Deeper Illusions (13 page)

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 disor
iented and confused. Natalie 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, b
ecause 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.”

She was crying again. “Why can't it be me? What's so wrong with me?”

“Nat, nothing's wrong with you. You're beautiful, you're bright, and you're sweet. But you're not Iris.”

“I've loved you for years before you met Iris,” she said.

“I know,” I said. “Bad timing, I guess.”

Then I sat down again on the bar, and put my head in my hands. When was Iris going to come home for real? Where was she? Did Rochelle get to her? She said that she didn't, and I believed her, but was I being naïve? What happened to Andrew?

Then Nat said, as if it just dawned on her, “you hit your head? Oh, shit. When did that happen?”

“Sometime. I’m not sure. I fell in the shower because of my exhaustion, an
d knocked myself out. All I remember was that I was talking to my father, but he looked weird. Then you came in, and I thought you were her.”

“I better get you to the ER right away.”

At that, Natalie drove me to the nearest hospital so that I could get checked out. The doctor finally saw me after about two hours in the waiting room, and gave me a neurological exam, including a CAT scan. He announced what I already knew – I had suffered a severe concussion when I smacked my head, and that, combined with severe sleep deprivation, is what caused me to hallucinate.

“Are you still having the hallucinations?” the doctor asked me.

“No. My memory issues have resolved as well.”

“There probably is not any reason for further treatment, then. Just monitor your symptoms, and come back in if you start suffering severe headaches, more hallucinations, memory lapses, nausea or vomiting, dizziness, vision problems, slurred speech, confusion or clumsiness. We can’t be too careful,” the d
octor said, handing me a brochure on concussions. “It sounds like you also hallucinated because of severe sleep deprivation. Five days without any sleep can cause a variety of neurological impairments. It is somewhat unusual to hallucinate, even after a lack of sleep and a concussion, but not unheard of. Especially since the two risk factors were combined.”

“Thanks,” I said.

On the way home, I laid into Natalie again. “Natalie, first of all, thanks for taking me to the hospital. I want to get that out of the way. Now I have to ask – what the fuck were you thinking? You completely took advantage of my mental state.”

“I told you, I love you. I don’t know. You thought I was her, and I…well, I had to feel you inside of me again. I’ve never gotten over that feeling of having you inside of me.
I’m ashamed of what I did, but it was almost worth it to have that feeling again.”

“As I said, Nat, not a goddamned word about this. Not to Nate,
not to Nick, not to Alexis, and certainly never to Iris. Got that? You breathe a word, and I will never speak to you again. Ever. We clear?”

She nodded her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I just want you to love me, that’s all.”

“I have to be blunt here. You’re a good friend. Nothing more. I know that we used to be friends with benefits back in the day, but that can’t happen anymore. I’m married to my soul mate. I’m sorry if that’s an inconvenient truth, but there we are. Now, you have to get on my plane and go home.”             

I sent Nat on her way, putting her on my private plane, so that she couldn't use the excuse that she was unable to find a flight home on such short notice.

Then stayed awake all that night.

I got into work the next day, and put on my acting face once more.

Around five, I was working away, trying to focus and throw myself into my projects, when my secretary informed me that I had a call from a Cindy Johnson.

I groaned. Cindy was the prosecutor for Rochelle's case, and she no doubt was looking for Iris to ask her some questions prior to Rochelle's trial as a part of the discovery process.

“Ryan Gallagher,” I spoke into the phone.

“Hello, this is Cindy Johnson. I've been trying to get in touch with Iris because I need to talk to her about the Rochelle Anderson case.”

“Actually, Ms. Johnson, Iris is missing,” I said in as professional tone as I could possibly muster.

“I don't understand?”

“I haven't seen or talked to my wife for over two weeks now.” Just saying the words made me die inside, but I had on my actor persona again, and I was sure that I was coming off cold.

“Over two weeks? That’s about when I spoke with her
.”