Wake Me with a Kiss

by Mila Summers

  Wake Me with a Kiss

  Mila Summers

  Translated by Melody Winkle

  “Wake Me with a Kiss”

  Written By Mila Summers

  Copyright © 2017 Mila Summers

  All rights reserved

  Distributed by Babelcube, Inc.

  www.babelcube.com

  Translated by Melody Winkle

  Cover Design © 2017 Nadine Kapp

  “Babelcube Books” and “Babelcube” are trademarks of Babelcube Inc.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter 1

  Aunt Anne did warn me. If only I had listened to her. But no, once again I charged blindly ahead. And what did I have left? I was stuck in a little town in the Midwest. The only thing that kept me from taking the next flight home was my wounded ego, which refused to admit defeat.

  Again and again I had read the few lines on the small, fat-smeared note in my hand, my ticket to a new exciting life. I was only too happy to believe in its promise. The conditions were too tempting to ignore. Two days off a week and paid overtime were no longer a given these days.

  With this money, it would be easy to pay off the debt I still owed, thanks to Mike. Whatever drove me to sign for the loan of a total idiot, to this day I do not know.

  Actually, it was my fault. I had rushed off on the spur of the moment to make sure I got the job. I stupidly didn't have my list of references in my bag. Much worse, though, was the fact that I had forgotten to send my application package.

  Wringing her hands, Aunt Anne tried to prevent me from rushing off on this trip, but I just could not keep myself from going. So here I was, full of curiosity and no plans. There was nothing and nobody to slow me down. In earlier times, these qualities had been helpful to me. Especially after the death of my parents, I had to quickly learn to get through life on my own.

  As an unmarried, older lady, already well over seventy back then, Aunt Anne took on the challenge of raising me without knowing how much havoc a sixteen-year-old teenager could cause. At some point she just resigned herself to let me do what I wanted.

  The motel where I took a room had had its best years long ago. The caulk in the bathtub was so black you had to assume that was the way it was supposed to be. The windows were so grimy, they hardly let any sunlight into the small room, which probably wasn't a bad thing considering the circumstances. I could see plenty as it was.

  The blanket smelled musty and was dotted with cigarette burns. Something in the wall had started scraping like crazy that day and apparently was trying to make a path into the room...yet another insult to my new abode.

  I only had enough money for a one-way ticket. I had to give up my last twenty-dollar bill for this hole where I was living. It didn't help to stick my head in the sand and sink into self-pity. I needed a plan to get out of this mess without having to ask Aunt Anne for help.

  Actually, I had wanted to call her immediately after my arrival, but I first drove to my supposed workplace. After the rejection, I didn't have the energy to face up to what certainly would be well-intentioned admonitions from Aunt Anne. So I continued to put off the conversation.

  My conscience was gnawing at me, but my pride didn't want to back down. When I reached twenty, my fat head had towered over my dad's. A trait which I gladly could have done without.

  What options did I have? My money was gone, except for the few pennies which were probably resting next to the chewing gum and tissues in my bag. Why had I rushed off in such a hurry? How was I supposed to bridge the lean times until my first paycheck?

  I had to get away. That was the only thing that went through my head when I saw Mike with Amanda in the small bar. He had taken me to this bar, only a few blocks from Aunt Anne's house, on our first date.

  He had turned on the charm and got what he wanted that first evening. I wasn't proud of it and his old Chevy hadn't been especially comfortable. But whatever. You're only young once. Right?

  Oh, crap. It didn't help to gloss things over. From the first moment, Mike had incredible charisma. I felt magically pulled to him. It sounds corny, but it really was the truth.

  Man, as if my life weren't complicated enough. Now I had to admit to myself that I still felt something for that asshole.

  But it was my own fault. Like a lemming, I quickly skipped to the cliff, only to plunge daringly into the depths, just to show that everything was going well.

  Aunt Anne used all of her powers of persuasion on me. Without success. I did what I thought was right and now I was in debt to the tune of $5,000. Fucked up. Shit happens. No matter how you looked at it, I had botched things up by myself.

  Not even a year had passed since I had finished my university degree with distinction and I still couldn't find a job. It was clear to me from the beginning that it wasn't going to be easy. But I didn't imagine that it was going to be this difficult.

  The country's economic problems had turned off the flow of money to the museums. In times like these, there aren't any funds for institutions which for the most part don't return a profit. As a museologist, I didn't have many alternatives. So I looked for other positions, even though they were only related to my field in the broadest sense. Which is how it happened with the job as an archivist in the small municipal archive.

  I took it to be destiny when I read the advertisement in the newspaper. I had run into Mike and Amanda just the evening before.

  I wrote the cover letter last, included all of the requested documents in the attachment, and pressed "send." At least that's what I thought I did. Looking at my email account more carefully, I noticed that I had only saved a draft.

  The lady at the reception desk tried to comfort me by disclosing that the job already belonged to somebody else anyway. The advertisement was only published for adherence to the regulations.

  Right, and now I stood there and didn't exactly know what to do next. I was lacking the momentum to tackle this problem and pull myself out this mess.

  It was no use. The day had already been long and didn't promise any noticeable improvements. I pulled the musty blanket aside, lay down fully dressed on the yellowed sheets, and tucked my legs close to my body. I didn't even dare to take my shoes off. I was deeply disgusted by the smells and by the visions which flashed through my mind, which seemed to come out of the sordid room.

  Sometime in the night I finally fell asleep and dreamed of how life should be, the way I had yearned for it to be and the constant hope that my dreams would come to pass. A prince on a white horse played a not insignificant role in this dream.

  Chapter 2

  The next day began like the previous had ended: shitty. My neck was tight and my head was aching. I had slept on my side with my legs curled up and hadn't dared to move the whole night. My limbs hurt and the moldy smell of my surroundings wafted into my nose.

  There was nothing to do but get out of this room. My decision was definite. I couldn't go back to Aunt Anne. Not yet. I would look for another job and prove that I could make it alone.

  It was only 200 miles to Chicago by car. Chicago had such renowned museums like the Museum of Science and Industry and the Chicago History Museum, where I had already completed an interns
hip during my studies.

  Even if they weren't going to receive me with banners flying, it was a start and, above all, a way out of here. I was not embarrassed to go knocking on doors. Just the opposite. Maybe an institution would appreciate my commitment and would offer me a job. It was worth a try.

  I walked into the bathroom in my worn-out sneakers. You really couldn't call it a proper bathroom. The shower curtain hung in shreds and the bathtub had streaks with origins I would not want to determine more closely. I quickly washed my face and hands with cold water.

  After that meager morning ritual, I packed my few possessions into a small suitcase. I folded my dress pants and white blouse with much care. After all, I would need them more often in the coming days.

  Since I was obviously broke, I decided to travel by hitchhiking. "Stacy, never get into a car with strangers! Above all, not with strange men! Are you listening to me?" Aunt Anne admonished me in my thoughts.

  But what did I have for an alternative? After all, it wasn't going to be easy to cover the 200 miles on foot, though I was fairly athletic. Admittedly, I owed this not to the fitness studio, but to my mother's good genes. I ate a lot and with pleasure, without putting on excessive pounds.

  My growling stomach reminded me that I hadn't eaten anything since the previous morning and it looked like it would be that way for a while yet. I desperately rummaged in my handbag for a chocolate bar or something of the sort. Except for chewing gum and a couple candies which had worked their way free from the wrapping paper, I wasn't successful.

  I hefted my luggage in the direction of the door. Off I went, out of there. God willing, the only way I'd see this seedy room again would be by looking back. I yearned for a long, hot shower to wash myself clean of the past night.

  I delivered my room key without comment to the reception. The lady behind the counter surely meant to be nice. "Was everything ok with your room?" I deliberately ignored her.

  Outside the door I breathed the stifling air. It wasn't even ten o'clock and the thermometer was already pushing the 90-degree mark. The fact that I was burning up on the hot asphalt in the sun brought tears of joy into my eyes.

  Of course I had neither sunscreen nor a hat in my bag. Why would I? I was actually here for a job interview, not to take a vacation and go hiking. Man, this was really not my day. I urgently needed to change something in my life.

  Dear God, if I get a job in Chicago, I will try to lead my life the way I'm supposed to. And in addition, I will send Aunt Anne an enormous bouquet of flowers from my first paycheck. I promise. Just please help me this one time, I sent a quick prayer up to heaven.

  The honking of a SUV interrupted my train of thought. I barely managed to step aside and turn my face to avoid getting the whirling dust in my eyes.

  After I made sure I was still in one piece, I threw a furious look at the driver in the dark blue Cadillac Escalade.

  Who did this guy think he was? I had escaped becoming toast by a hair's breadth. And what was he doing? Instead of being concerned and offering me his help, he was judging me with a disparaging look.

  Obviously, he was only deciding if it was worth stopping for me. As he chewed his gum with relish, his mouth curled into a happy smile. Apparently I had passed his examination. With a wave, he invited me to climb in.

  In my mind's eye, Aunt Anne urgently advised me not to. I had already been waiting for over an hour in the burning heat and sweat was running out of my pores, so I wasn't inclined to listen to her.

  I grabbed my suitcase, heaved it into the back and bravely swung into the passenger seat. There was one thing I knew precisely at this moment: this guy was definitely not a gentleman, and above all, he was not the prince on the white horse.

  "Tell me, do you do this often? You know I could be a potential murderer and I might only be taking you with me to act out my perverse fantasies." The guy who had almost driven over me was giving me a lecture.

  "Thanks for pointing out the facts to me", I retorted coldly while I buckled myself in and locked my gaze onto the road ahead of us.

  Now the guy felt like he had to take the moral high ground. That's just what I needed. Maybe I should point out the tiny detail that just five minutes ago, I had almost been run over? In order not to pick an unnecessary fight, I decided against it and ardently hoped that the drive would be over quickly.

  "Where would you like to go? Does your mother know what kinds of things you're up to?" he teased me with his obtrusive questions, while his scrutinizing gaze slid over me.

  "I would like to go to Chicago and my mother has been dead for eight years. Is there anything else?" I looked deep into his eyes, leaving no doubt that further questions would be inappropriate. At least, I hoped that's what I was doing.

  "Ok, to Chicago. What are you going to do there? Are you visiting somebody?"

  Annoyed, I groaned and rummaged around in my handbag for my sunglasses case. When I finally found it, I put them on and laid back to sleep for a few minutes.

  I only noticed that I had really fallen asleep when a hand touched my shoulder. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty, wake up! We'll be there soon. It's only thirty miles to Chicago. Where exactly should I let you out"?

  "What? So fast?", I answered drowsily.

  "Sweetheart, you slept almost two hours," my companion joked.

  "Oh, really?" I heard myself say as if from far away.

  "Ok, where do you want to go? What's your destination?" he kept asking.

  "Oh, maybe the Museum of Science and Industry, if it's not too inconvenient," I gave in and revealed my lack of planning.

  "Is somebody waiting for you there, or why is it that you want to go there?"

  Slowly, but surely, this guy was getting on my nerves to the extent that it took all my strength to keep from strangling him. What did he care what I did, how, where, and with whom? Honestly. I wasn't sixteen any more. I didn't need a protector. And especially not one who I didn't even know.

  "And why would you want to know that? It's none of your business what my plans are. If it's not possible for you to let me off at the museum, then don't do it. But please stop bombarding me with questions." Just at that moment, my stomach began to growl. I put my hand protectively over it but it wasn't enough to dampen the thundering sound.

  "Sounds like the bombardment blew a hole in your belly. That hole seems to be big enough that your stomach is rebelling. I'm going to stop at the next diner and you can have a juicy burger with me."

  "You don't have to do that. Just let me out anywhere." I tried to calmly and pointedly decline the invitation, while the thought of delicious grilled beef and some greasy fries were causing my mouth to water.

  "It's nothing. We're just going to indulge ourselves a little. I wanted to take a break anyway before I'm on my way again. It can't hurt."

  "If you like. But as I said, don't put yourself out for me. But sure, I'll come," I answered halfheartedly.

  "Sure, you will," came the feeble answer.

  A few minutes later, we were sitting across from each other in a diner on Interstate 55. Shortly after the food was on the table, I couldn't hold back any longer and I dug into the double cheeseburger with fries and coleslaw swimming in mayo.

  I was absolutely sure that I had never eaten such a good burger in my entire life. It could also have been that I was starving. Anyway, I cleaned up the whole plate with lightning speed and afterwards poured the bottle of diet coke down my throat.

  I contentedly stroked the small bulge that had formed under my shirt. For a minute, I had the crazy idea that everything was going to be fine. As the carbohydrates flooded my body with energy, my mind relaxed.

  "My name is Stacy Brewster, I'm 24 years old, and I'm going to Chicago to look for a job."

  My sudden candor surprised me. I quickly stopped and then pulled myself together while I waited for the reaction of my temporary travel companion.

  "Ok, Stacy. My name is Mitch Havisham and I am 28 years old. Just now, I'm on the way home to my
family. I'm single and in my free time I like to go fishing," he said, playing along.

  Insane. He could be downright charming. What happened to the uncaring blockhead? And those eyes. Were they green or maybe more of a blue? Or both? They sparkled in any case, twinkling at me seductively.

  "Hey, Sleeping Beauty, you can smile after all. I really didn't think you could." Mitch was beaming with joy, dimples forming in his cheeks. My lips were unwittingly forming into a smile.

  When I realized I was probably scrutinizing Mitch too intensively during my train of thought and that he was obviously aware of this fact, the blood shot into my face. How embarrassing. He had to be thinking that I was interested, the way I was staring at him.

  Oh no. Pull yourself together, Stacy. This is definitely not the right time to fall in love. The top priority is the job search and then, of course, Aunt Anne's flower bouquet. You have to block out everything else, my inner voice advised me sternly.

  "Well, we better think about going. Don't you think? If we wait too long, I won't be able to reach anybody at the museum."

  I preferred not to mention the fact that I still had to figure out a place to sleep for the night.

  "As you like. Do you think we could share a brownie for dessert? Although if you prefer to get going right away, we can save it for another time."

  Did I hear that right? Another time? Was he really interested in me? Why did he want to see me again? I don't know why, but the prospect of meeting Mitch again caused the butterflies in my stomach to wake from their winter sleep.

  "That makes $20 even. Are you paying with cash or credit?" the voice of the waitress, who had come to our table in the meantime, pulled me from my thoughts.

  "Credit, please," Mitch answered and gave the lady a gold MasterCard.

  After I freshened up in the restroom, we set off on our way. Only a few miles separated me from my supposed goal. Doubts gnawed at me. Had this really been the right decision? What if I was taking a risk all for nothing?

  We spent the first few miles in silence. I frantically thought about where I could spend the night without having to spend a dime. Then I remembered Lindsey. She was my former classmate. We had even occasionally shared a room together on campus.