DESPERATE TIMES CALL FOR DESPERATE MEASURES ..
1301 Words
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Carrington P.O.V.
I sat on the bus, looking out of the window and watching the world pass me by. I hope I'm not running from one crazy situation to another. I pull out the papers that I printed at the library and look over them again. I can't believe I'm considering getting married to a man I've never met.
I let out a sigh of relief. I'm so close to getting away that I can almost taste it. I just didn't expect it to be bittersweet. I won't be able to attend their funerals.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
I was shocked when I ran across the mail-order bride agency. Even more shocked at how fast I was contacted to come in for an interview. I never thought mail-order bride agencies still operated in the United States anymore. Let alone someone would want a young black woman.
I had already made up my mind. I would pick the first opportunity available to me.
I went to both interviews. I thought I made a great first impression at each one. For a solid week, I cried my eyes out in cheap scary motel room pillows. The kind of places that will let you rent a room without asking for ID and look like they might be bedbug central. I spent Thanksgiving all alone eating bad chinese food. I miss my family.
The couple of times I did reach out to my attorney, I was informed that my family was now receiving death threats. They were told I better keep my mouth shut and stay gone, or I would end up in a body bag as well. They were being followed as well.
In addition, Byron and Uncle Greg blame me for ruining their lives and have made threats to end my life. They have been camped outside my home for the last few days.
Hopefully, with time, their friends and family will leave my family and friends alone. Nevertheless, I was confident that I had made the right decision to run.
Yesterday, I was contacted by the mail-order bride agency and informed that not only had I been approved, but I had been selected by someone. The man who picked me wouldn't tell me who he was until I consented and signed a nondisclosure agreement. I almost backed out until I read that the man who picked me wanted a marriage in name only, and it wouldn't be forever. Five years of marriage is all he wanted from me. It was odd, but I could do that. It almost seemed too perfect to be true.
In five years, Stanley Cook, Uncle Greg and Byron would have definitely moved on. My friend's case would either be solved or considered a cold case. They would forget about me in five years, right? Maybe...just maybe I could go home one day. I just had to get through the next five years. There was even a huge payout arranged at the end of the marriage.
Honestly, I don't care about the money. I only want somewhere to hide. To make sure the people I love stay safe. I just want to be able to have a good night's sleep again. To lay my head down at night and not fear what's coming.
I close my eyes, now thinking about the last two weeks. I don't think I've slept more than two hours at a time. Trying to stay one step ahead of them. I've been on edge, and it's wearing me down. My body is heavy as I let myself sink into the seat.
"Miss! Miss! Miss!" I hear someone say, jolting me awake. My eyes flew open, and I saw an older Mexican man standing over me.
"We're here! We have arrived at our destination, Miss!" I glance around the bus to see everyone is gone, and I'm sitting all alone.
"Sorry! Sorry!" I said softly quickly, grabbing my overnight bag and tote bag. I put my navy leather gloves back on.
I hurriedly exited the bus. It's cold here.
The first thing I saw was a giant sign that read WELCOME TO DENVER, COLORADO in bold white letters.
I close my eyes, trying to clear my mind and shake the cold off as well. In addition, I try to find the courage to move forward with this crazy plan of mine.
"Excuse me, Miss!!"
I turned to see an older white man in a tailored dark black suit. He's tall and slim. His jet -black hair has some gray in it and his smile is nice and welcoming.
"Are you Miss Carrington Chadwick?" he asked in a friendly tone, and I nodded.
He looks down at the picture in his hand. Then back up at me and smiled. I must match the picture I gave to the agency.
"This way! I must say you look much better in person. You are such a lovely young lady!" He motions toward a long black sedan.
I smiled at him.
"I'm Bucky Irving, the personal driver for Mr. Klay Thornton." Mr. Bucky tells me in a matter-of-fact tone as he opens the back door to the sedan. I slipped inside, and Mr. Bucky shuts the door before going around and getting into the driver's seat. I buckle up as we take off.
"It's about a thirty-minute drive in rush hour traffic. We are going to his penthouse." Mr. Bucky informs me.
Mr. Bucky is giving off kind old grandfather vibes, so my nerves are okay for now.
I sit and look at the city as it flies by. I wonder if I'll get a chance to explore at any point. I suppose I will since this will be my home for the next five years. First, I need to get an idea of what he expects my day-to-day life to be like.
"You have a good view of the city and the mountains from the penthouse." Mr. Bucky announced as he watched me look out the window enjoying the view. He smiled at me in the rearview mirror and I smiled back. "This is going to be very interesting. I don't know what he was thinking." I hear Mr. Bucky say under his breath, shaking his head.
He smiles even bigger.
Before I could ask Mr. Bucky what he meant, we were pulling up to what looked like an upscale, elegant, luxury boutique hotel. Mr. Bucky jumped out and opened my car door. Then he took my bag from me.
"Thank you, Mr. Bucky!"
"No! Thank you, Queen! The pleasure was all mine!" Mr. Bucky said.
Suddenly, I felt in over my head. What kind of guy has a full -time driver?
He smiles at me again. It's so kind and reassuring that it makes me feel like everything is going to be okay. This sweet little old man wouldn't be leading me to a black market doctor to kill me and harvest all my internal organs or to the devil himself. Or at least, I hope not, but my judgment has been off with people before.
We walked into the high-end, opulent hotel and my jaw dropped. It was the most stunning, lavish, grand hotel I have been in. "This is one of Mr. Klay Thornton's many properties." Mr. Bucky revealed, answering my unasked question. Then, Mr. Bucky led me to a private elevator that's off to the side and slides in a key. When it opens, I step in and Mr. Bucky follows behind me. He pushes the button for the penthouse.
The elevator starts to move, and my heart starts to race. I'm totally out of my depth here. Amm..... Am I really about to meet the man I am going to marry and spend the next five years tied down too?
- Writer
