Edge of Darkness Box Set

by Margaret McHeyzer

  “Thank you,” I say.

  The bodyguard laughs again. Now, I’m definitely worried. He looks back and gives Edgar a wink. They’re sharing a secret I’m not invited to be part of.

  I turn to stare out the window. I feel like an outsider, and not welcome in here.

  This is confusing everything inside me. I started coming around to Edgar, accepting him more, but now, they’re sharing a secret and I feel awkward and out-of-place.

  The moment the car gets to my house, I open the door and I’m out before the bodyguard has a chance to do it. “Thanks for the ride,” I say as I make my way to the front door. Neither of my parents’ cars are in the driveway, which means I’m on my own.

  What a weird ride home. Edgar seems to have changed a bit. He’s colder toward me.

  I unlock the front door, and turn to see Edgar and his posse are already gone. What’s going on? Why is he acting like this? Did I do something wrong? I look down at my clothes, and notice I’m still wearing the top he doesn’t like. Maybe that’s it. Tomorrow I’ll wear something more appropriate. Ugh, this is frustrating. What have I done?

  I take my phone out of my pocket, and press the button to wake up my screen. There’s so many messages. Mostly from Edgar. I didn’t even realize he’d messaged. There’s one from Mom saying her and Dad will be home by five so be ready for dinner.

  I open one of Edgar’s messages.

  Hope you’re having a great day. It reads.

  I text back to him. Is everything okay?

  He reads the message immediately. The three little circles down the bottom indicates he’s replying. Then… nothing. The three circles disappear, and I get no reply.

  I sit on the sofa, waiting. Maybe he erased what he was going to say, and is typing something else.

  No reply.

  Minutes pass.

  Still nothing.

  Worry overtakes me. What if something’s happened to him? I dismiss it nearly immediately, knowing he can take care of himself. Why isn’t he replying? What have I done?

  Stress replaces the worry, and I become anxious at his silence. He’s usually quite vocal, annoyingly so. Now he’s quiet and isn’t responding. I don’t like this.

  I wait a few more minutes. But it feels like hours. Time seems to drag on. And with every second he doesn’t respond, the more my gut churns with tension. “Wait until four-thirty, and if he doesn’t respond, then send him another message,” I say to myself.

  Looking at the time, I make a mental note to message him in about an hour. Taking myself to my bedroom, I sit at my desk, pull out my laptop and text books, and start on my homework.

  But I can’t seem to concentrate. Instead, I stare at my phone. It’s sitting beside me, and the screen hasn’t lit once. I’m completely distracted by him. He’s gotten into my head and won’t leave.

  Ugh.

  I should feel thankful he’s left me alone. Wait, is my bodyguard still on duty? I jump up out of my chair, and run to the front window to see if he’s outside. He isn’t.

  My heart falls.

  Dragging myself back into my room, I sink to my bed as tears sting my eyes. I feel so rejected, like I’ve done something wrong. Picking my phone up, I contemplate sending him another message.

  “Don’t do it, he’s not interested anymore,” I say to myself aloud. I should be happy, but I’m not.

  I stare at my phone and the time on it. I open his message thread for what feels like the hundredth time, hoping he’s responded. But I get nothing. With every passing moment he doesn’t reply, more cracks appear in my already damaged heart.

  After what seems like hours, but has only been minutes, I look at the time and know my parents will be home soon to pick me up for dinner. I have to get ready.

  Standing, I force myself to stop thinking about Edgar and his radio silence. I don’t know what’s going on with him, or why he’s treating me so coldly. I’ll never know, I guess. I just have to push on, and pretend it doesn’t bother me.

  Maybe, it’s for the best. He is a drug dealer, and nothing good could come from a relationship with him.

  I head to my closet and find something nice to wear. I want to dress up a bit, to feel better about myself. How dumb. A man breaks my heart, and I need to feel better about myself. What is wrong with me?

  I look through everything, and find a cute black mini-skirt. Pairing it with a red off-the-shoulder top, I wear some heels to show off my legs. I’m not much into dressing up like this. Actually, I prefer jeans and a t-shirt, but tonight I want to wear something sexy. Make boys look at me. I want to feel good about myself.

  The front door opens, and I hear Mom call out to me. “In my room,” I call as I fluff up my hair to try to make it look like it has more volume than it does.

  “Hey, are you ready?” she asks as she opens the door to my room. “Wow, look at you.” Her eyes travel up and down my body, taking in what I’m wearing. “Whose skirt is that?”

  “Mine.” I look down and smooth it with my hands. “I think. I found it in my closest. Yeah, you bought it for me, last year. Remember? We went to the mall, I saw it and you liked it.”

  “I thought it was longer.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “Apparently not.”

  “You look incredible,” she says. “But, I swear, I thought that skirt was longer.”

  I shrug and smile. “Maybe I’ve had a growth spurt.”

  “You look so much older like this.”

  I walk over to hug her. I get a whiff of a new perfume she’s wearing and inhale it deeply. It’s different than what she usually wears, more woodsy than her normal citrus scent. “Did you get a new perfume?” I ask as I inhale again.

  “I was at the department store, and tried it on. Not sure if I like it. I don’t think it suits me.” She sniffs at her wrist.

  “I like it,” I say.

  “Well, your father is having a quick shower, so he won’t be long. And I’ll go get changed. Do you know where you want to go for dinner?” she asks.

  “Wherever.”

  “Considering how beautifully you’re dressed, I think we might go a little bit upscale. No use in going to iHop when you’re all tricked out.” She leaves to go get ready, and I spend a few minutes applying some simple make-up. I’m not a make-up person. Mascara and lipstick is pretty much the extent of my expertise.

  Once finished, I wait for my parents in the family room, and look at my phone.

  I had pushed Edgar to the back of my mind, but looking at my phone and lack of messages, has propelled him front and center. Ugh, I can’t have a good time tonight if all I’m doing is staring at my phone. I walk back into my room, turn it off, and leave it on my desk. I’m spending tonight with my parents, and not worrying about him. I’m going to pretend I don’t know about my mother’s infidelity, or my father’s gambling addiction, and I’m going to have a good night with them. The way things were B.E—Before Edgar. I was oblivious, but I was happy. And that’s what I’m going to be tonight.

  Tonight… no Edgar.

  Well… hopefully.

  Chapter 9

  We had a great time last night. Mom and Dad took me to this quaint little restaurant they like to go to, and we had the best food ever. Everything was delicious, and Mom and Dad talked and had so much fun. They held hands, and kissed, and nothing seemed to be weird with them.

  When I got home, I left my phone off, took a shower and got into bed.

  I refused to allow Edgar to have so much power and control over me. So, I didn’t turn my phone on until now.

  I’m up and out of bed, ready to go to school. As I’m eating my cereal, I power up my phone. It takes a moment, but it starts dinging with several messages.

  None from Edgar and all from Kristen. In each message the excitement builds of her telling me all about Brad. I smile at how into him she is, and by looks of things, he’s really into her too. Another pang of jealousy for Kristen and Brad goads me. I want a boyfriend of my own to care for, and to
care about me.

  Once breakfast is done, I grab my bag and start heading toward the door, when there’s someone bashing on it from the outside. “What the… ” I open the door to find Edgar standing there. He’s not cleanly shaven, he has a black eye and he appears not to have slept for over a week.

  “Oh my God!” I say as I step outside. “What happened to you?” I touch his forearm.

  “Bad night,” he says as he hugs me, his hands resting on the top of my butt.

  “What happened?” I ask again.

  He kisses my cheek; his lips stay connected with my skin a moment too long. “I need to hold you, kitty,” he says as he squeezes me tighter to his body.

  I don’t know what to think, or what to do. “Do you need a doctor?” He shakes his head. “Hospital?” He shakes his head again. “What do you need? What can I do?”

  “I just need to see my number one girl.” He squeezes again.

  My heart eases, and I feel at ease now I’ve seen him. “I didn’t see you yesterday. You didn’t reply to my message. I was so worried.”

  I feel his cheeks plump up, meaning he’s smiling. “All I could think about was you.”

  “Tell me you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine now.” He lets me go and steps back. “You looked beautiful last night. Though I think that skirt was too short for you to be wearing out in public. I’d like you to wear it for me, and me alone.”

  “You saw me? But… ” I point to his face.

  “I had my people watching you, making sure you were safe. They sent me a photo. But don’t wear that skirt again.” It’s not a request, it’s a command.

  “Okay,” I respond. “I won’t.”

  “I’ll take you to school.” He takes my bag, and carries it for me. We reach his car, and he opens the door for me. My bodyguard is already inside. He gives me a sideways glance, and rolls his eyes. I have no idea what his problem is with me. I’ll ask him when Edgar’s not around, though I doubt he’ll answer.

  The car starts in the direction of school, and I stare at Edgar and the bruising that’s so dark around his eye. “What happened?” I ask. He shakes his head and lifts his hand at me as if to say, ‘don’t worry about it.’ “Edgar, please tell me,” I nearly plead.

  He lowers his head for a moment, then looks back to me. “It was a misunderstanding,” he says. My bodyguard sighs from the front. Edgar hits the back of his seat, and the sigh instantly stops.

  “Promise me you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine.” He deliberately makes a point of indicating himself. “The other guy… ” his voice trails off, letting me draw my own conclusion. The bodyguard chuckles.

  A lump sits in my throat. I want to know, but I’m also aware, I shouldn’t know. “Okay,” I say, resigned to the fact he’s not going to tell me. “As long as you’re not seriously hurt.”

  “I’m not.” He places his hand on my thigh and gently squeezes. “Now, about our date tonight. Be ready by five.” Again, not a question, but a demand. He’s not going to take no—or any variant of no—as an answer.

  “Okay.”

  “Wear something cute, not slutty though.”

  I crinkle my brows at him, unsure of what he wants from me. “Like what?” I ask.

  His lips draw up into a cheeky grin. “Something tight, but nothing revealing.”

  “If it’s tight, then it’s going to be revealing.”

  “I want your skin covered, but I want it so tight I can see the outline of your nipples.”

  Um… what? “That’s not going to happen, because one… ” I hold one finger, then continue, “I don’t have anything like that and two… ” I hold up a second finger, “I wouldn’t be allowed out of the house with anything that tight on and three… ” I hold up a third finger, “I wouldn’t feel comfortable in anything like what you want.”

  “But you wore a slutty skirt last night?” he counters.

  I look away from him. He’s got a point. “I’ll see what I have.”

  “And wear red lipstick.” Again, another command.

  “Okay,” I instantly agree, not even trying to fight him on this.

  The car is quiet; it rolls on the street like a fine piece of machinery. Money buys everything, I guess. The tension in the car is almost unfathomable. Thankfully, we’re at school sooner than I was expecting. The car comes to a stop, and my bodyguard steps out to open the door for me. “I’ll be here to pick you up,” Edgar says as I begin to slide out of the car.

  “Okay.” I offer him a smile, but I know he wants more. Like a kiss. I’m not going to give him our first kiss in the back of his car. How cliché. Although, this is anything but a rusty, dirty old car.

  I turn to look at Edgar, he has an amused gleam to his eyes. “Kitty,” he calls.

  “Yeah,” I answer.

  “Tonight, you and I are going to have a lot of fun.” The bodyguard chuckles. I’m not really sure what to make of that statement. I suppose, I’ll see tonight.

  “Okay,” I reply again. The bodyguard closes the door and the car rolls away, disappearing down the road. The bodyguard is standing outside the school. “Can I ask you your name? I think it’s weird I don’t know it yet.”

  He crosses his arms in front of his chest and stares ahead, ignoring me.

  “I take your silence to mean you don’t have a name?” I smile trying to lighten his intensity.

  “You don’t need to know it,” he nearly snaps at me.

  “But if you’re going to be hanging out around me, don’t you think I should know what to call you?” I ask.

  A few of the students are looking at me as they walk past. They’re probably wondering why I’m talking to this guy who’s at least six-foot-four, built like a tank, and wearing a designer suit.

  “You don’t need to know my name,” he says again. I get the sense he’s not really into doing this, but he has to. I wonder if Edgar has something on him, maybe a secret this guy doesn’t want anyone to know. Something to keep him here, working for Edgar.

  “Okay, then. Well… nice chatting with you,” I say sarcastically as I walk away from him. What a jerk.

  Heading into school, Kristen and Brad are at her locker, kissing. They’re so into each other. He’s a good head taller than her, and they’re locked in a tight embrace. “Get a room,” I grumble as I walk past them.

  “Ohhh, how original,” Kristen teases but smiles at me.

  “Thank God you got your tongue out of his mouth before you said that. Could’ve been awkward.”

  “See you later.” Kristen reaches up on her toes and gives Brad a kiss on the cheek. Brad gives me a nod, then leaves. “So, what’s been happening?” she asks all excited.

  “By looks of things, what you’re doing is more interesting… or should I say who you’re doing.”

  The hugest smile breaks out on her face. Her lips have a little bit of a red tinge to them from where she was kissing Brad. “I can’t keep my hands off him,” she squeaks with happiness. “We’re going to prom together!” she squeals with a little jump.

  “Congratulations. I’m happy for you.” I give her a hug. “You seem happy.”

  “Oh my God! I am. So happy!”

  “I’m glad it worked out for you both.”

  “But, what’s happening with you? I know I haven’t really been around much because well… ” Her face splits into the biggest, cheesiest grin ever. “I feel like we don’t talk anymore. I’m sorry, I’ve been a bad best friend.”

  “Don’t be dumb,” I nearly snap at her. “You’ve got your hands full with Brad.”

  A mischievous smile spreads on her face. “They’re full alright.” She adds a wink.

  Shaking my head, I get my laptop out of my bag, and close my locker. “Don’t make me throw up on you.”

  “Come on, Hannah, what’s going on with you? I know it didn’t work out with Zac, and on that note, I’m sorry I called him. I was worried, that’s all. But, tell me, what’s happening. Who’s the mystery guy who
’s been hanging outside the school. He looks scary.”

  I can’t explain the bodyguard. I can’t tell her about Edgar. Ugh, I can’t say anything. She’ll freak out, and then she’ll call my parents, and tell them. And they have enough problems of their own without having to worry about me too. “He’s no one.” I shrug, downplaying what’s happening.

  “He can’t be no one. He has to be someone.”

  I have to get her away from her curiosity. “I have a date tonight with a guy.”

  “Oh shit! Who? What’s his name? Does he go to our school? What’s he look like? Where are you going? What are you going to wear?” The barrage of questions makes me laugh.

  “First, I have no idea what I’m wearing. Or where we’re going. He’s handsome.”

  “Handsome? As in he’s old?” She scrunches her nose.

  “No, he’s not old. But he’s a bit older than me.”

  “What’s his name?”

  I don’t want to tell her the truth. “Braydon,” I lie. Why did I lie? Because telling her his name is Edgar, and her telling Brad, might mean he knows who Edgar is considering what he told me about Zak.

  “Braydon.” She suggestively lifts her eyebrows at me. “Tell me about Braydon,” she says his name in a sexy, low tone.

  “He’s a nice guy.” I shrug my shoulders, trying not to say too much more.

  “Where did you meet him?”

  We walk slowly toward class, even though the bell hasn’t gone off yet for the start of the day. I start to sweat. I hate having to tell her lies. But she really would freak out. “At the mall,” another lie rolls off my tongue.

  It’s getting easier.

  “Does he go to college?”

  “Yep,” I reply before really thinking this through. I’m going to have to remember the lies I’m telling, because they’re going to be the same I’ll have to tell my parents.

  “What’s he studying?”

  “I don’t really know. Something about astronomy or something.” I shrug again. I’m doing a lot of that.

  “That’s cool. What are you wearing tonight?”

  “I don’t know.” Something tight. “Maybe my jeans and a t-shirt.” Not my jeans and a t-shirt.