The Missing Bride: a cellphone novel by Alysse Aallyn

Chapter 15 – Why Women Escape Lord Verne

God knows I wanted to;
As he inveighed against Krutupian
The whole way back
And I kept silent,
Longing to be elsewhere.
I no longer wanted to play nice
With this impossible man.

I felt myself becoming mature but not
In the way my parents hoped –
That I would co-operate with authority –
But in my own way
Where I see “outside” power –
Even when it’s attractive..
At the Fifth Avenue apartments
Someone claiming to be Derek Lowther
Was pacing back and forth,
Eyed by a suspicious doorman.

He was over six feet tall, skinny with
Shoulder length brown hair,
Big soulful green eyes and perfect skin.
“You’re not Derek,” I announced, exiting the car,
“Derek Lowther is a ratty, pimply little brat
Who spits when he talks.”
“And you were a squirt with braces
And a squint,” he sassed back,
All I needed for confirmation.
Nobody knows about that squint!

“It’s called amblyopia
And I’m all cured now,” I told him
As we race-scrolled through our family pics
Growing up for each other
Years of ski slopes, school parties,
Beaches and Merry, Merry
Christmas. “Verne, this is Derek Lowther.”
Verne barely registered the presence of
Another human being.

“Step into the café,” he ordered.
Hadn’t we just breakfasted? But if
You’re six feet tall it’s different
Derek: Breakfast burrito and café Americano,
Verne: espresso and blueberry blintzes
Richenda: Milky coffee, everything bagel.
Only ordered where I can
Shed bagel dust at will.
“You know Mirabel?”
Demanded Verne, scouting
Bona fides.

“I know the Mirabel Legend,”
Derek offered. Honest guy.
“Kids hear gossip.”
“What kind of gossip?”
Verne was too sharp, I thought.
Soon Derek too would want escape –
Playing into my hands exactly.
“Text and sub text.

“Text” was my parents saying Mirabel ran away
And “sub-text” eavesdropped a
Girl who lived wild and free to public acclaim.”
I could work with this guy.
We spoke the same language –
Very unlike me & Verne.

“We were going to get married,” huffed Verne.
“She gave up her job –“
“With her nasty boss –“ I added. Helping.
“She called Richenda to plan the wedding.”
See? THAT wasn’t true.
“Ghosted us for dinner.

Didn’t come home at all last night.”
Derek looked at me as if
Checking on this story.
I liked him more and more.
“Wow,” Derek commented evenly.
“Rough.” Turned to me. “You saw her?”
“I did,” I offered, not willing to say
In front of Verne what exactly I had seen.
“She’s sort of red-haired now.”

Verne was impressed enough to launch
Into a long vituperation
Of evil Krutupian,
Then insisting Ravi posed as
Mirabel’s groom. I could tell
My silence registered with Derek –
He knew there was
Another story, must know I wanted
To get out of there.

“Runaway Bride,” said Derek,
“I get you can’t involve police or media.”
“Any ideas?” asked Verne.
“Consult traffic cameras for Mirabel,”
Derek offered, “See exactly
Where she went. With who.”
Verne’s eyes jumped with excitement.
“You can do that?”

He thought he could manage Derek.
It only made me despise him
More. “Traffic cameras are easy, private cams
Are more complex.”
“I’ve got the exact times she was in
Brooklyn and at the spa,” I offered.

“I just need to go get my laptop,” said Derek,
I added hastily,
“I’ll go get my bag.”
Little did Verne know
I was getting my BIG bag – exiting
The hell out of there.
They let me go – needing
More time to eat vast meals.

When I returned they discussed
Hiring a P.I., Derek’s dad’s
Old art theft guy.
“And there’s Mirabel’s phone -“
“She took her phone –“
“I mean her online account.
“It’s just a password hack,” said Derek.

“Depends how well you know the person.”
“I can help with that,” I said
Possibly unwisely – as I saw Verne’s face
Freeze in jealous competition.
I threw him a bone –
Hopefully for the final time.

“She’d pick something you
Couldn’t guess,” I hazarded. “She didn’t
Protecting her phone from ME.
Verne paid the bill,
Discomfited by abandonment.

Wanting to block us but not knowing how.
“I have people I could call,” he sniffed.

It sounded almost threatening.
What kind of folks?
Verne made a note of Derek’s number.
I trailed after Derek
Walking decisively.

“So where are we going?” I hissed
Conspiratorially.
“Subway. No car service on my allowance.”
Down the steps into the hot and stinky
Underworld.