by Flynn, Mac
John tilted his head back and showed off a wide, mischievous grin. "I would rather get some of you," he cooed.
"But I'm not on the menu."
"I could make room on my plate."
"And in your bed?"
"There's always room in my bed for one more."
"Maybe there isn't."
"Then I could always buy a bigger one."
"Cheater."
"That's one of the benefits of being rich."
"Filthy rich," I corrected him. "Which is something I'm not, so I'll leave you to your large bed-"
"-large, lonely bed," he corrected me.
I rolled my eyes. "Hug Gnomy. He needs the attention." The neglected gnome had walked into the study with us and sat on the end of the desk.
John scowled at the object; I hoped Gnomy didn't take it personally. "I would rather warm up to something more pliable."
"Then get a hunk of plywood. I have to get home and do some paper writing." John swung around and tried to capture me, but I alluded his clutches and sprang to the door. "You and Gnomy have fun!" I called to him before I disappeared into the hall.
I raced down the corridor, grabbed my stuff and dashed through the front door. My new car awaited my return with open doors, and I slid into the driver's seat with all the confidence of a giddy high schooler with a newly minted driver's license. I shot off down the road and cruised at a speed close to the limit, plus or minus twenty miles an hour; mostly plus. I arrived back at my apartment at sundown, cursed the early fall sunset for robbing me of my vitamin D, and went up to my apartment.
The hallway of my floor was dimly lit because my landlord was too cheap to replace the dim, dying bulbs. My hole in the wall lay at the far end of the hall, and when I came up to the door with my key in my hand I realized that I wouldn't be needing it. The entrance lay open a few inches, and the knob hung off the door like an executed criminal. I don't know what his crime was other than being a knob on my door, but judging by the mangled lock it must have been a horribly painful end.
I leaned over to look into the apartment, and I didn't like what I saw. Through the thin opening I saw overturned furniture and tables. The windows at the opposite end were busted, my television lay on the floor, broken and battered. I stepped back, whipped out my phone and dialed 911; there was no way I was going in there without backup.
"This is 911, how can we help you?" a lady answered.
"My apartment was broken into and the person might still be in there." For all I knew he could be just behind the door; I stepped back a couple of yards to give him room in case he wanted to flee the scene.
"And where are you?"
"The Upscale Apartments." There was never a more inappropriate name for a rundown shanty of a place. "Apartment 211 on the third floor."
"All right, we'll send over a few police officers. They should arrive soon."
I was tempted to school the dispatcher about her use of the word 'soon' when the police arrived thirty minutes later. They were disinterested in my predicament until I showed them the damage on the door; then they believed me. They raided the place with guns out and pointed at every piece of upturned furniture; fortunately for the furniture they weren't armed, but the culprit was nowhere to be found. I found the place was in a bigger wreck in my bedroom. The intruder had torn apart my underwear drawer and tossed everything onto the floor. I would need to burn all that stuff after it was out of evidence impound. Looking over all my trashed possessions it was hard to discern if anything was missing, but I did find a stash of my money was gone from my sock drawer; everything else in the place was worth so little I'd have to pay someone to buy it.
Then the officers started on the bland part of their jobs; questioning me and the other tenants. Asking the neighbors was a deaf end; nobody knew anything because they'd all been working, visiting relatives dying of exotic diseases, or had suddenly come down with a bad case of deafness and blindness. After three hours I was tired, cold, and wanted my teddy bear; the poor guy somehow made it through the trying ordeal relatively intact; he'd need some surgery to reattach his leg, but other than that was unscathed. I approached the lead police officer in the hopes of escaping from the depressing sights. "Any way I can grab some clothes and get some sleep at a friend of mine's place?"
"No clothes, but you can leave after you've left the name and address of the friend, along with your phone number," he told me.
I sighed and nodded; there was only one person I trusted not to panic over this terrible turn of events. I just hoped his shirts fit me.
CHAPTER 6
To say John was surprised to find me at his doorstep at almost eight was an understatement, though he wasn't complaining. He opened the door and blinked in bewilderment at me. "Are you an early Christmas present Santa couldn't stuff down the chimney?" he teased me.
I rolled my eyes, and stepped past him and into the house. "This night's more like Halloween, but more trick than treat."
"From your point of view, but what's this about a trick?" John asked me as he closed the door.
"Somebody broke into my apartment and didn't even spare the kitchen sink in their rampage," I told him.
His jaw dropped open a few inches and his eyes widened. "What? When?"
I turned around to face him and shrugged. "No idea, and the cops have even less than that. All I know is my place looks like a bunch of howler monkeys wandered through on their way to the zoo."
He put his hands on my shoulder and looked me over. "And you weren't hurt?"
I shook my head. "Nope. The culprit, or culprits, unknown were gone by the time I got there. All I found was their calling card of devastation."
"Did you bring any clothes?"
"The ones on my back."
"You can borrow mine."
"I figured you'd make good on your earlier suggestion, but can we skip the part about your bed? I'm a little tired."
John smiled. "Of course I won't expect you to want to do anything other than lie down and let me comfort you-" I glared at him, "-with food," he explained.
"I am a little hungry."
"And after that I can massage your shoulders."
"That sounds nice."
"And your butt."
"Now you're pushing it."
John shrugged and sheepishly grinned. "Can't blame a guy for trying."
I put my hands on my hips and glared at him. "I think I can when he should be worrying more about my mental state than my physical one," I countered. "I just went through three hours of talking with overweight police officers, even fatter neighbors, and rummaging through the remains of my life." I reached into my coat and pulled out teddy. "I even had to smuggle Mr. Teddy out so the cops didn't impound him. They didn't care that the poor guy needed.surgery ASAP."
"You're right, I should be worrying about your mental state," he quipped.
I scowled at him. "Just get me some thread and a needle so I can patch up my teddy and steal your bed for the night."
"My bed? Why my bed?"
"Because you deserve to sleep on the couch for that rude remark to Mr. Teddy."
"Do you name all your inanimate objects?"
"Maybe."
"Did the kitchen sink have a name?"
I shuddered. "Don't remind me of what happened to poor Steve."
John sighed and turned me toward the living room. "How about you and teddy-"
"That's Mr. Teddy to you."
"You and Mr. Teddy go sit down in the living room. I'll find some thread and needle for him, and some food and medication for you."
I was glad to get off my feet, and flopped down on the couch to await my pampering. He delivered a good meal of scrambled eggs and toast, an improvement over his less skilled version of just toast. I consumed the food with relish, because I really like relish, and got to work on Mr. Teddy with a needle and thread supplied by John. He sat down in the nearby chair and silently watched me for a few minutes. "You're not bad at that," he complimented me.
I shrugged. "It comes with being a poor college student. If you can't sew your socks you can't wear socks."
"You know I still haven't given you your first week's pay."
"My gas tank noticed. It's almost empty with driving back here with a fill-up."
"How much did you say you had in student loans?"
I glanced up from my surgery with narrowed, suspicious eyes. "I never said how much I owed. Why?"
"I wanted to settle your mind about your debt," he explained.
"My mind is as settled as this house."
"This house is still settling. The farmer who owns the land around it keeps over watering the fields."
"Then it's even more settled than the house, and I'm not telling you the amount. I'll just take what I earned and be happy about it."
"But I won't, so why won't you let me help you?"
"Because your my employer, your supposed to be a stingy guy who tosses a paycheck to me once a week."
"What if I adopted you?"
"My mother would have a fit, and what you want to do with me would be considered incest."
"Sounds-" He paused and cringed. "On second thought, maybe I'll just write you out a large check."
"Please, before you think up more ideas even I think are crazy." He left me for a few moments, and I finished the surgery; the patient would pull through. John came back with a check, and handed it to me. I glanced down at the first number, then the second, followed by a third, then a fourth. At the fifth I glanced up at him with wide eyes. "This is more than I make in a year at the diner," I told him.
"Good. That should help pay off your student loans."
"You obviously have no idea about student loans."
"Do you need more?" He whipped out his checkbook from his back pocket.
I waved away his kindness. "No, I need you to stop being so nice to me. It makes me feel, well-"
"-wanted?" he suggested.
"Beholden," I corrected him. "Like I owe you something I can never pay back."
"Just your presence and your snark pays me back in full."
"Did you get that out of a romance novel?"
"Why would I need to read romance novels? I'm living one."
"With me as the heroine?"
"Naturally."
"So when are you going to ride in on a white horse and save me from some horrible creature?"
"Right after you're kidnapped by the horrible creature."
"On second thought, nix the white horse and take me to my room." After all the fun of cataloging my destroyed belongings and being in the company of my horny boss for half the day, I was exhausted.
"There's a guest bedroom that's comfortable and shouldn't have too many ghosts," he suggested.
My blood ran cold at his words, and I glared at him. "You'd better be joking. Mr. Teddy doesn't like ghosts. He's afraid of them."
"Mr. Teddy can rest easy knowing I was joking, though this place is pretty old," he admitted. John led me upstairs to a room between his own and the stairs. He opened the door and showed off a clean, small bedroom with a dresser, bed, and a nightstand. The walls were painted a bland blue and there was a window beside the nightstand opposite the door. Its heavy curtains were pulled aside and showed off the fields to the side of the house. John stepped inside and swept his hand over the bare contents. "This was Sievers' room, so everything should be pretty clean."
I followed him and shivered. "That explains the cold chill."
John frowned and looked around the room; both our eyes settled on the window. "What's that doing open?" John muttered to himself. The window was indeed open just a hair at the bottom. He tried to push it down, but the window wouldn't budge, and turned back to me with a shrug. "Other than the window not latching very well, you should be comfortable in here."
I covered my mouth to stifle a yawn. "Right now I could sleep on a bed of nails, but I guess this will do," I teased.
He smirked. "Let me get one of my shirts."
A nightgown was procured for me, though it showed off more leg than I wanted, and I pushed John out of the room before he got ideas that involved a lot of strenuous breathing exercises and finger stretching, among other stretching. I shut off the light and paused before jumping into bed. I was attracted by the soft light of the clear, unobstructed sky outside, and went to the window. It was a beautiful night with a soft breeze blowing through the small crack beneath the window glass. I lifted the window to get the full gust and stuck my head out to breathe in the fine smells of corn, hay, and manure.
I glanced down and noticed a lattice trellis beneath the window with a fine, sturdy vine that grew all the way up to the window. It made for a handy escape in case of fire, drug raid, or alien invasion through the front door. There was also evidence that Sievers hadn't done that good of a job cleaning the room before she left because there were green smudges on the windowsill from the vines.
My appreciation for the view soon depreciated and I slipped into bed with Mr. Teddy for a good night's rest. I didn't wake up until almost noon, which meant I missed all my classes. Somehow I was sure my grades would survive the trauma, especially when I turned in a doozy of an excuse; no dog-ate-my-paper for me. I would have slept longer but there was a loud rap on the front door; some idiot didn't know how to use the Marley knocker. I threw on my clothes and snuck out into the hall in time to hear John invite a few people into the living room. Then there were footsteps on the stairs, and John appeared with his lips pursed together. "There are a few police officers here to see you," he told me.
I was nervous when I followed John into the living room; I hoped they hadn't noticed I smuggled Mr. Teddy out. There were two cops, a man and a woman, and they both smiled at me. They stepped forward and shook my hands, with the man introducing them. "I'm Officer Buck and this is Officer Stern. You must be Miss Calhoun?" he asked me.
"Yes."
Officer Buck gestured to the chair beside the couch while they took the couch. "We understand you had some trouble last night with a break-in," he explained as the pair of them sat down. "In the report you said that some money had been taken, but nothing else."
I sat down in the chair and John stood behind me with one hand on the top of the furniture. "As far as I could tell," I replied. The place had looked like a bomb had detonated a ton of dynamite, which in turn had triggered a trap of grenades.
"Did anyone know about your money?" he asked me.
I shook my head. "Not a soul." Except for the ones on my socks.
"Do you know of anyone who might have a vendetta against you enough to do such a thing?"
I hesitated; they noticed and Officer Stern spoke up. "Is there someone on your mind?"
"Well, there is this one guy who's kind of into me, and he's been pushy lately," I admitted.
"Did he make any threats toward you?"
I shrugged. "Not really, but he did want to go see my apartment."
"And did he know where that was?" Officer Buck wondered.
"No, I never told him, but my friend who dated him said he was good at finding his way to other peoples' apartments."
"Could you give us his name and address? We'd like to speak with him," Officer Stern requested.
"I can give you his name and phone number. He called me yesterday trying to apologize for being a jerk to me outside the library a few nights ago." John's hand atop the chair tightened its grip; I would have some explaining to do later. "His name is Will Tanner, and here's his number." I showed them my recently called list on my cell phone, and they wrote it down.
"Did anyone else see the altercation between you and Mr. Tanner?" Buck wondered.
"Nobody."
"I see. Is there anyone else you can think of who might have wanted in your apartment?" Officer Buck asked me.
I shook my head. "Nope. I make sure my enemies don't know where I live."
"Well, if you think of anything else just give us a call." They handed over their private work phone numbers and left, no doubt to see
k out my stalker.
CHAPTER 7
That left me alone with John, and right then he was a very unhappy John. "Why didn't you tell me he approached you at the library?" he angrily asked me.
"It wasn't important until somebody decided to rearrange my apartment without my permission," I countered.
John looked me over like I was a fragile doll; this dolly wasn't happy to be treated like a plastic toy thing. "What did he do to you there? Did he try to hurt you?"
I shot up, turned around and glared at him. "Of course he really hurt me. Can't you see my invisible casts?" I gestured down to myself, and had to admit the casts were in a nice shade of invisibility. "Besides, it's not like he was waiting out there for me. We just bumped into each other."
"You just happened to bump into a guy who has a reputation as a stalker?" John rephrased.
That burst my theory faster than a sharp needle on a balloon. For the first time I treated this in a serious manner because somebody had seriously messed up my place, and this guy was the prime suspect. "You really think he was waiting there for me?" I nervously asked John.
"You said so yourself he was good at finding peoples' apartments. Why not finding them on campus?"
I cringed. "And he knows what my car looks like. He saw it when Sheila, my friend, and I went out to eat a few nights ago. That's when she told me how creepy he was. I just didn't realize she was under-exaggerating."
"He sounds persistent. How'd you get away from him at the library?"
"I introduced his balls to my knee."
"Ouch."
"That's what he said, but in a higher octave and with a lot more screaming."
John rubbed his groin. "I only want to imagine."
I folded my arms across my chest and jutted out my jaw; my jaw got sore quick so I changed to a scowl. "Then you'd better not treat me like a girl again, and think I can't handle myself," I threatened him.
"I'm worried about your reckless behavior. You can't keep taking chances with this guy and not telling people that something is happening," he countered. "Maybe you should seriously consider getting a restraining order."
"And what? Wave it in his face when he comes back to my apartment? I don't think that will scare him much," I pointed out.