2: Party Gone Wild

When Asher got to the Address, Isabella was nowhere in sight. He tried asking the intoxicated-stricken brats he saw running from what would be a crime scene with no doubt, but no one knew where she was. A thought occurred that perhaps she had left, but he dismissed it. She had sounded too shaken up on the phone, which meant she hadn't gone far. He began looking around the property himself. That's when he came across the bloody body lying next to the pool. He quickly stepped past it carefully and headed for the lady's washrooms. Even before he entered, he could hear someone sobbing inside. “Miss Garcia,” he tried calling multiple times, but got no response. “Isabella,” he thought that perhaps using her name would draw her out, but it was a dead end as well. He finally gave up trying and stalked in, entirely ignoring the female-only huge ass sign.

There she was. Huddled at the corner of the counter, hugging her knees miserably. The sight bugged Asher. “Isabella,” he muttered, but she didn't acknowledge his presence as more sobs tore off her shaking frame. Asher peeled off his jacket and flung it over her before he scooped her into his arms and exited the ladies' room. He had barely made it to the gates when he bumped into a man in uniform. Apparently, they had been called for a possible murder case. They insisted on questioning Isabella, who was too frightened to even give a coherent statement. “Isabella,” Asher called softly, lifting her chin, and their gaze held. “This is important.” He rasped seriously, hoping to snap her out of the turmoil she had buried herself into. “You need to tell them everything that happened if you don't want us to get into trouble.” It didn't work. She still stared at nothingness, seemingly numb.

“Please Izzie,” that simple statement did it. Perhaps it was his use of the endearment or the passion with which he said it, but Isabella spoke. Scratch that, she narrated. It had all begun as a dare. Jump off the second floor and directly into the pool. It was easy seeing Isabella did it, and she looked quite shaken. The dead girl had even done it successfully three times. Isabella explained that the said girl tried to backflip because another guy had done it as a challenge. That's how the poor soul ended up on the hard concrete with a cracked skull instead of the pool. After a few more questions, Isabella and Asher were free to go, in the account that they will show up at the station the following day for further questioning. They were asked not to leave the county and country.

Throughout the drive, Isabella was more silent than a church mouse. Asher thought in wonder. He kept glancing at her through the rearview mirror, and the poor girl was nothing like the feisty brat he had first encountered. “Was she a friend of yours?” Asher asked curiously, hoping to understand Isabella better.

Isabella's gaze went to the rearview mirror instantly. She looked at him as he looked at her. One could argue she was trying to study him because after a minute or so she averted her eye and nodded. “Her name was Silvia,” Asher asked her more about the Silvia girl and as it turns out, she and Isabella knew each other since middle school. She was a spoiled heiress on all accounts.

“I am sorry you had to see that. And for your loss.” Asher offered. Isabella mumbled a faint thank you before sighing deeply.

“All that blood reminded me of my mom's death.” She blurted after a long silence. Asher turned his head to look at her. She wasn't shedding tears anymore, but he could see she was hurting greatly. He was also surprised to know that the current Mrs. Garcia wasn't her mother.

“How did she die?” His curiosity knew no bounds.

“She shot herself,” Isabella replied shakily, shocking Asher momentarily. That's not what he expected to hear when he asked the question. “I found the body,” Isabella added almost immediately, making Asher regret asking the damn question to begin with. It was obviously a painful memory lane for Isabella. But now that he had learned little, he wanted more. “How old were you?”

“Nine,”

“My God!” He exclaimed, appalled that at such a young age Isabella had seen that kind of horror. No wonder she was so fucked up. He thought about taking back all the horrible things he had thought about her. She wasn't spoilt. Just a damaged girl who didn't know how to deal with her demons.

“It was a long time ago,” Isabella tried to shrug nonchalantly, but she was anything but okay. Her sporadic breathing betrayed what she was really feeling inside.

“I lost my mother too,” Asher felt like he had to share. Hoping it will make her feel less alone. “She wasn't crazy enough to kill herself or anything close to that…” He trailed looking at her through the mirror, and she was smiling. He had a feeling she didn't want his pity.

“How did she die?” Isabella asked,

“Good old Cancer,” he said carelessly. “Ripped her in her prime. Only 27 years old.” Asher answered with a bitter chuckle. “I was five. I can't even remember how she looked. Looking at her picture feels like staring at a stranger.”

“I am sorry for your loss, Marlowe.” Asher smiled. It was their first decent conversation. Plus, it felt good to have her referring to him without a string of insults.

“It was a long time ago.” He copied her words. Once again, a silence engulfed the two motherly love deprived adults. When they were almost pulling up at Garcia's residence, Isabella spoke. “Do you think you can keep what I just told you to yourself?” She asked warily, putting up her guard. “Dear old dad doesn't like when I talk about that night to anyone,” Asher promised he won't say a word, but he didn't understand why Lucas Garcia put such pressure on his daughter. He should be encouraging her to speak about it. After all, it does help to speak about one's darkest moments. Isabella gave Asher's jacket back once she got out of the car and thanked him for everything before getting into the house. She headed directly for her bedroom without bothering to talk to anyone. It was Asher who was left filling her employer on what had happened.

“Why couldn't it be her?” One of Isabella's stepsisters grumbled, making Lucas scold her lightly. Asher had a feeling even the light admonishment was for his benefit.

“If you will excuse me…”

“Yeah sure,” Lucas flickered his wrist, dismissing Asher. Before the bodyguard could get out of the eating shot, he heard the same sister whine, “why can't I have him as my bodyguard?”

“Because your sister is a screw-up, dear.” Her mother answered. Asher scoffed lowly, hurrying out of view before he said something that could potentially ruin his job.

****

Safely locked in her room, Isabella retrieved an old baby album her mother used to keep. She crisscrossed her legs on the bed and began flipping through it. Though most of the pictures were hers, there were a few of her mother and father holding her. Isabella traced her fingers shakily over her mother's face.

“Why?” She whispered brokenly. It was one question she had been asking no one in particular for years. From the little, she could remember her mother was a troubled woman. She had drug problems as well. But she was also loving. And kind. But also really selfish, as Isabella decided, growing up. Despite how hard it was for her, she shouldn't have taken her own life. Isabella was convinced her mother took the easy way out, the coward's way. Because in death, only the ones left behind who feel the pain of the loved one's absence.

She heard a knock and quickly hid the album before granting entry. It was Asher. With a plate of food. Isabella looked at him strangely, wondering if he had taken a bodyguard slash nanny job. Her incredulity must have been palpable because Asher muttered. “I figured you need time alone, and might not be in a mood to go down and pick the food.” He placed the aromatic shrimps with wedged potatoes on her bedside table. “You need to eat.” He said firmly like he was speaking to an errant kid. Isabella smiled, appreciating the simple concern. “I will. Now leave.” Asher didn't hesitate.