Page 2 of Forever Endeavor

CHAPTER 2

Thank God for Alanis.

“You Oughta Know” blasted through the car speakers as Billie rocketed down the highway, belting out the scathing anthem of the scorned and scarred. She knew every word by heart.

Like Alanis, Billie’s own Mr. Duplicity had really screwed her over. The warm, loving husband she thought she knew had suddenly flicked a personality switch to become prickly and withdrawn. He blamed the stress on work, but his dark, distant mood was so unlike the man she’d loved since college. As their emotional and physical connection dried up, the chasm between them widened to a gulch. Weary of being pushed away, Billie resorted to a wife’s very last option: snooping.

She scrolled through his phone, speed-reading through a dizzying number of messages, the next more damaging than the last. Secrets, timelines, and alibis. An affair? Not possible. There’d been no red flags or signal flares that he was being unfaithful. Surely, this had to be a bad dream or a Lifetime movie of the week starring Jennie Garth because it sure as hell wasn’t Billie’s life. Their marriage was solid. They were happily in love. Or at least, she thought so until she found those lewd texts. But now the harsh, horrible reality staring her in the face broke her heart and ripped at the seams of her soul until it detached, floating outside her numbed body.

Clutching the irrefutable evidence in her trembling hand, she confronted him. The blood drained from his face, leaving guilt written all over it. With nowhere to hide, he gave up a confession without coaxing or needing to be roughed up in a locked interrogation room with no cameras. Pity. Verbal sewage came spilling out of his cesspool of a yap as he admitted to a slew of indiscretions throughout their marriage.Good God, have I been living under a rock?Billie felt as dense as a rock. The world’s biggest, dumbest rock. Igneous Ignoramus.

“I never meant to hurt you, Billie, I swear,” he said in a tone that rang more of his relief than remorse, “but I’m glad the truth is finally out. It’s long overdue.”

What the hell did that mean? She trailed close behind as he slithered into their bedroom, filling a duffeland a suitcase before methodically transferring his suits into a garment bag. He packed with marvelous speed and efficiency, knowing precisely what to grab without a moment’s hesitation. If she hadn’t known better, she’d swear he had been planning a jailbreak for months.

This can’t be happening to us. We made vows in front of family and friends. He promised me forever. He told me he’d love me ‘til he died, ‘til he died…but dammit, he’s still alive.

“There’s no point in you begging me to come back, Billie. I’m done,” he said. And just when she thought he’d sunk to his lowest, the bastard turned around and sucker punched her with a parting blow. “I was going to wait until after our anniversary, but I guess now’s as good a time as any. Here.” He thrust out a document containing garbled legalese. “The settlement terms are fair, but have a lawyer read it as soon as possible so we can get it over with.”

Divorce papers? Get itover with? How could he be so robotic, so calculating, so completely devoid of emotion about a thirteen-year relationship imploding in less than twenty minutes? He’d obviously had enough time to get accustomed to the idea of divorcing her that he’d had the fucking papers drawn up.

He hurdled toward the front door with the velocity of an inmate about to taste freedom, before stopping to turn back. It gave her a last chance to peer into the black, hollow eyes of the man she shared her life, her home and her bed with, but obviously did not know. An uncaring bystander watching her get blindsided by the break-up bus and sucked under its wheels. “Sorry it had to end this way, Billie, but life is not one of your fucking romance novels where everyone gets to live happily ever after.”

As her world crashed down, her resolve crumbled and an avalanche of tears began to slide. “I don’t understand how you could do this to me. Don’t you love me?”

“Ididloveyou.” Then he shut the door for the last time, leaving her with the lonely echo of the past tense.

Now, nearly two years later, soul sisters Billie and Alanis were hauling ass on this long stretch of open road.

Instead of paying full fare for a non-stop flight, Billie tried to save a few bucks by flying a discount airline out of the regional airport a few hundred miles away. The day’s drive was a real bear, but it meant more funds to splurge on a suite upgrade and bottomless piña coladas when she and her suitcase of gauzy beachwear arrived in Punta Ca—

Bing!

A bright orange check engine light popped up on her dashboard.

“Shit!” Anxiety gripped Billie’s foot and lifted it off the gas pedal. A warning light in a brand new car? She turned down the music to tune in to the purr of the engine. Sounded normal. No black smoke pouring out from under the hood.Nah, it’s a fluke.I’ll get it checked out when I get back.Stepping on the accelerator, she got back up to speed and resumed singing.

Bing!

Bing!

Bing!

The orange indicator was now a fiery ball of distress spouting off heated warning bells. With only four hundred miles and five hours left to cash in her ticket to paradise, it was a miserable time for car trouble. Then things went from bad to worse.

The car began to sputter and shake.Fuckfuckfuckityfuck.Billie mashed down on the brake and pulled off the rural highway. Heart pounding, she shifted into park, threw off her seatbelt and popped the hood. She got out to inspect the hot engine’s series of interconnected hoses and wires. Everything looked okay, maybe it just needed some fresh air. But with the clock ticking down to departure time, she sprang into action. Thankfully, her phone plucked a weak signal out of the air, even as she found herself high and dry amid the vast seas of corn.

The auto club’s roadside assistance hotline traced her godforsaken location and promised to dispatch a local mechanic pronto. Relieved, she moved on to Plan B. Now who liked her enough to be willing to drive hundreds of miles out of their way to pick her up? She scrolled through her contacts. Not Carmen. And certainly not her ex, although if that liar put out an SOS because his pants were on fire,Billie would be the first to arrive. With marshmallows.

Fifteen minutes crept into thirty. Growing more desperate with every molasses-moving minute, she toyed with the idea of hitchhiking. Did people even attempt such a stupid thing anymore, or had grisly true crime podcasts done a good job of scaring them shitless? Now it was forty minutes since she’d reached the auto club, she could’ve been another fifty miles away by now. Should she call again? No, that might bump her down in the queue. Argh. That did it. Stupid or not, she’d thumb a ride with the next motorist to drive over that hill.

She leaned against the car and waited in the heat of the afternoon sun. Not a living soul around, other than pesky flies and the odd crow flapping by. Or maybe that was the buzzards already circling. Finally, she heard a distant rumble. Heat flooded her body as she broke into a cold sweat. Billie steeled herself to jump in with a total stranger, praying it would be a trucker with four on the floor and not a deranged serial killer with four in the cellar.

As the motor roared louder, her courage vanished. Like her life depended on it, she opened the car, threw her body behind the wheel, slammed the door, turned the key, and clicked the power lock. Safe. Heart in her throat, she stayed slumped low on the seat as she snuck a peek into the side mirror. Flashing amber lights? Oh thank you, Baby Jesus. The tow truck.

The rattling rust bucket of bolts pulled onto the gravel shoulder and got swallowed up by a cloud of dust. It inched dangerously close to her rear bumper before jerking to a halt. Billie squirmed as she watched and waited. Why was it taking the driver so damn long to get out? Tick tock. Another Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter seemingly passed before his door finally opened and heavy work boots hit the pavement. He was a burly guy in mirrored shades and grease-stained coveralls, solidly built with a thick, bullish neck. Then again, objects may be larger than they appear. It said so right there on the mirror.

He rapped on the glass. “You called for a tow, ma’am?” As he smoothed two fingers down his dark horseshoe mustache, Billie was all-too aware that she was a sitting duck on the side of the highway in the middle of nowhere with Mr. Grease Monkey Fu Manchu.Yup, all the makings of a true crime podcast.

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