Netted- The Beginning Read online

  Dale ran his hand down his naked chin. He didn’t intend on meeting the imaginary woman from his phone so soon. He’d scoff at Marla’s naked pictures and text her what she wanted to see. The dick pics he sent were from a quick Google search. Not his. But with every response, Marla opened wider.

  He had seen all of her. From the V to the A.

  But now he would get to feel her. He dropped his gaze to his lap.

  The perfect stranger.

  Dale sighed. “I can’t do this,” he mumbled. There was always a girlfriend to hold and kiss. Never a random harlot. He couldn’t remember his life before Sasha. She was the girl next door who’d fallen in love with him. Even after they’d moved with Nana during senior year, Sasha would spend weekends with him.

  But now, she was gone. It felt like a chunk of his life had been devoured and shat out.

  “Fuck,” he grumbled.

  He sucked in a deep breath. The words get a new girl rang in his mind, trapped along with Diane’s accusing grin.

  Dale exhaled hard.

  He flung the car door open and planted his boots on the street. Snow flurries danced around the frosted over cul-de-sac.

  He stepped lightly on the slippery street and yard as he made his way around to the passenger side of the Grand Am. He pulled the passenger door open and grasped a crimson flower pot. The peach roses and yellow lilies fluttered at his touch. Marla had talked about how much she missed the spring. Then she sent a selfie of her bare, perky breasts and flat belly. Her thin pink lips puckered at him. A halo of pastel flowers sat on her pinned-up hair.

  Come see me, she texted.

  An hour across snowy I-96 and an hour down Highway 31 and here he was.

  Snow swallowed his boots as he kicked through it. He held onto the railing and pulled himself up the iced over steps. He tapped on the screen door while he stomped hard, freeing his boots of the chilly powder. Anticipation tugged at his gut as the wooden door swung in.

  Chapter 2

  “Hi!” Marla beamed. Her lavender eyes gleamed in the dull yellow light coming from the room behind her.

  Dale smiled at her. No more lady in the phone.

  He imagined her being shorter. Her gray tee barely covered her thighs. If she reached even a little, she’d flash him. That’s if she wasn’t wearing underwear. He snickered to himself. Of course, she’s not.

  “Did you find the place okay?” she asked. Clicks and clamors chimed out as she unfastened the screen door.

  “Um, yeah sure,” he said. “Are there break-ins around here?” he asked as she shoved a key into a lock and twisted.

  “Yeah, some asshole broke in while I was out on business about a month ago—right before I met you.” She grunted and bit her lower lip, struggling to loosen one of the bottom—and hopefully last—locks. “You can never be too safe. I mean, what if I was here?”

  He nodded understandingly as she pushed the screen door open, allowing him in.

  A thin yellow light shone through the black shade of a stand-up lamp. It stood in a lonely corner of the shadowy living room.

  “Are those for me?” she asked, sliding the locks back in place.

  “Oh, sure.” He handed her the arrangement. She sat it on a glass coffee table as gentle as a mother laying a newborn in a crib.

  “I can take your coat,” she said.

  Dale patted his jean pockets. The hardness of his phone was in the left one and the lump of his wallet was in the seat. He slid the coat off his shoulders. His keys rubbed against one another in the pocket. Marla pulled the collar.

  “I got it,” she said.

  He glanced over his shoulder and met her eyes. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome, babe.” Her lips curved into an amatory smile. She draped the coat over her forearm and hauled it up the hallway. “Sit anywhere.”

  Dale flopped down on the couch. Plastic shrieked under the seat of his jeans.

  His imagination had gotten it wrong. On the ride over, he knew her house would be full of bright lights and girly décor, like flowers and pictures of friends. Glowing, sheer curtains. Pastel furniture. Christmas shit. Glittery fringed doorways even crossed his mind.

  Instead, long, dark curtains covered the windows. Under the glass coffee table was an area rug that matched the smoky gray walls.

  The most colorful thing in the room had to be the mess of flowers in Marla’s hair and on the table.

  No way a girl like that lived alone in a morbid place like this.

  “Do you live alone?” slid past his lips before he could refrain. “I mean, not to be creepy or anything, it’s just—”

  She giggled as she picked up the bundle and dumped it into a vase. The vase looked a lot like a grape Twizzler; twisted and blending in with the color pallet of the rest of the room. “Why?”

  “Because you seem like a colorful person with the anime purple hair and neon underwear…”

  “Oh, stop it. You’re so funny, Dale.” She laughed. “I’m a germophobe.” She pinched and poked at each petal, examining them. “The plastic and dark colors ease it a bit.”

  A germophobe who fucks strangers? he thought, fighting to curb his quizzical gaze.

  Marla closed her eyes and inhaled. Her eyelids fluttered as her smile widened. “They smell wonderful. Thanks, babe.” She sat the arrangement back on the table then flopped down next to him. Her bare meaty thighs slapped the plastic, sending out a sweet waft. Berries maybe. She ran her hand up his back and around his collar.

  He quivered when fingertips ran across the back of his neck. “It’s the least I can do since you invited me over.”

  “I love them,” she said. “Wanna drink? Get comfortable?”

  “I’m fine. I don’t drink.”

  “What’s one glass of wine going to do? Kill you? Come on. Drink with me.”

  He half smiled. She looked just like her pictures. He throbbed as his hardening flesh pressed against his jeans zipper. As if knowing, she felt her way down his lap and rested a cheek on his shoulder.

  “I’m going to be honest,” she whispered. “…this is my first time doing this. I mean…” She sighed. “…I like you, Dale. You’re fun to talk to and—well—I would love to share my best bottle of wine with you. We are celebrating after all. I mean, who knows where this could lead? You could be the one. Shit, I could be the one.”

  Beads of sweat formed on his brow. He hadn’t had a drink in five years. Stopped cold turkey after he flipped the car. He got a plate in his skull and Sasha spent time in the ICU with a broken collarbone. Then, the fines and suspended license for drinking and driving rolled in.

  He’d sworn off alcohol ever since.

  But Sasha was with someone else and Dale needed a drink. He wouldn’t be leaving Marla’s house tonight anyway. Besides, what was one drink going to do? Shit, could turn into four. He smirked.

  Dale nodded hungrily.

  Marla kissed his pursed lips then said, “I’ll be right back.”

  He watched her go up the hall. Light from the room she disappeared into glazed the hallway floor in a golden shine.

  Carefully, Dale unbuttoned his jeans, mindful of the pressure his erection was under.

  She’s probably into foreplay. He leaned back and curled his lips underneath his teeth. Dale imagined her sitting her drink down on the coffee table before passing his. Then she’d get on her knees between his legs…

  He closed his eyes. A smile spread across his face.

  A flick of a light switch. Dale snapped his eyes open.

  Marla’s long shirt sailed behind her thighs as she approached, wine glasses full of red in either hand. She handed him a glass and he took a sip. She sat next to him and sipped hers.

  Dale’s crown prickled as the wine slithered down his throat. The bittersweet liquid made his mouth water and jaws tingle. “Um,” he grumbled as he took another sip.

  “You like it?” Marla asked as she reached over him and sat her glass on the end table. “It’s merlot.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Thanks.”

  “So,” Marla began. “How was the drive from Grand Rapids?”

  “Kentwood,” he corrected, taking another sip. “I put GR on my profile because I didn’t want anyone to know where—"

  “I get it.” She smiled. “Oh wow. So, you had quite the drive. Did you slide?” She frowned.

  “Uh, yeah. I mean, that’s Michigan, right? Add some lake effect and miserable people trying to speed on shitty roads… I can’t tell you how many cars I saw hood down in the ditch on the way over here.”

  She giggled.

  He sucked down another gulp.

  “Have you ever been to South Haven before? I mean, it’s not too far from where you live. Well…”

  “If you don’t call an hour far, then I guess I’m local.”

  She snickered. “I guess you’re right. Sorry.”

  “For what? I’m lucky to be here. We’re finally hanging out in person.”

  “Aw,” she said. “Well, good thing you made it. Are you hungry? I mean, I already had tempera but I’m sure there’s still a few pizza places open.”

  “No. I think wine’s good. I wish I could’ve matched your bottle,” he said.

  “Don’t worry about it. I have a cabinet full.”

  Graciously, he said, “What do you do when you’re not at work? Get wasted?”

  Mischief wiped her sweet smirk. “Maybe. And talk to you.”

  “Yeah?” Dale halved his glass. “No friends?”

  “Of course. But they’re all back home.”

  “And home is…”

  “Chicago,” she said, reaching for her glass. “After I got my bachelors at Grand Valley, I didn’t have a reason to leave. I love the area. I ended up getting a job in Holland and... here I am.”

  “Finance, right?” Dale asked.

  “That’s right. You remembered! And you’re a gamer? What’s that? I wanted to ask, but I didn’t want to offend.”

  “A joke.” He remembered that conversation. He was having a heated battle with a few kids on Call of Duty. With all the insults they spat through their mics, those little turds couldn’t shoot for shit. That’s when Marla texted. “I was playing a game when you asked. I’m actually a line cook.”

  “Oh cool! Where?” Amusement lightened her features.

  “The Pancake House,” Dale admitted. He swirled his glass, tipping it back and forth like a pendulum. This wasn’t part of the plan. Talking about his shitty job and childish pastime. Abort the embarrassment, he hissed to himself. “What’d you love about Michigan that kept you from going back to the city? I mean, Chicago? There must be a shit ton of things to get into.”

  “There’s lots to do here too. Let’s see.” She counted on her purple-tipped fingers. “I love the lake. The people are polite. It’s a much slower pace than the city. Less crime.” She paused and tossed a seemingly duplicitous look to the ceiling. Then, with a grin, she exclaimed, “Oh! And there’s lots of things to do outdoors!”

  “You like the outdoors?” Dale asked. Usually pretty girls like her avoided the outdoors. What could she possibly be into? Skiing? He sneered as he imagined her body bloated in bright outdoor wear as she skimmed the slopes like a champ.

  “I love the outdoors,” she squawked. “I love camping, skiing, sledding, swimming…” She chortled. “Hunting.”

  “Really? What?”

  “Oh, you know. Deer. Mainly deer. And wild turkey, if I’m lucky.”

  “Well, that’s neat.”

  “Do you hunt?”

  “Used to with my old man. He was big into guns.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. He’d drag me out to the shooting range or to the U.P. every November.” His cheeks heated. “My old man was the best.”

  “You guys don’t do that anymore? It seems like you had a good time.”

  Dale paused and cleared the itching from the base of his throat. “He and my mom were in a car wreck when I was seventeen. Took them right out.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that,” she said. “Actually, I’m sorry for even asking.”

  “It’s okay. A pretty girl asks you a question, you damn well better answer. One of Dad’s favorite sayings.”

  She blushed. “Aw. You’re so sweet, Dale. Do you want me to refresh your glass?”

  “Su—” Dale froze. He didn’t remember his esophagus feeling on fire the last time he drank wine. He grunted. “I’m—sorry. I—think—” His throat tightened as he gasped.

  Worry spread across Marla’s face. “Are you okay? Drink the rest of it. Or I can get you some water?”

  She patted his back. The banging seemed to agitate his burning chest even more. His cheeks scorched, and eyes moistened as he choked and hacked up air. He raised a finger to her.

  “Hang on,” he said between chest-rattling coughs.

  “Uh, I’ll go get you some water,” she said. But as she rose, Dale grasped her thigh. His coughing halted between sporadic gasps of breath.

  “Whoa. Sorry,” he said. “I guess it went down the wrong—pipe.”

  “I’m still going to—”

  “No.” He took a breath and patted his chest with a balled fist, knocking sense into his lungs. “Where is your bathroom?” he asked. His face burned from embarrassment and lack of air circulating through his chest.

  “The door at the end of the hall,” she said.

  He smiled, narrowly able to breathe as he stood. “I’ll be back. Finish your—wine. Hell, have another glass.”

  She smirked. “Okay.”

  Dale rose and rushed up the hall. All doors on either side were closed except for the first doorway to the right where Marla had grabbed the bottle from earlier. It was too dark to tell what was in there.

  I wonder if she cooks, he thought. Sasha used to serve him blueberry pancakes in bed every Saturday. He wouldn’t mind the tradition starting up again.

  Marla was alright. There was a way about her he couldn’t quite place. Comfort? Authenticity? Maybe it was that easy smile or those delicate eyes of hers. If dating was this easy, then it’ll be a synch. But deep down, he knew this wasn’t the last time he’d see Marla.

  Chapter 3

  Dale dragged his fingers along the chilly wall. His face scrunched as he pulled his phone from his pocket. He cast the screen light on the room. There was no toilet. No tub. No sink.

  Dale called out, “Uh, this isn’t—”

  A hard bang to the crown sent him toppling forward. His phone slid from his fingers. Aches erupted in his head as his hands and knees hit the floor. Vertigo stricken, his disjointed vision turned two planted hands into five. He clutched his fingers and ripped holes into the plastic. Bits of carpet caught underneath his nails. The entire place was scotch guarded.

  Don’t close your eyes, he begged his falling eyelids. He gasped. His elbows threatened to buckle under him.

  “Ugh, go to sleep already,” Marla said before her foot crashed down on his spine.

  Dale fell flat on his stomach. He wanted to yell, “Stop!” but a pained groan came out instead.

  He rolled onto his back.

  Marla’s hair had fallen to her shoulders. Her shirt rose to the waistband of her shorts as she raised the vase over her head.

  Dale’s breath shortened. His eyes bulged. This would end it all. Not the accidents. Not the losses that plagued his life. But a stranger waving a vase around. She was a quarter the size of his hockey mates. Diane could break her in two.

  Nerves shrieking, he lifted a leg and shoved his boot into Marla’s belly.

  She let out a harsh oomph and stumbled back. The vase fumbled to the floor.

  She curled over, held her belly, and groaned.

  Dale rolled onto his side then to his knees. He crawled and blinked hard. The vase’s silhouette blended with the shadows.

  “No!” she screeched. Marla lunged, knocking his chest in with her shoulder. He skidded across the floor, slamming his back into the wall. He winced as she pushed against his side, getting on her feet.

  Baring his teeth, Dale clawed at her ankle until his grip tightened and yanked her foot from under her. Marla’s hands slapped the floor. Her teeth clacked hard enough to make him cringe.

  Marla yelped and reached for her face. “You motherfucker!” She pulled her leg up then slammed her foot into his nose. A sickening crack struck the walls.

  Dale lost the grip on her ankle and coddled his bleeding face. A sharp cramp shot up the bridge of his nose, making him yelp. Blood trickled down the sides of his face. He gulped down air as he rocked on the floor.

  Between his fingers, he saw a shadow standing over him. Marla pressed the vase against the backs of his cupped hands.

  “Why didn’t you just finish the fucking wine?” She huffed. “You’d be asleep, you fucking asshole!” She threw the vase, smashing it against the wall. She pressed her fingertips to her mouth, then winced.

  “You broke my tooth!” she screamed. “You are so fucking lucky I need you alive!”

  With bone-crippling aches and what felt like internal bleeding of the brain, came a side of confusion. Who is this fucking freak?

  “You can take my wallet,” he grumbled through cuffed palms. “You can take my keys, just please—”

  “Shut the fuck up! I don’t want that shitty car and I know the money you have in your shitty wallet wouldn’t come close to what I’m going to get for you.” She paced the room, mumbling under her breath. She stopped. “You are so lucky I need you alive,” she repeated.

  “What are you—”

  “Shut up!”

  Dale turned to his side, his shoulders juddering, forearm numbing. Blood ran from his crushed nose and dripped onto the floor. He closed his eyes. His arrhythmic heartbeat pumped in his ears.

  He popped his eyes open as a heavy breath wavered across his earlobe.

  “I can’t wait for you to see what we have planned. You’ll die a slow, painful death,” she whispered. A thick slither flicked his ear. “Um. You taste good.” She sighed. “And you’re kinda cute. I would’ve fucked you.”