Stop #1

Brandi sat brooding in Keith’s cold, large apartment. According to the text message he sent her hours ago, he was tied up in a “business meeting,” but Brandi was no fool. She had rifled through his suit coat pockets after one of his so-called meetings and found a matchbook with The Ruby’s logo on it. She wasn’t entirely sure if The Ruby was a bar or a strip club, but either way, she didn’t like it.

Brandi didn’t like a lot of things. When she lived with Rusty, she had no problem telling him exactly how she felt, and Rusty, the marshmallow that he was, folded every single time. Brandi liked having that kind of power, even if it was nagging Rusty about something she didn’t care about, such as which dresser drawer he should put his socks in.

But things were different with Keith, or “Hooveykins,” as she liked to think of him. Keith didn’t want to hear Brandi complain or nag about anything. For instance, upon first moving in with him, Brandi announced that she hated Keith’s apartment, that is was too stately, and filled with hard, angular chairs and tables, that she didn’t feel she could be comfortable and cozy there. Keith simply told her she was more than welcome to go back to Rusty. That seemed to be his response whenever she nagged him about anything.

So why did she stay with him? Brandi pondered this question now as she sat alone on the uncomfortably hard, modern couch in the den (Keith insisted it wasn’t a living room). Well, despite the fact she she wasn’t allowed to complain or nag, there was just something about her little Hooveykins. He had a bewitching smile, dressed only in expensive, beautifully tailored suits, and his muscles!....Brandi felt her anger start to melt away.

She must have dozed off, because she was suddenly startled awake by the sound of the front door slamming shut. Brandi yawned and rubbed the back of her neck, which was stiff from lying against the sharp back of the couch. Keith entered the den, and Brandi stood up to greet him.

“Hey, Hooveykins. How was your meeting? Did you get anything to eat? I could order some takeout if you like.” (Keith didn’t believe in using the kitchen for anything other than looking pristine and storing bottled sparkling water and protein shakes in the sleek, black fridge.)

“Pack your things, babe. We’re leaving. Tonight.”

“What? What do you mean, leaving? Like, for a trip? Or for good? And where are we going?” Any remaining sleepiness was now entirely gone from Brandi’s body.

“For good. And don’t you worry your pretty little head about where. Just start packing. We leave in an hour.”

As Brandi threw her clothes pell-mell into a suitcase, she started to get excited. A trip! Just what we need!, she thought. Maybe they would go somewhere romantic, somewhere with palm trees, and a beach. Maybe she could have a say in the type of place they would live. Someplace less...sharp and cold. More of a home. And maybe, just maybe, she could slip in a few complaints here and there, just to make her feel better. Maybe....

They had barely reached the outskirts of town when Keith took an exit and pulled up to a dingy hotel. Brandi looked around at him, puzzled.

“Did you, uh, forget something, Hooveykins? Are we turning around?”

Keith looked at her with his steely eyes, flashed her his special smile and said, “No, babe. This is stop number one. Get out.”

Now Brandi was even more confused than ever. Keith never stayed in crappy hotels like this; his tastes were much too expensive. And why would they spend the night at a hotel in their own town?

“We’re staying here? Tonight? But why?”

“No, babe. We’re not staying here; you are. I told you, this is stop number one. Now please get your bags and get out.”

“I don’t understand...”

Now his smile was more of a sneer, and he said, “What? Did you really think I was going to take you with me? Our time together has expired. Now are you going to get out, or am I going to have to assist you?”

Dumbfounded, Brandi got out of the car and pulled her suitcase and purse out of the back. Keith started to drive away, and Brandi, finding her voice, yelled out, “Wait! Aren’t you even going to pay for this? What about my money -- Rusty’s money?!”

The shiny car slowed down long enough for a few crumpled bills to be tossed out the passenger side window. Then it tore out of the parking lot and was gone.

Still shaken and not quite fully understanding what just happened, Brandi slowly walked over to pick up the money, which was already getting soggy from the midwinter mix of snow and mud covering the parking lot.

He was gone. Her Hooveykins was gone.