chapter eleven

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Ben casually inquired.
She should have known he wouldn’t have been any different. Why had she ever hoped he would? Grace decided not to be hurt by what she strangely felt as betrayal. It’s not like he could be expected to be trusted anyway. She did, however, spare a brief thought full of regret before shrugging it off and replacing it with a look of indifference.
Stepping in even closer to him, closing the gap, she laced one arm around his neck and found his mouth with hers. Trying her best to be a tease while battling the hollowness she once again felt in the depths of her stomach, she slowly parted his lips with her tongue and swept it inside. After a moment he began kissing her back restively and so she decided to get it over with. Moving her free hand down she had just adroitly commenced to unbutton his jeans when he flinched and pulled himself away.
He actually had the nerve to look shocked and she couldn’t hold back her bitter derisive laughter. “What the hell did you think I was doing, trying to get better acquainted?” she demanded, insinuating exasperation.
He scoffed incredulously while walking to the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. Grace fleered again and shook her head. Then she sat on one of the beds, waiting for him to get himself together again.

At first Ben could not help returning her kiss, his retaliation less controlled than he had predicted, but when he felt her deft, small hand on him he lost it, realizing he hadn’t really been prepared for her obvious familiarity of men. He had actually assumed she’d back down after a minute or so of him exploring her mouth, he even thought he’d have to initiate first contact. He figured he’d break her façade of toughness and have some fun while he was at it. He certainly hadn’t predicted the skill of a whore from a 16-year-old. He began to wonder what kind of person she actually was and how she had gotten so adept.
When he left the bathroom he saw Grace lying on a bed with such helplessness, however misleading, that he was actually sorry for a moment that he had stopped her. If he hadn’t at least he might be holding her this very moment instead of wishing he was. He quickly dismissed the ridiculous notion and went to turn off the light.

Ben shut off the light, walked to the lonely bed, and sat down without saying a word to her. She could hear him remove his clothing and wondered if he had changed his mind but she only saw his silhouette pull back the covers of the other bed and silently lie down. Out of the darkness came a charming, southern accent, and “Are you still going to be here when I wake up?”
She thought a moment and asked curiously, “What would you do if I weren’t?
He was silent for a long minute and then quietly revealed, “Nothing.”

Grace sat up in bed bathed in a cold sweat. Although her heart was racing she hadn’t uttered a sound and Ben was still asleep. The first time the nightmare had visited her she awoke screaming involuntarily in the middle of the night. For almost a week she did this while enduring the beatings that came along with it every time she awoke Bradley until she finally learned to fear in silence.
She felt hot and stifled so she stood up and, seeing that she was still fully clothed, didn’t bother to change before she went outside for some air. She wandered around aimlessly for a while and eventually ended up at a tiny, all night movie theatre. She paid an old man with tired eyes for a ticket to an ancient movie called “The Birth of a Nation” because considering its name she thought it might be able to lull her into a rare restful sleep. She walked inside and saw the neon green wall clock that said it was almost two o’clock in the glorious life of the night.

When Ben opened his eyes that morning at the unholy hour of 6:30 and saw Grace’s bed deserted he assumed the worst. He knew she wasn’t at fault for running again but he sure as hell wanted her to be. He wished he could blame her for doing exactly the same thing he would have done but knew he could not.
Suddenly he heard someone actually kick the door, interrupting thoughts that were suspiciously close to self-pity. Then he recognized that noise and the one that had awoken him in the first place as one and the same. Although he usually didn’t stay up as late as he had the night before he was used to getting up almost this early even on the weekends to go jogging so his head was clear but since he felt like sulking a bit longer he planned on ignoring whoever it was. Then he heard brash cursing and the door swung inward, revealing a disgruntled Grace with a key in her left hand and a scowl on her beautiful face. He couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit delirious at being mistaken about her previous absence.
“What the hell were you doing? Didn’t you hear me? Damn, I guess I have to do everything myself,” she comically complained, picking up a big bag she had had to put down in order to get the door open.
“Oh man, sorry. I thought you had left,” he explained, “Why didn’t you?”
“I can’t leave. I have a gig tonight. Besides, this is my room, remember? I couldn’t sign out without waking you up first and that would pretty much defeat the purpose of ‘escaping’ now wouldn’t it?” she asked him, clearly exasperated.
He grinned but said nothing. God, he was acting like an idiot but there was nothing he could do about it. He had to admit it: he was definitely glad she was still around, although God only knew why.
“Where’d you go?” he asked her, wanting to have an ordinary conversation for once, totally void of any anger.
“Just places,” she avoided the question. Now she would try to change the subject, Ben predicted, “I got breakfast. I doubt I need to ask if you like donuts considering your profession.” Bingo, he thought.
Ignoring her comment he lied, telling her he absolutely loved donuts, not wanting to start anything even though she profusely continued to bait him. After he silently endured a minute or so filled with bad cop jokes she apparently got bored.
Breaking the silence that was the closest thing to comfortable that they had shared so far she spoke, “I’ve been thinking, the only way you could have known what you did about my past is if you got your hands on my file. And although I’ve tried to figure it out, there seems to be few ways to do that without risk of Bradley finding out. And the chance of him doing just that very soon only got higher when I contemplated the fact that you wouldn’t have any reason to be inconspicuous about it since you haven’t the faintest idea what exactly is going on with my step-uncle and I. So my question to you is; just how diligent were you in getting your information?”
He froze when he realized she was right but tried to act unaffected when he saw her studying him. He didn’t know what was going on. He didn’t try to be cautious about getting her file because he was practical; why would he assume Bradley would be so paranoid as to check up on him just for making contact with Grace, especially after Ben had reported it to him. But if this whole thing was bigger than it looked, he had heard that the chief was capable of almost anything. He had to know just how big to be sure.
“Why would your uncle go to such lengths to find you when you obviously don’t want to be found?”
“I need the answer to my question first, if Bradley finding you is a possibility than he already has,” she pressed.
Ben decided to cooperate for now, “Alright, he’ll be able to trace the files here if he tries.”
Grace quickly left the room, evidently to sign out, and when she returned she began to rush about the room, gathering things. “Are you gonna help me or not?” she snapped at him when he remained where he was.
“I don’t think it’s necessary for you to leave right this moment. It’s going to take him a while to find you anyway, right? Right?” he pressed her right back.
She stopped and looked at him, annoyed, “Look Ben," they were apparently on a first name basis now, "the truth of it is that he already knows where you are and that means he knows where I am too. So I’m getting the hell out of here now. And if you know what’s good for you so will you.”
“If I know what’s good for me!?” he asked incredulously, “You act like we are in the middle of a Dick Tracy movie or something!”
She stopped again and looked as though she was losing her temper. Then she said in a voice that made him feel like he was three years old again, “Don’t you get it yet? First you disobeyed his command to get lost, and then you find out that I eluded him and still didn’t say anything. He’s sure as hell pissed off and once he gets the chance he’ll do whatever it takes to screw with you to the point of your debating suicide just to be rid of him! And you won’t be able to do a goddamn thing about it! I’m not being dramatic, just truthful.” She averted her eyes from his by using the excuse of stuffing rumpled clothes in a tattered bag and softly added, “Trust me, I’ve watched it happen.”
He didn’t say anything but continued to watch her as she packed.
She finished quickly in the sudden silence and walked to the door, turning to him as she turned the handle. “Well, what’s it gonna be? You coming or will you wait here to willingly offer your neck to the clutches of my uncle?” Grace spoke in sarcastic, biting tones, mentioning her relation to Bradley as if the mere words were bitter and had to be expelled from the reaches of her tongue immediately.
Wordlessly, he stood up. He walked to the door and looked her in the eye while he began to ask in a stilled voice, “How is it that—? No, why do you—? What could be so—?” Ben fumbled for the right words for another moment and then sighed and tried one last time, “What I’m trying to say, Grace, is just this: What is it that haunts you so utterly?”
She was mildly startled by the staggering question but at the same time Grace vividly recalled the murmur of her own name echoing in the sound of his voice. Unfortunately, it made her feel unworthy of such a title and with that thought she sobered swiftly. Regaining her composure that no one could have knew she had fleetingly lost, she replied smoothly, with no lack of coolness, “If you’re coming than I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to speak of our deepest, darkest secrets at a less pressing time, although apparently you crave the suspense.”
Gathering his remaining pride and holding onto it with all of his might, Ben drew himself up to his full height of 6’2 and answered, “I’m not.”
“What? You mean you’re not coming? But I told you what Bradley can—”
“Listen to me. I’ll just tell him what I told you. He has no reason to suspect me of following you for any other reason besides the obvious. I’m sure he has plenty of young cops doing extra to get on his good side. Except for your appearance there should be no reason for me to not have forgotten you by dinner.”
She tried to sound nonchalant when she said, “Fine do what you want. But just try to be careful, alright?” she hesitated over her next words, “I don’t speak lightly when I say I’m not intimidated easily, but Richard Bradley is the sole reason I wake in the night.”
Being true to her name, Grace covered the distance to her truck and glanced back to the unwavering eyes of Benjamin Curtis for what she believed to be the last time.

Ben watched her drive away until her car was no longer within his view and still he didn’t move. A complete sixty seconds later he began the short walk to the office. By now he accepted the fact that others were on their way to Artesia already and contemplated what he needed to do. He decided to tell them that he lost Grace on one of the major highways on their way in this direction and so stopped in the nearest town. After he finished what he needed to do in the office he would go back to the office and call Bradley to explain himself and maybe do a little groveling, he seemed like the kind of man who was into that. If the Chief of Police asked why he wanted a copy of his niece’s file, he would just tell him that he hoped it would give him a clue to where she might have gone, thereby locating her once again. He had reached the office so he opened the door and went in.
A young Asian woman with fading pink pigtails, several piercings, and a white T-shirt with a tie-dye marijuana leaf on it and a scribbled slogan underneath that claimed, ‘The Meaning of Life’, was close to nodding off behind the counter.
“Excuse me ma'am,” he began, already off to a bad start when she nearly fell off her stool and turned to glare at him, “I’m sorry if I startled you but my name is Ben and I’m an officer from California. I need to see a list of the people who checked in last night.”
He saw that the fact of his being a cop didn’t sit well with her and quickly tried to amend any damage done. “Alright, the truth is, some colleagues of mine are going to be here real soon and I need that paper before they get here. I can give you fifty bucks for it.”
“Who’re you doing this for? It can’t be yourself since I didn’t see you check in last night at all?” She appeared much more interested.
Trusting that the woman (she still hadn’t bothered to give him her name) was too swept up in the mostly imagined excitement of it all he consented, “You remember the lady that checked out and left about ten minutes ago?”
“Oh yeah, the hot black chick. But I got the impression she only swings one way; you know what I’m saying? Hey, so I guess you’re the guy that ruined my chances, huh?” She laughed and didn’t seem to mind in the least that he didn’t exactly share in her mirth. In fact, that was probably what she found so hilarious.
Feeling more uncomfortable than he would have liked to admit he just said, damn he practically stuttered, “Uh, yeah, something like that. Anyway, I also need you to swear you won’t say anything to the guys about her if they come here and question you. Just make a phony check-in sheet and they shouldn’t know the difference,” he added that last part with the hope that having a hand in ‘destroying the evidence’ might ensure her silence.
Ten minutes and seventy-five dollars later he was back outside with the sign-up sheet from the night before in his pocket and the word of a stranger in his head. If Grace's uncle ever caught her, it wasn’t going to be because of him.