Clouds In My Coffee (13 page)

And with that, I know that the time is approaching where I share our good news with Erik.

I don’t have to wait long before he provides me a perfect opportunity to do just that.

“Hey,” he says, locking up the diner. “We’ve got a Valentine’s Day gig Friday at the Shady Lady. Can you be there?”

“Valentine’s day is Thursday,” I remind him with a smile.

“Yeah, but the club is hosting it on Friday the 15th.”

“Does that mean I don’t get my Valentine until then?” I tease.

“I’ve got something special planned,” he admits, sheepishly.

“In that case, I wouldn’t miss it,” I reply, still plastered all over him. “I’ve got something special planned for you, too. This is a new beginning for us.”

“Yeah, and a party for sure,” he replies, grinning. “Come on, let’s go home.”

He doesn’t realize yet that my partying days are over.

February 15, 1974

Dear Diary,

Well, tonight’s the night. I just hope Erik is gonna be happy about my Valentine’s surprise to him. I don’t know what I’ll do if he freaks out about it. But I know Erik. I keep forgetting that part. I plan on letting him know straight out that I’m not asking for anything other than his acceptance of my decision. I’m not talking marriage, at least not right now. I have school to finish first and that’s not gonna change. I want him to be okay with this because I love him so much. And I know that he loves me back. He’s been so sweet and attentive lately. I can tell that he’s excited about whatever he plans on giving me for V-Day tonight. He actually wanted me to try and guess! I told him to just tell me and he said no way; if I couldn’t guess it, then it would remain a surprise. Needless to say, I didn’t guess it. So the weather is shitty and I have to drive fifteen miles north in this rainy sleety shit, but Erik promised he’d drive us home since he went in the truck with the equipment earlier. That’s when I’m gonna give him the news. Mom gives me no hassle anymore about Erik, so that part will make it easier when I deliver the news to her. Wish me luck!!

I’m dressed in blue jeans, a sweater and boots. I pull on my wool jacket and push my hair up under a knit stocking cap.

I slip my knit gloves on carefully, making sure my ring from Erik doesn’t snag it. I never take it off.

I hit the two lane highway, Route 189 towards Kemmerer. It’s eight o’clock and they don’t start playing until nine, so I have plenty of time. It’s pitch black out, with very little traffic on the road, and the swirling snowflakes coming at my windshield are starting to freak me out. I totally focus on getting there without sliding off the road. My tires aren’t the greatest.

I’ve only gone a few miles when I notice up ahead a pick-up truck that’s slid off the road. The emergency flasher lights are blinking and the driver is out of the car, waving his arms back and forth for assistance.

Fuck it. I can’t just ignore someone in distress.

I pull over onto the berm in front of the truck. The driver turns off the flashers inside of the truck and locks the driver side door.

Shit. He’s gonna need a ride back to town.

I reach over and unlock the passenger side door for him and it’s not until he slips into the seat beside me that I realize it’s Marshall Rydell.

Shit.

“Hey, Cece,” he greets me, cupping his bare hands in front of his mouth and blowing his breath into them in an effort to warm up. “I didn’t think anyone was going to stop.”

“Marshall? Whose truck is that?”

“Oh…it’s one of my father’s. I don’t take the “Z” out in this shit. I think I fucking ran out of gas. Can you take me back to the gas station near I-80? I’ll have it towed, I guess.”

I immediately regret having stopped. I so don’t want to be in my car on a snowy, icy night with Marshall Rydell. What choice do I have at this point? “Sure,” I reply, pulling out and doing a U-turn in the road. “Where were you headed?” I ask, trying to make conversation to kill time.

“Same place as you,” he replies. “Shady Lady.”

I turn to look over at him in the dark. “How did you know I was going there?”

He shrugs, looking out the window. “It’s no secret Roxy is playing there tonight. Just figured, I guess.”

A chill creeps up my spine and then back down. Marshall has never been interested in Erik’s band. What has suddenly changed all of that? “I didn’t know you liked their music,” I reply.

“I don’t.”

“Then why….?”

“Shut the fuck up, Cece. Just follow the directions I give you and you won’t get hurt. I just want to talk, okay?”

I glance over at him. He’s got a knife pointed at my gut, I can see the gleam of steel as we near the gas station near the interstate. “Is this where you want dropped?” I ask, pretending I hadn’t heard anything else.

“Change of plans. We’re going to my family’s mountain home. Take the ramp to I-80 West.”

I slow the car down and put my signal on as if I’m planning on turning into the gas station despite his instructions otherwise. “I said get on the interstate! Now!” he bellows and I cringe away from him, but I do as I’m told.

“Marshall, you don’t want to do this. Erik’s expecting me at the club.”

“Shut up!”

I feel tears brimming, but I don’t want the son of a bitch to know how scared I am. It’s about power with him, I realize that much.

“Can I just ask you why we’re going there? Can’t we just stop the car and talk?”

“I think better when I’m there,” he replies. “It’s my special place. It will all be mine someday. It’s got a lot of memories for me. I keep my special memories there,” he says distractedly. “Maybe you and I will make a memory there. Who knows?”

A feeling of dread envelops me. I can’t focus at the moment.

“You alright?” he asks.

I shake my head, “No.”

“You will be. I promise.”

Time is standing still. I feel like I’m having some sort of out of body experience; that I’m watching myself from somewhere else. I follow Marshall’s directions and, an hour later, I’m pulling up the steep, windy tree-lined drive to a secluded log home.

It’s fairly large, with a wrap-around porch and situated far back from the two lane road outside of Ogden, Utah. Ordinarily, I would love being in such a beautiful, scenic place. But not now, and especially not with him.

My mind thinks back to what Erik told me about Angie being here. I’m pretty sure he has the same thing in mind for me.

He pulls me from the car and grips my forearm tightly, leading me up the wooden steps to the front porch. A light has been left on inside. He unlocks the door with one hand and pushes me inside with the other.

“Sit,” he orders, flicking on a few more lamps. “How about a nice cozy fire while we chat?”

“Marshall,” I start, “I’m not understanding any of this.”

“You will.”

I watch as he places some logs into the fireplace and then lights a match, tossing it in, the flames shooting up brightly. He turns and, for the first time, I can clearly see his face.

His cheeks are thin and pale; his eyes look sunken and the dark circles underneath are haunting. “Marshall, what’s happened to you?” I ask.

He ignores my question, pulling a small plastic bag out of the pocket of his jeans. “Wanna do some chocolate mescaline?” he offers, holding the bag out to me.

I shake my head ‘no.’

“No? Well, I hope you don’t mind if I drop a tab of it. Makes me see things more clearly.”

“It’s acid,” I reply. “Is that the reason you look like…”

“Like what?” he asks sharply.

“Skinny and pale.”

“Is that how I look to you, Angie?”

I watch as he eats two tabs of the acid. “I’m not Angie.”

“Yeah? You might as well be. She didn’t like doing the chocolate mesc either. Downers were her deal. But, hey, I’ve got some of those here for you. She left some here the last time she…
visited
.”

I watch as he goes to the kitchen, and for a split second I consider taking off on foot, but he’s right back with a glass of water and a pill bottle. I take the glass of water from him, but not the pills.

“Take them,” he orders. “You’re going to need them.”

“No,” I reply firmly. “I don’t want them.”

I take a sip of the water, setting the glass down on the table next to me. I’m totally caught off guard when his open palm makes brutal contact with my cheek. “I said swallow these fucking pills, bitch!”

I don’t move. I’m as still as a statue sitting on that sofa. He pulls my hat off and grabs my hair with his fist, forcing my head back. As I scream, he drops two of the pills down my throat. I gag, but they’re already lodged halfway down. “Drink,” he orders, handing me the glass of water.

I take it from him and swallow gulps of water, choking and sputtering.

“Good girl,” he says. “Things will go much better for you if you just do as I say.”

I can feel the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. My hackles are raised. There’s imminent danger! Every human instinct that has survived in man over the centuries is on high alert. My eyes dart around the room for something—anything I might use to defend myself and escape.

The phone rings from the kitchen. “Oh, that will be my dad. I called him earlier to let him know the truck was out of gas. I told him I had a ride with Keith and Kim up here. Which I do, but not for another ninety minutes. I’ve planned everything out very carefully. See how everything is falling into place? Don’t go anywhere,” he cautions, heading toward the kitchen.

I immediately get up as soon as he’s gone. I can hear him talking to someone on the phone. My eyes dart around the room for something—anything I can use. There’s a closet underneath the large staircase to the loft above. A perfect place to store hunting rifles; a bow and arrow, anything that can help me defend myself.

I open the door and see a wooden chest against the back of the closet. It’s long enough to hold rifles. I switch the light on inside the closet and open the chest.

I feel my jaw drop as I recognize the contents. My 8-track player is inside, along with my Carly Simon tape, but there’s also something I recognize that isn’t mine. I lift up the folded yellow tee shirt and shake it out. The bold, red lettering I’ve seen before:

1973 Battle of the Bands, Salt Lake City, Utah

1st Place

That’s Angie’s tee shirt. He took her shirt like some…some token?

“What are you doing?” he voice is behind me now. “Are you fucking snooping in my shit?”

He grabs me from behind and I scratch, claw and struggle to get out of his grip, but I can’t. He knocks me to the floor with one quick blow to the back of my head.

I’m stunned and silenced at the same time.

“Now,” he continues, “I just wanted to talk to you, that’s all. Why are you being so uncooperative? You treat me like shit these days. Do I deserve that? Huh?”

I play possum, but not for long. He kicks me in the ribs,
hard
. I moan in pain. “Why are you doing this to me?” I ask.

“Why are you doing this to me?”
he mocks. “Same shit, different day! You’re just like fuckin’ Angie, aren’t you? Except, you’re even more of a prick tease than she was! Must like Erik’s cock, huh? She liked it, she even told me so that last time we talked on the phone. She fucking had to hurt me like that on Christmas Eve!”

Oh God.

“Yeah,” he says with a smirk. “She had the nerve to go to the mall wearing that fucking tee shirt in there. Just had to keep rubbing it in my face. Even after he dumped her ass, she still wouldn’t have me back. They didn’t find her wearing that tee shirt in the car though. Nope. They certainly did not!”

“You killed her,” I whisper. “Is that what you have planned for me?”

“I had to kill her,” he replies. “She was pregnant.”

“Oh my God.”

“Oh not by your precious
Erik,”
he sneers. “Nope. The baby was mine. You see, she and I got down right after Erik dumped her, you know, for old time’s sake? It was right before Homecoming. We were both so fucked up we didn’t even think about using a condom. I mean, what the fuck? Just one time, right? So
she
was the one that called
me
once she got out of rehab.”

“What?”

“That’s right. She called
me.
Needed money for an abortion. She was afraid the baby would be fucked-up. Hey, I didn’t want her to have one, but she . . . she wasn’t
listening
to me,” he says, his voice quivering now with anger. She was all about the money. Even when I offered to marry her,” he snarls. “Know what she said?”

I slowly shook my head.

“The bitch said ‘dream on’ . . . said she wanted Erik back! So, you see, I
have
to destroy everything that son of a bitch has taken from me. It’s only right, Angie, you know that!”

I lift my upper body from the floor and struggle to look at him, though I’m starting to feel the effects of the pills he forced down me. “I’m Cece,” I reply, “And, I belonged to Erik first. Please don’t do this. I won’t tell anyone, I swear.”

“Do you think I’m a stupid mother-fucker?” he asks, incredulously.

“Look,” I plead, trying to make his mind think logically, but knowing it’s too far gone with the acid trip at the moment, “Nobody is gonna believe that two high school girls in a small town like Evanston both committed suicide. They’ll trip you up for sure. Let’s just forget any of this happened. I’m willing.”

He looks at me with glassy eyes, and a smirk plays across his lips. “Good point. Now see,
that’s
a piece of information I can appreciate.”

He goes to the kitchen and there’s nothing I can do because my legs and arms feel like lead; my head feels heavy, too. I look at the clock over the mantle. It’s 9:35 p.m. Erik’s band is just finishing their first set. He’s wondering where I am; worried that I’ve had an accident. I hate Marshall with every fiber in my being.

I make one last attempt to put one foot in front of the other and make it to the front door. That idea slips into darkness as does every other part of me.