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Walt
Jeremih’sPut it Down On Me blasts as I put the last bit of seasoning on the meat. We haven’t had not one barbeque this entire summer, so I aim to fix that. It can also serve as a celebration for my future niece or nephew. My time in Texas must have created a love for brisket because it’s the top thing on my list. By my calculations, Everie will be home by the time the food is ready, and we’ll still have enough daylight for a mini pool party.
I dance my way through the preparations and drop the meat on the grill after ensuring the fire is low. Whit and Rowe are off in the distance, talking big shit to each other as they play one-on-one basketball. I’m glad that they got over the news and are both happy about it. I love seeing them in sync. Sparrow watches them while Moonlight makes some drinks. Apparently, I’m a fan of her lemonade and I can’t wait to try it. Now that the meat needs to be left to cook, I wash my hands, then go see who’s winning.
Rowe dunks the winning shot, then beats his naked chest like he’s King Kong.
“That’s how I won championships, baby,” he taunts Whit.
Whit was more than capable of playing basketball but didn’t want the attention. I, on the other hand, loved the sport and didn’t mind the attention.
He ignores Rowe’s taunts as he drinks water and checks for any signs of distress in Moonlight. That poor woman may be on involuntary bedrest soon. Grabbing the ball. I play with it, checking what I remember. My brain goes back to flashes of me playing in high school and with every turn, Anika’s face flashes. The frequency makes me stop and grab my head as the ball rolls away.
“Are you okay, Walt?” Whit asks me, his voice is full of concern.
I shake away the memory and the anger that rides it. “Yeah. It wasn’t the parties, Whit. That bitch was at all of my games.”
There is always a cold, sick feeling that follows a memory of her. It makes me hate her more.
My phone rings before anyone can respond to my revelation. I stare at numbers I haven’t seen before but opt to answer.
“Hello? Mr. Cambridge?” The frazzled voice sounds familiar, but I’m not placing him.
“Who’s this?”
“Chris.”
“Is your name supposed to mean something to me?”
He sighs hard but gets to the point. “I’m Everest’s director. I can’t reach her by phone-”
“Why in the hell would you need to reach her by phone when she’s there with you?”
“That’s the thing, sir. I can’t find her.”
“What do you mean?”
Chris rambles as he becomes more frustrated. “We called the cops. Her room is ransacked, and Coco is injured.” He sounds like he’s trying to hold it together. “It looks like she was shot or stabbed. It’s too much blood to tell. I found your number on her paperwork as her emergency contact...”
His words create a feeling inside of me that is so sickening it makes me sway a little. I don’t know if I’m going to throw up or pass out, but I don’t have the time for either.
“Get the entire cast to break up and look for her. FUCKING FIND MY WIFE!”
My legs feel like jelly, but I take off running full speed towards the cars. Rowe catches up with me right before I make it to his SUV and pushes me toward the passenger side. I jump in without argument. I want to bark out orders, but my mind is stuck on getting to her. As Rowe approaches the theater, I call her over and over. Enough fog lifts for me to hear him barking orders on his bluetooth.
“Dad, call Tucker,” he tells Whit. “Have Moonlight and Sparrow find everything they can about that Happy asshole.”
“I don’t know what I’ll do…”
“You won’t have to figure out. You’ll get her back,” Rowe assures me with conviction, but we’re both wound tightly.
He screeches to a stop in front of the theater. We jump out, not caring about parking; the town can have the fucking car. We push people out of the way as we enter Everie’s dressing room. There are signs of a struggle that has my brain working to picture what happened. Each scenario drops me more into darkness, spiking my rage.
I know I want to rip apart the culprit with my bare hands. I try to search for clues, but my extreme vexation isn’t helping.
Rowe pushes away the cast member trying to bandage Coco and scoops her up.
“I’m taking her to the vet, Zombie,” he yells on his way out.
I nod like he can see me. No one can drag me away from this dressing room. I continue to search for something, anything, that will tell me something. Rage and a fear like none I’ve ever known grips me, but I can’t listen to it. I push my way through the room. There’s nothing here for me to find. I need air before I blow up this entire town.
Sirens blast, signaling the first responders have arrived. Rowe is long gone with Coco. I hope that she’ll be okay. We all love that dog. Fear for my wife’s well-being doesn’t allow me to focus on anything for long. My brain splits in so many ways that I’m stuck, unsure of which way to move.
One of Tucker’s men approaches me with eyes full of contrition. He must be the one who was supposed to be watching her. I want to rage, but I’m so overwhelmed I’m numb. My body is buzzing, not knowing what to do. Tucker appears and grabs him by the neck before he can say anything to me. That works out better. I can’t deal with someone else’s guilt. I need to find my wife.
“Everie, baby. I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’ll find you if it’s the last thing I do.”
