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The Tessarae Inn |
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Suspicions In Scarlet Repose CHAPTER 2
“Got a light?” She lowered the binoculars and slowly turned her head to her left. A man was squatting by her car window and she fixed her gaze on his face. He had soft brown eyes, golden brown hair, and a deep tan. He looked like he spent way too much time in the weight room and even more time looking at himself in the mirror. She hated him on sight. He tapped the window. “Do you have a light?” “Hell, no, I don’t have a light. Can’t you see I’m…busy?” He raised his eyebrows and smiled slightly. “There are laws against stalking in this country.” “Then I suggest you cut your losses and get the hell away from me.” “Interesting. Here's my suggestion. Back off and let whoever that poor guy is do his workout in peace.” She rolled down the window and then cleared her throat. She moderated her voice then spoke in a clear, even tone. “Thank you so much for your suggestion. Now, here’s yet another one for you. When you find that light you’re supposedly looking for, fire it up and then shove it up your ass.” His eyes twinkled and he stood up slowly and stepped back from the car. “Touché. Let’s call it a draw." "A draw? You weren't even in the stadium, much less in the game." "Well, two oinks up, Queen Tubby Bee. My mistake. Guess they're right. Never pays to drop pearls in mud holes.” What the hell! “Are you calling me fat?” “No. I ‘m calling you smart mouthed, rude and nasty tempered.” “Fine. I’m calling you arrested if you don’t leave me alone." He smiled and shrugged. "Consider it done. And something tells me you get left alone a lot." She blinked but did everything she could not to let her facial expression betray how much that comment had hit its mark. "I'm not left alone nearly enough as your presence attests to." "But too much if those binoculars are any clue." "Look, I've tried to play nice but you have no idea who you’re messing with.” "A stalker who doesn’t have the manners of an alley cat or the common sense to benefit from even basic advice?” Heather picked up her cell phone and dialed 9-1-1. "I hope you look good in orange." He threw his hands up in a mock gesture of surrender. “I’m leaving but what is the world coming to?" Okay, here was a question that she could answer. “It's coming to my pointed-toed boots placed strategically up your behind if you don’t get away from me.” He stared at her for a moment longer with narrowed eyes and a narrowed smile then strolled toward his car and drove away.
Heather watched until he was out of the parking lot and out of sight then let her head fall back against the headrest and closed her eyes for a few seconds. She was so tired—bone weary but she couldn’t afford to sleep. The key to any good plan was consistency, persistence and diligence. There were at least five or six people out there already and every instinct in her body was telling her that something was going to happen this morning. He would notice her and not be able to hide his feelings. He was going to admit he had been wrong. He was going to come back to her. He was going to take her in his arms and... Her eyes popped open and she looked around. Was the Porsche still in the parking lot? Yes. Where was he? She glanced at her watch. He was late. Where was he? There he was. Wait. Was that him? It looked like him but he quickly disappeared from view. What was going on? She carefully placed the binoculars out of sight then rolled up the window. She got out of the car and made sure it was locked. This was not exactly the best section of town. Hell, it wasn’t even good enough to be a bad section of town. She leaned against the car and stretched her leg muscles then started jogging in a slow trot. She felt so heavy and out of shape that her gait seemed awkward and she was convinced that she looked as graceful as Barney in stiletto heels. She had spent way too much time drowning her sorrow in cartons of Hagen-Daz’s Cherry Vanilla and drinking shots of Bourbon not to pay a price. But her body was being deceptive. She had not gain one pound but she knew the fat was hiding and waiting to spring out as soon as she was not looking. On the other hand, she had been jogging every morning for almost two weeks now. That should have given her an edge—honed her body’s instincts, made her feel light and sleek but all she felt was tired and heavy. She trotted around the south corner of the old building just to make sure she covered all of the bases but there was no reason he should be on this end of the building. Every morning like a Swiss timepiece he jogged out of the north door entrance of the old gymnasium and jogged thirteen times around the track. She usually waited until he had completed ten or so trips then fell in line behind him—far behind him and among the other people sharing the track with him. The track was a popular spot for a motley crew of early morning joggers—overweight housewives, geriatric men in brightly colored jogging outfits, which she was sure came with matching walkers, serious runners with imperious attitudes trying to suck the zone uncut, giggling teenage girls with their eyes planted at inappropriate places on the bodies of grimaced faced teenage boys trying to test their limits, and her. She couldn’t figure out whether he hadn't noticed her yet or was just ignoring her but either way something had to break soon. She rounded the corner and spotted him then stopped short. Why was he on this end of the building? She didn’t like it when he changed his routine. She needed some things to stay predictable in her life. At least, he looked the same as usual. He was dressed in shorts and a hooded sweatshirt and his dark blonde hair looked liked he had just rolled out of bed. As it always did, even when she pretended otherwise, her heart did a flip at just the sight of him. Then she started feeling warm and lonely at the same time. When was the last time he touched her? Made her lose herself to the point where she would have given him anything as long as he didn't stop touching her that way. How long? Did he ever really understand how much she craved him? How much she loved him? She bit her lip. How could he when she spent three-fourths of their time together making sure he thought otherwise? She took a deep breath and moved closer. Maybe she should just talk to him. Try one more time to explain what happened. Hadn’t it been long enough? At some point, even the fires of anger die down. She stepped forward but then she noticed the woman. She was radiating a bad vibe—hot, predatory and irresistible like pretty poison—very pretty poison. Heather froze in place but then forced herself to take a breath. She slowly eased back around the corner of the building and out of sight. Her breathing was fast and ragged and she tried to calm herself. This was nothing new. Women were always throwing themselves at him. He was, despite how she tried to keep his ego in check, the freakin' star of The Tornadoes. And he was gorgeous. But he was never interested in them. At least, not before… She ignored the stabbing sensation in her heart. Nothing was to be gained by going into denial. She had to deal with the reality of the situation. She eased closer to the corner of the building again and strained to hear the conversation. As if on cue their voices became loud and strident. “You are such a piece of shit, Bryan," the woman practically yelled. "Always have been. Now, stop shitting around and give me what I want.” He growled and leaned forward menacingly. “Maybe. The first cold day in hell.” “You owe me and you can damn well afford it. What I’m asking for is reasonable.” Treyscott folded his arms over his chest. “Reasonable? I’d like to meet your accountant if he can come up with that kind of profit out of thin air.” “Don’t try to snow me, Mr. Football Star. I know shit that will chop you off at the knees. Don’t be a fool and not take me seriously.” “And you know me well enough to know that I don’t play, even at football." "The hell you don't. Your whole life is a freakin' game. You play and other people pay." He lifted his chin and glared at her. Finally, he wet his lips and said, "You’ve tendered your request. I rejected it soundly. Live with it. Preferably out of my sight.” The woman rocked back on her heels then crossed her arms over her chest. “Think you're grown, huh?” “Cut it out.” “Don’t make me conjure up Sarafaye. I got her holding your secrets in the other world but I’ll let her spill them if you make me.” “Sarafaye wouldn’t talk to you in this world much less contact you from the next.” She put her hands in the pocket of her jacket and a sudden gust of wind lifted her hair and created a whirl of long, dark waves. “Things are never as simple as they seem, Bryan. You should know that by now. The next world operates by a different set of rules.” “Cut out the mumbo jumbo. I never bought your act before and I sure as hell don’t buy this shit now.” “Then you’ve forgotten whose child I am." She lowered her voice to almost a whisper and Heather strained to hear. "And if you forgotten that then you’ve forgotten everything.” He narrowed his eyes and said, “I haven’t forgotten anything. Not a damn thing. So maybe the best solution is if you go and join Sarafaye in the next world. That world might suffer but this one would be better off.” She swung her hand toward him as if she planned to slap him but he caught her hand in mid-air and held her in place. Her body seemed to relax and she moved closer to him." You don’t want that," she purred. "Not even a little bit. I can still read your body like a road map. The last thing you want is for me to go away.” She placed her free hand on his chest and let it drift downward. “It’s been a while but like you said you haven’t forgotten anything so you remember how I make you feel. I can see it in your eyes. I still drive you crazy just by being close to you.” Treyscott released her hand and stepped back. “Like hell you do.” “Remember that night at Jeanerette Pond that summer before…” He shook his head. “Yes, you do." Her voice was soft and sultry. Heather hated the sound of it. "You remember. You told me you’d never stop loving me. I never forgot that even after everything that happened. Why deny it now?” “This is not denial.” “What is it then? Guilt? Is that why you’ve been avoiding me? Forcing me to track you to this crummy place.” He stuck his hands in the pocket of his jacket. “I don’t want to have this conversation.” “Fine. Just tell me one thing. Has anyone ever made you feel the way I do. Ever?” He looked away but she stepped in closer then gently pulled his face around so he was looking directly at her. “Tell, me, Bryan. Anyone?” He shook his head gently and looked away. "It's a simple question, Bryan. Give me a simple answer. Anyone? Ever?" He turned his head back toward her. “No,” he said softly then pulled her closer to him. She laughed with a light musical sound. "I knew that. Want to know how? It's the way you..." Heather couldn't listen anymore. She pressed her body against the building and edged her way along the wall, then walked quickly to her car. She had heard enough. Did not want to know any more about what was going on. She had her answer. Tears streamed down her cheeks. No wonder he wouldn’t listen to her. Bryan didn’t love her now. He never did. A wave of nausea swept through her stomach, but she refused to give in to it. What in hell was wrong with her? Why was she tipping away like a theft in the night? She should have kicked his sorry butt and then kicked that slut’s butt, too. She was Heather damn Shuttlesworth and no one messed with her heart. No one took her for granted. No one kicked her in the chest and lived to tell about it. No one won, if she had to lose. The image of that devil incarnate Todd Manning flashed in her mind. Somehow this was all his fault and he would regret messing with her.
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Suspicions In Scarlet Repose FAN FICTION SLIDESHOWS
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