better place. At least I could have stopped looking for puzzle pieces that didn’t fit.

  Sitting up, I shook my hair out with my fingers, using them as a makeshift comb, and looked at the time. Lane’s office would close in fifteen minutes and he still hadn’t called.

  I took in a deep breath of air, spiking myself up with needed courage. My lips puckered and my fingers drummed off my kneecaps, debating on a strategy. I knew I wouldn’t get through the gatekeeper by saying I was a patient. Cleverness was required for a job like this.

  I watched the TV while the newly married lesbians argued over the layout. The blonde would win in the end, and they would purchase that one. The same one I guessed the first time I’d seen it. Could I be clever? That was the question.

  “Aaah,” I called out as I stood. I could be crafty. Right after a quick pit stop to the bathroom, I sat on my bed and flipped through the yellow pages for a name. My finger glided down the list of ads and an unplanned smile formed on my lips as soon as my finger landed on the needed information.

  “Westside Counseling Center, this is Maya, how may I be of service?”

  “Yes, this is Carrie from Gilford’s Garage. We have Mr. Arlington’s car over here. I’m afraid we have an issue.”

  “Hold please.”

  And just like that, I was clever. I boasted, blew on the tips of my fingers, and cockily swiped them across my chest.

  “I only asked for an oil change. Nothing else,” Lane answered, armed and ready for a high-pressure mechanic, assuring him of an expensive repair that he didn’t need.

  “Lane, it’s me.”

  “Gabby? What? Oh, my God. Will you stop?”