Passion: A Single Dad Small Town Romance

by Bella Winters

  A witness.

  I don’t like to think of myself that way. Basically, it scares the shit out of me, it sounds so ‘bad Mafia movie’ but that’s exactly what I am. Even if the memory is hazy now, tainted by fear, I can still remember it. I still saw it. I saw a man being murdered. I probably could have done something to stop it and I didn’t. Now he’s dead and my life is on the line.

  Plus, I cannot forget that I’m pretty sure they took a picture of me. It’ll probably be blurry, but I’m sure big time criminals have a way of overcoming that.

  I think it’s pretty safe to say that I’m fucked.

  As I spent the rest of the cruise pacing my tiny cabin room, thoughts of Tia would occasionally pop up. I felt bad for leaving her the way I did and not going back, but I just saw someone die. It’s safe to say I wasn’t thinking straight. Also, I just couldn’t leave my room for any God damn reason. I even had to get the staff to bring food to me, just to keep me alive. There was no way I could go out just to see her to explain. I didn’t want to endanger her either. Just because I found myself in trouble, didn’t mean she had to be dragged into it too… I was trying my best to keep her safe!

  Maybe if I thought ahead and I took her cell phone number, I could have spoken to her again, but I didn’t. That’s just something I’ll have to live with. Forever now. Maybe it was never meant to be, maybe it’s best that I just accept that. I probably would’ve ended up getting bored with her anyway. All that bullshit about really liking her was probably just a fad. I know what I’m like, never destined to settle down. Probably.

  I pull my hood up over my head and tighten the strings to keep my face covered. Then I dip down an alleyway that I’ve never been down before, trying to keep the man that’s following me away from learning my address. Maybe it’s pointless, maybe he already knows, I’m not too sure. All I’m positive of is the fact that I’m not feeling the constant prickle on the back of my neck for nothing. There is someone out there who’s after me, and they have a reason to be. If I’m not careful I’ll end up dead because of it.

  I think it’s time to go back to New Zealand, I think morosely to myself. I can’t stay here like this. The US just isn’t the same.

  My steps quicken, I almost run in a bid to get away from the person following me. Or not even the person following me since I haven’t actually seen them yet. I don’t know what they look like. Just the feeling that I’m being followed.

  Ring, ring…

  Ring, ring…

  I almost leap into the air with shock and fright as my cell phone bursts to life. I’m so much on edge that it nearly gives me a heart attack. The ringer sounds so much louder than usual even though I know for a fact that it isn’t.

  Stop being crazy, I curse myself as I slide it out my pocket. I’m acting like I’m guilty and I haven’t even done anything. If I’m not careful I’ll actually draw attention to myself instead of pushing it away.

  “Hello,” I say nervously into the receiver. I didn’t recognise the number on the screen so this could be anyone.

  “Is that Stephen Jones?” a female voice asks me. “I’m Violet, I work for Princess Cruises.”

  “Erm, right.” There’s a part of me that isn’t sure whether or not this is a trick. I saw them men on that cruise, just because this woman sounds nice enough it doesn’t mean she isn’t part of a terrible, criminal gang. I don’t remember a Violet but that doesn’t mean anything. I’m always forgetting names. “Y… yes, it is.”

  “Right, good. I just wanted to let you know that one of our customers…” My heart stops dead in my chest. This isn’t good, this isn’t good at all. “Saw you playing on the ship and wants to have communication with you.”

  “They did?” Still I cannot trust it.

  “Yes, Mr. Beaumont. He works for the Rage Records label and he’s interested in getting your number.” Still I’m not sure whether or not to believe it, but to be fair this is a major name. If it’s the truth then it’s just what I’ve been looking for. Rage Records will be perfect for me… it’s the big break I’ve been waiting for. It’s just a shame that it doesn’t feel right. “Of course, because of our data protection act I can’t give out your information without your permission, so I got his instead.”

  I forget all about my stalker for a moment and turn towards my house. I don’t want to push something so potentially massive to one side because I think it might be a trap. I need all the information first.

  “I’m just headed inside,” I tell Violet with as much happiness as I can muster in my voice. “I would love to take all the details. It sounds like an incredible opportunity.”

  “It does, doesn’t it?” she coos happily. “That’s why I just had to ring you right away.”

  Once I get inside and I slam the door shut behind me, clicking the lock as I got, I head straight into the kitchen to grab a piece of paper. Violet reads out the number to me and I scrawl it down. She also tells me everything that was said, which sounds pretty real to me. I’m still not totally convinced but I decide to just go with it for a moment.

  Once I hang up the phone I spend a moment breathing deeply, panting almost as I try to collect my thoughts. I want to ring this number, I need to know if the offer from Mr. Beaumont is real or not, and the only way I can do that is by taking the plunge.

  Don’t let this paranoia ruin you, I warn myself. This might be my ticket out of here.

  Maybe I don’t need to go all the way back to New Zealand, maybe I can escape those men but stay in the US. If I get famous I’ll have people around me all the time, protecting me. I won’t ever need to worry and look over my shoulder again.

  Without another thought, I hit the dial button and I pace my kitchen while I wait. My heart thunders so loudly in my chest that I fear it might burst free at any time. I find my teeth chewing on my bottom lip as anxiety gets the better of me. I’ve never been like this before, I’m usually confident to the point of being arrogant, but now I’m like a shell of my former self. I doubt the people in my life would even recognise now.

  “Hello, Mr. Beaumont’s office,” a silky smooth female voice offers. I feel the tight knot loosen in my chest and my shoulders to sag with relief. This seems real. Like, really real. Maybe this is actually happening for me! “How may I help you?”

  “My name is Stephen Jones,” I reply with only a little shake in my voice. “I’ve been asked to call this number. I was an artist on the Princess Cruise.”

  “Ah okay,” recognition sparks in her voice. “Yes, I know. Mr. Beaumont is very interested in you. He’s actually in a meeting at the moment so I’ll have to get him to call you back if that’s okay?”

  “Oh, right that’s fine.”

  I can hear the sound of rustling papers in the background. I try to imagine the sleek office that I’m sure this woman is sitting in. All white and silver, very show offy. The music industry is all about appearance. Artists, offices, everything needs to look amazing. That’s why I need to take this chance if it comes my way. Soon enough I’ll be far too old.

  “Actually, I know he wants to meet with you face to face so I can set that up if you like?”

  My excitement grows, I know this is a good sign. Music moguls don’t bother wasting time on people they don’t give a shit about. “Yes please.”

  “Can you do Friday at eleven AM?”

  Oh my God, is this real? Is this really happening? I reach my fingers down to pinch my arm, but the sharp radiating pain that greets me reminds me that I am actually awake here. This isn’t a dream at all.

  “Sure, sure, sounds good.”

  “Wonderful I shall pencil you in.” The thing is she really does sound like she likes the ides of me coming in for a meeting. I must have done better than I thought with my one show on the cruise. How much better I could have done had the damn murder not happened. “I will see you then. Goodbye.”

  “Thanks, Violet.” I must be keen, I even remembered her name. “Goodbye.”

  By the time, I hang u
p the phone the second time I feel much more positive about things. This is amazing, a great sign that things are going my way at last. This is exactly what I came to America for and now it looks like it might really be happening. I jump around excitedly for only a moment, celebrating before reality crashes down on me once more.

  It makes things crystal clear to me, and actually the one thing that comes out of it the most is the fact that I need to go to the cops about what I saw on the boat. I mean, I already thought that but now I really know it. I just have to find a way to do it anonymously so it doesn’t bring a load of shit my way afterwards. Maybe I couldn’t do anything to save the dead man, but I can let his family know what happened to him and I can try to prevent it from happening to anyone else. Including me.

  I want to go into my dream with a clear, focused head. I want to be able to enjoy it. I don’t want to be worrying about criminals coming after me. I need to put an end to this once and for all.

  I glance at myself on the small mirror that I have on my wall, allowing a smile to spread across my lips. Maybe I do look tired and more drawn than usual, but that’ll change when I put all this behind me and I get my mojo back. I’ll be back to my handsome self soon enough. I will get back to Stephen Jones and then I can finally start living the dream.

  Chapter Nine - Tia

  They’re all living the God damn dream. All of them, it really isn’t fair. As I scroll through Facebook, taking a break from my writing that really isn’t happening, my heart sinks lower into my chest. Diana has been positing some incredible looking pictures of Cambodia and Tokyo, Helen has already been promoted, and by the looks of it Alexa is doing amazingly with her wedding planning. It’s only me stuck in my teenage bedroom, ignoring the one piece of writing that I’ve done since college, getting nowhere with my plan to move out at all.

  At this rate, I’ll be here forever.

  ‘He’s there, standing in front of me, the man I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love with. Or if not love, then lust. With his hot, muscular body nearing mine, my heart leaps and dances about in my chest. There’s a fire in the pit of my stomach, a burning that races all the way down to my center. If I don’t have him soon then I might just die.’

  I don’t know what it is about this paragraph but I really want to finish it. There’s something about the text that gets my heart racing and pleads with me to be inspired. Maybe it’s because it reminds me of how I felt when I first saw Stephen Jones. That magical moment when I finally started to feel like someone new.

  I pick my pen up and hover it over the page. I want to write more, I feel like the words are in there within me, but they’re trapped. They’re waiting for something. Or maybe someone.

  If only I could see Stephen again. I don’t know why but I feel like that could solve everything. Even if he’s a player who totally blew me off I just want to see him. Maybe it’s just to get answers, to learn why he didn’t come back for me after he promised that he would, or maybe it’s because I miss him and he’s handsome. So damn handsome.

  There’s no point in me looking him up online. Mostly because I already have and for someone that wants to have a music career he has a very sparse social media presence. I’ve found a very bare Facebook profile. I’ve sent him a friend request but I haven’t had anything back as yet. I don’t hold out much hope because it doesn’t look like he’s really into it at all.

  I sigh loudly and roll over on my bed so I’m staring up at the ceiling. All I want to do is get the hell out of here but I can’t seem to do it. Something is holding me in place and I don’t know what it is.

  “Tia?” Mom’s voice rolls up the stairs. “Are you in?”

  I haven’t seen much of her since I’ve been back, but I think that might be more because of me than anyone else. I’m avoiding her, I’m avoiding Dad, I’m basically just avoiding life. Every time the house is empty I take a look around, I snoop trying to find what I can, but I don’t get anything. My dad keeps his office locked when he’s not in there and it seems he has the only key that he keeps on him at all times, so I have to assume that he’s meticulously careful and everything is only in there. You would think that he’d have one slip up and he’d accidently drop something somewhere, but it seems not. Maybe that’s why he’s such a good criminal.

  “Yeah, I’m here,” I practically mumble back.

  “Can I speak with you?”

  I know she’s asking for permission to come into my room and I’m also very aware that she’ll find a way in whether I say yes or not. I flip back onto my front, slam my laptop shut and tuck my notebook away. This house might be big, but it’s no good for privacy. For me at least. I’ve been forced to learn how to make things look boring so Mom doesn’t don’t bother.

  “Yep. Come in.”

  I force myself into a sitting position and I brush my clothes down. Maybe if I make myself look presentable Mom won’t notice that I’m falling head first into a pit of depression. One that I’m not sure I’ll be able to claw my way out of.

  By the time Mom has pushed the door open I think I look normal enough, but judging by the furrowed expression on her face I haven’t managed to pull it off.

  “What is going on with you, Tia?” she asks in an exasperated tone of voice. “You just aren’t you anymore.”

  “Erm.” I can feel my face flame with humiliation. I cough awkwardly trying to cover up my embarrassment. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, Tia.” She shakes her head in despair. “When you left here you were such a happy girl, always laughing and having fun with your friends. Now, I don’t know who you are anymore. You’re always locked away in your room, you don’t speak to any of us, I never see you with anyone. What happened to you? Did you have a bad time in college? Or maybe on the cruise?”

  I screw my fists up in temper. I don’t want to say it aloud for fear of having a massive argument but I don’t see how she has the right to say this to me. She barely knows me, she didn’t know me then and she doesn’t know me now. This is all superficial observations that she’s basing this off of. Maybe if she really knew me she would have more reason to be worried, but that isn’t the point here.

  “I’m just trying to work out what to do, Mom, that’s all. I’m trying to work out my next move. I thought you said I could stay here for as long as I need to.”

  “You can,” she insists rapidly. “This isn’t that. I’m just worried, that’s all. Are you happy? Can you honestly tell me that you’re okay at the moment?”

  I part my lips, ready to reassure her again but before I do I halt myself. I’ve been wanting to speak to Mom about this the whole time, I just haven’t had a chance. Maybe this is the opportunity that I’ve been waiting for. She’s in my bedroom, we’re alone, Dad is out as far as I’m aware… it has to be now.

  “No, Mom, I’m not happy.” I purse my lips and shoot her a determined glance. I wait for her to challenge me but she doesn’t. She waits for me to start speaking again although I can tell by the way she desperately tries to keep her expression straight that it isn’t patiently. “I overheard something the other day in this house that has me really worried.”

  Almost as an instinctive reaction she stands and she paces up and down the room. “You… you did?”

  I need to pursue this now, no matter what. “I came home and I didn’t think that anyone was in. As you know I didn’t come home much during the holidays when I was at college…”

  “You didn’t come home at all,” Mom accuses. “Not even once.”

  No, because I didn’t want to come back into this circus freak show, I think, but of course I don’t say that aloud.

  “So I wanted to familiarize myself with the house again.” I offer Mom a one shouldered shrug. “I was just walking aimlessly around.”

  “And what happened?”

  “I heard…” I sigh loudly and hang my head. “I head Dad and Adrian talking about murder.” I expect Mom to gasp or something, but she remains dead silent. “Mom, did you hear me? They
were talking about murder. As in, they are going to commit murder. They’re going to kill someone because someone saw something they didn’t like.”

  Mom still doesn’t say anything. She just nods and looks at her feet. Sickness coils around in my stomach, I have to clamp my lips tightly together to stop it from spilling out. My brain buzzes painfully, I can almost feel it banging against the sides of my brain. This doesn’t seem like Mom just ignores everything and turns a blind eye to it, it seems like she actively knows and she chooses not to care because of a few designer handbags.

  “Mom? Why aren’t you saying anything?” I warn. “Don’t you think we should go to the cops or something?”

  She grabs onto my arm and gives me a truly panicked look. As she does I realize it’s the most emotion I’ve ever seen in her face in my entire life. Even through all the Botox I can see that she’s terrified. “You cannot do that. You can’t go to the police. You go to the cops and you wreck everything.”

  “Everything?” I push her off me and step backwards. “So, you’re okay with this? You don’t mind your husband, my father, killing someone just so you can keep everything? Are you insane?”

  She opens her mouth but no words come out. She knows as well as I do that there is no excusing what she’s done. I open my eyes wider at her, showing her my shock. Now she’s standing across from me and she’s a whole new woman. Someone that I really don’t like or need to be around. I guess I don’t know her either.

  “Well that’s fine, you don’t want me to go to the cops about Dad because it might take your house and your wardrobe away from you, that’s fine, but I strongly suggest that you do something to stop him from killing. People like him don’t get away with it forever. His lifestyle will catch up with him eventually. And I’m not going to be around to see it.” Determination floods me, I know now more than ever that I need to get away. “By this time next week I’ll be gone, and I don’t want any blood money to do it with.”