SALVAGE
A States Trilogy Short Story
By
Elaina John
Copyright 2013 Elaina John
All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Novels by Elaina John
States Trilogy
State of Restraint
State of Assertion
State of Finality
SALVAGE
Sometimes life just plain sucked.
No matter how hard you tried to avoid it, disappointment seemed to lurk in the shadows, waiting for the perfect time to pounce. And it pounced all right. It took Denise Gasteaux down hard when she least expected it. That was months ago and she had yet to pick herself back up and dust it off.
Some tough chick she was proving to be, sulking in ratty pajamas on a Friday night. She was a government agent for crying out loud. She should be out enjoying the warm summer night, flirting with hot men. But men sucked too, right along with life.
Forget him, she thought, reflecting on the man who ripped her heart out of her chest then stomped on it to add more insult to injury. If he wanted someone else then fine. She didn’t want him either.
Oh, who was she kidding?
Denise had fallen for the charming and handsome Markus Bowman so hard that she skinned her knee from the plunge. All for nothing. And she wasn’t the only person to fall for his easy demeanor, powerful physical presence and kind hazel eyes.
It didn’t matter one way or another. He was gone. Denise thought back to the day she received word from her coworker, Agent Tristan Ivers, that Markus resigned from the Information Retrieval Agency. He claimed Markus left to care for a dying relative. It wasn’t implausible. Giving up his job to take care of a sick family member fell into Markus’s character.
However, Denise didn’t believe it, couldn’t believe it until she had proof. Call it creepy if you must, but she drove to his house to check things out for herself. There wasn’t a soul there, though his car was in the driveway. When she called his phone, she was informed the number was no longer in service.
Something was up. Agent Ivers knew, but he wouldn’t tell her. Markus was a reliable, hardworking man that wouldn’t leave his job randomly. He wouldn’t vanish without telling her. Not once had he divulged anything to her about a sick relative during the time they shared.
It was that woman. An image of the pretty, fairy-like Vivi Knight popped into her head. Denise knew she had something to do with Markus’s desertion.
Thinking of it only made Denise angry. She needed brood food. She ambled into her bright yellow kitchen. What was better than ice cream when one felt sorry for herself? She plopped three huge scoops of vanilla ice cream into a plastic bowl, squeezed an unhealthy portion of chocolate sauce and sprinkled a handful of nuts. Then because she felt like it, she sprayed the remainder of the can of whipped cream onto her concoction.
Denise stood back and admired the stomachache in a bowl. Yep, just what she needed. She tossed the empty whipped cream can into the trash and grabbed the bowl. It felt like she was carrying a small boulder.
She folded herself on the brown, leather couch she’d owned since college. Nostalgia wouldn’t allow her to get rid of the first piece of furniture she ever bought with her own money despite the tears and sunken cushions.
While spooning a helping of ice cream into her mouth and biting back a moan of ecstasy, Denise flipped through the TV channels. She settled on watching Grease. The movie was at the part where Cha Cha stole Danny from Sandy at the dance. Just like Vivi stole Markus from her, she thought bitterly.
From the moment Vivi Knight waltzed into the offices of the I.R.A. with her big brown eyes and candid disposition she’d been nothing but trouble. Markus practically chased after her like a lost puppy, forgetting Denise ever existed. The sun rose and fell with Vivi.
Vivi pretended to be so pleasant. She used her good looks to get men to eat out of her hand. One minute Vivi had been dating Agent Ivers then that was over and she wasted no time wrapping Markus around her little finger. In a snap, he dropped Denise like a bad habit and hadn’t looked back.
Whatever, she told herself. His loss. She was a good woman. Any man would be lucky to have her.
So why did her heart still long for Markus? She knew why. Because she’d had a stupid little girl crush on him from the moment she laid eyes on him years ago. She’d just join the I.R.A and he was so nice and helpful, getting her acclimated to the job when it wasn’t even his responsibility to do so. She instantly took a liking to Markus—he had the body of a professional athlete and the face of a Greek god. But while he was simply being friendly, Denise’s feeling grew more romantic.
It burned that she couldn’t act on them because he was engaged at the time. Being the good man that he was, Markus would never cheat, not that she’d ask him to. But even after his engagement failed Markus saw her as nothing more than a friend and coworker. For years, Denise tried her best to get Markus to see her as more than a buddy, more than a colleague to no avail.
Then a few months before Vivi showed her little angelic face something seemed to open inside Markus. He saw her. He finally saw Denise the woman.
Cloud nine wasn’t high enough for the heights she was floating. Things were going great between them. A little slow for Denise’s taste, but Markus was a gentleman. Then…bam! Nothing. Out of the blue, he broke things off and shoved his new relationship down her throat.
The only thing worse than having to see Markus and Vivi all over each other every day was wondering what qualities Vivi possessed that caused Markus to fall head over heels for her in an instant when Denise couldn’t manage it in years.
Denise mentally shook the thoughts away. It was Friday, she didn’t have to work, and she was stuffing her face with ice cream over a man who couldn’t give two red cents about her.
Pathetic.