Kyle, this one’s dead, I’m afraid. Send something else when you have it.
He uttered a loud sigh, plopped down into a chair, and tossed the manuscript on the table, burying his face in his hands. He was alone in a new town, without family or friends, his heart nicked and bleeding once again by the jagged edge of his shattered hopes.
Born and raised in Boonesville, Tennessee, he had grown restless living in a small town with big dreams, so he had packed up and moved on to North Carolina and Charlotte. As a child, he had come here with his family on a couple of occasions to visit an obscure Aunt on his mother’s side. She passed away in his twelfth year, and although the trips ceased, he had remembered the area fondly.
He had arrived with enough money saved to rent a one room apartment and explore the city for awhile, finding quiet places to write and take in the scenery. When his savings dwindled to a certain point, he landed the job with Falstead. It wasn’t easy work, but it kept the money coming in.
Kyle kept his writing close to the vest, and had shared his literary ambition as little as he shared his heart over the years. But Rob Fenton, his best friend and confidante since childhood, had been there from the beginning. He had read everything Kyle had written, believed with all of his heart that his friend was a talented writer, and urged him to not give up in the face of all the rejections. Kyle would certainly have laid the sword down on a few occasions if not for his friend’s unwavering support.
Leaving Boonesville meant leaving his friend behind; but Rob had been spending a lot of time with his girlfriend Carla over the past year, even recently mentioning the possibility of marriage. Kyle realized times were changing from those wild days when they had built up their hot-rod cars and raced them down on Sheldon road on Saturday nights.
He stood up, grabbed his jacket and walked outside. It was 6:00 pm and the sun was sinking fast. The evening air was chilly; temperatures were still cool at night.
He popped the lever and raised the heavy hood on the classic sports car to check the oil level. As he pulled the dipstick, his thoughts drifted to Leigh, something that had been happening quite a lot since he’d met her. She was amazingly beautiful by anyone’s standards. And though she obviously came from a life of privilege, he felt they shared a kindred spirit. He had noticed her engagement ring from the get go; how could he have missed it? But the way she had reacted to him during orientation, that look in her eyes, told him she wasn’t happy as she could be. He wiped the dipstick clean and replaced it, closing the hood. He ran his fingers over the Chevy II emblem on the front of his car, as the soft orange light of the setting sun delicately bathed his handsome face. He then turned and walked toward his apartment, realizing with increasing clarity that, for the first time in his life, he was falling in love.
CHAPTER 4
“Anything wrong, Leigh?” Gene asked as he drove toward a French restaurant where they would dine this evening. Leigh was deep in thought, staring silently out the passenger window. The radio was playing low. He turned it off.
“Huh?” she replied, blinking and turning toward him.
“What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing,” she replied, clearing her throat. “Why?” He glanced over at her, frowning.
“You seem ...a bit distant lately,” he replied, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “What gives?”
She had seen Kyle once in the past week when she went to the break room to get a soda. When she spotted him, she’d tried to leave before he saw her, but he practically ran across the room to catch up with her.
“Well hello, Ms. Andretti,” he’d said.
“Hey Kyle,” she’d replied. “Sorry, I’m kind of in a hurry…”
“I understand. I just wanted to say hi and look at your beautiful face again.”
She blushed and stared nakedly into his eyes, feeling her heart trying to push out of her chest. Those millions of butterflies in her stomach all had babies and she thought she would float away.
“Thank you,” she replied, feeling her face warming up. Good lord I’ve got to get out of here!
“Well, like I said, I’m in a hurry, sorry, okay?” she stammered, turning away.
“See you later,” he responded, smiling.
She looked back at him once more, and then fled to her office.
Kyle had moved into the corner of her mind (more like dead center), setting up residence, and she couldn’t seem to move him out. This was new territory for her, new feelings she didn’t understand or know how to deal with, and that’s what she had been mulling over just now.
“I’m just thoughtful,” she responded. “Just little things.”
“Anything you want to share?” he asked, prying further.
“No, nothing important,” she replied absently.
He let it go, and the silence resumed. Then he smiled and took her left hand, squeezing it gently.
“Well, the big day is only two months away now, darling! Have you decided where you want to go on our honeymoon? Which will it be? Paris or Venice?”
They had narrowed the locations to those two European cities, and whatever was bothering her, he knew this question would excite her and get her talking. Their upcoming honeymoon was her favorite subject, and she never failed to get charged when he mentioned it. She looked down at his hand interlocked with her own. His Rolex watch gleamed in the evening sunlight.
“Either place is fine with me,” she replied dully. “Whatever you decide.”
He jerked his hand away from hers quickly as he pulled into a parking spot at the restaurant. He turned toward her with a shocked expression.
“What has gotten into you?” he asked, exasperated. “You’ve been all fired up about our honeymoon! It’s all you ever talk about! What’s this nonchalant attitude?”
He was clearly disturbed, and, coming fully out of the world of her wandering thoughts about Kyle, she realized her response was way off. Oopsy daisy! She had to recover. She took his hands in hers.
“I just think both places are marvelous,” she soothed, smiling broadly. “I can’t imagine one being better than the other! I’ve thought about it and I would be happy with either one. So you pick, okay? There’s just no way you can make a mistake!” He searched her eyes and gradually returned her smile, then sighed, obviously relieved.
“Babe, you know how much I love you,” he said. “I just want you to be happy.”
She did know how much he loved her. She felt guilty (and not for the first time) about letting her thoughts drift away on a guy she barely knew. Beside her was the man who had always been there, always supported her. She rubbed his hand between hers.
“I’m sorry if I’ve seemed distant lately,” she said. “I’m really not, though. I’m right here beside you.”
He leaned over and kissed her then, and she returned his kiss with purpose, attempting to iron out the small wrinkle she had created. But Leigh felt something different as their lips came together; for the first time in their long relationship, she felt something was missing.
# # #
Kyle’s job at Falstead was packing skids, which would be wrapped, weighed and shipped beyond his station. The average carton weighed forty pounds, but he was in good shape and he managed it quite well; he certainly had no problem keeping up with the feed. Wade and Billy, whose job it was to pick and fill each carton behind him and send it his way, didn’t have setting a world record in mind.
With time to think on his job, he was pondering his next move in the literary world, if there was one. He’d recovered somewhat from the last rejection (he’d had plenty of practice), and was thinking about what he would do next. He hadn’t gotten any new ideas or storylines in awhile; Terrence Tried was the last thing he had written, and that was eight months ago. He knew he needed to get writing again if was going to keep his agent on board.
Neither Wade nor Billy had spoken to him since he had started; after introductions they had left him alone, content with eyeing him suspiciously. No one had gone out of
their way to approach him, for that matter; but then, he hadn’t made any overtures to anyone either. He decided it was better that he kept to himself at the start, concentrate on his job. Working dutifully for several minutes, he suddenly wandered in his thoughts onto a new concept for a story. There we go, he thought. This is good. His mind had cleared to a state of objectivity through menial labor, and the fountain began flowing. Actually, it was a deluge. He was excitedly pouncing on it, mentally outlining the characters and plot, when Wade walked up to him.
“Hey man, is that car of yours just for show or can it go?” he asked with a smirk. Kyle’s mind was whirling, and at the moment nothing existed outside of the world he was creating. He didn’t acknowledge the question as Wade stared at him, awaiting his reply. When several seconds passed and he felt sufficiently ignored, he spoke again.
“Hey, I asked you a question man,” he stated forcefully. He got through and broke Kyle’s thought patterns, and he turned to face the shorter, stockier Wade.
“Yeah, it’s for show,” he responded sarcastically. “I show people the rear end of it when I’m blowing their doors off.” He stared evenly into Wade’s beady eyes. “Why do you ask?”
Wade stared back for a moment; he then looked at Billy, who was intently watching the exchange from his station, and laughed.
“Hey Billy, did you hear that?” he hollered over the sound of the machinery. “Sounds like this guy thinks he’s the man!” Billy guffawed. Kyle knew what was coming; he had been here before. Next would be the challenge to race, and that would be just fine with him.
“Well, I’ll tell ya what pal,” Wade continued, condescension in his voice and a challenging gleam in his muddy brown eyes. “You know where Summerville road is?”
“I can find it.”
“We drag there on Friday nights, nine o’clock. Come on out and we’ll see if you’re as bad as you think you are.” He stared up at Kyle, sneering.
“I’ll be there. Count on it,” Kyle replied with a sneer of his own.
“Alright!” Wade exclaimed, and then walked back toward his work area, turning around to add: “Don’t chicken out on me, ya hear?” He elbowed Billy in the side.
What morons, Kyle thought, shaking his head. He went back to work, glad Wade had challenged him. He was ready for a good race. That was something he could win at.
# # #
“Again?” she asked, frustrated. Despite her growing acceptance of Gene’s cancellation habits, this was getting to be ridiculous. Leigh was on the phone with her fiancé at 11:30 am, and he was begging off their lunch date. “You’re working an awful lot lately, you know.”
“I know babe, but this Roberson case has me all tied up!” he explained. “It’s a strong one though, and if I can win it, it will mean a lot to my career and for us! I’ll call you later, okay? I promise we’ll spend some quality time together this weekend, alright? Love you, gotta go!”
He hung up. She sighed, stared at her phone in disbelief, and flipped it closed. When the plant lunch bell rang, she stood and stretched, then walked over to her office window and looked out across the company grounds. It was another gorgeous spring day. As she watched the employees spill out, she saw Kyle walking alone. He went toward a big solitary elm tree, one behind and away from the picnic tables. He leaned back against the tree and folded his arms, one foot propped up behind him. He was wearing jeans and a short sleeved black tee shirt, his muscular forearms folded across his broad chest. Scrumptious, she thought as she unconsciously licked her lips. She wanted to go down there and see him, but knew that was a bad idea. After she got home from dinner with Gene Tuesday evening, she had successfully rationalized that her attraction to Kyle, and her doubtful feelings, were simply the product of pre - wedding stress, a passing thing. That had placated her troubled mind somewhat.
Turning away from the window, she looked at the pile of papers on her desk. If Gene is working through lunch, I guess I can too, she thought determinedly. She stared at their picture and thought about their upcoming wedding, attempting to shore up emotional fortitude. She sat down, picked up a folder, and immersed herself in her work.
A couple of minutes later, she looked toward the window and sighed. Just for a chat. She dropped the folder, rose slowly, and started outside.
# # #
“Hello, Kyle.”
His head had been tilted back, resting on the tree, and his eyes closed. At the sound of Leigh’s voice, he blinked twice, then fully opened his eyes and looked at her, surprised. The weight of the moment was not wasted on Kyle; she had come to him. He did not immediately respond, but instead stared intensely at her, and she didn’t lower her eyes, boldly holding his gaze. She felt her pulse quickening. Amazing, she thought with wonderment.
“Well hey,” he finally responded. “To what do I owe this honor?” He unfolded his arms, lowered his foot to the ground and hooked his thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans.
“Nice day,” she responded quietly, finding her voice. “Too nice to stay indoors.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. He continued staring at her, smiling slightly.
“So… how’s the job going?” she inquired, finally looking down, having to. She could only take so much.
She was dressed in a white blouse and a form fitting navy blue skirt, the hemline an inch above the knee and showing off a world class pair of legs. When she looked back up at him, he was staring down at those legs, and she watched as his eyes, slowly and deliberately, crawled up and over every inch of her body. He was blatantly undressing her, and she could almost feel her clothes peeling off. He made absolutely no effort to hide what he was doing. He came to her face, and his eyes settled on hers with open lust. She felt very weak in the knees and extremely warm, but she didn’t budge.
“It’s okay,” he responded. “It’s work.” A passing breeze blew through his hair. It looked so wonderfully soft, and, not for the first time, she imagined how it would feel to run her fingers through it. She found herself, in that moment, imagining plenty of other things as well.
“Well, how do you like Charlotte?” she asked, attempting to make conversation
“So far, so good,” he responded.
She had come out here to see him of her own volition and he knew now, beyond doubt, that she was game. He pushed off the tree and stepped closer to her. She watched him do this with some apprehension, and some excitement, but she didn’t move back. He stopped just a foot from her, well inside her personal space, and hooked his thumbs again into his belt loops. This close to her, he admired her soft, full lips. He could smell her, and the scent was intoxicating. He imagined how it would feel to kiss her, and she, looking back at his lips with equal desire, imagined the same thing. As she looked into his eyes, his gaze drawing her in, she suddenly turned away, stepping past him, attempting to shake off her wayward desire. Get hold of yourself! she thought. She drew in a breath and cleared her throat, louder than she had planned.
“So… are you a Charlotte native?” he asked, turning and facing her. She was now leaning back against the elm, switching spots from where they had originally stood.
“Yes... I am,” she responded softly, unable to find her full voice. She was too nervous, too excited to expound further. The sexual tension between them was palpable, and as he stepped closer to her, she thought suddenly: My back is against this tree! She realized she couldn’t move quickly from this position, and that she was susceptible to a sudden approach on his part, should he attempt it. Her heart was beating rapidly as he leveled his eyes on hers and took another step closer. This is not good! she thought anxiously. She quickly scanned the crowd around them. Not good with all of these people around. But is anyone looking? She glanced about again. They were out of the way enough, and she saw that most were eating their lunches, in discussions, and probably wouldn’t notice if he kissed her. Kissed me? she thought wildly. What am I thinking? What am I doing?
He stopped, just inches between his face and hers. Too close! she thought, no
w in a thorough panic. Her pulse was speeding as he continued to stare into her eyes, and despite her panic, she couldn’t look away. She had pressed back against the tree, stomach tight and drawn in, chest out. She was holding her breath, and she could feel herself trembling, anticipating fully that he was about to lean forward and kiss her. It was going to happen, and she could not honestly say she didn’t want to feel his lips on hers. She closed her eyes, ready, giving in to the moment.
Staring at the stunningly beautiful woman before him, her lips moist and ready, he wanted to kiss her then, more than anything he had ever wanted. But timing, he knew in this case, was everything, and now wasn’t the time. His was an uphill battle to win her heart, and that’s what he wanted; all of it, all of her. He was sure now of his feelings for her, and he suffered no delusions; he understood they weren’t a social pairing, they didn’t make sense, and he was at an extreme disadvantage. He didn’t want to be cast off too early as a fling, and he was sure right now that’s all he was. They would kiss – maybe more - she would take a little walk on the wild side; and then she would get right back to her wedding plans. He knew he needed to get emotionally closer if he was to have any chance at her for life. And although it was perhaps the most challenging thing he’d ever had to do, he looked down at her left hand and asked:
“So how long have you been wearing that engagement ring?”
Her eyes popped open, and she stared at him, at his face so close to hers. What? She had been so totally enveloped in the moment that she didn’t grasp what he’d said at first. Then she saw his eyes looking down at her left hand, at her ring, and she understood his question. She slid off the tree, stepping away, gathering her reeling mind as best she could.
“I’ve been engaged for a year, and happily so,” she answered curtly. There! Take that, Mister Kyle Tilston!
“Okay,” he responded. But we both know you’re not, he thought. “So when’s the big day?”
The Rain Began to Fall Page 3