Deeper Illusions (11 page)

I sat down next to him. I felt so defeated. “Ok, then
. But a retired government assassin? Really?”

“Andrew is the best of the best.”

“When do I get to meet him?”

“Say the word, and my father will give him a call.”

Andrew appeared later on that day. I eyed him suspiciously, hanging back a little, still not crazy about the whole idea, and feeling intimidated by him. He was around 5'7”, probably around 65 years old, but very compact and muscular. He was also completely bald. He approached me and shook my hand, his dark eyes flashing.

“Hi, I'm Andrew. Benjamin hired me to protect you from your would-be assailant.”

“Iris,” I said, looking at Ryan with an expression that said “I really don't want to do this!”

Andrew looked from myself to Ryan, and immediately surmised the situation. “I know you don't want me to protect you, but, from what I understand, it's for your own good. I have intelligence on Rochelle Anderson, and, from what I understand, it's not just Ms. Anderson who is threatening your life, but she has hired other people as well.”

I suddenly felt horrified. I looked at Ryan, and his expression was the same as mine – mystified, panicked, terrified. He grabbed my hand tightly.

“Do not worry, though. I have the information on at least two people who have been in touch with her.”

I suddenly realized that this may never be over. Even after Rochelle was imprisoned, if Rochelle was imprisoned, I would always have to be looking over my shoulder. I would have to have Andrew, or somebody like Andrew, at all times with me.

Well, not at all times. Ryan explained that he only wanted the bodyguard to be around when he, himself, couldn't be around to protect me – he was going back to work as soon as we arrived back home, so Andrew would be around when he wasn't around, and when he would have to go on his business trips. He had explained to me yesterday that he had one lined up to  go to Tokyo in less than a month, and he would be gone for two weeks. He made sure that I was mentally strong enough to lose him for that long, and I assured him that I was.

Now I wasn't so sure.

There was also the issue with the pap, if they would be stalking the house when we got home. However, it appeared, for now, that the pap would no longer be an issue. Everything appeared to calm down after the
People
interview, as we gave all the dirt that there was possible to get, and the 24-hour news cycles had long since moved on. Of course, as it got closer to trial, that would all change, but, for now, everything seemed to be calmed down on that front.

In other words, things would be returning to normal once we got back. Aside from the fact that t
he world now knew about us, our faces were on the cover of a
People
magazine, and our lives were fodder for public consumption, everything would be normal.

Oh, and there was the little matter of my being marked for death.

Other than that, everything would be normal.

Other than that, how'd you like the play, Mrs. Lincoln?

Chapter Thirteen

We got back, and I started to brace myself for Ryan finally returning to work. He
had been off work for about nine months now, because he was taking care of me, then we were on our honeymoon, then at Sarah's house, then Benjamin's house. We were together constantly during this time, during a period that I would say was among the most stressful of my entire life, yet were still very much in love. After the grief about our private lives going public had passed, and we had returned home, we got back into our usual routine of love-making, eating out, watching television, going on bike rides and long walks, seeing movies, hanging out with friends, etc.

I even got back into doing some more pit bull rescues.

But D-Day was soon to come. I felt like whining when I saw Ryan getting dressed in his mega-dollar suit, silk shirt and Italian shoes, his leather briefcase in hand. He had a new haircut, as his hair was getting ever so slightly shaggy and unruly while we were on vacation, and he was wearing aftershave that gave him a slightly musky smell.

He approached m
e as I was sitting on the couch. I was trying not to be a wimp. I knew that his job was important to him. He was not the type to be a trust fund baby, and I knew this as well. As much as I secretly wanted him to just quit his job and stay with me 24/7, that wasn't reasonable.

I really had zero plans for my own life. The mere thought of going back to law nauseated me, not to mention the fact that everybody would be poking each other and laughing behind my back because of what was now public knowledge about me.

So, now I was a Country Club wife. Only I didn't have children to take care of, I really didn't fit in with the other Country Club wives, and I had a bodyguard to babysit me during the day.

I was going to have to find a new path in the world, and I really didn't know where to start.

Ryan came next to me, where I was sitting on the couch. He tousled my hair a little. “Beautiful, you're going to be okay, aren't you?”

I nodded and smiled, feeling tears threatening.

He kissed me on the forehead. “You're safe here with Andrew. That's most important to me.” He looked at me for several seconds. “I'm going to miss you. We haven't been apart for any period of time for around nine months. But know that I will be thinking of you throughout the day, and I will check on you several times a day, when I get a second.”

I nodded my head, trying not to cry.

At that, he stood up and walked out the door, with one last glance at me before leaving. He blew me a kiss, and he was off.

Then Andrew walked in the door
.

“Don't mind me,” he said. “Just go about your business like usual.”

Which I tried to do except...I didn't really know what my business as usual was anymore. I was the only person I knew now who wasn't working during the day. These past few months, there was nothing at all on my mind, except getting well, being with Ryan, then thinking non-stop about the horrible invasion of privacy we were facing.

I found myself wanting the pap back, just so it would give me something to do.

Because now all I could do was to sit and stew about my own thoughts and my own life. I haven't had a minute to really think about all that has happened, because it all happened so fast. I was attacked, I was in a coma, I went through PTSD, I got engaged, then married, to Ryan, we went on our honeymoon, the pap attacked, we saw Benjamin, we hired me a bodyguard. Boom, boom, boom. Never a dull moment.

Now I had to consider what it was that I wanted from my life. I had Ryan, and that was great. But that couldn't possibly be all there was. I would soon become boring to myself and to him. Going back to law was...I felt nauseated just thinking about it. Maybe it was because I was attacked at my law office, and maybe it was because I was completely unhappy there. I really didn't know.

I knew where my passions lie. With animals. I always got great satisfaction out of my pit bull rescues. I was also passionate about gay marriage and gay rights. I had friends who were gay and couldn't be married, and that was such an injustice to me. Also, getting money out of politics. All those things were pie in the sky, I knew. Missouri was a red state, and would never allow gay marriage unless they were forced. And there would always be big money influencing our politicians every step of the way. But animals...I could put my legal brain to work for them.

The beautiful thing is that I could practice law without getting paid now. So I contacted the Animal Legal Defense Fund, and inquired about what I could do to help.

But a part of me didn't feel exactly ready for that, either. I loved animals, but didn't feel strong enough to deal with full-time activism. Knowing, affirmatively, what happens to animals on a daily basis would be enough to spin me back into full-on depression.

Ryan got home that evening somewhat early, around 6, and I couldn't be more relieved. He arrived bearing a bouquet of roses and orange chicken from Bo Lings, our favorite Chinese restaurant. He kissed me passionately.

“How was work?” I asked, taking his jacket from him and walking back to the bedroom to hang it up.

“A nightmare. Charlie, the interim president, was not nearly as competent as I thought. He screwed a lot of stuff up, and I spent the better part of the day trying to fix his mistakes. I didn't have a lot of spare time, which is why I didn't call. I'm so sorry about that. I was thinking of you, though.”

“Not a problem,” I said.

“How was Andrew?”
he asked.

“Fine. A little boring. Which is okay, I guess. I'm guessing that he really shouldn't be getting too chummy with his charges.”

Ryan brought out the dinner, which was orange chicken and eggrolls, bringing out chopsticks for us to use. He seemed a little different, distracted, which was really to be expected. He was once again in his role of bank president, and somewhat out of his role as full-time protector.

Without looking at me, he said “I have something kinda bad to tell you.”

“Worse than the fact that there is Rochelle and untold minions out there threatening my life?” Andrew had given me the low-down on three of them, but he didn't seem too impressed. He said that they struck him as the gang that couldn't shoot straight, kind of a Gilooly bunch.

I was surprised that Rochelle didn't get people more professional.

He looked me in the eye, putting his hand on mine. “The Tokyo trip has been pushed up, because of some of Charlie's screwups.”

My heart was in my throat. I had hoped that I would have some time to get used to not having Ryan around for half the day, then I could wean myself off of him, to where I could get used to him not being around for two whole weeks.

“When do you have to leave now?” I asked.

“Tomorrow.”

I nodded, looking at my shaking hands that were gripping the chopsticks.

“Beautiful, I'm so sorry about this. I wish that it could be helped. I know that Andrew will keep you safe, but I do worry about you just the same.”

“I'm a big girl,” I said. “And Andrew is going to teach me how to shoot a gun.”

He nodded. “I asked him to do this for you. You need to know how to defend yourself. I hope that you don't mind, but I also have asked him to give you other self-defense lessons.”

“Do you know how to shoot a gun?”

“Of course,” he said. “As f'd up as my life has b
een, knowing basic self-defense and knowing how to use a weapon has been a must for me. Now it's time for you to learn as well.”

I examined my orange chicken at the end of my chopsticks and said nothing. But I knew that Ryan was reading my mind, as always.

Sure enough, Ryan said “Again, honey, I can't tell you how sorry I am that a self-defense course and a weapon shooting lesson is even necessary for you. It's because of me. Sometimes I'm sorry that we met.”

I looked at him, feeling horrified and startled that he would say such a thing.

“I mean, I'm really glad that we met, for my sake,” he said. “You have been the missing puzzle piece for me. But, for your sake, I wish that we hadn't met. Your life would be so much simpler now.”

“The sacrifice has been worth it,” I said. “100% worth it.”

We made love that night with tender passion, knowing that it would be our last night together for at least two weeks, maybe more. Ryan wasn't sure when he would be getting back from Tokyo, but hoped that it would not be too terribly long of a business trip. He made love to me right after dinner, and we went on through the night, both of us exploring each other's bodies in the most sensual manner possible. Ryan said that he didn't mind making love all night, reasoning that he had a long plane trip ahead, on the corporate jet, and he could sleep on the plane.

“And I have to make sure that we make every minute count,” he said, while he thrust hungrily, his head buried in my shoulder.

Once again, I willed the love-making never to end, so that we might put off the inevitable.

Little did I know that this would be the last time we would be making love for a long, long time.

Chapter
Fourteen

Ryan had been gone for about a week when it happened. He had called me as much as he could from Tokyo, Skyping with me for hours in the evening. I told him all about my self-defense classes, and target shooting exercises. To my surprise, I was getting rather handy with my .45 pistol that Ryan bought me before he left
, although I still wasn’t a great shot. I also was able to flip Andrew when he “attacked” me, and pin him.

Andrew told me that I was a prize pupil.

I was gradually getting into life again without Ryan around, feeling less depressed and more like I wanted to actually engage with the world.

I had Richard and Debbie over for dinner one night.

“So, doll, how are things going without hunky boy around?” Richard asked me.

“Great. Married life is great.”

“Uh, huh,” Richard said. “Tell me the truth.”

“Well, I'm a Country Club
wife,” I said.

“Don't tell me you
actually joined the country club,” Debbie said.

“God, no. Like I would ever fit in there,” I said.

“So, what are you going to do with your life?” Richard asked.

“Not sure yet. Right now, I'm concentrating on learning self-defense and how to shoot a weapon. I never thought that I would be in the position where I would be so bored with my life.”

Debbie offered helpfully that I should “take some classes, find out what you want to do.”

To which I said “Yeah. Do you guys want to play a game?” I had no desire to engage in
a conversation about my future, because I didn't know what to say about it just then.

At that I brought out some board games, and we had fun with that for several hours.

They went home, and I got ready for bed, changing into my pajamas. I was in the kitchen fixing myself a little snack, the dogs having been kenneled for the night, when Andrew emerged from the downstairs. I hadn't told anybody that I had a bodyguard, not really wanting them to worry about me even more than they already were, so I asked Andrew to stay downstairs while I had my company over.

Andrew snuck up behind me, and put his arms around me from the back. I figured that this was my opportunity to flip him again, so I put my hands on his arms, and made the maneuver like he taught me.

To my surprise, however, he didn't flip, just started gripping me tighter.

It was then that I felt him slipping a belt around my neck.

I still thought it was all a game, but I hadn't yet learned what to do when somebody puts a belt around my neck.

“Ok, Andrew, this is my lesson for today. What do I do now?” I asked.

He said nothing, just pulled it tighter. I started to panic, as I was losing consciousness. I desperately grabbed the belt, trying to loosen it, then he loosened it on his own.

I spun around and faced him. He still had the belt in his hand.

“Lay down,” he ordered.

I was quizzical. What kind of game was he playing? He must just be trying to scare me, to simulate a real-world situation.

“Lay down,” he ordered again.

I lay down on the tiled floor of the kitchen. He pulled the belt around my neck tighter still
.

T
hen he started to unbuckle his pants.

My heart quickened. The belt was tight enough that I was starting to lose consciousness again, but he loosened it just when I was about to pass out. He did that several times more, then ripped down my pajama bottoms and my underwear.

He was now without pants, having unbuckled them and thrown them aside. I, too, was half-naked, lying on the floor, going in and out of consciousness with every tug of the belt. I started to struggle, then he tightened the belt.

“If you keep struggling, I won't loosen this belt,” he said. “Hold still.”

At that, he thrust into me. His manhood was huge, as large as Ryan's, and I wasn't wet because of my fear, so the pain was excruciating. He jackhammered me for about five minutes, but every minute seemed like a year. All the while, he kept tightening the belt and loosening, tightening it and loosening it.

I started to scream.

As soon as I started screaming, he pulled on the belt violently. I gasped for air, not able to make a sound, clawing desperately on the belt. “You scream again, and I will tighten this belt so hard that you won't get any air at all.” Then he tugged even harder to make his point. All I could do was open my mouth, and nothing came out. Then he grabbed one of his socks, rolled it up, and put it in my mouth. I bit down on the sock, feeling hot tears running down my face.

He was still on top of me, thrusting over and over and over, not stopping for even a second.

Then he flipped me over, violently putting a handcuff on one of my wrists. He dragged me over to the bar, like a dog, leading me by my leash, which was the belt around my neck. I crawled on my knees and one hand, my other hand desperately gripping the belt. Then he pounced on top of me, dragging my handcuffed wrist to the leg of the barstool, then dragged my other arm, then handcuffed that wrist as well, so that I was securely handcuffed to the solid leg of the barstool.

I was breathing in and out, in and out, from my nose. My mouth still had a rolled up sock in it, so my nose was the only breath that I could get. Then I muffled a scream as he penetrated me anally. This was pain like I had never experienced, not even when I was being tortured by Rochelle. He was ripping up my insides, not bothering with lubrication, and he pounded me for what seemed like hours, although it was probably only minutes. I could feel hot tears running down my cheeks, as my legs were violently kicking, but he tugged on the belt violently, then said “you keep kicking like that, and I will have to do this to you while you are unconscious. And I'll just leave you here, handcuffs on, to fend for yourself.”

In other words, either I stopped kicking, or I was going to die.

I stopped kicking, then willed myself away from the reality of what was happening. I just lay there, my mind focused on my honeymoon with Ryan. The last really happy time. We were in Nick's villa, making love non-stop, going on bike tours through wine country, seeing the sights. I was posing for him while he made a portrait of me, sticking my tongue out at him playfully. We were on his yacht, the
Maggie,
while we looked into the deep blue Mediterranean, watching the dolphins and the waves. On and on and on my mind drifted, and I felt myself relaxing.

Then he was once again penetrating me vaginally, but, at this point, I was only vaguely aware of what has happening. My mind was a million miles away.

After what seemed to be days, it was finally over, and he got up, without a word, as he pulled up his pants and fastened his belt. Then he produced a key, and removed the handcuffs.

“Not a word about this,” he said. “You know how I am trained. You won't stand a chance.”

I lay on the kitchen floor, too shocked to say anything.

Then he left the house, leaving me all alone.

I was in shock, dazed, and feeling like I had been dreaming. I lay on the kitchen floor for what seemed to be an eternity, lying motionless, curled up in the fetal position, not crying or screaming. Just lying there. In a pool of blood. I got up to use the bathroom, and wiped more blood off of me. Then cleaned up the blood in the kitchen.

Then I threw on a heavy coat, gloves and a hat, and wandered out of the house. I walked several miles until I found a bus stop.

I laid down on the bus bench, turned off my phone, and waited for the bus to arrive.

Where I was going, I knew not.