The Days They Felt Alive

Phone Call

"Can I make a phone call now?" 

Marcus turned away from the window to face her back. She was looking over her shoulder at him. 

"We still haven't located the bomb, Bentley." He took a single step closer and heard her sigh. 

"You won't find it." After a brief pause, she continued, "it hasn't been planted yet." 

"What?!" He gasped, then, "What the fuck are you talking about?" 

"What do you mean?" She asked, stretching to look closer at his face. "Why are the veins in your face popping out so much?" 

"Goddammit Bentley, you told us you planted a goddamn bomb somewhere in the city and it was going to go off." She sighed again. 

"Did I? Oh. Sorry if I misled you." She put her head down on the table. He was pissed. 

"What's with you? Why this attitude?" She shrugged. 

"I guess I'm a little depressed. You won't let me make a phone call. Aren't I entitled to one?" Marcus's eyes were full of rage. 

"You are such a liar. Fine. You can make a phone call, but we're listening." He left to grab a guard. 

"Good. Perfect." Bentley whispered to herself, smiling. 

When Marcus returned, he brought a guard with him. They took her to a phone, and let her dial. She held the receiver to her ear and whistled as it rang. 

"Hello?" Marcus listened closely as she spoke. "Yes, it's me. Mmhm. Oh? Ahh. I see. Great." Her eyes darted to Marcus's face. Suddenly, an enormous smile took over her face. "Ah. Thank you. You've been so much help." She put the receiver down, giggling. 

 "Well?" Marcus snapped, "who was it?"

"Don't worry about it." She gave the guard a nod, indicating she was done. He put her wrists back into the handcuffs and began guiding her back to her cell.

"Wait a minute! What was that? What's going on?" He reached out to grab her, but she stepped out of the way.

"In time, you'll understand." She winked. His face screwed up in anger.

"Tell me, dammit!" The guard stepped between them.

"Sir, please back away." Marcus scoffed. They held eye contact for a few seconds before Bentley was taken away.

"In time, Marcus. In time."

Fuming, Marcus finished his work day and headed home. 

 "I hate that bitch. She gets under my skin."

Mary Anne, Marcus's wife, smiled gently.

"Don't let her get to you, honey." He shook his head.

"They all get to me. Emalee Stewart, Misha Meadows, Mickey Williams. Just a group of bitches who love to taunt us and laugh at us. Stupid fucking Morgan Bentley and her little gang of mean girls." He tossed his cellphone onto the table and sat down. Mary Anne rubbed his shoulders and kissed his cheek.

"You've told me a lot about Morgan Bentley. What about Emalee Stewart? What's she like?" He turned his head to look her in the eye.

"Nothing like Bentley. She's quiet. Polite, even. She doesn't have that crazed look in her eye. She does, however, have this laugh always building up at the end of her sentences."

She was born into a rich family, to Devon and Marjorie Stewart, who owned a contracting company. Both were assholes with drinking problems. When he had a moment, he asked Emalee about the death of her parents. Before their arrest, Morgan advised her to speak to him and only him, addressing him by name. He had no knowledge of this. She told him in great detail, how she had done it under Morgan's watch.