Worth It Chapter 9

Full satisfaction does not come from satisfying the senses alone. We have capacity to experience happiness at a much deeper level. Paraphrased from Dali Lama


Chapter 9: PIECES OF ME

“Thank God, you made it back, and it wasn’t you.” Noa felt the tension dissipate from top to bottom.

Lonne laughed. “Of course I did. I always do.”

“Haven’t you heard?” Noa could hear the Lakers’ game playing in the background. She knew Lonne flipped it on the moment she walked in the door, even before checking her messages.

“No, I just got here. What’s going on?” Lonne’s tone grew somber.

“They found another woman, in pieces, along the 91 Freeway from Compton to Riverside.”

“When?” Lonne muted the game.

“It’s in this morning’s paper and all over the Net. From what they can piece together, literally, she appears to be in her mid to late forties, blue eyes, blonde--with a little help, and Caucasian. Sounded just like you to me. I’ve had you dead for the past twelve hours. You have to stop turning that cell phone off!”
Lonne believed her cell phone was for her service, not she a servant to it. She turned it off until needed, and the rest of the world could leave a message that would be answered when convenient.

“You should have called.”

“I tried, and who should I call? Your daughters thought you were with me!”

“Oh my, I see what you mean. That would have really blown my cover. Thanks for not alarming them. Give me details.”

Lonne’s seventeen-year-old daughter often spent the night with her married older sister when Lonne was out of town on business or pleasure. Lonne loved the idea of trading baby-sitting duties with her daughter, and built up redeemable overnights by watching her baby granddaughter.

“That’s about all they have right now. No car, no identification. Just another dead middle age woman. They did say this one fits the same MO. All manicured, pedicured, waxed and lifted. I swear, I thought it was you.”

“I feel for the poor woman. That’s a hell of a lot of maintenance to go though to end up in a ditch. It’s some sick bastard for sure.”

“And you have all your information right out there for the world to read, and pictures too! If he has Internet access, and I’m sure he does, he has his choice of women to choose from.”

“But why? Why would anyone want to do that to someone?” Lonne’s voice revealed the vulnerability she felt, but hoped was disguised.

“Because he can. Because he’s pissed at women. Because she rejected him. Because she reminds him of someone who hurt him. Because she made herself available and he saw an opportunity. She was the right woman in the right place at the right time.” Noa paraphrased a political sound bite. “She was the one he wanted to do, and he didn’t have loving on his mind.”

“OK, OK, I get your point. I’ll be more careful. No more meeting strangers in unfamiliar places until they catch this guy. Geez, a girl can’t have a good time anymore without worrying about getting hacked to death. What is America coming to?”

Noa wondered too. Often, when she closed the beach house up for the night by methodically locking all the doors and windows, she questioned what she was locking out. Certainly, the cool night ocean breeze, but primarily man. She bolted the door against the predatory night stalkers, hillside stranglers, serial rapists and mass murderers who threatened her safety and security simple because she was a single woman who lived alone. A target, easy prey. The evolution of man has not distanced us far from cave man tactics.

Noa took precautions. Lonne threw caution to the wind. She played the odds. They had both lived long enough to know women who were mugged, robbed and raped. It often hit close to home. A man who followed her home from Trader Joes on a Saturday morning raped Noa’s next-door neighbor years earlier. It did not always happen to someone else.

“Just be careful. Even the guy who looks and acts like a gentleman can turn ugly. There are too many guys out there you can not trust, and you take off for weekends and overnights without so much as asking their last name. Just do a little checking first, that’s all I’m asking.” Noa cut short the lecture even though she was concerned for Lonne’s safety.

“Finding someone to love shouldn’t be this hard. Now we have to risk our lives every time we log on and try to hook up with someone. And Noa, don’t you dare remind me again about the guy from Seattle with the hammer.”

Noa laughed. “That was an eye opener, but I know I have worn that story out.”

In the early days of Internet dating an article appeared in the Los Angeles Times detailing a cyber date gone wrong. When the woman realized she was with a psycho and tried to leave the restaurant, he followed her to her car and attacked her with a hammer. The woman was Lonne. It was extracurricular on Lonne’s behalf. She was married, but seeking. It was the catalyst that brought about the demise of marriage number two.

“That was a long time ago, and I’m smarter now—I valet, Lonne quipped. “Seriously, I’m fine, and thanks for caring, but relax. You may not think so, but I’m choosy, and I can’t just stop going out. I refuse to let fear win.” Lonne remained resolute in the pursuit of her happiness. Not even a claw hammer could stop her.

“Me too, we just fight it in different way. Go back to your basketball game, lock your doors and I’ll see you soon.” Noa realized Lonne never mentioned the man she met. “Oh, what about the man you went to meet?”

“Hmmm, sweet, kind, retired with pos-si-bil-i-ties.” Lonne drew the word out deliberately to emphasis his potential. “He’s hard to read, holds his cards close to the his chest, and you know me, that just makes him all the more intriguing.”

“So you’ll see him again?”

“Oh yeah, definitely.”

The hunt was on.