The Predator [1]

by Brooke May

  My lost man.

  I can’t imagine losing two people who I love endlessly.

  Rose brings out our food, forcing us apart. “What did you think of your workout at the gym today?” Chamberlain asks as he puts ketchup on his food.

  I dip a fry in ranch. “It was a lot of fun. I can see why you like fighting.”

  Chamberlain peeks up at me, one of his brows raised. “Sorry, panda, but you won’t be entering any fights … ever.”

  I giggle because I have no desire to ever fight, only in self-defense. “Don’t worry there, stud. You’re the only fighter in this relationship.” My giggling grows into a laugh at his mouth drops open with the endearment I just called him.

  “Oh, Katie.” My laughing turns to choking when I gasp. His darkened predatory gaze is in full effect. “Just you wait.”

  Instantly, my food is forgotten and so is my laughter. I’m hungry for him now. Why does he do this in public?

  “Finish your food.” He takes a giant bite of his hamburger, leaving some ketchup and mustard mixed in the corner of his mouth.

  I can’t control what I do next. Bringing my knees up under me, I crawl to him. His eyes are wide with wonder as I place my hands on his shoulders and lean in like I’m going to kiss him. Instead, I go to the corner of his mouth, lick the mixture off his face, and fall back in my seat while he gapes at me.

  “You had something on your face,” I whisper as I go back to my own food. I’m a little surprised at what I just did.

  “Fuck.” He scrubs his face before looking at me again. “You’ll pay for that.” His promise causes me to clench and throb with need.

  “Looking forward to it.”

  Again, he gapes at me. “What kind of little vixen have I created?”

  I look up at his oh-so-sexy grin, his dimple in full effect. “One just for you.”

  Chamberlain chooses to go back to his meal after adjusting his shorts and ignores me. We eat in complete silence. When we are done, he pays and pulls me out of the diner and to my car where he hastily drives us back to his apartment.

  “Just stay gone for another hour,” he shouts at Scott over the phone on the way to the apartment. “I don’t care where you go, just … not … home.” he grinds out, his jaw set with determination. I can’t help but shift in my seat to try to ease myself. I’m wound up. “Bye!” He throws his phone down and grabs the steering wheel.

  “Are you okay?” I run my hand up his thigh. He grabs it and places it nicely back in my lap.

  “You’re a little shit, Katie.” He quickly glances at me and then back at the road. “Where did my sweet girl go?”

  “She’s still here, but your vixen wants to play.”

  Wow.

  I have to agree with Chamberlain. What has gotten into me?

  He slams on the brakes when we reach his apartment. He gets out of the car faster than anything I’ve seen. My door swings open; I’m unbuckled and lifted into his arms. “Chamberlain!” He rushes us up to the apartment and shuffles me around to unlock the door.

  We barely get in the door when he turns and slams me up against the wall by the door, attacking my neck with kisses and nibbling. I tilt my head to the side for him, close my eyes, and dig my fingers into his hair.

  “Oh, Chamberlain.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  CHAMBERLAIN AND I walk hand in hand across the cemetery grounds. We walk between the rows of headstones scattered as far as I can see. It is a quiet day, the sun disappearing behind the clouds that riddle the otherwise blue sky. Altogether, it is a beautiful day, except for a heaviness hanging in the air us since we headed here.

  We finally stop in front of a long, granite headstone that holds both of his parents’ names.

  Rocky M. Lawrence

  August 28th, 1962-

  December 1st, 2003

  Husband, son, father

  Marissa L. Lawrence

  June 20th, 1964-

  May 4th, 2006

  Wife, daughter, mother

  Both beloved by all.

  It seems so little for two people who greatly loved one another and their only son. A firemen’s helmet is stamped into the stone above Rocky’s name, and an angel is above Marissa’s. This pain I feel is something I cannot describe.

  Chamberlain drops to his haunches, never letting go of my hand. “Hey Mom, Dad.” He leans over and brushes off some old dried leaves. “I’d like you to meet Katie.” He pulls me forward and I drop down next to him.

  “Hi,” I whisper. I’ve never done this before. We have a family crypt, but we never visit it. Like everything else in the Cunningham family, once something is gone and no longer viable for a purpose, it or they are forgotten.

  “She’s pretty amazing.” I hear the smile in his voice.

  “You are too,” I whisper, keeping my eyes focused down at the headstone, as if I can envision them. “You raised a very handsome and kind man.”

  We tell them how we met and then Chamberlain starts to tell them about his big fight. His eyes glisten with tears that have yet to fall. I kiss his cheek and stand back up. “I’ll give you a few minutes with them.” I brush the dried grass off my knees. “I’ll be right over there.” I point at a nearby tree.

  I walk over and lean my back against the tree before sinking to the ground. I close my eyes and enjoy the warmth of the sun. I watch Chamberlain sit back and talk to his parents. It’s bittersweet because they should be here with him, watching him continue to change and grow stronger. They would be in the front row, cheering him on at his first official fight. But he has them as his guardian angels. They will go everywhere with him and watch over him no matter what.

  It’s nice knowing that he never truly fell into darker ideas and behaviors after losing both of them. Instead, he became a stronger person and rose above the grief to work toward his dreams. I’m in awe of him. Knowing this and being with him gives me the strength and reminds me that I can pursue my own goals and dreams in life.

  Someday, I will have a husband who loves me and will make me happy. I will have children who I will love and cherish in a way only Fiona has ever shown me. And I will have a career of my choosing and will be happy with it. I don’t need money, glam, and every other embellished glitz that comes with the Cunningham name.

  “Ready or do you want to nap in a cemetery?” I hear the laughter in Chamberlain’s voice. I look up and find him towering over me.

  “If you are. I’m happy to stay here as long as you want.”

  He pulls me to my feet and walks us back to my car. “I never stay long. I know they can hear me wherever I am, but coming here, sitting and talking with them, I feel closer.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that.” I swing our joined hands. “What else do you do on this day?” I have a feeling there is more than just coming to his parents’ graves.

  “Well, I guess we could head back to my place, and I can embarrass myself with pictures. That’s what my mom would have done.”

  “Add in some sushi, and I’m all over that,” I chide.

  And that’s just what we do. We pick up some sushi and head back to his apartment. He pulls out several photo albums filled with pictures of him and even a few from the days before he entered the world. I finally get to see his parents. Chamberlain looks just like his dad, but has his mom’s coloring. Even as a teenager, Chamberlain towered over his mom’s little frame. She had kind eyes like Fiona does. I’m sure if she were here today, the two of them would have been thicker than thieves.

  “You were so cute.” I gush over a picture of him in a homemade Halloween costume. He is Luigi while another boy is Mario.

  I wish my mother had cared enough to do that.

  Zoey and I never had original costumes like that. They were original, but in the way of the price tag, not in the way of our mother taking the time and love to make them.

  “Were?” He barks a laugh.

  “Well, you’re hot now. Who’s the other boy?” He is much smaller and not
nearly as tall.

  “That would be Scott. He didn’t get big until high school.”

  “Well, you both are adorable as Mario and Luigi. Who was Princess Peach?”

  “Gwen refused to be stereotypical, much to Rose’s dismay. She went as Bowser that year.”

  “Nice.” I flip to the next page and find it full of bare butts. Chamberlain’s baby butts, that is. “Oh!” I giggle. He has all the typical baby pictures. Even a couple on a bear rug while he is on his belly.

  I’ve seen some babies, but most are whisked away at birth to nannies and whatnot. I rarely see any at gatherings. But Chamberlain is by far the most adorable baby I have ever seen. He was a round, chubby little thing. His face had big chipmunk cheeks and a massive case of baby back rolls and thunder thighs. I want to squish him and kiss that little face.

  I have my own baby pictures at home. I found them once and scanned them all onto the computer and put them on a flash drive to keep. My parents are strange about those things. My mother freaked when she learned I had them.

  Thankfully, she doesn’t know I have a copy of my birth certificate and when I turned eighteen, I applied for a social security card when she wouldn’t give me mine.

  “That’s enough.” He steals the album from me.

  “Give that back!” I climb over him to try to get it back. “You were such a cute baby and child. I bet your kids will be just as cute someday.” This causes Chamberlain to freeze, and I topple over him, landing us both on the floor.

  I roll onto my stomach and look at some more pictures while he lays on the floor in his daze.

  What has gotten into him?

  I flip to a page with various pictures. Some are of him on his dad’s shoulders watching a fight or a parade. There are others of him ice-skating with his mom. “You know how to skate?” I look over my shoulder with glee. I love going skating. “Chamberlain?” I poke him in the side to bring him back to me.

  “What?”

  “Do you skate?” I ask again, this time slowly.

  “Yes.” He rolls to his stomach, joining me. “Do you?”

  “I love skating.” I flip through the pages.

  “My mom did too. Dad never got the hang of it, so it was one of my special things I did with just her.”

  “That’s sweet.” I feel a little jealous, but I push it away. I’ll get those chances someday. “And fighting was with your dad?”

  “Yes. Mom couldn’t stand to see anyone getting hurt.” We reach blank pages, and I’m sad there are no more. “No more.” He stands, taking the album with him. “Be right back.” He walks to his room, and then I hear the bathroom door shut. It’s getting late, and I’m surprised Scott still isn’t back. I’m not sure where he went, but I’ve enjoyed being here for Chamberlain. He wanted me, not Scott or Gwen.

  I get up and grab the albums. One slips and some papers fall out. I place the album on the coffee table and pick up the papers. Some are just old receipts, a picture that a little kid drew that says “dad,” a recipe, and a letter addressed to Chamberlain in the prettiest handwriting I’ve ever seen.

  I stack the papers from largest to smallest and end with the recipe. It is an oatmeal recipe, and I remember Chamberlain telling me about his mom’s oatmeal cookies. They were his favorite, I believe. The toilet flushes, and I move fast. I put the recipe in my bag and the rest back in the album.

  He comes back in and starts a movie for us. I’m kind of bummed; I wanted to see more pictures. But when he said the movie was one of his mom’s favorites, I couldn’t say no. I cuddle into his side until the movie ends and then I have to leave.

  I kiss him good night. “I’ll call you before I go to bed.”

  “You’d better.”

  When I’m deposited into my car, I kiss him and want to say something more but decide against it. “Drive safe.”

  “Always.”

  On my way home, I dial Fiona. I want to know if we have everything to make the cookies. I think it would be the perfect thing to lift him up. I know he is on tight dietary restriction, but I want to give him a treat he hasn’t had in years.

  I can’t wait to see the smile on his face.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I’M ALREADY AWAKE when my alarm goes off. I was far too excited for today to get a good night’s sleep. I can’t wait to give Chamberlain his cookies. This will be the first real gift I’ve given him.

  Last night when we talked, he tried to get it out of me what I have for him, but I kept my lips zipped. I’ve never surprised anyone before, and I really want to surprise him with these cookies. I came real close to telling him I loved him before we hung up. Part of me wants to say it, but the other part, the stronger part, refuses and wants to hear him say it first.

  I stayed up last night after the rest of the house went to bed, including Fiona, and baked the cookies. It was peaceful having the kitchen to myself. I took extra time to carefully add the ingredients to the batch before I baked them. I tasted one after it had cooled, and Chamberlain was right. They are the best oatmeal cookies I’ve ever had.

  I rush to get dressed and throw my hair up before grabbing the bag I had packed last night and head down to the kitchen. But not before making sure my door was locked. I fly down the stairs with a Christmas morning-like joy and determination.

  But it fades when I see Zoey in the kitchen.

  I’m confused for a split second before I see that she has the box containing Chamberlain’s cookies in it open, and she is eating one. “What are you doing?” I grab them and put the lid back on. I feel a rage and possessiveness overcome me.

  “Hey!” She reaches for them with her well-manicured French tipped nails, but I pull the box away. “I was eating those.”

  “They aren’t for you.” I open my bag, so she doesn’t see my schoolbooks, and set the box neatly between my clothes for cushioning.

  “Whatever Fiona makes is for everyone, Katherine!” Can we spell spoiled brat? “God! Why are you such a bitch sometimes?”

  Really? Me?

  She’s the one who thinks she is entitled to everything. I square my shoulders and stand tall, which isn’t much taller than she is.

  “I’m not; maybe I would be nicer if you weren’t one to me.” She gasps like I actually used that word. I won’t, though. No matter how much she eggs me on. “And for your information, I made these for my boyfriend.” I don’t use his name because she will only ask me who that is.

  She stands, placing her hands on her bony hips, and leans into me with a glare. “They tasted like shit anyway.” She pushes my shoulder as she walks out. I think it angers her more when she can’t move me. I’ve noticed I’ve built some muscle up since I started working out at the gym with Chamberlain.

  Shaking my head, I set my bag down and go to the refrigerator to get my chilled water bottle.

  “She gone yet?” Fiona pokes her head out of the pantry.

  “Yes.” I grab my baggie of mixed fruits and shut the refrigerator with my hip. “Why was she in here?” Zoey never comes into the kitchen; she knows nothing about cooking, and she always treats Fiona badly. Besides my room, this is the only safe place in the whole house.

  “Who knows? That girl is up to something, though.” She comes out carrying everything she needs to make Zoey and my mother’s breakfast, which isn’t much.

  “Why do you say that?” I put my things in my bag and zip it back up.

  “She was asking too many questions about you and Chamberlain.”

  So she does remember his name.

  Fiona sets everything down. “Just don’t let your guard down with her.” She gives me a stern look.

  “I haven’t dropped it since she learned to walk and talk.” We both laugh at that. Zoey was born with the same attitude she now has as a teenager. She thinks she’s God’s gift to mankind.

  “I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if Satan’s Mistress is aiding her.” Fiona starts to separate the eggs yolks from the whites.

  “Me either.”
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  “You seem to be in a really good mood. Does that have anything to do with cookies?”

  “Maybe.” I grin wryly. I’m so happy right now; even Zoey can’t put a damper on it. “I hope they are just like how he remembers.”

  “I’m sure they will be. You made them with love like his mama did for him. I could smell them downstairs, and they made my mouth water.”

  I pull my bag up, careful not to jostle the contents, and walk over to kiss her cheek. “See you later.”

  “Have fun, baby doll.” She waves me off as she starts the burner for omelets.

  XOXO

  WHERE IS HE?

  All the way through my workout and class, I wondered where Chamberlain was. Even Scott was missing today. Last night when we talked, he said he would be here, and if something came up, I’m sure he would have let me know.

  Me: Where are you? Everything okay?

  I frown as I send the message and gather my things to leave the locker room. I haven’t heard from him at all this morning, and it concerns me. Chamberlain is usually the first person to wish me good morning, but that isn’t the case today. My phone buzzes when I reach my car.

  Chamberlain: All’s good, just busy.

  My frown deepens as I read the message once more. He usually is never so brief or vague with me.

  Me: Okay …

  I don’t know what else to say. I don’t want to push him for answers if he is training, but something just isn’t right.

  I slide my phone back into my hoodie pocket and get in my car. I place my bag on the floorboard and check to make sure the cookies are safe in the passenger seat. I start my car and head to Chamberlain’s apartment. If he isn’t there, I’ll check the gym, and then the garage.

  Parts of yesterday were pretty sad, and maybe he is just carrying that emotion through to today. In that case, I hope the cookies will cheer him up. I copied the recipe while I had some in the oven to keep and have his mom’s recipe in an envelope taped to the top of the box to give back to him.

  On my way over, I try calling him, but he doesn’t answer. I’m really starting to worry.