Saving Scotty Page 3

  So, I started with the obvious things. I looked for his Facebook page, and actually found it. He had posted pictures of himself on various beaches, skiing, and places that I recognized from my extensive travels to Europe. And then I looked at his wall, in the hopes that I could glean something from what his friends were saying to him.

  What I was really hoping for was some kind of posting from a disgruntled girlfriend or wife, somebody that I could contact to get as much dirt on this guy as I could. That would be ideal. I needed to find out everything about this guy – the homes that he had around the world, his favorite vacation spots, anything at all. Because something told me that he was taking my Scotty to someplace far away. I didn’t know why I thought that, but I guess I just figured that would be logical.

  One thing was for sure – this Paul guy was not going to take her to another hospital. No, Paul wanted her for his own sadistic purposes. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have bothered.

  Unfortunately, there were hundreds of posts and even more replies to his posts. This is going to take awhile. I read through each post carefully, paying particular attention to the comments that he received when he posted pictures of himself on vacations.

  I soon realized that this guy had homes all over the world. There was a home in Greece, one in Italy and one in Saint Croix. At least, that was what I gathered from looking at his page. He was quite the braggart – he had to post any time he was in one of magnificent homes, just so everybody could know just how rich and special he was.

  Probably over-compensating for something.

  I wrote down a few names of some of the people who commented a lot, and would plan on finding them somehow to pick their brain on this Paul asshole. I had no idea exactly how I would do that. I only knew that it had to be done.

  Also, I was able to find out where he worked. He wasn’t a trader anymore, but a hedge fund manager for a large investment firm in town.

  Too bad he doesn’t work at Goldman. Than it would be too easy just to talk to Nate about him.

  But, then again, it was a pretty small community when it came to investment managers. Nate might know him, or know somebody who does. So, talking to Nate would be a definite possibility.

  Then, suddenly, it hit me. His status was single, not married. I could contact his ex-wife, Elle. Surely she would tell me where he might be. Would it be that easy? It would be if Elle just happened to have the last name of Lucas. Otherwise, it would be another needle in a haystack. All that Scotty told me about Elle was that she was a lobbyist in Washington, DC, for environmental and human rights causes.

  I sighed. There was an off-off-off chance that Elle might be one of Paul’s Facebook friends. But, since they were divorced, that was highly unlikely.

  I scoured the list of Facebook friends and saw nobody with the first name of Elle in the roster.

  So, the best and most logical step, right now, would be to call Nate. That would be where my network would begin to find out more about this guy so that I could get some kind of handle on where he might have taken my beautiful Scotty.

  Chapter 5

  Scotty

  The plane was finally beginning to land, and I felt the ice-cold well of fear coming up through my throat. We had been on this plane for about 8 hours. I had no idea where he was taking me, but I knew that it was someplace that was a long way from New York City.

  I wondered if I ever would see Nick again. That was where my mind went to, first. Nick. The man who betrayed me, after he made me fall head over heels in love with him. Yet, I still was head over heels in love with him. So, the thought of never seeing him again was devastating to me.

  I was going to be with this man, isolated. With nobody to help me. Nobody to hear me scream. With a broken leg.

  All I could think was that I would rather die.

  Mr. Lucas was staring at me, an amused look on his face. “You know, Scotty, I always dreamed about this reunion with you. And you grew up to be such a hotty. I always knew that you would. Even as a little girl, I always knew that you would grow into a hot and sexy woman. And, you are.” He took another sip of his whiskey, and then threw away the cocktail napkin. “This is going to be fun.”

  I raised my chin as defiantly as I could. Inside, I was screaming. Outside, I was shaking uncontrollably, and I also realized that I was crying uncontrollably as well. I could feel the hot tears streaming down my cheeks. They tasted salty on my tongue.

  When I felt the wheels hit the runway, and the plane come a halt, I started to panic. I started hyperventilating. I wanted to fight back, so much, but I felt so incapacitated. I know that I was still feeling the effects of the painkillers, because I was a bit hazy. And I once again felt like I was 13, being overpowered by Mr. Lucas.

  I cursed the fact that I was so small. I cursed the fact that I had a broken leg.

  Most of all, though, I cursed Nick. This was his fault. If he didn’t take up with that witch, none of this would have happened. If he just would’ve left me alone, when I asked him to, none of this would’ve happened. I was in this predicament because I was so upset about Nick that I didn’t pay attention to the street when I was crossing it. Also, I wouldn’t have been in that street, in the first place, if I didn’t walk in on Nick and that woman, both of them stark naked on her couch.

  I couldn’t bring myself to say her name, even in my head.

  I desperately looked at Ruth, who, as Mr. Lucas’ employee, probably would be no help at all. She did look sympathetic, but I could see in her eyes that she wasn’t going to help me.

  Finally, the door was opened. Mr. Lucas made a move towards me, to put me into a wheelchair to take me off of the plane.

  I made one last stand. “Don’t, leave me alone, leave me alone, don’t!” I screamed, futilely, watching Ruth, who was just standing aside, shaking her head. I started to hit Mr. Lucas and pull his hair, like a wildcat.

  But, of course, Mr. Lucas was unfettered by my burst of defiance. He simply carried me onto the wheelchair, without a word, and strapped me in.

  He leaned down and whispered “now, now, Scotty, if you keep this up, I’m going to have to give you a sedative. A more powerful one. Then you really will be helpless. But I don’t want to do that. It would be so much less fun for me if you’re unconscious.”

  I started to feel that there was nothing that could be done. Once again, I was at his mercy. I couldn’t run. I could scream, but nobody would hear me, and the ones who would, wouldn’t do anything to help me. They depended upon Mr. Lucas for their livelihood. They were essentially paid to keep their mouths shut.

  So, just like I thought on the plane, I would have to go into my alternate reality. I trained myself to do this during many of the years when I was with Mr. Lucas. I simply trained myself to leave my body during those nights when Mr. Lucas was raping me. To go to someplace that was happy for me.

  Of course, when I was a young girl, I really didn’t have too many happy memories to draw upon. But there were times when I was with my mother that were somewhat happy. There were actually months when she didn’t drink at all. I was really young, but I think that she went to meetings and had a sponsor. And she was really wonderful during those times.

  I always thought that, every time she got sober, she was finally cured. She wouldn’t drink anymore. She would find a job and bake cookies and take me to school and help me with my homework. She wouldn’t bring around anymore strange men. She would be a mother for me.

  And she did try. I know she did. She taught me how to play the game of Life, and also taught me how to play Spades and Hearts. She sang songs to me that she made up, and they always made me laugh. She even baked cookies for me, once in a blue moon. They were always out of a mix, never from scratch, but I didn’t care. She was doing normal mom things, for once in her life, and that was good enough for me.

  But she didn’t read to me, and it wasn’t until I was an adult that I knew why – she couldn’t read. At all. I never knew that she was illiterate until one day when
I was visiting her, and she was completely incoherent. She acted differently than when she was drunk, however, and I soon found out that she was taking meds which were not prescribed to her correctly. I asked her if she had read the pamphlet that came with the drug, and she hung her head.

  “No, Scotty, I didn’t.” She looked very shameful.

  “Well, mother, don’t you know that you have to read that before you take anything for the first time?”

  She started to cry. “I can’t read.”

  I just looked at her. “Well, you probably are having trouble right now, in your state. So, let me read it to you.”

  “No, Scotty, you don’t understand. I can’t read. At all. I never learned.”

  I was stunned. And then I put my arm around her, while she cried. “Mom, it’s okay. Really, it’s okay. You aren’t alone. There are lots of people who never learned to read. I’ll help you, mom. I’ll help you learn to read.”

  I was 19 years old, and I never knew that my mother was illiterate.

  This revelation was followed by months of my coming over and working with her with rudimentary books. I found some books in the library about teaching adults to read, and I devoured them. She became like my project. I even enrolled her in a night course, after finding out which ones were low or no cost, and went with her as often as I could.

  Those times were some of the best times of my life, just because I was hanging out with my mother and she was off the bottle. I was very focused upon school, of course, but I found time for her, because she was trying to do something to really better herself. That warranted my attention.

  During those months, we talked like girlfriends and we bonded. I learned more about her and her life during those months than I had ever known before. And she not only seemed to really care about me, but she actually did care about me during this time.

  Of course, it all went to hell after a little while. She had a glass of wine one night, “to calm her nerves.”

  “One drink, Scotty, ain’t going to hurt nothin’.”

  I sighed, knowing that it was the beginning of the end. And, of course, I was right. She was right back to where she was before, worse than ever.

  She never did learn how to read, either.

  So, as I looked at Mr. Lucas, knowing what was going to happen, I thought about drawing on some of the happy times with my mother as comfort. And some of the happy times with Jack.

  I tried not to think about the one that I really wanted to dream about. Nick. I wanted to close my eyes and dream about him, as I was being wheeled from the plane to the waiting Rolls Royce SUV that was parked on the tarmac. I wanted to get lost in the memories of him and me together. We were only together for a short time, really, before I caught him with that woman. But those were, by far, the most magical days of my entire life. I don’t think that my feet touched the ground the entire time that we were together as a couple.

  But thinking about Nick was just too painful for me, now. I was completely raw thinking about what he did. And I couldn’t very well think about the good times without also seeing him and that woman naked on the couch.

  So, I would have to draw on other memories to protect my fragile mind.

  That night, when I was set up in a glorious bedroom in a gorgeous and sprawling glass home on a sunny beach, far away from New York and everyone I knew there, and Mr. Lucas came into my room and proceeded to undress me, I accessed my happy place. I had to.

  When he shoved his manhood inside of me, murmuring about how badly he had wanted this for the past nine years, I was someplace far, far away.

  I barely even felt it.

  Chapter 6

  Nick

  I picked up my phone to call Nate. It was in the middle of the day, so I was sure that he was at work, but wanted to try him anyhow. If he didn’t pick up for whatever reason, I would go down to his place of business.

  “Nate Hitchins, please,” I said to the receptionist who answered the phone. I also tried Nate’s cell number, but it went straight to voice mail.

  “Just a second, please,” she said.

  I hung on the line, and soon realized that I was holding my breath, waiting for Nate to come to the phone.

  My heart sunk when the receptionist came back on to tell me that Nate was in a meeting with some clients, and that he would give me a call back as soon as possible.

  Do I tell her it’s an emergency? No, I finally decided that I needed to just go down there. So, I left the hospital, found Charlie, who was waiting for me, and asked him to drive me to the Goldman building. Nate was working in the new Goldman building in lower Manhattan, on West Street. So, it was going to take awhile to get there, with the traffic being the typically heavy mid-day slog.

  I looked out the window, trying hard to stay calm. I couldn’t lose my composure or my cool, because, if I did, I wouldn’t be able to think clearly. Right now, I had to have nothing but a clear head.

  But I couldn’t help it. I started to think about Scotty being virtually kidnapped by that man, although, apparently, the hospital let it happen, and my blood pressure started to skyrocket. I could feel it. I tried not to think about the horrors that my Scotty was going through, being alone with that monster. I tried not to, but my mind went there. I could feel tears coming to my eyes, and I took out some tissue, which was in the limo, and blew my nose.

  Come on, now, Nick, you can’t fall apart. Scotty needs you to be level-headed and unemotional. You can be as emotional as you want once you find her, but, for right now, you have to keep your wits about you. So, calm down.

  And my mind also drifted to Abrianna. I never got over that, and hearing about Scotty being hit by a car brought it all flooding back to me.

  ∞

  Abrianna was 7 years old. She was really the light of my life, along with my other two girls, Charlotte and April. Unfortunately for them, the house was full of chaos and instability. My marriage with Rielle was never a stable one. Looking back now, I wondered why I was even married to her at all. Or, rather, why I took up with her in the first place. All that I can think now was that she had an inherent fascination to me, because she was such my polar opposite. Where I was hot, she was cool. But, it turned out that she was too cool, as she was soon shown to be cold. Buttoned up. Kept her emotions completely hidden behind an exterior that was always threatening to break.

  Our marriage was marked by infidelity and mistrust. I was completely untamed, and not getting what I needed from her. Emotionally or sexually. We rarely spoke about anything, except for about the children, and I was always gone on one business trip or another.

  The day that it happened was the day that Rielle’s emotional dam finally burst, and the fight that occurred was one for the ages. I had just gotten back from a month-long trip to China. I was involved in designing some buildings in Beijing for some major clients there. When I got back, Rielle was itching for a fight that had been a long time coming.

  “Well, Nick, how was your trip to China?” she asked with a sneer. I had come home with a bag full of souvenirs and goodies for my girls, and had also brought her a saltwater pearl necklace that had set me back a bundle. I guess I was going to try to buy my way out of trouble.

  “Great,” I said, but I was on the defensive, as I noticed her offensive posture and demeanor. “How are things here?”

  “Why do you want to know? You’re never around. I don’t think that you give a shit.”

  “Listen, Rielle. You’re the one who wants things, all the fucking time. Whatever I give you, it’s never enough. I have to work my ass off just to keep you in the manner to which you have been accustomed,” I said, sarcastically stressing that last part. “So, if you expect me to provide this mansion and our vacation home in Lake Como, and all the cars, furs and jewelry you seem to demand every time I turn around, I best be working. I seem to remember that it’s you who demands that we go to Switzerland every year to ski. It’s you who demanded this multi-million dollar home. It’s you who demanded that I buy th
at palace in Italy. It’s you who wants all this shit, not me. Yet, when I work to try to provide it, you get all pissed off.”

  “Oh, no. You’re not going to put this on me. I have never asked you to never come home for months at a time. Never. You know that I want you to stay around here.”

  “Oh, sure, sure. Sure. I’ll just tell my firm that I can’t travel anymore. Let’s see how well that goes over. Travel is required for my job. You’ve always known that. If you want a goddamned stay at home husband, then you married the wrong man.”

  And things just went downhill from there.

  “Well, I wouldn’t mind as much if it weren’t for your extracurricular activities.”

  Ironically, I wasn’t cheating on her at that time. She was cheating on me, though, and I knew this. “Projecting again, are you?” I said. “You wanna tell me about Joe?”

  “Fuck you for bringing that up. Fuck you.”

  “Oh, sorry for bringing up the man you’ve been fucking while I’ve been gone. I’m surprised you’re so hot on having me here, considering how much fucking you get done while I’m not at home.”

  During the heated exchange, neither of us was paying much attention to anything around us. Abrianna was home because she was still recovering from the chicken pox. Usually there was a nanny watching her, but, on this day, the nanny was sick. Charlotte and April were at school. Rielle was watching her that day, but, needless to say, she wasn’t keeping a careful eye on her at that precise moment. She was too busy tearing into me, and I into her.

  Rielle opened her mouth to say something back to me, when we heard the sounds of a car screeching in front of our gates. My old home was set behind a large stone wall with an iron gate, and it sat on several acres of land.

  Both of us just looked at each other, our mouths opened, and then we both ran out to see what had happened.

  Rielle screamed at the sight of our daughter lying in the street. There was a man who was leaning down next to her, and a woman who was talking on the phone. The woman hung up and announced that the ambulance was on the way.