Rushed Together

By DEREK STEVENS, JOSEPHINE P.

What could have happened to two complete strangers that got them handcuffed to a hotel bed two thousand miles from home?
He doesn’t know. He doesn't even know who he is.
She doesn’t know. All she knows is that she shouldn't be there, dressed as a bride in a honeymoon suite. Why is she there? And how did she end up in that white dress?
Nothing seems to make sense and when things seem to be getting better, they find fake documents for both, a semiautomatic Colt, a positive pregnancy test and two shady individuals set to find them at all costs!
There is no time to think or to remember, they must escape to be able to understand what the hell happened the day before, of which neither remembers anything.
An escape filled with twists, where every certainty collapses miserably, every memory is distorted by what they will discover and where destiny plays its card each time.
A journey that will lead the two protagonists to travel throughout America to the final twist.

"Rushed Together" is a novel full of suspense, mystery and action with a comic and romantic twist to it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Booker
• Release date: May 3, 2019
• ISBN: 9788834167229

Book preview

4TH

RUSHED TOGETHER

Josephine Poupilou & Derek Stevens

Text copyright © 2019 Josephine Poupilou & Derek Stevens

Kelly Velasco's Translation

This is a work fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced or disseminated by any means, photocopies, microfilm or otherwise, without the author's permission.

Cover: graphic design Josephine Poupilou.

Link: https://stock.adobe.com

RUSHED TOGETHER

Josephine P - Derek Stevens (Authors)

Kelly Velasco (Translator)

What could have happened to two complete strangers that got them handcuffed to a hotel bed two thousand miles from home?

He doesn’t know. He doesn't even know who he is.

She doesn’t know. All she knows is that she shouldn't be there, dressed as a bride in a honeymoon suite. Why is she there? And how did she end up in that white dress?

Nothing seems to make sense and when things seem to be getting better, they find fake documents for both, a semiautomatic Colt, a positive pregnancy test and two shady individuals set to find them at all costs!

There is no time to think or to remember, they must escape to be able to understand what the hell happened the day before, of which neither remembers anything.

An escape filled with twists, where every certainty collapses miserably, every memory is distorted by what they will discover and where destiny plays its card each time.

A journey that will lead the two protagonists to travel throughout America to the final twist.

Rushed Together is a novel full of suspense, mystery and action with a comic and romantic twist to it.

PART ONE

RAIZE HOTEL

HIM

I woke hearing a thin and close metallic screech, coming out of that strange dreamless and timeless numbness I felt stuck in.

The mind was still completely numb, like all my two hundred and six bones that seemed to have mummified in that fetal position for who knows how many hours... or days.

I tried to open my eyes but as soon as a crack of sunlight was able to seep through my eyelashes, it felt like I was hit by a laser piercing my eyeball all the way to my brain, which began to throb painfully.

I barely managed to grunt in pain, my mouth feeling like sandpaper.

I tried to make a deep breath, but m nostrils felt clogged with sawdust, itching me with each breath I took.

I coughed with little success. My ribs had no intention of expanding to allow oxygen to fill my lungs more than the bare minimum.

Meanwhile that metallic noise, similar to a chain grinding against smooth metal, kept tormenting me, making its way into my brain, reaching the rational part of my mind.

Where did that noise come from? It wasn’t familiar, yet it comforted me, as if I wasn’t alone.

Intimidated by that foreign sound, yet reassuring by it, I slowly started moving my fingers, recovering their circulation.

My legs also started moving and I immediately realised I was lying down.

I felt a silky smooth fabric under my still numb hands.

Bed sheets, I thought.

I was in bed.

My bed?

I couldn’t say. I couldn’t even remember how my bed was, in that moment.

Everything was unknown.

Even the woman’s scent I was able to breathe into the pillow was unfamiliar to me.

With great struggle, I managed to move my head and finally breathe better.

The air was fragranced but stale, as if the room I was in had its windows closed for a long time. It smelled of roses, new carpet and fine wine left to decanter for several hours. But also something else… Something unidentifiable, something I wasn’t used to.

Suddenly my mind started listing all stimuli: the metallic noise, the wine, the carpet, the bed sheets, the woman’s perfume…

I thought about my bedroom.

I thought about it so much I almost dosed off.

Nothing.

I couldn’t remember it.

I couldn’t even remember how it was made: the colour on the walls, where the bed was, the smell of the room…

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing!

It was a moment before anxiety started taking over every cell of my body.

At lightning speed my mind started looking for answers, expanding the research form my bedroom to the entire house.

Nothing.

How could I not remember my home, my kitchen, my living room…

I mean, I must have eaten and cooked once in my life, right?

I must have watched TV sitting on a couch or a chair, right?

Vague, cloudy memories started to come up: the wonderful sizzle of bacon and eggs, a dark red chair, a finger cut I got with a Japanese Santoku knife, the movie ʻBlade Runnerʼ, a card singed by Phil Rizzuto of the Yankees, Derek Stevens’ ʻQuiet Huntʼ…

Memories, but useless and too foggy to time-locate them.

ʻThe address! Yes, I need that… Where do I live?ʼ I tried thinking about it, as my eyes tried to open again and adjust to the sunlight filling the room I was in.

I slowly but surely my eyesight returned, I couldn’t say the same for my memories.

Roads, neighbourhoods and even cities... Nothing! A deep black hole had sucked in every image. Even the writing on the correspondence was so confusing to be unreadable through memories.

As if seeing better I could also focus on those few memories of a past that never seemed to happen, I opened my eyes.

Dozens of layers of fabric seemed to have wrapped me like a sea of white foam, soft and light.

ʻWhat is this?ʼ I asked myself panicking, trying to make my way through with my arms, still stiffened by the uncomfortable position. The fabric got mixed with the white sheets and the shirt I was wearing. That one was white too, with just a golden stain on the chest.

I didn’t know why, but I knew I wasn’t a guy to go bet still dressed.

I barely managed to pull myself up a little and smelled the stain.

A Bollinger, I doubtless deduced smelling the fruity but also exotic and spicy scent, with a note of honey perceptible to the palate, which made it unique in its kind among the most renowned champagne in the world.

I also had a loose bow tie hanging over my shoulder. It was as black as the elegant trousers and shiny shoes I was wearing.

Everything seemed out of place, but I couldn't say exactly what. Or what wasn't.

I was no longer able to recognise anything.

ʻNot even myself!ʼ my mind screamed in shock and finally free of the fog caused by that odd exhaustion.

The question I could already hear in my mind made its way to my chapped and dehydrated lips:

Who am I?

Those two simple words hit me with the power of a punch violently hitting my guts.

I felt like throwing up but knew I was empty stomached.

I had nausea and an overall feeling of discomfort that soon led me to thing I had been drugged a taken into that strange room that, as my body started to be able to move again, I started to examine.

I tried to get up and suddenly I heard that metallic noise that had woken me up in the beginning again. It was coming from behind me.

I turned around and only saw the wrought-iron headboard against the spatulated caramel wall.

I sat down trying to take a breath, thoroughly oxygenating my neurones, because in that moment I needed every fibre and nerve ending of my body to start working again to their maximum performance to answer the thousand questions I had and that were swallowing my mind back towards the abyss from which I felt I was just coming out of.

I closed my eyes and tried to do some deep breathing exercises... perhaps learned in some yoga class or who knows where and how.

However, when I opened them back I saw something that threw me back into a fit of fear, paralysing me and freezing my lungs and the air inside them.

In front of me, immersed in white tulle, came a light brown head full of curls that adorned and softened the slightly squared face of a woman.

ʻA woman!?ʼ my mind screamed shocked.

The was lying next to me and by the movements of the massive white dress she was wearing, I figured she was about to wake up.

Intrigued and terrified by the fact that even scanning every single fragment of face and body known in the past did not correspond to that of the person who was blissfully sleeping a few inches away from me, I started staring at her as if to memorise every feature, for fear that in my next awakening I could forget her too. The only one who could possibly answer my questions and tell me who I was.

The lightly made up eyes were still closed, while her plump and pink mouth was opened in a sweet smile.

In a daze, I found myself smiling too, as I finished examining those soft, silky cheeks, low forehead, and a small round nose.

The was good looking yet funny, undefinable age. Perhaps between twenty eight a thirty two years old.

ʻWhat about me? How old am I?ʼ I frowned, as I did with every new unanswered question that came to my mind.

ʻWhat do I look like?ʼ I wondered frantically touching my face as my eyes searched the room looking for a mirror.

I had to know.

I needed to know!

I kept having more questions.

My head felt like it was about to explode under the weight of those doubts and blanks.

I reached to touch her and shake her, but I found myself shaking in fear.

I was terrified that if I spoke to her, things would have complicated further and the question, they would become more.

Furthermore, that white dress I barely noticed before, suddenly became an alarm in my head.

ʻA wedding dress… She is a bride… My bride?ʼ My rationality mumbled aimlessly roaming like a flipper ball.

Shook and closer and closer to throwing up bile, I looked at myself.

The shirt was unbuttoned halfway through my chest and stained with champagne. It was obvious I had been partying before falling asleep.

ʻBut why? Am I a party animal? I don't think so... I don't know... I can't see myself getting drunk… especially with a womanʼ.

Yet my luck with that unmistakable: I just came out of a wedding.

ʻMy… wedding?ʼ

With my anxiety on the rise, I moved my left hand to my face, looking for a wedding ring.

That’s when I