Chapter 5 – Trouble in Paradise

“You didn't say that!”

“I did,” Adeline said, cringing yet smiling as she sat her plate of fruit down on the table in front of her. She held the phone close to her ear. “I'm not proud.”

“Well I wouldn't say this to his face,” Stephanie said, “but I am proud. Of you, for standing up for yourself to him. You may not have done it in the best way, but he deserved everything he got.”

“He didn't deserve everything.” She popped a single grape in her mouth. “He was actually trying to be nice to me until I bolted. He had a reasonable reaction.”

“Honey,” Stephanie responded, chuckling. “He brought a stripper back to his apartment, probably by paying her, and set up a very amateur yet deliberate scenario so you would see her half-clothed. Nothing about that is reasonable.”

“I meant, aside from that,” she said, smiling a little.

“Here's the problem with Lance,” Stephanie said. “He tends to forget when he's slinging insults that he's talking to human beings. He did it all the time with me. He's a sweet guy when you dig past the sour exterior...thing is, you have to dig a lot. I don't know how he does it, but that sweet candy center is buried six feet under, right along with that black hole he calls a beating heart.”

“It is pretty deep and dark in there.”

“Yeah. Just a little.”

It had been over two weeks since her huge argument with Lance, but today was the first day Stephanie had called since she'd moved all the way back to California for her new job and client. Adeline forgot how much she missed the sarcasm and wit laced through the heavy Australian accent of her friend.

“So aside from the stripper in the pink panties and his obviously poor attitude toward safe sex...how have things been going?”

Adeline only mumbled in response.

“That bad?”

“He's had me running menial errands all over the city like I'm a damn chihuahua chasing a bone,” she said. “And I don't normally pry into my clients' sex lives...”

“Of course not,” Stephanie quickly interjected, dripping sarcasm. “None of us do.”

“...but,” Adeline continued, “he has had a string of women at his apartment in the past two weeks that, while I'm sure they're wonderful, have been quite questionably dressed. Or, rather, not dressed, in most cases.”

“You think he's hiring prostitutes?”

“You sound surprised.”

“Addy, I know that Lance is not a model citizen or your favorite person...but I've known him for years. Hiring prostitutes is not his style. In fact, considering his ego, quite the opposite.”

“Oh yes. I forgot that one who generally believes that he's God's gift to women wouldn't dream of paying for one.”

“It's not only that,” Stephanie replied. “He thinks that's a sleazy thing to do.”

Adeline laughed and put a slice of strawberry in her mouth.

“You were telling me a minute ago that his stripper scheme was unreasonable. Now you're defending his sleazy honor?”

“Unreasonable describes him on a daily basis. Sleazy does not.”

Adeline swallowed.

“So maybe they're not prostitutes. They should consider that career path, because they have the wardrobe down...but if he's not hiring them to sleep with him, something else is going on there.”

“He's not known for keeping the best company. Maybe they're friends of his.”

“Slutty sleepovers. That's your explanation?”

“Addy, I have to ask you something,” Stephanie said. “You've been with him three weeks and in that time, he's been as verbally abusive to you as he can possibly manage. Yet...you seem to care more about his sexual exploits and his lack of discretion around you with them than anything.”

“Do not,” Adeline said.

“It took you about a quarter of a second to say that,” Stephanie said. “Too fast. Do too.”

“He's more obvious with that. He doesn't hide it, he flaunts it around me. Like he's dying for a reaction.”

“He is,” Stephanie said. “And you're giving him one – you're jealous.”

“Am not!” Adeline cried.

“Are too. Addy, I don't blame you. Honestly, I don't. He's a good person – well, somewhere in there he's hiding one – and he deserves better than what, and who, he's keeping in his bedroom. I wouldn't want to see him flaunt his bad decisions around me either. The difference between you and me is I'm going to say something to him about it.”

“Don't do that,” Adeline said with a groan.

“I'm still his friend, honey. I have to say something to him. If it were you, I'd say something to you because friends tell you when you're making bad decisions. But don't worry, I won't mention you – at least, I won't mention how much it bothers you.”

Adeline was about to rebut her friend and deny that she was bothered at all by anything that went on in his bedroom, but her cell phone vibrated from the coffee table in front of her. She picked it up to see a new text message from Lance.

All four of my tires, slashed. Think you can give me a ride?

“Oh shit,” Adeline said as she finished reading. “Steph, I have to go. He just texted me – all four of his tires got slashed, he needs a ride.”

“I'd say oh shit too, but somehow I'm not surprised. Looks like he pissed off the wrong person this time.”

“Yeah,” Adeline said, preparing to get dressed and get out of the house. “My money's on the stripper he told he would call and never did.”

“I could fit in a joke here about the bigger the breasts, the flatter the tires, but I sense I don't have the time.”

Adeline laughed heavily. “See, this is why we're friends. I could come up with a million of them if I didn't have to get dressed and find my keys.”

“You care far too much about this one girl though, Addy,” Stephanie said. “You might be getting too close to him – so close that you actually care about him now.”

She walked into her bedroom and grabbed a pink cardigan off her dresser, throwing it over her white tank top. She slipped on a pair of ballet flats sitting by the bed and grabbed the keys off her desk.

“You were the one who encouraged me to take this job because you had this vision--”

“Feeling, Adeline James. Not a vision, not a premonition – a feeling.”

“Whatever. You're the one who encouraged me to take this job because you had a feeling we needed each other. Now you're telling me I care too much?”

“Not too much about him,” Stephanie said. “Too much about the girl. You care about what he does; you see him making bad decisions and it bothers you. And that's not as bad as you seem to think it is.”

Adeline sighed.

“As much as I'd love to argue with you so I can leave his royal pain in the ass stranded, Steph, I have a job to go do.”

“Go do your job,” Stephanie said. “It's what you do best. Don't let him get under your skin, Addy. It's what he does best.”

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After a quick text to him to find out exactly where he was and let him know she was on her way, Adeline drove the few minutes to his apartment building. She saw him and his car before she even parked hers – he looked upset.

Joy, she thought to herself as she pulled into a parking space. As if he's not bad enough when he's in a good mood, now I have to deal with him in a bad one.

She walked over to him and as she got closer, she noticed a distinct lack of slashes in his tires – because she couldn't see his tires at all.

“I thought you said your tires were slashed,” she said.

“Did I?” he said, looking at her with fire in his eyes.

“Yes. I remember you saying slashed. I don't, however, remember you saying they were...missing.”

“Hmm. Must have forgotten to mention that,” he said sarcastically.

She looked at the sight of his beloved Escalade, with four empty spots where his tires were supposed to be, his axle resting pathetically on top of crates.

“If your tires are gone, how do you know that they were slashed?” she asked as she slowly circled around his car, still shocked.

“Guessing,” he said.

“Did you put the car on the crates?”

“No, it was like this when I found it. I have considerate thieves.”

She chuckled.

“Glad you think this is so funny,” he said to her.

“I don't think it's funny, Lance,” she said. “I'm sorry. I'm laughing because it's unlike anything I've seen before – who steals tires and bothers to put the car on milk crates so they won't ruin the axle? It's not funny.”

He looked over and she couldn't help but let a smile slip onto her face, and then a laugh.

“I lied,” she said. “It really is funny. I'm sorry.”

“Go ahead. Get your laugh at my expense.”

“Come on. You know Steph will think this is hilarious.”

“Yes, well, Stephanie loves getting amusement at my expense as well.”

A couple minutes later, a tow truck pulled into the parking lot. Lance talked to the men while Adeline stood off to the side, out of their way, texting Stephanie.

Not slashed, Steph. STOLEN. Somebody stole his tires.

She watched the men hook up the vehicle, preparing to hoist it onto their truck, and a few seconds later her phone vibrated in her hand.

Pictures or IT DIDN'T HAPPEN.

She waited a couple minutes for Lance to turn his back and quickly took a photo of the SUV before they put it on the truck, and sent it off to Stephanie. It wasn't long before she felt the phone vibrate again.

Hahahahaha...

Adeline laughed, being careful not to raise awareness from Lance, and put her phone back in her pocket.

After the men had gotten the car on their truck and drove away, Lance walked over to her.

“I need a ride to the auto shop,” he said.

“I think that goes without saying,” she said.

“Please get it all out of your system now, because I'm not in the mood to deal with your gloating and giggling about this all day long.”

“So grumpy,” she said, then smiled at him. “Sorry, I can't help it. Let's get you to the shop and get your precious baby all fixed up.”

The twenty minute ride to the auto shop, he was completely silent. All she could do was smile and occasionally glance over at him out of the corner of her eye. She thought it best to not push him, so she said nothing the whole ride.

They pulled into the auto shop and he walked inside quickly without a word, with her following closely behind.

He went up to the counter, but she lingered away from him in the sitting area. She hated the smell of auto shops – they smelled like grease and rubber, and she thought it funny that the smell never seemed to bother men. The sound of the machines they used cut through her ear drums, so she always preferred to stay in the waiting area where it was at least at a low volume. The sound still made her anxiety rise, so she avoided the shops whenever she could.

She sat down in one of their red chairs, and grabbed a magazine off the side table – People magazine.

“It'll be a few minutes before they can even look at my car,” Lance said as he came to sit next to her. “I can't believe this.”

“The fact that someone stole the tires off your car, or that they're not jumping up to help you right away?” she asked with a grin.

“Ha. Ha. Ha,” he said, giving her a roll of his eyes. “Keep going, keep rubbing it in. I guess I deserve it, right? This is my payback for that thing a couple of weeks ago?”

“Payback isn't my style,” she said, mindlessly flipping through the pages hoping a picture would catch her eye. “It's funny. They stole your tires but took the time to put your car on milk crates. You can't say that isn't funny.”

He turned to her and looked her in the eyes.

“Do I look like I think it's funny?” he said.

“You're so grouchy,” she said. “Don't you ever get tired of that? Don't you ever get tired of being like this?”

He sighed, but to her surprise, he looked away from her instead of answering. She decided not to press the issue – obviously the incident with his car bothered him more than she thought it should.

She turned back to her magazine and flipped through several stories. It was all the typical who was wearing the best designer clothes, who was breaking up with their other halves, and what was supposed to be the best fashion lately.

“Tired and old,” Lance said.

“Huh?”

“All the stuff in that magazine is tired and old,” he said.

“We finally agree on something,” she said, flipping another page. “I deal with this stuff on a daily basis. I find that I don't care anymore.”

“Hey, now we have one thing in common.”

She looked up at him and caught the smile on his face, and smiled back. One of the mechanics was walking over to him and caught his attention, and she turned back to her magazine.

It was a couple seconds later, as he was talking to the mechanic about his car, when she turned the page and saw it – it was a small story, but big enough to catch her eye.

Right there on the page was a picture of her husband, with his arm around the waist of a mystery blonde woman that she had never seen before.

“His newest movie, set to hit theaters on November 11, is called 'Betrayal' – and it seems he knows a thing or two about it. Two-time Oscar-winning director Marcus Sutton was seen stepping out of one of Los Angeles' hottest new clubs with an unknown woman. A close friend of the family, who wishes to remain anonymous, said that Sutton's wife, a personal assistant to the stars, is currently living in New York working for a new client, while Sutton remains living in LA.

'He bounces back and forth between different cities, doing work and filming for different movies,' says the anonymous source. 'Every city it's a new woman. He always says it's completely innocent, but his wife knows nothing about it.'

Sutton and wife Adeline have been married since 2006, shortly after his first major film, 'Kidnapped,' brought in almost $20 million in its premiere week. Looking at these scandalous pictures, Sutton should probably consider naming his next film 'Trouble in Paradise.'”

She looked from the quote back to the picture, then back to the quote, feeling her chest start tightening. Who could the anonymous source be? A family friend, but who did they know that would go to the media – or even know about this? Who did they both know that wouldn't tell her about this if they knew this was going on?

It was a few seconds before she realized it was happening again – the tightening of the chest, the difficulty breathing, feeling her temperature and blood pressure rise, and feeling like the walls were slowly moving in towards her. Her ears buzzed and when she heard Lance speak to her, it again sounded like he was yelling from a mile away.

“Addy, what's wrong?”

He looked down at her, having finished with the mechanic and telling her that he was ready to leave, and saw her breathing heavily and tears welling up in her eyes.

“Adeline,” he said again, but got no reaction.

“Is she okay?” the young mechanic asked him.

“I'm not sure,” he responded.

Lance kneeled down next to Adeline and that's when he realized that she was acting the same way that she had that night she suddenly ditched him for dinner. He grabbed her arm, gently shaking it.

“Addy, talk to me.”

“I'm not an expert,” the mechanic said to him, “but I have a cousin who sometimes has panic attacks, and she looks that exact same way when she's having one.”

“Panic attacks?” Lance said, looking up at him.

“Yeah. Your anxiety rises so high that you can't handle it anymore – you can hardly breathe, you feel faint, feel like someone's choking you...my cousin screams at people because she's so scared. It's pretty awful, man.”

“She screams at people, huh?”

“Yeah. We're always afraid to touch her, because we don't know whether she'll snap and try to hurt someone.”

Lance couldn't help but recall the night he was driving the two of them to dinner, and how she had gone from smiling and laughing to screaming in a matter of minutes. She had looked ill, like she couldn't breathe – exactly like she looked now.

“So what do I do for her?” he asked. “Do I call 911? Drive her to the hospital?”

“No, you don't need to do that,” he said. “It has to pass on its own. You might want to get her to a comfortable place, get her some cold water, talk her down from it – things like that.”

Lance sat down in the chair next to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

“You guys got some water around here until I can get her home?”

“Yeah, let me go get you one.”

The mechanic walked away to a room in the back, and Lance grasped Adeline's shoulder.

“Addy, talk to me.”

“Marc,” she said. She attempted to say more, but her vocal chords failed her, so she grabbed the magazine in her lap with her shaky hand and shoved it toward him feebly.

He took it from her lap and searched the page before he saw it. He didn't know that much about Adeline's life outside of her job, but he knew enough to know that the man in the picture was her husband – but that woman was definitely not Adeline.

After a couple minutes, the mechanic brought him a small bottle of water and as he took off the cap and handed it to her, he searched for something to say to her. He could only think of one thing to say, with the state she was in now.

“It'll be okay. I'm here.”