by Harlow Stone
Detective Braumer sat across from me on the black leather chair. Smug as always, seeming to do his job well as oppose to pushing early retirement.
“MS O’Connor we’ve gone over this a dozen times. At this point there is nothing more we can do.”
I fucking hate this man.
“Mr. Braumer, I have woke up at this house every day with a single rose lying on my doorstep. The same rose that was left on my doorstep every fucking day up until the night I was taken! How is there nothing more you can do?”
I’m trying to keep my calm but for fucks sake a girl can only handle so much shit before she loses her fucking mind.
“A kind neighbor perhaps MS O’Connor. Maybe an old friend?”
The fucking bastard.
“You know I’ve been in touch with everyone I know, I’ve also had people ask around town. Nobody knows who it is, and this isn’t questionable to you? You’re not even going to look into it?”
He moves to stand and straightens his jacket.
“As I said, nothing can be done. Until a threat is made, it’s a dead end.”
“Have you called flower shops? Anything? Wouldn’t that help? I fucking told you there were two people in on my attack! And the fucking flowers PROVE IT!”
I can tell by the look on his face he’s about to shut me down again. This man is fucking useless and Detective Miller is gone to some family function on the east coast so he’s not able to help me. If her were here, he would help. I know he would.
“YOU KNOW WHAT! FORGET IT! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE AND I HOPE THE DOOR KNOCKS YOU ON THE ASS ON YOUR WAY OUT!”
Norm breaks me out of my funk and I realize I have tears streaming down my face and my coffee is cold. I could probably count on one hand the number of times I’ve cried and it’s usually when I’m extremely angry. Maybe that's what these are, angry tears because sometimes I just don't know what the fuck to do with myself.
The sound of someone clearing their throat brings my head up. My neighbor is standing at the base of my stairs and I never heard him approach, the damn dog never even warned me. I give her a death stare for being disloyal and he obviously catches it.
“She was over at my house, staring at the burgers I was grilling for lunch. I suppose you could say we came to a truce.”
This means he obviously fed her.
I’m too afraid to speak yet while trying to discretely dry the wetness off my face so I just nod.
“She’s a nice dog. Nothing other than the bandana around her neck though so I don’t know what to call her?”
His approach is gentle, he senses my unease and he’s doing his best to tread lightly.
I take a deep breath and look at his face. No sunglasses today due to the dark sky. His eyes are so dark their almost black. For some reason I figured he would fill the talk dark and broody cliché and be sporting those cerulean blues everyone talks about, but rarely sees.
Nope.
Blacker than night with a ring of grey around the outside. I clear my throat before responding to his question.
“Norma.”
His lips twitch like he wants to smile and he pats his leg to get her attention. She waddles over, tail wagging and scrubs up against his thigh. Next to me she looks like a horse, next to him she might as well be a Pomeranian.
“It was nice to meet you Norma, thanks for joining me for lunch.”
He looks up at me in question, waiting or ready to ask me something.
“We may have got off on the wrong foot yesterday. My names Ryder, Ryder Callaghan.”
Of course his fucking name is Ryder. Why wouldn’t it be? I don't know why he’s gracing me with his whiskey voice when I was nothing but a bitch to him yesterday. Now he’s being kind and I’m honestly not sure if I’m ready for that yet.
Maybe it was the tears that got to him? Civil I can do. Being too friendly implies having friends and I’m not ready for that to happen yet.
I keep my response short and sweet.
“Elle. Thanks for feeding my dog.”
That's as much as I can manage at this point. He’ll pick up eventually that I’m not much of a talker. I stand up to make way into the house to hibernate for the rest of the day when he speaks again.
“Elle.” He slightly shakes his head in a contemplative way.
I give him my signature nod and head into the house.
* * *
The sand stirs up behind me as I pound my way back towards home. It’s been a long time since I jogged outdoors and I realize just how dull burning miles on the treadmill back in Phoenix was. I missed the wind in my face and the smell of the outdoors.
I’ve really pushed it today. Sweat is pouring down my temples and my calf muscles have begun to burn. I’m coming up on the neighbor’s house, Ryder’s house and notice Norma sitting on his back deck. She’s too lazy to come jogging with me, so I assumed she’d be waiting at home like she normally does.
I give a quick whistle and she waddles towards me. I notice the lone figure on a deck chair as he gives a small wave. I don't plan on stopping to chat; I didn’t wrap a scarf around my neck to cover the marks, since it would look fucking ridiculous with my running gear, so I continue home.
I haul my sweaty self-up the steps and make my way inside. That’s the first sighting of Ryder since I met him four days ago. He seems to keep to himself and that's perfectly fine with me.
I don't have many plans for today. It’s Friday. Not that that matters. Every day is fucking Friday in my life. Or whatever day of the week I want to call it. I decide on a shower and a nap due to my once again lack of sleep last night. Then maybe I’ll cook myself a steak and open a nice bottle of wine. My new shipment of books arrived at the post office yesterday, so maybe I’ll settle in after dinner for a night of smut.
I peel off my sweaty running gear and turn on the shower. One thing people take for granted is a good hot shower. I came to this conclusion twice in my life. Once, when I was bloody and beaten in a cool, damp basement with a psychopath. The other when I had been mummified at the hands of Doc Revere and had to endure sponge baths and dry shampoo for a week.
Thus, I’ve become what you might call a hot water whore.
After both these incidents I spent ample time under the hot running liquid. What were once fifteen minute trips in and out turned into me standing under the spray until the water ran cold.
After my shower I wrap up in my robe and a blanket and curl up on the couch. Sometimes running gives me an extra boost of energy, sometimes it takes me straight to bed.
“What time are you going to get here hunny?” asks my mom. They’re all packed and ready to go while I’m still stuck in traffic due to a broke down train forty minutes from home.
“I haven’t a damn clue mom. I’ve been sitting here for almost an hour. I’m blocked in by traffic in front and behind I can’t even get turned around to try a different route.”
Why I didn’t cancel this useless checkup at the doctor’s office today is beyond me. I’m healthy; I should have stayed the fuck home. Now I’m stuck in traffic while the rest of them are ready to head to the airport. Shit!
“Temper temper, it won’t help you right now. The traffic will clear eventually, until then it doesn't sound like there’s much you can do.”
My poor mother, I know she hates traveling at night and if I don't get there soon, she will be.
New plan.
“Mom, head to the hotel. If I have to pay more parking for the extra vehicle it’s not a big deal. I’m not going to miss the six am flight tomorrow, that's for sure, but for all I know I could be here until the sun goes down.”
“I don't want to leave without you Jayne, but if we don't get moving soon Lilly’s going to be one crabby child for the early flight tomorrow.”
Family trip to Florida, already heading down the shitter. I planned and paid for this trip six months ago. I can’t disappoint Lil’, I’ll just drive through the night on my own.
“Go without me mom
. I’ll figure this shitshow out and meet you there later tonight or early morning. Leave my suitcase behind though; I’d like to change before I get back on the road.”
I can’t stand the scent of antiseptic and sick people stuck on me from the Docs office.
“Alright honey, I think it’s our best option, at this point we’re already two hours behind schedule. Your Dad is going nuts. Well, not more nuts than when we were ten minutes late but you know what he’s like. Call me when you leave the house to let me know you’re on your way.”
God bless my mother. My father has probably been in the truck for two hours waiting for me to show up. He’s a planner, very on schedule. Mom has kept him balanced with her sharp attitude and fly by the seat of your pants attitude. It’s what's kept them together for over thirty years.
“I will mom, and thanks. Give Lil’ some love for me and I’ll meet you all at the hotel.”
“Alright, drive safe.”
“You too, mom.”
I’m woken up by the sounds of deep male laughter in the distance. I sit up on the couch and stretch the aches out of my body. I might need a soak in the tub later to ease my muscles after this morning’s jog.
I slowly make my way to the kitchen and look out the side window towards Ryder’s home, noticing a few extra trucks in the driveway. A quick scan of the property shows Ryder and three other men out on his back deck, standing around a smoking barbecue with beers in their hand. My rumbling stomach reminds me of the steak I planned to cook, so I head to my room to get dressed before starting dinner.
I take the steak out of the fridge and season it, leaving it on the counter to get to room temperature while I wash up some new potatoes and asparagus. I layer the vegetables separately in tin foil with sea salt and pepper before carrying it all out to the barbecue. I don't always cook dinner; it’s usually a late big lunch and finger foods later in the evening. Tonight however calls for a hearty meal and kicking my feet up.
After successfully grilling my dinner, I choose to eat on the deck and listen to the men next door. There’s at least an acre separating our properties, with some random trees in between but it doesn’t stop the sounds of hearty male voices making it to my porch. I have a sense of longing listening to their laughter, which most likely comes after some good natured ribbing and inside jokes.
It’s been well over a year since I experienced something similar. Mostly due to my own selfish reasons but the later part of the year was to ensure other peoples safety. Doing what's right doesn’t always make you happy. But sometimes it’s a necessity to protect those you love, regardless of how much you want to stay close to them.
I sincerely miss my weekly dinners with close friends. I stare out at the water and recall the last meal I got to experience with them.
“Hey hooker what do you want Brad and I to bring tonight?”
This is from Laura; her mouth is almost as filthy as mine. She’s been my rock for the past thirteen years, ever since we met in high school.
“You’ve been into the tequila already haven’t you?”
She’s snickering and I can only guess it’s because Brad can’t keep his hands off her. She met him last year. Single mom with two six year old twins and Brad took them all on, while treating them like the true treasures that they are. I couldn’t be happier my best friend has such a great man in her life to support her and her children.
“Why yes my beautiful bitch I have. The kids have been with their Grandma since noon so I figured I’d get an early start!”
This is no surprise to me. Only because I would probably do the exact same thing. Minus the Brad in my life. That man's a keeper but I have not quite found where the rest of the ‘Brad’s’ of the world are hiding. That's the downside to small town living. Either someone has already found them, or they’ve slept with someone you know.
“Of course you did you sloppy slut. However if you hadn’t started your protest to prohibition so early you would recall telling me that you were bringing the buns.”
Fuck she’s forgetful. She’s lucky I love her.
“I already had me some buns today sister, and they were nice and firm!”
She’s still laughing. I hear Brad holler in the background regarding what he’ll be sticking between her buns later tonight, and since I need to finish prepping for dinner I speed this along.
“Alright you’re in charge of nothing but yourself. Not because I don't think you can manage something so simple, but more because I’m concerned of whether or not you’ve washed your hands after all that ‘bun’ business you had going on today.”
She’s still cackling so I tell her I’ll see her soon and finish with getting things ready.
This is normal, weekly dinners with friends. Sometimes it happens on a Tuesday; sometimes we manage it on the weekend, but no matter what we always make time for each other and wine.
I pull myself out of memory lane and clean up my dinner mess. The sun’s beginning to set and I decide it’s a good time to soak in the tub. I grab the half drank bottle of wine from the counter and plug my iPod into the stereo. I bring up my playlist which is a mix of the blues and bands like CCR.
My bath time tunes.
I pin my brown locks on top of my head, I don’t flat iron it when it’s just me at home. When I go out I stick to the pin straight look that is so far off from my appearance before that nobody should ever recognize me. My usual is what I like to call an untamed riot act of hair. It sticks in every which direction and I always make sure to keep a hair tie in my pocket.
I settle myself down into the coconut scented water. I always add coconut oil to my skin in hopes it will tone down the appearance of my scars. A little in the tub adds a great fragrance to the room as well.
My favorite scent used to be anything with the scent of Lilly in it. Then the smell became too much, and the word Lilly became unbearable to read.
Enter coconut. The good Doc recommended it for the marks on my skin and the scent has stuck, without triggering memories from my past like the scent of Lilly did.
Creedence begins singing about the rain when I hear a knock at my back door. Since I spend the majority of my time on the waterside of the house, my front door is always shut and the lights at that end of the house are usually off. I hear Norm scratching at the door to get out as I wrap my robe around myself and head for the door. As per usual my gun is not far so I grab it off the bathroom counter and put in the pocket of my robe.
I holler from the hallway before I round the corner.
“Who is it?”
The whiskey voice from next door greets me.
“Ryder.”
The porch light illuminates him, like a halo on his body. He’s wearing dark jeans with a black t-shirt and flip flops on his feet. His chest looks about three feet wide and he practically fills out the door with his hands resting on the frame, arms spread wide. I’m sure he could plow through with little effort.
He doesn’t scare me, not really. His size is intimidating, but in a good way that makes me feel like he could toss me over his shoulder and carry me to safety if need be.
Jesus Elle focus.
“What are you doing here?” I finally manage to ask after some well-deserved ogling.
His black eyes stare back at me through the screen as I wait for his answer. I stand stupidly with a birds nest piled on top of my head, my black and red silk kimono doing little for his imagination.
He clears his throat before speaking.
“Me and some of the guys from work are having a barbecue. You’re new, not sure if you’ve met anyone around here yet but you’re more than welcome to join us.”
I have to give him credit his eyes have remained mostly on mine throughout the conversation. Mostly.
He’s not making this easy on me. I’m a thirty year old woman for shit sakes and I feel like a damn teenager when he’s around. Time to get my shit together. I cross my arms over my chest and lean my hip against the wall.
“Thanks, but
I noticed the smoke earlier so I think I’ll pass.”
A deep rumbling laugh greets my ears and I can’t believe how warm it makes me feel. Damn he smells good. The wind from the water blowing his scent through my door.
Jesus now I sound like a romantic.
Following his laughter he shakes his head.
“Not what you’re thinking. I hadn’t used it in a while and there was a bee’s nest built under the grill lid. Apparently it was flammable.”
He gives me a half grin while his eyes wander down to my legs.
“Well thank you for the offer, but I cooked a steak earlier and I planned on staying in tonight.”