Her legs began to shake, and she felt the room spin. The weekend had turned into a personal nightmare. Both her sisters had new men, while she walked around almost certainly pregnant and alone. She turned from the kitchen to find a bathroom as her stomach heaved. A restroom sign hung left from the kitchen and she sprinted down the short hallway. She had hoped that it was a single bathroom with a lock, but it wasn’t, so Erica pushed into the room.
“Alicia, what’s going on?” she asked. Sara quickly followed inside, the worry plain on her face.
Alicia took deep breaths to calm her stomach and her nerves. She had to think and get a hold of herself. Her sister’s hadn’t done anything wrong. They weren’t responsible for her problems or her potential pregnancy. She brought them on herself by being careless and letting her guard down with Peter. Erica and Sara looked so happy, and she should be happy for them. Even if she wasn’t.
They both stood on either side of her as if waiting to catch her if she fell. She loved them as much as they cared for her. Why shouldn’t she tell them what happened to her? What could she say? What did she want? Peter came to mind. She wanted him to be here with her too. To be able to introduce him to her family like they wanted to introduce their men to her. But she had left him and didn’t look back. After the way she said goodbye, he probably didn’t want her either. A man was all about lust, and Peter had had his fun with her.
The words fell flat. No matter how many times she said them, she’d never convince herself they applied to Peter. Even as she spewed her goodbye to him at the park, his eyes had the same sparkle that Justin had for Erica. The same sparkle that Laurent had for Sara as he protected her from falling. And when Peter’s eyes had sparkled that way, he had been looking at her. He said that he loved her, and she didn’t believe him. But it was true.
She looked between Erica and Sara. Tears came down her face. “I think I made a mistake,” she said.
Since unwilling losing her virginity, she had thought that she had taken control of her sexuality and her relationships. That no man would ever control her. But it was a lie, and her first mistake. Instead, she had allowed that one terrible moment to change what she believed, and how she acted. She hadn’t taken control of anything by rejecting the chance of love. Maybe none of the men she had been with before could really love her, but Peter did. And when she rejected him, it was another mistake. But that one she could correct. She hoped.
“We’re here for you,” they said, but she knew what she needed to do. She grabbed a tissue and dried her eyes, and then exited the bathroom. Justin and Laurent waited outside the door, concerned, but deferring to Erica and Sara on what to do. There would be time to apologize and get to know both of them, but not now. She made her way to the door, ignoring the stares directed at her.
The night air washed over her and increased her resolve to find Peter. But where would he be? At his studio? At home? There was so much she didn’t know about him. Like where he’d go if he was upset.
“What are we doing?” asked Sara.
She wasn’t sure, but she felt that she needed them with her. That she needed to make her own introductions, and that reconciling with Peter with her family as witness would convince him that she was truly sincere. “Will you come with me?” asked Alicia. “I think I know where to go. It’s not far.”
“OK,” said Sara, while Laurent emerged from the restaurant without his chef’s attire and went to Sara’s side. Erica nodded and took Justin’s hand.
It really wasn’t that far either. She had walked these streets with Peter last night. He wouldn’t be looking for her. Not directly. She had left with too much anger for him to do that. But he’d want her to know that he was still there for her. So if she didn’t come back to him, in order to see her for one last time, and capture the memory in a photo, he’d go to the one place he knew she’d pass.
She past the club where they danced and remembered the turns they took to the river. Her heart quickened when she saw him. He had already arrived and stood near the spot where she had waved to the passing cruisers. A camera rested on a tri-pod next to him. He didn’t notice as she walked up behind him. But then, as if a surge of energy hit him, he jerked his head up and spun around to face her. His eyes went past her family and straight to gaze on her. Her mouth went dry and she fumbled at words, while her heart wanted to burst from her chest.
“You’re going to miss your boat,” he said in barely a whisper. His eyes held the same sparkle they had earlier.
Behind her, she heard Sara and Erica exchange words. They could see plainly, what she had tried to ignore. Peter’s love for her.
“I love you,” she said. “I’m sorry.” She hadn’t finished her apology before he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his warm embrace. The gasps of her sister’s barely registered as her hands weaved through Peter’s hair and they kissed. Deep, passionate, and full of unrestrained love. They had so many things to learn about each other, and she’d have to warn him about maybe being pregnant. But in his arms, she knew that whatever she threw at him, he would take, and return back to her with more love than she ever imagined.
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Taken by Love
Shades of Love
Mindi Winters Singles
Starving Actress
Grip This
Excerpt - Grip This
Faye screamed. She couldn’t see anything past her blindfold, but she knew exactly what was going on around her. Her hands and feet pulled at the restraints, fighting to get free. She twisted her body, but another strap held her hips down. Tears fell from her face and she stopped moving.
“Please,” she said. Cool air blew against her cheek. She didn’t move, but could hear the slow, steady breath of her captor next to her face. Tears rolled out from under her blindfold and she turned her head toward the man she knew was holding her.
“Please,” she pleaded again. “I have a little girl. She needs me.”
Light flooded her eyes as the blindfold tore away from her head. Her eyes squinted. She still couldn’t see anything and waited while her eyes adjusted. Slowly the form of a man became clearer. His face held no emotion. His eyes were utterly expressionless. Without a word or any change in his face, he lifted his hand to her face. A surgical knife twisted between his fingers.
Faye’s eyes widened in terror and he stepped toward her. She screamed again.
BOOM!
A small army of silent onlookers burst into sudden activity at the explosion.
“CUT!” said the director. She heard others voices in the background too.
“What happened?”
“One of the lamps blew.”
She looked at the torturer. “Well, are you going to get me the fuck out of the rack or just stand there?”
“Oh sorry,” he said sheepishly before getting to work loosening her straps. One of the prop guys rushed up to help.
The two of them finally undid the last restraint and Faye swung her legs over the side of the torture rack. She rubbed her wrists and looked down at them. Faint marks formed on her skin.
“Idiots, you tightened the straps too much. Look at my wrists!” Faye looked around for the torturer, but he had already left. She jumped off the rack and marched straight to the director.
“So who the hell screwed up my shot?” she asked, her hands placed on both hips.
The director took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. He opened his eyes and looked at her. “After looking at the shot on the monitors the DP and I thought the lighting would be better if we had it blocked differently. But we’re running late today and didn’t have time to re-block so we added another light to the blocking we had to get a similar effect. The light had a bad bulb and blew. It’s no one’s fault.”
Faye’s nostrils flared. “No one’s fault? Is that what you’re going to tell my father when he has to write another check to cover expenses on this already over-budget film? This first inst
allment of the Inn horror franchise is going to be a breakthrough production for everyone. If it ever gets shot and to the editors.”
She shook her head and looked up at the exposed duct-work in the ceiling of the fake killing chamber. “My father isn’t going to be a limitless source of funds. He says you need to stick to the budget or he’s going to take control of things.”
The director raised his hands. “Alright I’ll talk to your father. He is after all paying for all this. And don’t worry so much about the costs. We’re doing fine and once we sell international rights we’ll all be making money on this whole project.”
“I’m not interested in the money. I just want to be a star,” she replied.
“Fine. You’ll get your fame and we’ll all get paid,” said the director. He turned from her toward the crew. “All right that’s a wrap for today. We’ll pick up from here on Monday and then get into close-up shots.”
“So where’s the key grip?” she asked.
The director turned back to her and pointed. “Why do you need him?”
“If he had done his job and blocked the lights right the first time, you wouldn’t have needed that extra light and we could have finished up today. Someone needs to set him straight if you’re not going to,” she said, then marched off to the chew out the key grip.
***
Faye looked around the now empty killing chamber. It certainly had the creepy feeling you’d expect from someplace a psychopath would kill people. It the movie it’d be the boiler room in the basement of the Inn she had been kidnapped from. In reality it was the basement of a closed church that they had leased the space from. She considered it ironic that a church would let them us their building for a horror movie about a killing cult, but everyone apparently needed money and they signed the contract.
The boiler took up most of the space, but a large area was available for the torture rack and all the supporting material that a film shoot needed. She liked the stone work, even in the basement. It didn’t just look old. It was old. The crew had added faux-removable symbols on the walls to give a stronger cult-like feel the scene needed.
A rumble of thunder sounded outside, followed by the steady flow of rain starting to come down and beat against the walls. She expected the storm to last all night, no one would head back to the church to bother her tonight. No one except Paul.
This show would be a hit with the cult film crowd and from there she could springboard to bigger features. She had to be a star — adored and loved by fans.
When she asked her father for the funding to produce the film, he said yes almost immediately. It was just like him. He was always substituting his money for his time. In school, he’d donate material or funds for the plays she performed in, but he never came to see any. Too busy at work he always said.
She lived with him most of her life and they were strangers. For a while she tried to change him. She wanted to make him care and pay more attention to her, but that was a long time ago, and now that she was twenty-four she’d stopped trying.
When she went to Los Angeles to try breaking into Hollywood she didn’t have any success. Every audition she went too always had some reason to reject her. More silver-tongued producers had suggested they discuss her rejection in private and maybe something could still be worked out. She always declined.
It was bad enough to be told no. But if she actually went through and tried to fuck her way to the top it would destroy her. Most of the producers offering her a shot on the casting couch were just lying to get her out of her panties. Once they came, she’d probably still be shoved out the door without a gig.
Even if they did follow through and get her a part, it’d just be worse. Then she’d get the reputation as the actress who’d spread for success and the come-ons would never end. Every gig would be tied to sex. She didn’t want success that way.
Her virginity was long gone, so it wasn’t the sex that bothered her. She loved sex, needed it. It was how she became attached to the people she slept with that caused her problems. Inevitably, they were men who laid on the charm, got her to fall in love with them and into bed, and then she found out it was all an act. They didn’t really care about her, they just wanted access to her money, and she would be left crying and heartbroken.
So she hardened up and decided to be the user in her relationships. Have some wild sex for a few weeks or months and then switch up for a new man. The guys were pissed off when they figured out they’d been used, but she didn’t care. It was just payback for all the other women they probably left hurt.
A door open and closed in the distance. Faye wrung her hands together and felt her heart speed up. A smile crossed her face. The fun of the night was about to get started, and she started slipping out of her clothes.
Excerpt - Shades of Love
“Oh, my God, Casey that was amazing. It was like taking a trip to Heaven. I can’t believe how good you are.” He paused. “Seconds?”
Casey Miller smiled. She loved making people happy in the way she knew best.
“I’ve got plenty to go around, so help yourself,” she said.
Mr. Richards didn’t need any further encouragement. He had the serving spoon in a second and was piling more shrimp on his plate. The sounds of chewing, gulping, licking fingers were all around her and she just couldn’t help but smile.
But that smile withered as she remembered the recent conversation she had held with her accountant: Catering sales are going well but your fixed expenses are too high.
Casey sighed, unsure what to do. As the owner of The Practical Gourmet, it was her responsibility to solve problems. It just wasn’t possible to work any harder. Right now she had catering events booked months in advance and she was doing everything herself. There was just no time to figure out what else to do to make more money. Hiring additional help made sense, but no one would stay once they found out about one of her other little problems; they would certainly quit and she couldn’t risk rumors starting to spread, so it was just her. Her and her three big problems.
This job at the Chicago Museum of Architecture was particularly fun. She liked old homes almost as much as she liked cooking great food. The museum was opening a new exhibit on Colonial American homes and the turnout was great. Invitations had gone out to all the big donors and it looked like most of them had come. Nearly 200 of Chicago’s most affluent were in attendance, sitting around the various tables, listening to the parade of speakers and most importantly, eating her fantastic food.
She turned away back to look at her buffet table and all the wonderful dishes she had created. The thought of possibly losing her business, her home, everything, was too much; she started to tear up under the strain of it all.
An older gentleman next to her licked some sauce off his fingers. “Here you are, miss. I’ve got some tissue you can use. I always bring extra to these things. Some of these speakers can just be so mind-numbing to listen to I have to cry myself. But that’s OK. It’s the good food and good company that I come for.” He handed Casey some tissue and asked for a business card. “You are a marvelous chef. I’ll just have to tell my wife to have you for our own family events coming up.”
Casey thanked him and gave a weak smile in return. Another catering gig that I probably don’t have the time to do, she thought. She sighed again and slumped down in a nearby chair.
She rubbed her left cheek and still couldn’t understand how things had gone downhill so quickly from just two years ago. Her business had been thriving, she’d been newly engaged, and hadn’t had any issues with her house. Now it was all turned upside down with her business failing, her love life in tatters and to top it all off, her house was apparently haunted .
Casey shook her head. Ghosts were the last thing she wanted, or needed, to be thinking about that evening. Keep moving, she told herself. Keep busy. She wasn’t exactly where she expected to be in life, but it was what it was and she needed to deal with it.
Keep moving. Keep busy. That was the
key to getting her troubles off her mind and finally getting ahead. She stood up and went back to her table. We need more fruit, she noted and she started making her way back to the museum kitchen area to restock the table. How Colonial architecture influenced later Civil War era building was the topic of the next speaker and Casey glanced up at the Master of Ceremonies and felt a flutter in her stomach as she walked by and out of the event area.
Lucas Stern passed the podium off to the next speaker and the audience applause. He could barely stand it. Walking to the side of the stage in his tuxedo he felt acutely self-conscious. The museum had invited him to be MC because he was a regular donor, and had done some writing on 19th Century Era American homes that had caught the eye of one of the trustees. It was an honor to be asked, and he was pleased to accept, but he hated wearing something so formal. Tuxedos were so constricting compared to the normal clothes he wore daily and the last time he’d worn a tux hadn’t exactly been a happy occasion.
Chasing ghosts is for children and psychos. I want a real man.
Two years later it still stung when he thought about it. Louise was ‘the one’ or so he had thought and they had been about to get married when she’d finally realized that he hadn’t been joking about what his real occupation was.
He wasn’t a ghost chaser. He was a hunter. Not the kind on TV, with infrared equipment and digital recorders, hoping for an EVP, but a real one—with the sorts of powers and skills to make even the most diehard television ghost chaser afraid. Because there were some things out there you needed more than a camera to track down. And a lot more than that to drive them away.
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