River: A Bad Boy Romance (11 page)

“What the fuck, how did that happen?” Buck says.

“Apparently it's all over the news. I have the channel feed if you would like to see it? There is mobile phone footage of River taking his hostage, stealing a car and making good his escape, and then real footage of Carlos and Peters being shot dead by the police. It's pretty categorical.”

“You're having me on”, Buck says, his voice now sharp with worry.

“I wish I was, sir.”

“Fucking idiots. Those fucking idiots.”

“That's not all sir. I've got the police on the line. They want to speak to you.”

“The police have phoned here? How the fuck did they get this number?”

“That's something you'll have to ask them yourself”, the morose, matter of fact butler says.

“Why the fuck do they want to speak to me anyway? I'm on holiday for christ sake”, Buck says, defending his involvement in advance.

“They want to make sure you're not the one with the hostage, I presume. That, and I expect they might want to ask you about whether you know the person who is.”

“River hasn't called has he?” Buck says, worried he might have done.

“No, he hasn't”, the butler is happy to inform him.

“Fucking hell”, Buck says, and swings his legs around, ready to get up. “And they're on the phone now? Right now?”

“That's right”, the fully clothed staff member says.

“What an absolute fuck up”, Buck says, and gets up, a little wobblier now, after six whiskey and sodas, than he was when he first sat down. “Manuel, swim a few lengths, there's a good lad. Keep Mrs Tavern entertained”, he shouts to the pool boy, and goes inside with the longer serving of the two present members of his household staff.

With his hand covering the receiver, Buck says to the butler, “If
he
calls, tell him not to come here, though I doubt he'd be stupid enough to try”, before readying himself to lie to the police, as professionally as he is capable.

River locks the door calmly behind him, clicks off the TV, puts the bags on the bed, and sits down at the edge of it opposite Maddy. It's a while before either of them speak, during which time he tries to work out whether she's been calling for help or not. She looks like she's been crying, that's for sure, but whether she's been screaming, he can't be certain. He checks the handcuffs, which have definitely not been tampered with, and then goes to the window to check the parking lot. It's as empty as it was when he drove into it a few moments ago, save that mangy mutt, pissing on everything and skipping about like strays have a tendency to do. River returns to the edge of the bed.

“After we get fixed up, we'll go and eat. I got you some clothes and the brand new look I promised, how about that?” he says, holding up the wig.

“I like the way I already look”, Maddy says defensively. “There's nothing wrong with it.”

“No, I guess there ain't if you're happy to look like you're going to a funeral”, River says, trying to be funny.

“At least I don't look like a cartoon cowboy”, Maddy says.

'”Well look at you biting back, that's more like it”, River says, mock offended. “Whether you like your black dresses and Lego man haircut or not, it doesn't matter. You've got to change if you want to eat, and you do want to eat don't you?”

“Yes”, Maddy says.

“Good”, River agrees. “Because I am fucking starving. And you already know I don't like to eat alone.”

River undoes the handcuffs, and releases Maddy from the radiator. She stands up, cautiously, and rubs her wrists where the metal has been biting in. River puts his hands on her shoulders in a familiar way.

“I reckon you ought to wash up, and then you can come out here and choose how you want to dress, how does that sound?” River says, taking in the bathroom and the clothes on the bed in a sweeping gesture with his arm, as though he's working at a high class hotel, and is busy displaying the penthouse suite to a top model or musician.

“Ok”, Maddy says, weakened by hunger, and too tired and upset, to be another other than compliant.

“Towels, soap, and everything else you could possibly dream of are already in there for you Princess, no expenses spared”, River says, his hands on Maddy's shoulders guiding her towards the badly lit, box room.

Maddy enters the tiny, dirty bathroom, while River waits on the threshold, smiling at her. She almost doesn't notice the rancid stains all over the walls, the dead cockroaches, and the cracked porcelain suite, astonished to be offered the opportunity to be alone, and unhandcuffed, even if only for a few minutes.

“I'll be waiting out here for you”, River says and pulls the door shut.

Once on the inside, Maddy quickly locks the door.

“Oh, and don't take forever will you?” he calls through the shut door. “I'm as hungry as a stray dog in a motel parking lot.”

There is no window, which makes escape, even if Maddy had the confidence to do so, a complete impossibility. She didn't scream, and she doesn't really know why not. She managed to get the gag down pretty easily, and could have yelled at the top of her voice until someone heard her, and either broke down the door to get in, or opened it up with a spare from reception, but she didn't do it. She just couldn't.

Maddy checks the lock again, and looks at herself in the mirror. Does she look like she's going to a funeral? What does he mean by a Lego man haircut? Maddy has cut her hair like this for years, because it's easy to manage, and the hairdresser tells her it suits her face. Her eyes are bloodshot in the corners, and her skin looks sallow and grey under her eyes. All she can see is a skeleton looking back, and not the tired face of a beautiful girl, who has driven herself into a life of structured misery.

“Yours would too if you had to go through what I've gone through”, Maddy screams at her mirror self, before unleashing several wild thumps into the softened plaster of the wall, achieving little else, but bruising to the delicate edges of her hands. Eventually she gives up, and collapses on the floor in a huddle, crying to herself.

“Are you alright in there, Maddy?” River says, from the room next door, before tapping softly on the bathroom door. “Are you trying to break out through a solid wall?”

“Stop calling me Maddy”, Maddy screams from her huddled spot on the dirty lino, so close to a dead cockroach, that if she knew it, she'd probably be able to summon the strength needed to get through that wall.

“Alright”, River says. “Jeez. Are you alright in there, Madeleine?'” he says, genuinely worried about her.

“No”, Maddy says. “I'm not fucking alright. I've got a Lego man haircut and I look like a corpse. I look like I'm dead, and everyone hates me.”

“Nobody hates you, Maddy”, River says.

“Everyone hates me”, she barks back. “I've just spent the last hour watching it. People I work with are glad I've been taken. My own family won't say anything to the police to try and get me back. I've just watched it all.”

“Ok, look”, River says, “Your family sound no better than mine, forget about them, because it ain't worth the heartache. With everyone else, I don't know, maybe you just rub people up the wrong way. Hate is a strong word. I don't hate you.”

“No? You took me hostage, you tell me my name sounds like I've been widowed, and you tell me I dress like I'm going to a funeral. I'm sick of being bullied and made fun of.”

“Oh, Maddy, Madeleine, I mean”, River says, quickly correcting himself. “You know what I really think? I think you're a beautiful girl and you just need to relax a little bit more and enjoy your life while you can. You need to let your hair down, for want of a better expression, and be a bit more flexible. You can wear what you like, that's your choice, I just think that what you're doing is hiding yourself away because you're scared of showing off what you've got. If you make your decisions based on positivity that's a fantastic thing and it really shines through, but if you make them based on negativity or fear, that's the wrong way to go about it. Besides which, if it isn't working, there's no reason not to see what it's like if you change it. We've got to adapt as human beings to survive, and adapting and trying new things is where life gets fun and interesting. You still with me, Madeleine?”

“Yes”, Maddy says, sniffling a little.

“Now, come on”, River says. “Get yourself showered, and we can go out and have some dinner. I'm buying.”

Maddy unzips her dress and lets it fall to the floor. She's always been conscious of her body, and has never believed she's got anything worth showing off at all. She takes off her bra, and rolls down her panties, for the first time in her adult life not bothering to fold them neatly into a pile, and steps into the stained yellow, enamel bathtub. The curtain is mouldy at the bottom from several years of overuse, and should have been changed a decade ago, but Maddy either fails to notice it, or doesn't care anyway.

The water that falls across her shoulders feels like a gift from heaven itself. It's warm, but not too hot, and comes at her in large monsoon size droplets, that she watches slide off her skin and erupt majestically on the cracked enamel by her feet. It's so perfect that Maddy could be underneath a natural waterfall in the Amazon rainforest, heated by subterranean volcanic activity, and still not be as happy. In this moment, she is more thankful for something so simple, than she can ever remember being at any point in the rest of her mostly miserable life.

When she steps back out, squeaky clean and smelling like roses, wrapped in a rough cotton towel, worn through the side, so the soft peachy skin of her thigh is inadvertently revealed, like a sexy dress might do, River barely recognises her. When he smiles, it is the first time he sees her smile back.

“Feel better?” he says.

“Yes”, Maddy affirms, nodding for emphasis.

“You know, I know you don't like it, but when I call you Maddy, I do so because it's less of a mouthful than Madeleine, and besides which, it's kind of cute. If you don't like it, I respect that, and I'll try not to call you it again”, River says.

Maddy approaches the bed. “Are these the clothes you bought?” she says, ignoring his question for now.

“Help yourself”, River says. “I hope I managed to find the right size for you.”

Maddy takes each bag in turn, tipping them out onto the bed. There are several pairs of jeans, and several tops in a variety of different styles and colours.

Maddy looks at him. “It's a little different from what I'm used to”, she confesses.

“When you wave me across the border, you can go back to wearing what you like. For now, I'm going to have to ask you to change”, River says.

Maddy sorts through the clothes and picks out the least garish of the items he has bought, a pair of tight, figure hugging blue jeans, and a light yellow T-shirt top that has a faded California beach print on it.

“Beautiful”, River says. “That'll go really well with the blonde wig.”

“It's going to make me look like a teenager”, Maddy says, and takes the clothes, in several size options, along with the blonde wig that River holds out for her, back into the bathroom. While she's getting changed, River clears the rest of the clothes off the bed, and empties out the money bag.

He's halfway through counting the bundles of notes, when Maddy comes back out again, this time dressed, and completely transformed.

“What the hell have you done with Maddy?” River says, and this time Maddy doesn't even bother to correct him. Instead, she allows herself a little smile. The wig fits perfectly, and the clothes show off the contours of her body in a way not even Maddy would have guessed possible. The outfit, and the hair, make her look like the kind of girl that hangs out all day at the beach and then sips cocktails in the evening at trendy members only bars while hordes of men surround her, desperate to just be near her, satisfied if she glances in their direction, even if it's only ever just once.

“They fit”, Maddy says, “and the wigs not itchy. I kind of like the hair, although I'd have it in black. It makes my face look nice.”

“Nice? You look beautiful, Madeleine”, River says, remembering this time to address her properly. “Really beautiful.”

“I need shoes”, Maddy says, looking down at her bare feet. “The ones I already have won't go.”

The ones she already has are featureless black pumps, with a slightly wedged heel, and an expensive sole that is supposed to be designed to make her walk with a straighter back, even though what they really do is pinch the sides of her feet and make doing anything but standing still in them much more uncomfortable than it really should be.

“Alright”, River says, “I'm sure we can see to that after we eat. You reckon you can cope with the ones you've got up until then?”

“As long as you don't mind them not matching, I don't mind wearing them”, Maddy says.

River offers Maddy her handbag. “I didn't steal anything from it'”, he says. “Although I'm going to look after your mobile phone, just to be sure.”

Maddy takes the bag and slings it around her shoulder. When it doesn't look right, she hands it back to him. “Look after the rest too”, she says. “It doesn't go with my new style.”

River gathers up the bundles of notes, makes sure he's got enough in his pockets, puts the rest back in the bag, and then hides the bag underneath the mattress.

“You don't think they'll find it there?” Maddy says.

“I don't think they've cleaned this room since 1945”, River says. “It'll be fine, I bet you.”

“I don't have anything to bet you with, you've got it all already.”

“Yeah well, I may be looking after it for now, but it'll soon start the cycle again. I learnt from a very young age that money doesn't have an owner Maddy, it's more like the other way round. The sooner you realise that the better.”

Maddy steps into her black pumps, most of which are hidden by her new jeans, and accompanies her captor to their waiting car. This time she sits in the front, and as they drive into town, she tries to make sense of the way her day is turning out, and how she really feels about the mysterious smoking cowboy, with boyish good looks and sad blue eyes, only an arm's length away.

From the underground parking lot, a breakdown truck leaves with the wreckage of a lime green Oldsmobile, the steering wheel covered in dusting powder, from where a multitude of fingerprints have been taken by carefully trained officers, hoping that one of them will identify the as yet unidentified robber, and ease the pain on Frank Giamatti's recently troublesome ulcer.