Echoes 02

I'm keeping the next few parts in the Loving Wives category for continuity's sake, and the fact that, eventually, the story will wind back around to fitting in again.

Chase Ventris plopped onto the fancy, ergonomic chair in his home office with a ragged sigh. Five months. Christ, you'd think the woman would get the picture by now.

As if his frustration had conjured her like a demon in a bad horror movie, Isabella Rossi, his unasked for housemate of these last five months, and even more unasked for mother-in-law of the last five years, appeared in the open doorway, watching him. Chase watched her back, defiant and unblinking... for whatever it was worth. He'd never cow before the woman, he made that vow when he was a teenager, but he knew she didn't really care. She really didn't care about much of anything, with one huge exception.

"What is the plan for today's search?" Isabella folded her arms across her over-sized chest, stretching her already-tight blouse, heedlessly uncaring of what it was doing to the victim of her focus. That flawless face, belonging on a woman at least ten years younger than her forty-two, and that fit, curvaceous body straight out of a centerfold, made Chase's mouth dry up, despite his every effort to remind himself that under the lovely surface lied an ugly core.

Haven't touched a woman in... fucking forever. It's just instinct. It wasn't his fault that wife's mother had always put the MIL in MILF. From the first day, back in his high school years, when he'd met her, Chase had fantasized about the woman. Innocently, of course. He was a red-blooded man and a horny teenager, anyone would have, but never in a million years would he have acted on it in any way, even if she'd been willing. Which she absolutely never would be.

Isabella Rossi, from all accounts, had only one use for men; the occasional, one-off dick to keep herself satisfied enough so she could maintain her lifestyle with a clear mind. From what Chase could tell, that lifestyle was one of nothing but travel, parties, and conning people out of money. Of course, since she'd used that money to help him found his Cyber Security business, he wasn't exactly in a position to criticize.

Correction; Isabella used that money to help her daughter found the business. Chase had just been along for the ride. Which was what, ultimately, brought them to their current circumstance.

"Chase Ventris," Isabella frowned at him when he didn't answer her question, "don't tell me that I have to remind you, again, what it means if you fail to live up to your end of the bargain."

Chase sighed. "You'll use your controlling interest in my business and shut the whole thing down, thereby putting all my employees out of work and ruining a good dozen lives. Then you'll dance on the ashes, if I had to guess. Probably buy a pair of thousand-dollar stilettos first so you can do it with class. I mean, what's the point, otherwise?"

"Don't be ridiculous." She snorted softly. "I'd probably twist an ankle. Ballroom shoes would be the way to go. I'd spend at least two-thousand, though. Like you said, what's the point otherwise?"

Chase couldn't help but grin, though he hated himself for it. Not bad. "Alright. Since you asked, today's game of Where in the World is Bizzy Sandiego will consist of me following up on that social security ping I set up last month. I will follow that to a dead-end. Then I will bash my head on the desk. Then lunch." He smiled innocently at her. "I'm thinking Chinese today, how 'bout you?"

"Thai." She walked into his office uninvited and stared at his monitor like she had any idea what she was looking at. "That's it? That's all you have?"

"So far. Got some other irons in the fire, but..."

"Every finance report I've ever gotten from your company shows me how good you are at this, Chase." Isabella threw out the compliment with as little emotion as she would a comment on the shirt he wore that day. "How, in five months, have you not gotten closer to tracking down Elizabeth?"

"Because, as good as I am, Bizzy is better. I've told you this a thousand times. Hell, when she ran out that night she didn't even take her purse, but from what little I can glean, she's been able to move around the country pretty easily, supporting herself... somehow. I'm positive that, if it was me, I'd be in some flophouse eating uncooked Ramen by now."

Isabella shook her head. "I never understood why my daughter was so infatuated with all of," she waved a hand at the computer, "this. The coding, and the hardware, and the latest research... god, she used to drive me up a wall with it when she was still in high school, after you roped her into this geekdom. When the two of you were at MIT, I had to finally put my foot down and forbid her to talk about it."

"Yeah, I know the story." Chase mumbled as he clicked around his rig, eyes turned away from the ice queen. "I corrupted your daughter with my passion for pixels. Ruined her chances of following the family business as a globe-trotting hustler."

"I never required Elizabeth to follow in my footsteps, Chase." Now there was some heat to her voice. One of the rare instances he could remember. "I just wanted her to forge a life that didn't have her depending on a man. You have to admit, if she had, we'd all be a lot happier right now."

Not wrong about that. He knew he wouldn't have the sharp, sucking sensation in his chest currently that never seemed to lessen. But... That would mean I wouldn't have had those ten years of bliss, either. Which one outweighs the other?

Inseparable since the beginning of their junior year of high school, Chase and Elizabeth, Cheese and Bizzy, had joined their lives long before they'd stood at an altar and made their vows to each other. They used to joke that someday, some coroner would have to put in overtime because of them, because there was no chance that they wouldn't kick the bucket at the exact same moment. They even came up with a name for this theoretical corpse wrangler; Bobby Parker the Body Poker. The dumbest inside joke ever conceived.

Chase rubbed at his eyes. Goddamn it Bizzy... why couldn't you just have trusted me?

"Well, keep it up." Isabella awkwardly patted him on the shoulder. "The sooner you find her, the sooner I'll be out of your life."

Chase was a clever man, no false modesty kept him from accepting that. Well, clever in most things. Recent history had shown him how deeply, deeply stupid he could be in others. Isabella, for all her aloofness, also had brains to back up the elitism. Which meant, when she said she'd be out of his life, the layered implications to the statement didn't escape either one of them. She truly thinks that Bizzy and I are done. That, once I find her, she'll whisk her daughter away to start a new life, and I'll be all fancy free over here.

The thing was, Chase had no idea if she was right or not.

"And what'll you be doing?" Chase was losing interest already, his concentration on the task at hand becoming more focused. "Gotta be going nuts here, right? No French Riviera for the weekend... no four-star restaurant to poo poo to your snobby friends... no boy toy to scratch that itch we both know you have..." He did pause then and look over his shoulder at her. "Why not just give it up and go? I'll keep look--"

"Yeah right!" This time that snort that she called a laugh wasn't so soft. "Nice try mister, but there's not a chance on the planet that I'm leaving the best thing in my life up to your fragile male ego. From that one call Elizabeth made to me after she left you, I knew this would be a challenge." She raised her chin. "I will meet any challenge for my child."

He had to admit, the answer didn't surprise him. Isabella had been insanely protective of her daughter for as long as he'd known her. In his weakest moments over the years, he even thought it was almost a deal-breaker in his relationship; until Bizzy demonstrated, amply, that her love for her mother was a candle next to her love for him. After that, he learned to put up with it. He also knew he would meet any challenge for the best thing in his life, and had long ago decided to make a game of any time he had been forced to be around his mother-in-law.

When Isabella spoke next, it was disconcerting how close to reading his thoughts she seemed. "Besides, I've found my distractions." He could hear the frustration in her voice, though laced with an undeniable excitement. "Today, Akuma dies."

"Remember the God Fist Combo." Chase advised her with his sweetest tones.

"Just gotta get the timing..." She mumbled to herself as she wandered away to indulge in her newfound addiction to videogames, fighting games in particular, for the next few hours. Then the next few after that. He still couldn't quite believe how the woman had jumped into the hobby with both feet. Until five months ago, he was sure she'd have been hard pressed to pronounce the word, console. The things that mistrust and cabin fever could do to a person were astounding.

After his fruitless morning went exactly as predicted, Chase put the whole shebang into abeyance and went to the living room. Isabella was there, just like every other day, gripping the controller hard while staring at the big screen, her adorable little tongue jutting out from her lips unconsciously. "No luck. I'm going to the office for the rest of the day. Get some real work done, then the gym. The heavy bag's been calling to me."

"Uh huh." Isabella barely acknowledged him.

"Remember, the rest of the week is for the business. I'll pick up the search next week."

"Deals a de... motherfucker!" Whatever the fuck up was, it made the woman nearly break the controller over her knee. "Cheating piece of shit!"

"If I come back tonight to shards of plastic everywhere, I'd better come back tomorrow to a brand-new set up."

"You're bad luck. You need to go now."

With an incredulous smile and a little head shake, Chase left to regain some of his agency. As much as Isabella allowed him with their deal; time spent searching for Bizzy balanced with time spent keeping his business afloat. As much as it grated, Chase had to grudgingly admit that it could be worse. The woman had him over a barrel and could have demanded all his time, leaving the firm in someone else's hands, but she'd been... reasonable. To an extent. Probably because she wasn't quite willing to lose the returns on her investment just yet.

In any event, the rest of the day went as expected, and, after a pleasantly exhausting couple hours in the gym, Chase came home to find a beautiful thunderhead greeting him at the door, shoving a controller in his face.

"I need you."

Isabella's dark eyes dared him to make a snide remark, so he refrained. Instead, he just raised a brow. "I'm all sweaty. I don't think you want--"

"No excuse. You smell absolutely fine, and I'm about to hang myself." She huffed in exasperation. "Show me what I'm doing wrong."

Admittedly, Chase wasn't that perturbed. His own gaming habit had been put on hold for a while, and the thought of indulging was nice. Snatching up the controller, he dropped his gym-short-clad butt onto the couch next to his lithe mother-in-law and set about resurrecting some forgotten instincts, patiently showing her everything possible in the old game she was so enamored with.

It only took an hour or so until Isabella whooped with joy. "Eat my fucking fist, you square-faced freak!"

Chase found himself laughing right along with her, forgetting everything for a brief second. "Take that man to Bobby Parker!"

Isabella, her smile of triumph now taking on a hint of confusion, gave him a look. "Who? Is that part of some... what do you call it, some dlc I haven't seen?"

Chase couldn't stop the flush rushing into his face and turned away. "No. It's nothing. Just a joke."

Isabella poked him good-naturedly. "Believe it or not, I like jokes. I'm not a robot."

Chase sighed, still not looking right at her. "It's... he's like an imaginary coroner that Bizzy and I..." He paused, then just let it out. "Bobby Parker the Body Poker."

If pressed, he would have sworn he was hearing things when that distinctive snort blasted in his ear. When he turned to face her, however, Isabella was just looking at him with smooth-faced innocence, though a bit red-cheeked. "Not the worst pun."

"Thanks." The night had taken a distinctive turn, and Chase was pretty much done. "I'm hitting the old dusty trail. Nighty night, God Fist."

Isabella yawned. "Yeah. Me too."

Not expecting more, Chase vacated the living room, but was stopped short by a last, low utterance that he was nearly convinced he'd misheard.

"Thanks."

__________

Days went by and things didn't change. Well, not in any meaningful way. After that night, though, some kind of barrier had been breached, and Isabella came to Chase more often for tutelage on all things digital. Moving from fighting games to rpgs, she had more than enough need for help, and Chase began to feel like some kind of gaming guru to her. In a deep, buried place, he had to admit that the shift wasn't all that bad. Having a reason to positively interact with his captor was nicer than grousing his day away.

Even beyond the games, the two of them began to thaw towards each other. A bit. Over meals, they'd share anecdotes like a couple of people meeting for the first time. Random, innocuous stories of their lives that were breezy and light, did eventually evolve, though. Soon there were jokes, banter... they began to act like, well, like friends. Friends who were very aware that the whole relationship was tenuous and superficial, but... yeah. Friends.

Occasionally, they did dip into deeper fare, but that was awkward and unwelcome, and they always brought it back to the safe topics. Most of the time. Once, though, with the help of some social lubricant, they forgot themselves.

"Oh my. I knew that Elizabeth was sought after, but she never told me about all that." Isabella had her head tilted slightly against her fist as she rested on her elbow at the table, swishing her expensive wine in the glass clutched in the other hand.

Chase raised his own whisky-filled glass to his lips, than gave a little shrug. "We took care of it. Frank Carter may have sent a damned photo-album worth of dick pics to her, but a little photo-shopping turned angry Willy into sad Wilbert--mustache and all--and everyone on campus was able to enjoy his foray into amateur photography."

These days, Isabella's snorting laugh wasn't hidden at all, and she grinned widely. "Too rich. The travails of a beautiful woman awash in a sea of horndogs."

"Well, one of those horndogs, at least, was a watchdog too." Chase thumped his chest dramatically. "So she had that going for her."

Isabella grinned. "Fair enough." She sighed then, wistful. "Her birth mother was the same way. When we were young, Sylvia and I were subjected to that sort of thing constantly. It showed me what the world was like, but Syl kept thinking that there was someone out there that was good. Some man who wasn't like all the rest. Even up to the end, after that bastard knocked her up and left her to die alone from that fucking disease."

It was amazing how instantaneously the woman went from jovial to bitterly jaded. Chase shifted in his seat. "Bizzy told me the story. How her bio-dad was a scumbag who ran out on her mom. How Sylvia died in child birth because she was so weak from the untreated cancer."

Isabella sniffed, then drank, her gaze fixed on some point in the distance. "Taking in Elizabeth as my own was the best decision I've ever made. She's been a wonderful daughter. I just wish she'd have learned the lesson her mother never did. Get your itch scratched, and leave it there." She shrugged, her words slurring a bit. "Then again, it looks like she did finally get it. Better late than never."

The empty glass thumping hard on the table was Chase's only response as he lurched to his feet and plodded off towards his bedroom. It never fucking changes. He could feel Isabella's eyes boring holes into his back, but if he thought that, maybe, she would say something, he was sorely mistaken. A backdrop of silence carried him to bed that night, and a restless sleep was his reward for talking to this... person.

If, once in the middle of the night, he thought his bleary eyes saw his bedroom door open to reveal a silhouette staring down at him without a word, well, he had no problem chalking that up to nothing more than booze and anger.

__________

"I'm having a guest over tomorrow night." The announcement took Chase by surprise the next day, in that he was surprised that Isabella would even try to talk to him. Then, he became surprised that he was surprised. Of course she had no guilt for what she'd said. She hadn't bothered to hide her feelings about Chase and Bizzy at all up to that point, so why would that change now?

At his desk, he turned his head slightly in her direction. "Guest? A friend?"

"Not in the slightest." Isabella sounded bored. "His name is Roger... something. I met him on one of those apps."

"Gotcha." Chase couldn't stop the bitter chuckle. "The itch needs scratching."

"Right the first try. Who says you aren't a clever boy?" For some reason, that small cruelty seemed forced. "It's your decision, but I'd advise you to be out of the house around six or so."

"Duly noted." Chase went back to his computer, utterly ignoring the woman. She lingered there for a minute, as if waiting for him to say something else, then left, no doubt making a mental check list of what she needed the dick-donor to do to her that night.

His day at work was long. It was tedious. It was nearly pointless due to his distraction... and then it was over. Sitting in his office, Chase looked at the clock and saw that it was only five-thirty, and he had no idea what was next. What the fuck am I supposed to do for... hours? How long would Isabella be banging her boy toy? He could go to the gym, but he'd been hitting it a little hard lately and really needed at least a day to recover. He could go to a bar, but he knew, somehow, that he would not be fit to drive if he let himself indulge that night.

Damn woman can't keep me from my own home. With a distinct lack of self-examination, Chase made the impromptu decision that he would head back, Isabella's sexcapades be damned. The walls in his house were thick. He'd just watch TV, or something.

Isabella and Roger Something were already in full swing when he walked in the door, and it was a hell of a way to discover that the walls in his house weren't as thick as his previous assumptions had them. After a second, though, he realized that most of the problem came from the fact that she hadn't bothered closing the door of the guest bedroom she'd appropriated after her invasion.

With a grumble, he began to ease past the room to get to his own, trying to ignore the throaty, feminine moans and guttural, masculine grunts. Jesus, get a... um... another room. He paused in his journey then, a thought occurring to him. Ol' Roger sounded like he was having a grand time, but Isabella...

A wry grin twisted his lips. She's faking it! No doubt in his mind. Every moan, groan, and whine came at set intervals, almost as if on cue. Hell, they were so regular, she must have been counting the seconds in between! Unable to resist at that point, Chase, ever so quietly, cracked the door open a little more, just enough to see the bed and the occupants lit by a nearby lamp.

Roger, from that angle, looked to be in decent shape, maybe in his early thirties, and was really giving it his all, hunched over his bedmate and taking her to pound-town with a first-class ticket. A jackhammer could take lessons from the man. Much more interesting, though, was Isabella, lying prone, her magnificent tits smushed on the man's firm chest, her feet flat on the mattress and bent knees swaying from nothing more than the motions foisted on their owner. She loosely held her hands at her lover's side, and her head was turned away, her eyes closed and face nearly expressionless.