Single Wired Female (Wired for Love Book 2) (3 page)

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The following day Bonnie woke up to an older couple inside of her room. They were looking over her charts and arguing over something but she couldn’t place who they were. She had her back turned to them so she feigned being asleep and listened as they threw accusations back and forth.

She heard the words “your daughter” and immediately assumed that it was made in reference to her. What bothered her was that she had no recollection of her parents, though she tried and tried to bring up some memories.

After fifteen minutes of eavesdropping quietly, Bonnie decided that she couldn’t take it any longer. She rolled over to face them and what she saw surprised her. The woman looked both stately and ethereal at the same time, and next to her was a bald gentleman with a gray goatee. The pair complemented one another with wealth and status and they both smiled widely when they saw her face.
These are my parents?
Bonnie asked herself and when they moved in closer, she couldn’t help but smile back at them.

“Nothing keeps my little girl down,” the old man said, and the woman broke down crying and fell into his arms. It was clear that she was unable to hold it together and she became a mess of stuttering as she shuddered with tears.

“Mom?” Bonnie tried, and the woman paused

“Mom? Oh, no…” she said and began to cry even louder.

“Bonbons, this isn’t your mother. This is your Auntie Sarah, remember?” the old man said but maintained a smile which Bonnie read as a poor attempt at understanding.

“I’m sorry, my memory comes in and out,” she said and sat up in her bed to get a better look at them. The tubes that appeared when she revealed her arms made the woman cry louder when she saw them.

“Aunt Sarah, I am okay,” Bonnie said, hoping that her tone did not sound as forced as it was for her to say it. She did not know the woman or the man, so calling them family was all an act. She summoned some strength and tried to speak loud enough to be heard above her aunt. “Listen, Dad, I’m really tired and the crying is kind of stressing me out. Thanks for coming by to see me today, but I think I need to rest.”

After some objections followed by apologies, the two older people left and the room was once again awash in silence. Bonnie wished and hoped that it would remain that way. If those really were her family members, she couldn’t understand why she didn’t remember them at all. But it was silent now, so she lay back on the bed and exhaled with happiness for the peace.

When the nurse, Peter, came back inside, Bonnie didn’t say anything to him. She merely watched him go about his rounds while looking outside of her room to see what was going on. She was so intent on seeing out there that she didn’t realize he was watching her. He walked over to the door and slid it shut and then smiled at her with what seemed like genuine warmth.

“You don’t have much longer with us, Bonnie. I know that you’re restless.”

“How long have I been in here?” she asked.

“I’m not sure if I’m allowed to answer that,” he said. “That detective has come by every week for —” He stopped talking and watched her as she rolled her eyes, and his features softened as he approached her bed. “I’ll get in trouble but I’m going to tell you, but you can’t freak out or scream at the rest of the staff over this. You can get mad at me, god knows that you deser—”

“Oh my god, will you just tell me?” she said. “I don’t care if it has been over a year, I just want to know.”

“You’ve been here for four months. Admitted in August, and it’s taken this long for your memory to kick in. I’m not toying with you, but I do want you to get better. Do you recognize anything about this room?”

Bonnie looked around and then shook her head, “How often do my dad and aunt come to visit?” she asked.

“That was the first time, if I’m not mistaken. The old man calls once in a while to check in on you, but aside from the detective I haven’t really seen anyone come to look in on you.”

Peter seemed to think that he had said too much and smiled at her nervously before speeding through his tasks. Bonnie thanked him and sat quietly after that, trying to figure out why her short-term memory had been such a problem. She looked over at the bedside table and saw a notepad there with extensive writing on the top sheet.

When she picked it up she realized that it was her own hand writing and the notes were reminders of all the things that she had asked Peter about. She didn’t envy his job of dealing with her but at the same time she didn’t want to be trapped inside of a hospital for a long time. She had thought enough to take some notes, but what good were notes if you couldn’t remember to read them?

“This really sucks,” she said out loud and Peter glanced at her with pity in his eyes.

“You’re in the best hospital in Seattle, Bonnie. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re going to get your life back, don’t you worry,” he said.

It was another three months before Bonnie could leave the hospital but Sal wouldn’t let her return to the house where she was attacked.

She was flown to the other side of the country inside a car with black-tinted windows and a bulletproof exterior. Sal set her up inside of a nice apartment near the harbor in St. Petersburg, Florida. Bonnie didn’t like the idea of moving but all of her anxiety went away when she stepped inside of her new home. Actually when she stepped inside she cursed out loud with excitement and then ran from room to room, taking it in. Another reason why she liked her new digs was that it came with a spectacular view of the water.

To conceal her identity, Bonnie dyed her hair and replaced her curly locks with a long black mane with bangs. She had always been a girl that delighted in her lipstick game but as “incognito Bonnie” she kept her lips glossy and not much else.

St. Petersburg was different from Seattle in many ways, though both cities were on the water and had their share of boats and boat lovers. After three days had passed since her release from the hospital, she decided that it was safe to step outside. She sat on the porch of her tenth floor apartment and flipped through her personal device to see if any news had been posted.

She searched for her name and address in Seattle but the only thing she could find was a story about an unrestrained android. She smiled when she read about the android’s escape—they were a fascinating curiosity that she had always been interested in.
I hope she punched out a bunch of them
, she thought and then slid her finger down the device to power it off.

She got up and stretched her long, tanned limbs and then went inside to decide on an activity for the day.

“I’m never hungry,” she said out loud as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She was slim but muscular, and she rubbed her flat stomach as if doing this would summon up an appetite. She wondered if the trauma of the shooting was the cause for her lack of appetite but she let it pass and forced herself to walk over to the refrigerator.

After taking a quick nap on her couch, Bonnie—who was now calling herself Darlene—decided that she would go for a walk. She chose sandals, tiny black shorts, and a salmon-colored tank top to survive the heat. It wasn’t bad when she got to the streets, and when she put on her sunglasses she blended in with all of the women that were there.

The people of St. Petersburg were a lot friendlier and much more curious than the ones in Seattle. At first this made her self-conscious but this soon passed. After a few blocks of walking and returning a subtle wave or a smile, she accepted it all as a part of the Southern culture.

The bay area held no shortage of markets and stores so Bonnie took advantage of the ones that sold clothes. She was up to five bags by the time she stopped shopping but she was having the time of her life. The place where she decided to take a break was an outside bar that wasn’t too popular. As soon as she sat down a pretty, young blonde walked over and took her drink order.

Bonnie took a straw hat from one of her bags, tried it on, and then pulled out her device to search for news on her case. After finding nothing, she decided to look up the name, “Sal Minstretta”. She looked through ten pages of results for articles or information but she couldn’t find anything that was conclusive.

The waitress brought her a margarita and she tipped her well, then watched her as she went off to the other tables. There was something off about the girl and Bonnie wanted to know what it was. She watched her intently as she took more orders, punched them in, and then went back to the bar to pour the drinks. The woman was a machine, perfect in her movements. There was no hesitation, no stumbling or spills, just poetry in motion as she did her job effortlessly.

Bonnie realized that the waitress was an android. She was built to look like a pretty human girl but was a restrained tool of whomever owned the bar. It only made sense that she was an android: she could work all week long without taking a break.

Something about this made Bonnie feel sad but she couldn’t figure out what it was. She was fascinated with androids; she had always been. One of the memories that she could manage to pull out of her cloudy mind was of she and her friends arguing over the future of androids. There was something about man creating life, and the argument that some of these creations had crossed over into true sentience. These sentient androids, these “unrestrained,” had become the focus of politicians and law enforcement. Bonnie saw them as a scapegoat, a convenient target, when in reality they would only enhance human life.

She found Sal’s contact code and decided to call him as she sipped her margarita and watched the waitress. A few times the girl would catch her staring, give her a smile, and then return to doing whatever it was that she was doing. Bonnie thought that it would be wonderful to have an android’s body. You would never age, you would be immune to all diseases, and if something got damaged you could have it repaired.

“BONNIE!” Sal answered as if she was a long lost family member. She didn’t know whether to take it as sarcasm or genuine mirth. She paused as soon as he screamed her name, then knitted her brows and shook her head.

“Did you expect my call or something?” she asked.

“You’re a stranger that we stuck in a strange place to hide. Of course I expected your call, Bonnie. Everything good?”

“Everything’s good, I just wanted to get an update on the case. Have you all been able to catch that bastard or did he flee town already?”

“We’re going to catch him, you have my word on it. We have some very promising leads that we’re pursuing right now,” he said.

Bonnie rolled her eyes and leaned in toward her device. “That sounds as if you’re feeding me a line. You do know that I used to sell computers to lawyers, right? I have a nose for the bull, Salvatore, and I don’t appreciate it.”

“OH!” Sal exclaimed as if her words hurt and then descended into a fit of laughter. “Bonnie, my dear, I’m not feeding you lines. What happened to you was some serious, traumatic, crazy, alright? Neither I nor my partners in the Seattle police department are here to feed you lines, okay? We’re really on to this
sonofabitch
, so just bear with us. I will keep you updated, I promise.”

“Thanks, Sal,” Bonnie said and then disconnected the call.

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The next day, Bonnie decided to stay home and watch television. She really liked her apartment and with the memory loss she felt like a person that had been dropped into a new world and forced to adjust. This made dealing with people extremely hard, especially people that were supposed to be her family members and friends.

She had grown tired of pushing her brain to see if she could remember things. So she sat on the couch nursing a drink and watching the local news with little interest. She was examining the bad dress the woman on the television was wearing when her mind drifted back to the android bartender.

There was something off about that android but she couldn’t put her finger on it. How had she known that she was staring out of curiosity and not because she wanted her attention? She tried to remember every detail about the artificial woman. She was pale—that she remembered—and seemed out of place for sunny St. Petersburg. Her hair was perfect, skin smooth and flawless, and then there were those eyes, those emerald green—

She dropped her drink, splashing red liquor all over the white carpet and couch. Those piercing android eyes were not like any other android that she had seen before. There was intelligence there, the sort of intelligence that was reminiscent of people—real people—trapped in futile situations. That look of both wondering and begging for help. It was so subtle and nuanced that it had taken all this time for it to register.

The android had not come over to ask if she wanted another drink. Her eyes said, “Help me, I am an intelligent life-form stuck in this hell of repetition and abuse.”
But why would an android think to give that look to me?
she thought. It didn’t make any sense. She had never owned an android—the thought made her sick. Could that android have picked up on her politics that easily?

She thought about the fact that she was an outsider. Maybe the other patrons at the bar were regulars and the android saw her as a way out. It was all nonsense, she finally decided, and she ran to the kitchen to get a wet cloth to dab up the liquor that she had spilled.

“I am really losing my mind now,” she said out loud and then laughed despite herself.

There were so many oddities about her person that she wondered if the doctors had played around with her mind. Her device chimed and she reached up to look at the display. It was Sal, dressed in what appeared to be a raincoat.

“Caught him yet?” she answered quickly, and the sound of thunder was the answer that echoed into her ear.

“Sorry to bother you, Bonnie, but I wanted to give you the news before you see it on TV or whatever,” he said. He was serious, which was odd, and Bonnie’s heart began to race as if he was going to tell her that she had ten seconds to live.

“No, no problem. What did you find out?” she said, sliding down to the floor with her eyes on the off-yellow wall of the kitchen.

“Ronald is dead; he resisted arrest. We tried to give him options but he started shooting. I’m truly sorry, Bonn—”

“Sorry for what? That’s awesome news. I no longer have to worry about that psycho!”

“Well, alright, you took it better than I thought. Most people in your situation want to see a trial, see their attacker in chains, and get some closure that way and all.”

“I’m sure I’ll cry myself to sleep over that idiot tonight, Sal. Thanks for giving me the good news. So what happens now? To me, I mean. You guys flying me back to Seattle? Can I come home?”

“Not yet, kid. We shot your ex but if you recall, there was a woman with him. If you were to come back and end up hurt by his accomplice, well that wouldn’t make us very good law enforcement, now would it? Look, I know you want to come back to get your life back together, but we need another week. Could you please give us that?”

Bonnie didn’t answer immediately but sat for a time staring off into space. She thought it peculiar that she could remember everything about her job but nothing of her personal life. Who were her friends? Was that old man really her dad? If she were going to get any sort of memory jolt, wouldn’t it come from a familiar place? St. Petersburg, Florida was a beautiful place, but she needed to be back in her own neighborhood. Would one more week wreck everything in her life? How much worse could it really get? She thought about this as the rain played a symphony to her ears as Sal waited patiently on her answer.

“Do what you need to do, I appreciate all of your hard work. One more week, I can do that, though I hope you catch the bitch a lot sooner than that. I wish I could remember my friends and enemies to give some clue as to who she could be. But right now, all I can think about is the big vacant room that is my brain.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Bonnie. It will get better,” he said.

She turned off her device without giving him a reply.

She felt deflated, like an old balloon whose air had managed to leak all the way out. She had no past as far as she was concerned, so that had to mean she had no future. She reached up and ran her fingers through her hair, touching the scalp lightly to feel for scars. There were some, and at the base of her scalp was a scab that was tender to the touch. It made her curious. Why would a wound be back there if Roberts’s shots had come from the front?

She thought about the video and the female accomplice, and then the memory of her attack came rushing in. It hit her mind like a tsunami that had finally breached a manmade wall. She remembered the pain and then her eyes flying open to see the shadow at her bedroom door. She recalled the loud crash of his gun as he fired several times and then she remembered her inability to move. As the life threatened to leave her physical body, all she could focus on was the woman. She was pale with dark hair and eyes; that was what she remembered seeing. The woman stood at the doorway like a horrific doll watching him perform his deadly work.

There was no recollection of her being familiar, no a-ha moment of realization. She hadn’t known that it was Ronald because she didn’t pay attention to him. When the bullets began to fly and her body danced beneath their impact, it was the demon she focused on, the unmoving demon who stood watching, stoically.

The memory uncloaked itself inside of Bonnie’s mind and she sat staring off into nowhere with her mouth agape. Who could that woman have been? And who would be willing to accompany the murderer in order to watch her die on the bed? Without context and memories of relationships with people, this new revelation was worthless, but it was something and it gave her hope that even more would come back to her as time went by.