Chapter 16 – Below The Belt

When he called that morning and asked if he could stop by that day to talk to her about something “very important,” all she could think was thank God this time she could prepare.

This time she had a chance to hide the prenatal vitamins that she had carelessly left out on the bathroom counter. She had time to hide the tons of safe, natural remedies she had thought of to help relieve the superhuman morning sickness she had been experiencing lately. She had the opportunity to go through her closet and pick out the least “baby bump revealing” outfit she could manage, still paranoid that he would notice the change.

And she used the time she had to hide the three home pregnancy tests she'd bought while out that weekend and taken herself – to make sure that the doctor's tests couldn't possibly be wrong.

By the time she had finished proofing the place for his arrival, she had barely enough time to make a pot of coffee before he knocked on the door.

“Hi,” he said when she opened the door to him.

“Hi,” she said cautiously.

She let him in without another word, noticing that he had seemed to dress up for the occasion – black slacks and one of his casual suit jackets.

“You want some coffee?” she asked.

“No, that's okay,” he responded. “I won't be here that long, I have some...things to do.”

He couldn't help but notice that she was dressed up more than usual today, wearing a flowing, knee-length black pleated dress with her hair thrown up in a bun.

“You look nice,” he said. “I've never seen that dress on you.”

“Thanks,” she said as she poured her coffee. She resisted the urge to tell him that he'd never seen it because she didn't wear it, that it was so loose it made her look pregnant – but today, it did a better job of hiding that than anything.

“Are you going somewhere today?” he asked.

“Is this casual conversation or interrogation?” she asked.

He sighed. “Addy, I'm sorry about what I said the other day. I was mad.”

“I noticed.”

He watched as she walked around her kitchen, her body language telling him that she was upset at him. He wanted to walk to her and wrap his arms around her to try to bridge the growing gap between them, but he resisted knowing it would probably make things worse.

“It was a jackass thing to say,” he said, stuffing his hands in the pocket of his suit jacket. “I shouldn't have said it. It's just, you left so suddenly and won't tell me why. When I saw what that note said, it crossed my mind. It worried me.”

She paused and turned to look at him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Did you ever consider that whoever left that note might have lied to make you think that?” she asked. “And that you fell for it, exactly like they wanted you to?”

“After I cooled down and stopped to think about it, yes,” he said.

“Of course it was after.”

“I know you're upset at me,” he said. “I don't blame you.”

“Oh,” she scoffed. “It's good to know that you don't blame me. It doesn't change the fact that you don't trust me, either.”

“I can't defend myself and I'm not trying to. But wouldn't it cross your mind, too? We have a history, Ad. We can't change that.”

“No, we can't,” she said softly.

He knew what she was going to do, so he was prepared when she came walking through the kitchen and into the living room, trying to pass right by him without giving him an acknowledgment. He reached out and grabbed her arm lightly, stopping her in her tracks.

If she'd filled her mug all the way to the top, the sudden jolt would have sloshed the liquid out the sides. She wasn't prepared for it, so the feel of his touch on her arm took her by surprise. She hadn't felt his touch in days, since she'd last wrapped her arms around him before she walked out that night. Suddenly, she couldn't feel so cold toward him – and it scared her.

He reached over with his other hand and grabbed her coffee mug out of her hand, placing it on top of a stack of boxes she had scooted toward the wall in the living room. He turned her slightly toward him and she breathed in deeply as he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her closer to him.

“I do trust you,” he said, barely above a whisper, holding her closely. “I'm terrified of losing you, Addy.”

“Why do you think you'll lose me?” she asked, feeling slightly breathless with his face inches from hers and his warm hand resting on the small of her back.

“Because I lost you once. We've had some rough times. I'm afraid that it will get too rough and you'll move on.”

He leaned down and after taking it slow at first, not sure of the reaction he would get, he rested his lips on hers. It was uncomfortable for her at first, but after only a few moments, she warmed up to him.

Before she knew it, she found her hands snaking up his back and across his neck, winding through his hair. This only encouraged him, and she eventually found her running her hands across his chest, removing his suit jacket and letting it fall to the floor.

This was the part she had found most difficult about the pregnancy so far – raging hormones. They made her angry at one moment, about to burst into tears at the next, and when she felt his hand reach down and start making its way up her leg under her dress, ready to jump him like a mountain lion.

They made their way to her bedroom wordlessly. His shirt was unbuttoned and off before he hit the threshold, her laughing when he tossed it and it landed on the hallway floor. She struggled with her wedge heels, not even bothering with leverage as she lifted her leg to remove them. She lost her balance removing the second and nearly tipped over, him catching her by the arm.

Quickly after, they fell into her bed. He worked on her dress quickly, lifting it above her head in one piece and leaving her in only her undergarments – and she lost those soon too. She didn't think she'd ever seen him lose his clothes so fast as long as she'd been with him. He liked sex as much as any other guy, and they always had an average sex life that flowed with what was going on in their lives – waxing and waning with stress and exhaustion and busy schedules.

This time, she noticed something seemed to click in him. He was a bit more of an animal than she was used to when it came to them making love. She thought it was amazing; savoring every kiss he placed on her body. No inch of skin was left untouched, whether it was by his fingers or his lips. It worried her having him so close and in such an intimate setting, her discussion with Mel from a few days before fresh in her mind, but she soon realized he was too distracted to notice anything different about her.

And that was fine by her.

“We need to fight more often,” she said as she laid next to him, facing away from him.

He chuckled lazily. “Mmm-hmm.”

“I thought you had errands to run,” she said.

“Addy...I lied,” he said.

Surprised, she rolled her body to face him and leaned up on her elbow. “Why?”

“To be honest, I wasn't exactly thrilled about coming here and having to tell you...what I had to tell you.”

She narrowed her eyebrows, noticing that his demeanor had drastically changed.

“Lance, what is it?”

He paused before looking over at her, never lifting his head from the pillow.

“You remember that I went to talk to Abrams yesterday?”

Her heart jumped. “Did they find out anything? Did they solve the case?”

“No, Addy,” he said. “And I don't think they will for a while.”

She leaned up, covering her naked body with her loose sheets.

“Why? What did he say?”

He sighed, lifted his hand to run it over his face and the stubble he hadn't shaved for a couple of days, and finally through his hair. Then he leaned up slightly, using both his elbows as a perch.

“Addy, it's Marc. He's...he's gone missing.”

She narrowed her eyebrows.

“What do you mean?”

“They think he's dead,” he finally said.

She was quiet for a few moments. He wasn't sure how she would take the news. It was hard to judge, and he couldn't even take a guess. She had divorced him and afterward wanted nothing to do with him; but at one time, she did love him. She had to have had strong feelings – after all, they were married. He was still a part of her life, even if she had cut his physical presence out of it. They had shared a history, and shared memories. He wouldn't blame her if the news upset her.

He watched her for a few moments, trying to judge if the news had sunk in.

“No,” she finally said, shaking her head slightly. “That's...that's ridiculous. Why would he be dead? How? He's in Los Angeles. That's impossible. He was in Los Angeles.”

“He didn't show up for work one day, and his secretary hasn't seen him since.”

“It's a mistake,” she said. “They've made some kind of mistake.”

“Addy, it's not a mistake,” he said.

“He's on vacation. He's working. He goes overseas all the time...”

“Addy,” he said forcefully.

“It must be the wrong guy. It has to be. They made a mistake.”

“Addy!”

He had to yell and grab her arm to shake her back into reality. He could see that she was quickly losing it, and he couldn't say that he was all that surprised.

“No, Lance,” she said forcefully. He could see that she was moments away from bursting into tears. “No.”

“They found his car,” he said, grasping her arm tightly. “At the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco. They think he killed himself.”

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“Are you sure?”

She had asked him that at least half a dozen times. He had managed to get dressed, half buttoning his shirt, not even noticing that he had buttoned it unevenly. She had composed herself enough to put on a shirt and jeans, not even quite sure if they were clean or dirty. She had made her way to the kitchen table while he maneuvered her half-empty kitchen trying to make her a cup of tea to calm her down.

“I'm sure,” he said, setting the mug that he had spent five minutes rummaging through their old boxes for in front of her.

“I can't believe it,” she said, shaking her head. “I don't want to believe it. Why would he kill himself?”

“Baby, you guys got divorced,” he said. “Far be it from me to actually defend the asshole after all he put us through, but he fought hard for you. It was a hellish divorce. I don't know, maybe it got to be...too much, or something.”

“He wouldn't kill himself, Lance,” she said. “I know him.”

“You know him?” he asked, resisting the urge to laugh. “Addy, he slept with half of Hollywood before you finally caught onto him. He hired a private investigator who lived in our building for four months that we never knew about. I don't think you should try to write his bio anytime soon.”

“I may not have known about all the things he was doing on the side, but damn it Lance I knew my own husband!” she yelled. “I knew him well enough to know that it wasn't this bad, that he'd run off and try to kill himself!”

“You know, we don't even know if he really did kill himself,” he said. “They haven't found a body, just his abandoned car. We don't know anything yet, Ad.”

They were both silent for a few moments, her trying to hold back her sobs.

“You think it's him, don't you?” she finally asked.

He paused. “Does it matter what I think?”

“You think something,” she said. “I know you, too.”

He chuckled. “Hopefully better than you knew him.”

“It's why you came here, isn't it?” she asked. “To tell me you think it's him. That you think my ex-husband is a murderer.”

“Can you explain why he would up and disappear? Why his car would turn up at a well-known hotspot for suicides? Isn't it all a little too convenient to be a coincidence?”

“Did you ever think that whoever killed Carlos killed Marc, too?” she asked. “That we've been followed since Los Angeles, they killed him and abandoned his car at the Bridge to make it look like he killed himself, knowing that's what the cops would believe?”

He sighed in frustration and leaned against the counter.

“I think it's Mackenzie.”

He turned his head to look at her.

“Are you serious?” he asked.

“Like she wouldn't have motive?” she asked, raising her voice again. “You left her days before your wedding and ran off to be with me in Los Angeles. She has more motive than anyone does!”

“I know you have a good reason, but damn Addy, you've had it in for Mackenzie from day one,” he said. “Let it go already.”

“She showed up randomly at the coffee shop the day I got the first note, Lance. Wearing a wig and sunglasses. That's not odd to you, at all?”

“You know what I think is odd?” he asked. “The fact that your friend Melissa moved in right across the hall from us a couple of months before we came back, and then this starts happening. That's pretty damn coincidental too.”

“Are you trying to accuse Mel now?”

“I'm not trying,” he said. “I am.”

“So in other words, everybody in my life is a suspect, but nobody in yours is?” she asked.

“Do you know anything about her? Do you know what city in Arkansas she came from? Where her parents live? Their names? The name of the old accounting firm she used to work for? It's like she doesn't have a history, because she's never told us anything personal about herself. Her apartment is practically empty, almost as if she's keeping it that way in case she needs to get out of town in a hurry.”

“Some people are private. You're blowing this way out of proportion.”

“Am I?”

“Lance, she's my friend.”

“I know, she made sure of that when we moved back in,” he said. “She took to you like a bee to a hive.”

“You've had it in for Mel since day one,” she said.

“Then I guess we're even, aren't we?”

She was about to yell, not caring if it would result in a knockdown, drag out fight when her cell phone rang from her purse. He knew it when he heard it, the familiar “Pop” ringtone that she reserved for one person – Melissa.

“Addy, you need to stay away from her,” he said when she popped up from her chair and walked toward her purse. “She's trouble, and I know it.”

“You...” she said, pointing at Lance before reaching into her purse and grabbing the ringing phone. “You need to stay out of it. She's my friend, and you won't change that.”

He stayed quiet as she answered the phone, and as he had assumed, started talking to Melissa right away. It was only a few seconds before they got lost in conversation, Addy trying to console Mel down from something she apparently deemed a “major emergency”, enough of an emergency to walk away from him and into the bedroom without any further acknowledgment or a goodbye.

He simply gathered his suit jacket and threw it over his shoulders, grabbing the keys before he walked out of the apartment. If she didn't want to heed his warnings about Melissa, he would take matters into his own hands.

Melissa would get what she deserved.

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“Where the hell have you been?”

The minute Lance stepped in the door, Justin was practically in his face, yelling.

“I've been waiting for you all damn day!” he said. “I thought you weren't gonna make it in time!”

“Calm down, Justin,” Lance said, shrugging his suit jacket off his slumped shoulders. “Jesus, it's not the end of the world.”

“Do you know how long it took for me to set this whole thing up?” Justin asked. “All the work I had to put in? The favors I had to call in? The people I had to deal with?”

Lance laughed. “Christ J, you act like you had to set up a hit on the girl.”

“Hey, this took time...planning...a cunning, brilliant mind, damn it. The least I ask in return is for you to be here on time to see it go down!”

“Well, I'm here now,” Lance said. “Happy?”

“Maybe,” Justin said, turning his nose up.

After Lance had made himself more comfortable, untucking his dress shirt from his pants, Justin led him over to the front door. He crouched on his knees next to it and reached up to turn the doorknob quietly, slipping it open a sliver.

“So we're just going to sit here and wait for it?” Lance asked, kneeling next to him.

“You wanna set up lawn chairs in the hallway and pop popcorn?” Justin asked sarcastically.

Lance sneered. “Well what the hell time is she supposed to get home anyway?”

“Do I look like I know her fucking schedule?” Justin whispered harshly. “Yesterday she was home around six, I assume she'll get home around the same time tonight. It's 5:45 – so we wait here. But damn, you gotta be quiet, or we're gonna get caught.”

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Lance asked.

“It's gonna work.” Justin grinned. “It's definitely gonna work.”

They sat in silence a few moments, the door open a crack – enough so that they could both use a single eye to peek out the door. Every time he heard the elevator down the hall make the familiar ding, Justin would open the door an inch and slip his head out enough to peek down the hall. Lance quickly became uncomfortable in the position he was knelt in, Justin taking up most of the space in front of the door, and shifted.

“Where'd you get the stuff for this anyway?” Lance finally asked.

Justin glanced back quickly. “I got connections in this city.”

Lance looked over, narrowing his eyebrows. “Justin, what the hell kind of people do you hang out with?”

Justin was about to answer when he heard the elevator ding. He slipped his head out again and quickly dipped it back in, turning to Lance behind him.

“Shhh, it's her!” he whispered.

They both shrunk back from the door as Justin shut the door so that they could only see out a sliver again and couldn't easily be detected.

It was hard to see, but Lance could hear her; and then finally, he saw her walk to her door, her usual tote bag thrown over her shoulder. Her back towards them, she stood in front of her door and reached into her bag, pulling out her keys.

She searched through each key, finally finding the correct one and putting it into the lock. They each held their breath as they heard the key turn and the mechanism unlock in the dead silent hallway. Lance felt Justin's shoulders tense up and him lean forward slightly as they watched her turn the knob, open the door, step inside, and finally push the door open all the way.

Lance almost swore he heard Justin snicker when it happened – when she had barely set her other foot inside and it came falling out from the ceiling above her.

A shower of tomato sauce, crushed rotten tomatoes, and chunks of rotten meat came down on her, soaking her from head to toe in red goop. It took her by surprise at first; they heard her suck in a loud breath as it hit her hair and continued to fall down her face, shoulders, and the rest of her body. She stood in shock for a moment, her back toward the hallway, not quite knowing what had hit her or how. They saw the tote bag slide off her shoulder as she lowered her arms, finally falling into the red puddle of mess that had built up at her feet.

When they saw her start to turn her body to face the hallway slowly, Justin pushed the door closed a bit, fearing that they could be seen. When she finally faced them, each man let a smile flash across his face as they took in her shocked expression, knowing they had gotten her. They waited with bated breaths for her next reaction, not sure what she would do.

They were shocked when Melissa burst into tears right inside her apartment door.