Deeper Illusions Read online

  “She should wear that thing around her neck,” Charlene said with a laugh.

  “Right,” I said, trying to fake a laugh of my own.

  We hung up, then I called her two best friends, Richard and Debbie, repeating the same light-hearted scenario, panic rising with each time I heard that nobody knew where Iris was.

  My phone calls made, I went back into the club, and tried to take my mind off of the whole thing for now. There were a few women in the club, and they came onto me, which I am more than used to by now. I was always polite with everybody who hit on me, because I hated to hurt people's feelings, but I was not in the mood for sexual advances. So, I rather rudely rebuffed them.

  I sat back down, and drank a beer. Somebody was talking to me. Hirohito. I had to charm him, he was the point man for the takeover, so I mustered up my actor energy, flashing a smile, and laughing at the jokes he was making. I had taken some acting classes at Harvard, just because I thought that they would be fun, and they were. I learned a lot, and I used what I learned to fake my way through much of my life, putting on a brave face for the world, when I was dying inside all those years.

  It was really only after I met Iris that I no longer had to fake anything, because I was finally happy and at peace with my life.

  Now, here I was, digging into my repertoire once again, the comedian disguising the deep well of hurt. Only now, I was disguising a rising sense of panic. My gut told me that something was wrong, something was terribly, terribly wrong.

  Yet, here I was, laughing at jokes, talking about American popular culture, telling jokes of my own. Drinking scotches, which I started ordering after I got back into the club, knowing that I had to drown my sense of panic in something, and also knowing that my familiar crutch, heroin, could not be accessed. Not that I couldn't find it. It was always easy to find, if you look. Rather, I knew that I couldn't do it, even if I could find some. That road led to ruin once before, or near-ruin. I barely escaped with my life, then was sure that, the second time I became addicted, after I met Iris, it would lead to ruin once more. I had something to live for, more than I ever had before, and that something was Iris. That helped me clean up my act the second time. And it was what kept me from turning to the drug this time. Iris would be disappointed in me. She might even leave me. She had shown remarkable patience and resilience through everything that she had gone through since she met me, but I knew that her patience and resilience was not boundless.

  And I had no desire to push it.

  So, I drank my scotch, and turned on the charm full force.

  Then, after the evening was finally over, and we all turned in around 4 AM, I started to panic again.

  I called Iris' phone. It was now around 2 PM her time.

  Straight to voice mail.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I didn't sleep a wink last night. I kept calling Iris' phone, every fifteen minutes, then every five minutes, until I was calling it every minute. I was willing her to pick up her phone, talk to me, tell me that she was okay.

  But I knew that she wasn't. I knew it the very first time I called her, and her phone went straight to voice mail.

  How was I going to get through this next week? I would be here in Tokyo for one more week, as we finalized our negotiations for taking over this bank. Yet, Iris was out there somewhere, in trouble. And Andrew, the person who was supposed to be protecting her, was nowhere to be found, either.

  I felt so impotent, so helpless.

  Who could help me find her?

  I tried to get into her mind, willing myself not to think the worst, which was that Rochelle had nabbed her, somehow, under Andrew's nose.

  I called the police in Kansas City.

  They answered the phone, and I said “I would like to report a missing person.”

  “Ok, sir, who is missing?”

  “My wife, Iris Gallagher. Could you please give me an e-mail address, so that I can send a picture of her?”

  The dispatcher gave me this information, and I sent a picture of Iris immediately.

  “How long has your wife been missing?”

  “About two days. There, uh, have been threats against her recently, so this is why I’m so worried.”

  “Does she have a history of running off?”

  “No.”

  They took down some more information, then told me that they would call the hospitals and morgues to check on her. They also would assign a detective on the case.

  My blood ran icy when I heard the word “morgue.”

  I wasn’t satisfied with just the police looking for her, though. I didn’t feel that they would do enough to find her. So, I paced the floor, and decided to call my father.

  “Dad,” I said, mystified anew that I ever would be calling him. He was remarkably getting better - now the doctor was giving him several years to live, as opposed to weeks, which is what he had when I first arrived to visit him.

  “Son,” he said. “What can I do for you?”

  “Iris is missing.”

  “Impossible. She has a bodyguard, you know.”

  “He's missing as well.”

  “Oh. Let me put my people on it, and find out where he is.”

  “Put your people on it and find out where she is, first.”

  “Andrew is the best, you know. He wouldn't let anything happen to her.”

  “Even so, I need an APB on her.”

  “Right. I'm on it as we speak.”

  We hung up. I shrugged off, for now, the oddity that I would be calling my father for this, then made another phone call. To one of my underworld connections that I made when I was an addict all those years. I kept in touch with a few of them, knowing that sometimes having friends in low places could be the very best thing in life.

  “Gino,” I said, after calling several other connections, and getting nothing but voice mail.

  “Ryan?” Gino said. “I never thought I'd hear from you again.”

  “Listen, I need a favor.”

  “Ah, a favor. Well, you know, I am in serious need of a fix, and I can't seem to find the funding for it. You know of anybody I might ask about this?”

  “You still got the same bank account?” I asked.

  “I do.”

  “I'm wiring $10,000 to your account as we speak,” I said, tapping on my phone, and wiring him the money. It probably would be going down the drain, but I really couldn't care less. It was pocket change, especially compared to the life of my beautiful wife.

  “Just a second,” he said, and I heard him tapping on his phone, and checking his account. “Ok. Now, what favor do you need?”

  “I'm going to send you a picture of my wife. I need for you to be on the lookout for her,” I said, sending him her picture.

  After a few seconds, he said, “cute girl. I'll look out for her. But why would she be hanging around here?”

  “Just a hunch,” I said.

  “Ok. What should I do if she shows up?”

  “Call me. Detain her somehow. I need to find her. If you find her, there’s another $100,000 in it for you. That would keep you set up for awhile.”

  He gave a low whistle. “I’ll be looking for this cat for sure.”

  “Oh, and Gino?”

  “Yeah?”

  “If you fuck me over, you're cut off for good.”

  “Don't worry. I got your back,” he said, one drug addict to another.

  I felt that my bases were somewhat covered. I had the police and my dad's team looking for Iris, and I had also had my underworld connection looking for her. Now, all I had to do was try to concentrate during these interminable meetings that were coming up this week.

  I called Iris' number.

  Straight to voice mail.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I was like a ghost that week, sitting through meetings, then calling Iris during every break. I called my father, the police, and Gino every night, being sensitive to the time change, knowing that I was a good 14 hours ahead of them. This meant
that I had to call around 10 PM every night, so that I could get them around 8 in the morning. They always answered the phone when I called, and always told me the same thing.

  They got nothing.

  Still, I kept up my acting job. Nobody knew that there was a thing wrong. Typical. Nobody ever knew that there were things wrong with me, all my life, except Nick and Alexis. Everybody else saw the charmed boy who rowed, played football, and got straight As. All the while, I was dying inside from all my trauma. Now, it was acting time again, and I managed to help guide our takeover for the best possible asking price, and the best possible terms.

  My hell week was finally over, and I boarded the corporate jet for the 15-hour flight from Tokyo to Kansas City. In-flight movies were playing, and my seat mate, Harry, who was the CEO of the company, was trying to make small talk, but I was exhausted from all the acting I did that week, and really needed a break. So, I shut my eyes, and pretended to sleep, and Harry eventually gave up talking to me.

  We finally arrived in Kansas City, and I drove my Porsche to my home. I prayed for a miracle, that, somehow, someway, Iris would be there waiting for me.

  I realized that my prayers were not answered when I arrived to my empty house.

  I did such a good job with the takeover negotiations, that my work allowed me to take the rest of the week off. Which was amazing to me, considering all the time that I took off before this trip, but I really needed the break, so I was grateful.

  But I wasn't sleeping, at all. I found myself up all night, every night, calling Iris' phone every five minutes, and mindlessly going through Internet pages. I also ended up in the seedy parts of town, combing the streets, showing Iris' picture. I had a hunch that I would find her there, among the dregs of society, which was where I myself used to haunt, back in my drug days. I never used to hang around here, except to buy my dope, but I still knew people on the streets, and Gino was still on the lookout as well.

  I also went to Rochelle's house, in a much tonier area, and banged on the door.

  She opened the door, then smiled like I have never seen her smile before. “Well, well, well, handsome, imagine seeing you here.”

  “Where is she?” I demanded.

  “Where is who?”

  “You know very well who. My wife.”

  “I don't know.”

  “Bullshit. Where is she?”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  “You've made threats against her, and now she's missing. Coincidence?”

  She just shook her head. “I'm all talk, you know that.”

  “Bullshit. All talk, my ass. Were you all talk when you almost murdered her? And what about your minions who also have it out for her?”

  “What minions?”

  “You know. The people you hired to come for her.”

  “Are you alright? Why would I do that? I'm out on bail, don't you think that I would be put right back into my tiny little pen if I did something like that?”

  For some odd reason, I ended up believing her. I had a keen ability to read people. That had always been a talent of mine.

  And I read her as being completely above-board.

  “Sorry for bothering you,” I said, then turned and got back into my car and went home.

  I was completely jet-lagged, and, night after night, I stayed awake, getting no sleep. I was a ghost again, like before I met Iris, only worse this time. I was vaguely worried about my lack of sleep, knowing that not sleeping causes strange things to happen, like hallucinations, and my body seemed to be shutting down. But every night, I tossed and turned in the big empty bed, then ended up back on the streets, driving around, looking for her. I talked to every vagrant I saw, and even ran into a few people I knew from before.

  Then, one day, at the end of the week, when I had gone about five days without sleep, Iris arrived.

  Chapter Eighteen

  My beautiful girl arrived after I had a particularly harrowing experience in the shower. I was exhausted and spent, not having slept for around 5 days, and I slipped and hit my head, hard, on the edge of the tub. I passed out, only to come to sometime later, being awakened by the licking of Brutus and Maximus. I looked at the clock, realizing that I was unconscious for the better part of the hour. I patted my head, and found that I was bleeding. I then tried to call Daniel to come and take me to the hospital, but, for the life of me, I couldn’t remember his phone number. I couldn’t even remember 911. I remembered that there were three numbers that you are supposed to dial when you have an emergency, and I dialed 711, 611, 311, then gave up in frustration after dialing these numbers and getting nowhere.

  I finally decided just to go to my bed and try to sleep it off, but my head was throbbing. Then I saw my father, as plain as day. He was in my bedroom and talking to me. Only he looked different – his head was blue, his body orange. Not a fake tan sort of orange, but more like an Oompa Loompa orange. He was also very fuzzy.

  “Dad,” I said. “Have you heard any word about my wife?”

  He just shook his head and said nothing.

  “Where is she, dad? Is she still alive?”

  “I don’t know, son. I wish I did.”

  Then I passed out again, and, when I came to, Iris was standing by the bed. I rubbed my eyes, not sure that I was actually seeing what I was seeing.

  I touched her, and felt flesh and bone.

  My heart leaped out of my throat. She was finally home! Relief coursed through every cell of my body.

  “Oh, my god! Beautiful! You're back!” I shouted, wrapping myself around my one true love.

  “I don't understand. What do you mean?” Iris asked me.

  “What happened to you? Why did you shut off your phone? Why didn't you call me? I was so worried,” I said to her, my face in her hair, my hand on her back.

  “Shut off my phone? I don't understand. This isn't Iris, this is...” Iris hesitated. Then she said, “of course, I'm back. I love you. I've always loved you.”

  “I love you too. Oh, god, I was so worried.”

  Then I kissed her full and sensuous lips. Her lips met mine hungrily, her hands clawing my back. “I love you so much,” she said. “I've loved you for so many years.”

  There was something in the back of my mind that was telling me that it wasn't right, but I ignored that inner voice that was trying to remind me that Iris and I had only known each other about a year and a half.

  I carried Iris to our bedroom, and laid her down on the bed. I stripped off her clothes, and stripped off mine as well, and hovered over her for a few seconds. Then I kissed her passionately and thrust deeply into her, over and over again. I was so hungry for her, I couldn't get enough. She was telling me, over and over again, how much she loved me, and how much she had always wanted this to happen. I put her face in my hands, and kissed all around her face, my hands in her hair. Her legs were wrapped tightly around me as I thrust, deeper and deeper into her, for hours. Then I came inside her, and, feeling completely spent, I laid down next to her and stroked her hair.

  And, since the first time since I found out she was missing, I was relieved of my stress, and I found the sleep that I needed for so long.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I woke up in my bed, and looked at the clock. It read 8 AM, which meant that I had only been asleep about 5 hours. I think that I fell asleep around three in the morning, after making love to Iris for hours after she came home to me.

  I made my way down the stairs.

  Natalie was in my kitchen, helping herself to some orange juice.

  “Nat,” I said, confused. “When did you get here?”

  She was startled by my presence. I also noticed that she was wearing one of my button down shirts, and seemingly nothing else. Her face turned bright red. “Uh, I got here a couple of days ago.”

  “A couple of days ago? Where's Iris?”

  “Sit down,” Natalie asked.

  I sat down at the kitchen bar, feeling disoriented and confused. Natal
ie had been here a couple of days? I didn't remember her coming here at all.

  “I did a terrible, terrible thing,” she began.

  “What terrible thing did you do?” I asked, although I was starting to realize what, exactly, she was referring to.

  “Uh, the other night, I came into town. I called Nick, because I couldn't get ahold of you. Nick told me what you were going through with Iris missing, so I flew into town because I wanted to help.”

  “Go on,” I said, becoming increasingly suspicious, and feeling that my confusion was clearing up with every word she spoke.

  “I came in the door, and you thought that I was Iris. And I -”

  “Pretended to be her,” I finished.

  “Yes.”

  I just stared at her for a few minutes. Then said “well, Nat, looks like you got your fucking wish.” Then I looked away.

  “Ryan, I'm so sorry. You made love to me thinking that I was Iris.”

  “I know exactly what happened now. I finally got some sleep, because I thought that Iris had come home. Now my mind is totally clear, and I can't believe that you would pull a stunt like that. On top of it all, Iris is still missing.” Natalie was shaking a little, pulling on the ends of her hair, and examining it carefully. “That's why I said that you finally got your fucking wish.”

  “I know,” she said. “But I do love you, Ryan. I love you so much, I can't stand it.”

  “Go home, Nat. Go home to your husband. Get out and leave me alone, and never, ever, say a word about this to anybody. Do you understand?”

  She started crying, and hung her head. “I'll see what flights I can catch, but, since this is Sunday, there might not be much available.”

  Wait, Sunday? Sunday? I asked Nat “how is it Sunday? How long have I been asleep?”

  “For over a day,” she said. “You've been asleep about 30 hours. I was about to call the ambulance, if you didn't wake up soon.”

  “30 hours. I haven't slept in more than a week, which is why I was hallucinating. And I hit my head.” I shook my head. “You completely took advantage of my mental state. I just can't believe you would do something like this.”