I woke up in a strange room, a man was lying beside me. I was wearing a very delicate négligée. I sat in bed but could not get up; a terrible headache stopped me from moving.
I looked around the room from the bed. It was a very luxurious place. Maybe a hotel? I didn't know how I got here.
"Darling, get back to sleep. Your headaches are usually stronger early in the mornings," the man next to me said.
'Darling'? Why was this guy calling me that way? I looked at his back, he turned my way and smiled.
"Good morning, my love!", he sat in bed and approached me with clear intentions of kissing me.
I jumped back and fell off the bed. "Auch!"
"Are you hurt, sweetheart?"
"Who are you? Why are you calling me 'darling', 'my love', or 'sweetheart'? How did I get here?"
He smiled, "Come on darling, you're my wife!" He showed me the ring in his hand. In my hand, I saw a matching gold wedding band and an engagement diamond ring.
"That's impossible. I am not married! Is this some kind of prank?"
"Dear, what's up with you, today? Are you feeling alright? Do you want me to call the doctor?"
"What I need is the police!"
"The doctor warned us you would have good and bad days. Relax, baby. I will have a shower and go see if the breakfast is ready. Take your time, I will be waiting for you downstairs. But have in mind, you still owe me a good morning kiss."
As soon as the man left the room, I got up from the floor and roamed around the room. There were a few pictures of us scattered around but they looked 'unnatural'. I entered the walk-in closet. It was full of designer clothes. Not all my favorite colors or styles. I picked a pair of jeans and a white shirt. I tied my hair in a high bun. I walked out of the room still wondering where I was, how I got there, and why would that man pretend to be my husband.
As I walked down the beautiful Carrara marble staircase, I met a maid, "Good morning, madam."
I looked at her and awkwardly answered back. At the bottom of the staircase, that man was waiting for me. God, was he going to be following me around all day?
"You look beautiful, dear. Even in jeans, you look amazing!" He had a big stupid smile on his face. He was already irritating me. "Let's have breakfast."
He escorted me to a small dining room. He saw I looked confused. "Is everything alright, dear?"
"I would appreciate it if you call me by my name, sir. I just wonder, why just a huge mansion has a little dining room?"
He laughed, "You're funny, dear. This room is just for breakfast. We have a family dining room and a dining room for special occasions."
"Stop calling me 'Dear', Sir. Let's have a serious conversation."
We sat down. They brought us breakfast. I couldn't eat half of the things they served me.
"OK. The joke is over! Who are you?"
"I am your husband, dear."
"And, when did we exactly get married?"
"2018, uh? So we've been together for a while?" I realized I didn't know what year I was in but I wouldn't let him know.
"And you have this breakfast specially prepared for me?"
"Of course, dear."
"An American breakfast for me? I am not used to eating this much for breakfast. My husband should know this."
"You must be confused, darling."
"No. And why are you speaking to me in English?"
"Gaby, what's wrong with you?"
"Who told you you could call me Gaby, for you I am Gabriela. And you are...?"
"And does my husband have a name?"
"Darling, you can't tell me you don't know my name! It's me!"
"OK. Elon. Let me be clear to you. I am not your wife. You are NOT my type. Nothing personal."
"If you are not my wife, tell me how are you in my place, wearing my ring?"
"I don't know. I just know I am not your wife. I have never met you not even once in my life. If we were in Las Vegas I would say we got drunk. But I have never been to Vegas or got drunk, I know that."
"Do you have the slightest idea how many women wished to be my wife? I am the richest man in the world."
"But you are still not my type or my husband."
He stood up and left.
I stayed at the table for a little bit longer thinking. Gabriela, Gaby that sounded right. It would probably be my name. What was my surname? If English wasn't my natural way of speaking, what language would I speak? I didn't know what country or city I was in. Where were my documents? Would I be able to go out of this residence?
I walked out of the house into the gardens, which led to the beach. I looked both ways. Damn, rich people. This must be the exclusive area in Miami with private beaches. The only person I saw was a gardener working next door.
I rushed into the house and my room. I turned on the TV, at least I would find out what day it was. I searched for my passport. While I was going through the drawers I found some cash in one of Elon's drawers, of course, I took it. I needed money to escape.
The housekeeper came in. "Excuse me, madam. May I help you?"
"Yes, I cannot find my ID, credit card, driver's license, or my mobile. Have you seen them?"
"No, madam. Maybe, you need to talk to sir."
"Why? Isn't it your job to help me?"
"Yes, madam, but I... don't know... if sir... agrees..." she was clearly nervous.
"Leave me alone, please." As soon as she left I got some clothes packed in a large handbag and hid it under the bed. While I was doing this I heard a familiar voice coming from the TV. I watched the man on the screen talking. I didn't know why I felt this connection to him. I knew I had never met him. He was in Miami.
Then I went into every room till I found what looked like a study or office. I sat at the desk and turned the computer on. I needed a password. Damn nerds! I went into the garage and looked into the car, damn my luck, they were all automatic cars!
I picked up the handbag and went to the beach. The gardener, next door was about to leave. I asked him if he could give me a ride downtown. He agreed.
I needed to go to a hotel. How could I register at any hotel without any documents? Any place was better than with than maniac! I would go to a hotel. I would explain my situation to the manager and ask him to call the police, so I could press charges against that lunatic and try to find out where I was from so I could return home. I sat at the hotel bar and asked for a drink as I gathered strength to talk to the manager.
I saw him going to a table where his friends were drinking. Something told me he was the only one could trust. He was a good human being. I went to his table, sat down without his permission, and started to tell my story.
They were speechless. "Please, Johnny. You must help me. This man is crazy. I know my name is Gabriela or Gaby and I am not Elon's wife. I don't know how I ended up here in his house."
Before Johnny could talk, a man who was sitting behind him turned around, "Sorry, to interrupt. You're Gaby?"
"Do you know who I am?"
"Yes, I thought you left me stranded...!"
"I was supposed to meet you? Do you know who I am?"
"You're Gaby Depp!"
Johnny, his friends, and I looked at James. I asked, "Gaby who?"
"Gaby Depp. Your pen name! You're a writer from Argentina."
I looked confused, and so did Johnny, "Gaby Depp?" he asked.
Yes, she started writing after your trial, it was a way to show support for you and her disappointment with Disney and Warner. She wrote several books with you as the main character. I was here because she wrote a fourth installment of K-9. And she told me she's working on a fifth. She has great ideas."
"But it's just a hobby. I'm not a good writer. You can't take my work seriously."
"Gaby. Finding anyone who can edit your work or even rewrite it is a piece of cake. Finding someone who has good ideas for a movie that could really work, especially when it is a sequel is not that easy. Your plot is impeccable. I love it."
"If we had a meeting, how did I end up at Elon's place? I don't have any ID with me. Why can't I even remember my surname."
James showed me my writer's profile with all my information.
Johnny held my hand, "You're safe now. We'll call the police."
Gracias por leer!
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