by F. G. Adams
Composing my emotions, I tread carefully, “Oh, no. That’s okay. Here’s your wife’s purse.”
I hand the bulky purse over to him, at the same time backing up to put distance between us with the chair as my sentry. My skin crawls at the way he caresses me with his beady eyes, lust-filled and dark.
“I just wanted to personally say thank you for watching out for the children. It means a great deal to me.”
I’m annoyed by the lack of sincerity in his voice, the careless manner in which he speaks of the teenagers. He seems more interested in my boobs than the topic at hand. Shut him down, Jocelyn.
“That’s my job. One I’m very good at, Mr. Payne. Thank you for your time. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have another appointment waiting.” I gesture to the door.
He strolls out in a huff and I can sense the tension radiating from him. What did he think he would accomplish by coming into my office and making a pass at me? Unacceptable. He may be a good-looking man to many, but I can see the darkness in his eyes, an evil lurking there which emanates from a person who decides to make bad choices in life. I've seen it before many times throughout my childhood, the darkness in my father's eyes. I see a deeper level within him.
I’ve always been really good at reading people.
My mind begins to build scenarios. Something is off with this man. After meeting him, my instincts are screaming out to me that he has everything to do with the strange behavior of the twins. I could be wrong, but what if I’m not? That’s a chance I can’t take.
On the ride home, my thoughts are hampered by a rundown of events surrounding the twins. It appears all the dots are connecting to around six months after Desmond married Calista. Coincidence? Maybe, and the stress of trying to put it all together is wearing me down.
Entering through the stately security gate of Palm Wood Manor, I wave at Chester, the security guard who allows me entrance into the gated community where I live. It’s a small neighborhood for the elite where the entrances and exits are monitored thoroughly. A clubhouse, golf course, and several markets and stores are situated within the confounds of the expansive property. A bit over the top? Yes. Few people know I live here. All my mail goes to a post office box at the branch near my office.
My grandma has always taken care of me and everyone she loves dearly, even without my father’s approval. She bought this house for me when I decided to stay in Gainesville and insisted on my living here. Honestly, when I first came here, I knew it was outrageous. I’ve never done outrageous. Then I soon realized it made me feel safe with all of the state of the art benefits. Single woman, living by herself. It’s a no brainer. So, I live here for the protection it offers and, of course, to appease my grandma.
I pull up and into the three-car garage of my home right before the sun goes down. My house sits at the end of a cul-de-sac on a two-acre lot. The house is extravagant with its Mediterranean design and Spanish flare. The lightly-tinted terracotta stucco walls, red clay tile roof with a low pitch, sweeping archways, a courtyard, and wrought-iron railings add to my home's elegant character. Its charm adds a romantic appeal that I fell in love with from day one.
Shutting the garage, I put my car in park. Grabbing my food from the back seat, I get out of the car and make my way to the door to punch in the alarm code, gaining access. I glance back over to the last garage bay. Sitting in its spot is my classic candy apple red GTO convertible. My classic car, which was my sixteenth birthday present from dear ole dad, depresses me. It was a payoff or a hush-up present. Take your pick. Whatever it was at the time. Even though it was my birthday present, there was underlying deceit that came with it.
I was thankful to have my own transportation, but anything would’ve been fine with me. Maybe something less conspicuous, not a showpiece that should be in a museum. But that’s the Blackwood way. No, that’s my dad’s way of showing off his vast wealth, a way to make people think everything is right as rain. What’s wrong with just being normal? Even though it reminds me of my dad, I’ve never been able to part with it. Go figure. I guess I really am a sentimental fool. I’m visibly shaken from the trepidation this case is dredging up in my mind. Sighing, I open the door and enter.
The Pizza Depot is my food of choice tonight. Because of my long hours, I rarely get a home-cooked meal. Kicking my shoes off in the mud room, I make a beeline for the kitchen to grab a bottle of chilled Moscato from the wine fridge and set down the pizza box. One glass of sweetness a night allows me a sense of accord, especially with days like today. Some of the scoundrels I run into in my line of work gives me the creeps.
Meow. Meow. Miss Kitty jumps onto the granite countertop as I’m pouring a glass of wine. She wears a permanent tuxedo, white chest, and paws with a black coat as dark as midnight. Beautiful gold eyes are a stark contrast to the rest of her. Miss Kitty waits patiently for me to finish and feed her. Not before I consume a large gulp of wine.
“Hello, Miss Kitty. How are you tonight?” I express my affection by stroking her fur from head to tail. She rubs up against me, contracting and contorting her lithe body in the feline way. I turn to take her food out of the cherry wood cabinet and serve it up in her favorite pink kitty dish.
She eats at a leisurely pace. I sit on a barstool at the breakfast bar in my gourmet kitchen, eating my jalapeño, pepperoni, and Canadian bacon pizza, drinking Moscato, and watching Miss Kitty. This is what my life is all about. A great job that I love, a beautiful home, and a temperamental cat who loves me unconditionally.
Later, I change into a pair of my most comfortable pajamas. The cartoon characters, Garfield and Odie are on the front of the tank top with prints of dog bones and fish skeletons scattered all over the shorts. The material is worn a little from the numerous washings over the years. Grandma bought them for me my senior year of high school and I can’t seem to part with them. They are my favorite. A stark contrast to the elegance of my bedroom.
After I pull all the decorative pillows off my bed, I pull down the comforter and pound my pillow. I’m tired from a long, emotion-filled day. I tuck myself into the fluffy king-sized bed. My eighteen hundred thread count of Egyptian silk sheets brush against my weary body as I nuzzle in to go to sleep. Sleep doesn’t come for me. I toss and turn.
Those twins plague me and consume my mood, reminding me of my childhood, how Fallyn was always in the front protecting me and Sage. I’m closer to this case than I realize. It’s bringing back memories. A journey into the past I let go of when I left the View.
Thinking about Fallyn along with the twins causes a bit of distress for me, feelings I’ve tried to bury because it releases a helplessness within me I’ve succeeded for many years to leave in the past. But like a bad penny, it always turns up.
The pizza I ate earlier brings about a whole other round of reflecting, seeing the teenagers under the tree with their easy banter. It brings me back to the first time I got to know Keagan Fontneau. How his friendship became important to me.
We made it to the pizza place across town in about fifteen minutes. Keagan drove slow so as not to scare me, I’m sure. I knew he liked it fast because I’d seen him pull up to school a few times on his motorcycle. The way he talked to me or looked at me reminded of the way a person would approach a scared animal—small steps, measured, and careful. Maybe I was. I was a bag of nerves knowing that if dad caught me, there would be hell to pay.
Keagan ordered us a pizza and drinks, not before asking me what I like and don’t like. He ordered everything I wanted: a pepperoni, jalapeño, and Canadian bacon pizza, along with a sweet tea with a slice of lemon. I watched him for a few minutes cautiously sitting across the round table from me. He had a take-charge, no nonsense aura about him. And for some strange reason, I liked it.
I admired the rustic Italian decor of Vino’s, baskets hanging from the ceiling and pendant lights dangling over each floral covered table, giving off an ambiance of old world, vintage. The floor was made up of russet colored bricks, an intricate pattern that gives off a timele
ss sense of beauty and charm. Jutting out from the wall closest to the kitchen was a brick oven composed of stone and stucco. A wood fire burned brightly, crackling underneath the pizzas already in the chamber. Yet with all of its fine dining qualities, Vino’s was very soothing and laid-back. This place was perfect.
I felt his eyes on me as I took everything in. Then he asked, “Tell me ‘bout yourself, Jocelyn.”
I was caught off-guard at first. He’s so direct and to the point. My total opposite. I’ve never been very good at conversations. Ducking my chin to my chest, I inhaled a deep breath, composing my thoughts. As I looked up from my moment of composure, I saw his easy smile and beautiful blue eyes, dancing with mischief. Was he playing with me? Baiting me? I gave him my finest haughty grin I could muster and spun my tale the best I could without giving away too much.
“Well, there’s really not much to tell. I come from a large family. I’ve lived here in Lakeview all my life. My mother teaches elementary school, my dad is a rancher, I love horses, the color pink, and—oh, I’m a Libra,” I rambled on and on. “I hate math, I stink at Spanish, and I love cheerleading.” Taking another deep breath, I stopped and waited for his scrutiny.
I glanced up and Keagan was staring at me, taking in my every word. With one eyebrow raised, his face portrayed a person without a care in the world, yet interested all at the same time. His arms were crossed over his ripped chest. The top of Keagan’s strawberry blonde hair fell gingerly over his forehead with the sides high and tight. I blushed under his keen gaze. There was something about those piercing blue orbs that gave me the warm and fuzzies.
The waitress came back to our table with drinks and I downed half the glass of the heavenly nectar because my mouth was so dry from my nervous banter. Setting the glass down, I fiddled with the napkin that was laid out across my lap. I was all jittery and shaky from his attention. This kind of thing didn’t happen to me. Jocelyn Blackwood was normally the fly on the wall, the one who gets passed up because I blended in so well with my surroundings.
Keagan clucked behind his teeth, garnering my attention.
“What? I was thirsty. I ramble when I’m nervous. My mouth was totally dry. And quite honestly, you make me a little nervous, Keagan.”
“Hmmm, you shouldn’t be nervous, Jocelyn. Not with me anyway. As long as I’ve got a biscuit, you’ve got half.” Keagan smiled again.
“Ha! You are not what I imagined, Mr. Fontneau.”
“Interesting. I knew there was more to you than meets the eye, Boo,” he chuckled and his words eased my fears slightly.
A few minutes later, the waitress came back with a piping hot pan of pizza and set it onto the middle of the table in between us. Keagan scooped up the first piece and set down in front of me, then served himself. Such manners.
“Thank you. Can you please pass the red pepper flakes? Gotta have them on my pizza.”
He passed the jar. “Really? On top of the jalapeños, huh? You must have an iron gut, cher. My kinda lady.”
My cheeks filled to bursting from all the grinning I had going on.
“Yep, pepper flakes makes everything taste better. At least that’s what I think.”
He waited until I finished sprinkling all over my pizza, then did the same to his, along with the parmesan cheese. We dug in. Silence fell between us for a little while as we consumed the delicious meal.
In between the scrumptious oozing, cheesy bites, I made a few noises. “Mmm” and “oh my goodness” fell from my mouth frequently. Peeking up at Keagan to see if he was enjoying the pizza as much as I was, I stopped my chewing. His bottom lip was tucked behind his teeth like he was biting it. I caught a look of lust that’s gone as fast as it came. Without missing a beat, he stuck a piece of pizza into his mouth and chewed vigorously as a smirk played wide across his face.
The moment passed and we continued eating while making small talk, getting to know each other one confession at a time. Keagan had a personality that kept me in stitches. He told me stories about his family camping and fishing trips.
“Yep … she fell right out, trying to pull that fish into the boat. It was a lunker. Next thing I know, my pop pushes me right in after her. No kidding. He said someone had to save her and I was closest. She didn’t need any help though. She ended up saving me. I was only ten for crying out loud.”
We laughed together. The expressions on his face and hand motions while telling the story made me laugh deep down in my gut, surprising me.
“And what’s a lunker?” I asked, bewildered by his unusual words.
“Oh, right. Forgot you might not know what that means, Boo.” Keagan’s broken laugh is smooth and sexy. “A lunker is any fish that’s ten pounds or more. Just like a toad is five to ten pounds and anything less is a chunk.” He explained it as if everyone should know that. He was so cute. “So my brother Wade, he’s your age, he’s really good at playing the guitar. I’m hoping he does something with that one day. He played a few times on the last post where we lived in Texas. He brought in a crowd too. I helped ‘em by bangin’ on the drums.”
“That’s awesome, Keagan. My sisters and I love to sing and Fallyn plays the piano flawlessly. We need to get together sometime and jam.”
I was amazed by the dialogue. Nice and easy.
I noticed a piece of pizza caught in what looked like two-day-old scruff, so I leaned over to wipe it off as he leaned in towards me. Our auras seemed to tilt together, intersecting to touch at that one moment in time.
“There’s a little pizza caught right here.” I wipe it off, startled by my thoughts, and settled back into my seat.
“Oh, yeah. I have to shave every day or it gets like this, cher.”
“You really have to shave your face every day?” I asked. “I have to shave my legs daily, but I didn’t realize guys had to do the same thing.” We both roared into a fit of laughter at the crazy simple things we were discussing. My heart fluttered as my belly took a dip into the unknown. I was struck by the easy chitchat and how uncomplicated it was talking to him. And when he called me “boo” and “cher”, I melted a little more. Cajun sentiments his pop taught him.
The table next to us was occupied by an older couple about my grandma’s age. The endearing smiles they shot our way gave me a sense of peace. I’d found a new friend, someone who saw me for who I really am. Not one of the Blackwood girls or sisters, but me.
“So why don’t you have a boyfriend, Boo?” Keagan didn’t pull any punches, as he changed the direction of our talk. His eyes were crinkling at the corners along with his gleaming megawatt smile.
“I don’t do boyfriends.” I felt the blood instantly rush up my cheeks, immediately regretting my answer. “Um, I mean I don’t have boyfriends. I’m not really allowed to date.” Trying to recover from my crazy blunder, I elaborated some more. “My dad is very demanding of certain things and us dating is something that is simply not permitted.”
Keagan seemed to assess my answer first with a few bouts of laughter and then he glanced towards me, his face turning serious.
“That’s a shame, Jo. Can I call you Jo?” I nod and he continued. “I’d really like to be your boyfriend. I like you. You’re fun to hang out with.”
My mind was spinning around and around from his admission. This blond, blue eyed sexy boy was interested in being my boyfriend. What would Fallyn do? Oh I knew what she’d say: “Go for it, little sis! You only live once.” That’s what she does. But I couldn’t. I would really love to and Keagan Fontineau was super hot. But my dad would never allow it. And I was the straight and narrow kind of daughter. I could be his friend. That was acceptable. Would he go for it?
As if he could read my mind, Keagan spoke, “You know, Jo. I can be your boyfriend without being your ‘boyfriend’.” He gestured with air quotes and continued. “I’m a boy, that’s obvious, and I wanna be your friend, Boo. So in technical terms, I’d be a boyfriend. Or we could call me a not-boyfriend.” He gazed over at me with determination. He was ambit
ious; I’d give him that. I pondered over what he was offering.
“Boy … and friend. Well, okay then. Yes. I think that might just work. I guess, I mean it isn’t technically unacceptable. Not-boyfriend. Yes. Who knows, maybe we can be BFFs one day.”
I smiled brightly up towards his handsome face. I think the BFF may be too much for a guy like Keagan Fontneau to want or need, but he didn’t seem to mind. Keagan beamed back at me and I realized this might be one of the best nights of my life.
Why the heck am I thinking about this? About Keagan? I kick at the covers on my feet, annoyed with myself. Stop this nonsense, Jocelyn. You can’t change the past, only create the future. Thinking about something beyond my control does me no good. I sink back down into the softness of the mattress, rolling over, pillow between my knees. Miss Kitty jumps up onto the bed and snuggles into my arms. I stroke her black, downy fur, soothing us both. The last thing I remember before I succumb to the sandman is Fallyn’s smiling face.
In the wee hours of the morning, I wake up startled from a dream, gasping for air. Breath in. Breath out. Breath in. Breath out. I focus on my breathing, letting go of the horrendous nightmare by grounding myself to the here and now. It was one of those dreams that stick with you for a while, not easily forgotten because you experienced it before in a different time.
In this particular dream, I was only five years old. He was hurting her again. Her screams filled my ears even with the pillow covering my head. Like all the other dreams I’ve had, I was cuddled up on the full-size mattress with my little sister Sage in my old bedroom on the ranch. We had the covers pulled over us hoping he wouldn’t see us if he tries to find us. Fallyn stepped in front of me when my dad was questioning me and took the blame for something I had done. She’s the big sister and she always ran interference between him and us all the time. It never made sense. She would bait him with her words until he didn’t see anyone else in the room but her.