SO I ALMOST MARRIED A HIT MAN

By Greg Emerson

thedistresser1963@yahoo.com

CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

Brick and I didn't know how much time we had before Travis might burst through the door, so we hashed out a quickie plan/idea for me to call Battey's aide, a man named Morris Dowd, and utilizing some sort of story, arrange for a meeting. That was about it for details.

We had to cut the planning short so Brick could re-tape my mouth. He didn't want Travis returning to find me ungagged.

But Travis never came back.

About 15-20 minutes went by-me in my chair and Brick watching TV-when Brick decided to call Travis.

Brick looked at me.

"He's not answering," he said.

I furrowed my brows and made a small sound of confusion.

Brick seem perplexed by this, too.

I blinked and looked at him, unable to offer anything verbal at the moment.

Brick waited another five minutes or so and called again. I could see by his facial expression that again there was no answer.

I shifted in my chair, not really liking this turn of events, though it may have been harmless and maybe there was a logical explanation.

Where had Travis gone? Brick said only that it had nothing to do with Battey.

It was getting close to 11:15 now.

I looked at Brick and made urgent sounds behind my gag, wishing it removed. I had things to say.

Brick didn't fight me, like Travis always did. He promptly went to me and peeled the tape from my mouth.

I worked my jaw and said, "What's going on?"

"I don't know," Brick said, and there was concern in his voice. "Travis always answers his phone."

"Where did he go, Brick?" I said softly. "What is he doing?"

I gave him a purposeful look.

Brick sighed and said, "I really don't know where he went. Honestly. All he told me was that he had to 'take care of something.' Beyond that, I have no idea. It's foolish to question Travis, or to try to nail him down. He only tells you what he feels like telling you, period."

No truer words had been spoken during my ordeal.

Brick's angst was compounded by the fact that he had no vehicle; Travis was using it. They had driven me to the motel in Brick's van, leaving Travis's car at my house.

I watched Brick pace, my wrists again lashed to the armrests.

"Let me loose, Brick. Maybe I can be of some help."

I readily would admit that I had no idea what help I might be, but it sounded good as an excuse to be untaped!

Brick looked at me, not all that interested in untaping me. It was probably enough that he ungagged me, for the moment.

I didn't press the matter.

Brick called again; it was now past 11:30; Travis had been gone about 90 minutes. As angry as he had made me, even I was a little worried about him. Who knows what he was doing or what he got himself into?

I took inventory of my feelings.

Why did I have even the slightest feeling of worry about the lying, backstabbing Travis?

Did I still care for him?

We had never used the "L" word-love-but we did the pet name thing. Honey, sweetie, etc. For whatever reason, Travis had taken lately to calling me "Laurabelle," which had no real origin that I knew of, but it was OK by me.

My cute nickname for him was "Travvy."

I frowned, thinking of this cutesy stuff at a time like this, and after what Travis had done to me.

I snapped out of it and looked at Brick, who was sitting on the bed, looking at his phone.

"Maybe there's some explanation," I said, just to offer up something.

He pursed his lips.

"I need a car," he said.

"Well, yeah. That would help, but you don't-"

"I'm going to get a car."

I cocked my head. "Excuse me?" I said.

He meant he was going to steal a freaking car.

I caught on and said, "Brick! Don't go off the deep end. I'm sure Travis will come back."

But his mind was made up.

"I can grab just about any car from this motel lot," he said, and it sounded like a mixture of bravado and a statement of fact. Probably was, actually.

He was on the move, strapping on his ankle holster, just as Travis had.

My heart pounded.

"Brick, you're not going to steal a car, are you?"

He looked at me. "I can't do shit here, stranded."

I swallowed. "You're going to leave me here, alone?"

His look said yes, without saying the actual words.

I shook my head back and forth several times.

"No. No. Please. Please don't leave me alone, Brick. I hated it during the afternoon and I'll hate it even more at night. Maybe something has happened to Travis, after all. And then maybe something will happen to you, too, and then I'll be here and NO…please don't tape my mouth, Brick! Brick-no. Just listen to me for a second! Don't! Just hear me out for a minMMFFFFFFF!"

Brick smoothed two strips of tape over my still-talking mouth.

I kicked at him, which was foolish, because all that did was remind him that my ankles were free, a fact which he changed immediately.

I pulled at my wrist tape and stomped my feet.

"MMMMM!!! NNNGGHH!!"

"I'm sorry, Lauren," he said. "I can't just sit here, doing nothing."

I shook my head vehemently and hair was all in my eyes. My hands were balled into fists.

Brick ambled quickly to the door.

I stomped and rocked in the chair.

"MMMMMM!!!"

Brick frowned at my sounds and turned the TV on, raising the volume slightly-but not enough where neighbors might complain.

Then, just like that, he was gone, too.

I sighed, exhausted from my futile efforts, and leaned back in the chair, my chest heaving.

One fool going out looking for the other fool.

And me, taped into this fucking chair, only able to wait and see if one of these fools would return.

I wasn't taking this shit lying down, I thought. Enough was enough!

Brick didn't go apeshit with the tape like Travis had. I had much more range of motion, though I wasn't exactly free as a bird, either.

Growling and grunting, I gripped the armrests with my palms and fingers and, using my feet as if they were wheels on a wheelchair, I managed to inch the chair forward, slowly but surely.

It took a lot out of me; I had to stop and rest often. But I was going to move-somewhere. The phone was a possibility, but I'd have no real way to knock it off its cradle, much less dial.

My goal was the door. Maybe I could bang on it loudly enough for someone to hear.

A ball full of energy and adrenalin, I kept moving, gripping the armrests so tightly that my perspiration was making my grip slippery.

Grunting, I kept moving. I found it was easier to move as much as I could and rest as little as possible, for every time that I stopped, it seemed to take more energy and effort to get started again.

I was sweating at my forehead now. Perspiration dripped into my eyes, stinging them. I shook the hair out of my eyes, because there was sweat on those strands as well.

I took in air and proceeded. The door was still a good 12-14 feet away, but I'd moved about half that so far, so this was going OK.

But I had to stop this time; I could only breathe thru my nose, of course, and that tires you out quicker.

I wondered which car Brick had stolen-not that it mattered.

And I wondered if Travis was OK, and my caring about that rankled me to no end.

I readied myself for another push.

Eyes closed and determined, I pressed on, moving myself in the chair with grunts, whimpers, and strained muscles. The damn chair was heavy.

I was about six feet from the door when I heard approaching footsteps coming from outside.

I tensed.

There was the sound of the key being inserted into the lock and then the door whipped open.

Travis!!

We were both very surprised to see each other. Me, because I didn't even know if he was coming back or not, and Travis, because I was about 10 feet away from where I'd spent most of my time in the room.

His eyes widened when he saw me so close to the door.

I must have looked a mess. I was sweaty and hair was all over my face.

I made a stifled sound of surprise.

"Lauren! Jesus! What the fuck? Where's Brick?"

Unbelievable! Those goofballs STILL hadn't hooked up?

I growled and grunted, pulling at my tape and shooting daggers at Travis.

How dare he get everyone worried and in a tizzy? How could he and Brick not have communicated?

"MMMMM!!! GRRMMMPHH!"

I was pissed.

I could tell that Travis was perplexed. Brick was gone and I was not in my normal spot.

Tough. I was mad, too.

Travis looked around the room.

I rolled my eyes and tried to tell him what had happened.

"Yummme rmrmr! Brimm emmm ann ohhl umm arm!"

Travis looked at me and peeled the tape away from my mouth, leaving it flapping off my face.

"He went looking for you, you big jerk! He stole a car and went looking for your ass! He tried to call you several times but you-MMFFFFF!!"

Travis placed the tape back over my mouth.

I growled and stomped my feet.

He merely stepped around me and surveyed the room.

"My phone died," he said, and that was supposed to be explanation enough.

How could it have died, I wondered. Don't you see it's running low and plug it in?

Travis produced my cell phone from his pocket and called Brick.

"I forgot I had this!" he said, chuckling to himself.

I groaned and tossed my head back. These men tired me out-physically, emotionally and mentally.

Travis dialed Brick.

Their conversation didn't last long. Travis wanted to know where Brick was. Travis told him about his dead phone. Thirty seconds and they were done.

Typical men-straight to the point. Two women in that situation would have been on the phone together for 10, 15 minutes.

Travis hung up MY phone and stepped back in front of me, looking at me in a scolding way.

"Tsk tsk," he said, and I sighed and looked away, trying to flip the hair out of my eyes.

"What did you think you were going to do, Lauren? Bust the door down?"

I just stewed and my chest heaved, still out of breath from my efforts and from being forced to breathe through my nose all the time.

I looked at him through eyes narrowed into slits.

He smirked and again peeled the tape away from my mouth, to my surprise.

I licked my lips and said, "Where WERE you? Even Brick was getting worried."

Travis explained that he had to rush to the aid of a fellow whatever-he-was, and that it took longer than he expected.

I decided not to tell him about the plan that Brick and I hatched; better to leave it to Brick to bring up and expound upon.

"Travis?"

"Yes?"

"Are you mad at me? That I tried to get away?"

May as well find out the level of his anger.

Travis responded by moving behind me, tilting my chair back, and dragging it back to its original position. The move took me by surprise and I gave a brief yelp.

He set the chair back down and lifted my chin with his fingers so that we were eye-to-eye.

"No, I'm not mad. I can't blame you for trying to get away. It's a natural response."

I heaved a sigh of relief.

"But just don't try it again," he added, and his words were purposeful and all business.

I pulled my head away from his light grip.

"You know that's a promise I can't keep, Travis."

He sat across from me.

I looked at him, annoyed.

"When is a good time for you to call in sick tomorrow morning?"

I groaned.

"Seriously," Travis said. "When?"

I sighed heavily.

"I don't know...it would just have to be a voice mail. My boss gets in the same time I do. I don't want to call in too late. I'd rather my voice mail be waiting for him."

He nodded.

At least Travis was allowing me to speak and have a conversation. Of course, with him I never counted on it lasting for long.

I dared more talking.

"Isn't this more work than it's worth?" I asked.

"What do you mean?"

"THIS...keeping me taped up and moving me with you and everything. Wouldn't it have been easier for you guys to just leave me bound and gagged at home?"

"We've already been over this, Lauren."

I sighed. "Yeah, but it still doesn't make sense to me."

"Does it have to? Do WE have to placate YOU?"

I frowned at him.

"Whatever floats your boat, Travis. Whatever gets you off."

"You think I'm getting OFF on this?" he said, and he was incredulous.

I shrugged. "How the fuck do I know? Maybe you have some sort of bondage fetish."

The tape went back over my mouth, and it came as little surprise-nor could I have blamed Travis for shutting me up. I had crossed the line.

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