Chapter Four
Half of my luggage consisted of pretty womanly things. The other half were punk rock outfits I snatched off the rack to fill up my bags with anti-color. Lately, I’d been in the mood for something earthy and sensual, like this new black sweater with hearts on the collar. I gathered silk dresses from the satchel, stuffing them into the closet and making a mental note to wear one for Chris, so he could see my lady-like side. I definitely didn’t need a skirt to train in. But now it was my day off, I had an excuse.
Rummaging through my luggage, I remembered the night he handed me these suitcases. Throwing on tights and my excellent black sweater, I pulled my hair into a bun and headed out. Strands of my hair were still damp from last night’s bath, with the scent of apricot shampoo tangled on the ends. Dianne shared that secret years ago when I was still learning about the birds and the bees; there was something undeniably attractive about a woman with fruit on her skin. Hopefully Chris would notice. Apricot shampoo did wonders, and I’d missed him.
The thought of soggy Fruit Loops had me racing toward the kitchen. Chris was already leaning against the counter, wearing his usual black sports gear. He was also drinking a tall glass of something, which strongly resembled a green leaf milkshake. As I slid onto one of the stools, folding my hands together, I stared over the sliced vegetables.
“Hey.” I sat on one of the stools and glimpsed over the finished product.
He rinsed off a glass, placing it in the cupboard. “How was your night?”
Besides hearing a girl laughing on a dirt trail, running away from an invisible in the hallway, and living in J.E.'s attic. “Really good,” I replied, seeing things on the bright side. “Thanks for having Tre pick me up last night. If you hadn't helped out I probably would've gotten here really late.”
“Do you want some?” he asked, pointing to the blender.
Browsing over the celery sticks, I replied, “Um, yeah. I'll try it. Looks very green-ish. Do you have any . . .” I paused and smiled. “Do you have any bacon around? I mean avocados. I love avocados. By the way your food was fantastic last night. It was perfect.”
He held back a very attractive grin. “That's good. I’m glad you liked it,” he said, turning towards the sink. “You can relax today, Calise. The rest of us have a meeting in about an hour. Do you think you'll need anything before we go?”
The fact that Chris was leaving me here alone in his house was an honor, and an unexpected adventure. He was trusting me to overlook their things, and I was willing to show him I was ready to be service.
“I’ll be fine,” I replied simply. “Don't worry about me. What’s this meeting for?”
“Just some inside business,” he replied. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” There were some rings around his eyes, most likely from a rare lack of sleep. “That's a nice sweater you're wearing,” he added seemingly unaware of my giddiness. “It's new?”
“Oh.” My smile stretched far and wide. “This old thing. Actually, it's not that old. I bought it a week ago. Thanks. Anyways, yeah, I can stay here. It’ll give me a chance to get to know Missy. She's in her cage right?”
“Yes,” he replied. “Don't worry about feeding her or taking her out. She's already eaten.”
“Fantastic. That's fine with me.”
He grinned. “Perfect,” he added and leaned back.
“I’m glad you’re a health nut,” I admitted. “I'd always wanted to hire a (hot) guy person as my nutritionist but never got around to it.”
He studied a moment and asked, “Did you really ask where's the bacon?”
I blushed. “I was just kidding.”
While removing the lid from the blender, an amused smile twisted over his lips. “We don’t eat meat this time of year. But there’s some other food in the fridge if you want breakfast. Lots of avocados.”
“Okay.” I spotted cereal on top of the refrigerator and reached my arms to the rim. Needless to say, my scrawny fingers couldn’t reach. “This is my thing right here.”
“Do you need help?” Chris beat me to the punch, grabbing the box of Fruit Loops and planting breakfast on the counter.
“Don't worry about me.” I opened the bag. “I’ll be fine. I might even watch some television and catch up on the good shows.”
He shook his head, as though he were possibly happy with his decision to bring me here. “There’s something I want to show you later on, when we get back. I’ve been meaning to show it to you, but haven’t gotten around to it.”
“Cool. I’ll be here.”
He leaned forward and grabbed a bowl from the shelf, setting it next to the cereal box. This time when he hovered, it felt like he was purposely trapping me against the counter. I didn’t know if he had any intentions for doing this, but my mind raced with him so close behind me.
“Is there anything else I should do to prepare for tomorrow?” I asked. A lump formed in my throat as I slowly turned to him.
“Just relax.”
As I faced him, I could feel my lips parting. Even with his face drained and weary, I wanted to touch him. I wanted to . . .
“Hey, Boss.”
. . . jump out of my skin when Kevin popped up out of nowhere, heading straight to the refrigerator. Where the heck did he come from? I didn’t see him walk into the kitchen. Did he fly? I suddenly wondered how long he'd been standing there, and if he saw anything at all, like Chris fencing me against the counter. He probably saw the whole showdown. Now he was looking between us weird, like he'd caught his daddy kissing Mrs. Santa Claus.
Blue quickly rushed over and sat in one of the chairs, grabbing a pear from the basket and bringing it to her mouth. “Morning, Boss.”
Chris strolled beside them. “Good morning, Kevin, Blue.”
“Tre takes forever.” Blue rubbed her forehead. “Can't we just leave him? He always does this every time, and we’re always late.”
“Slow your roll, B.” Tre swung around the corner. “You know I’m always on time, Girl.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah right. Lateness is your eternal companion, Tre.”
Tre was wearing a jersey, heavy blue jeans, and a cherry cap with NYC on the flap. Red was a good choice for him, since it brought out his brown complexion.
“You can’t rush perfection,” he added and gave Chris a quick nod. “I’m ready, Boss.”
“See what I mean? It’s always when he’s ready. Never at the right appropriate time,” Blue complained, rising from her seat.
Kevin laughed and shook his head, leading Blue out the kitchen by her waist.
When Chris didn’t move, I drew near his side. He waited for the front door to shut before he pulled out a mobile gadget from his back pocket.
“This is for you.” The device was petite, upscale, and definitely not sold in stores. “My number’s stored in there for emergencies. This shouldn’t be used to call friends or your family, or for them to call you. If you want to speak to anyone, tell me. I'll let you use the phone in my office.”
“I thought I wasn’t allowed to call my family?”
The look he gave me was quizzical, as though I'd told him something funny. “You can do whatever you want,” he clarified “It's up to you how close you want to be with your parents.”
I nodded and looked down. The gadget he’d given me was a small, square box with nothing but a green button on the front. “How am I supposed to use this? I can’t see any of the numbers.”
He pressed the button and watched the square box turn into a regular cell phone. I didn’t know how to feel about getting permission to call my parents. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to call them at all. “Thank you for this.”
Staring down at his watch, he responded, “We’ll be back later. If something comes up, don’t be afraid to call. Also try to stay out of things,” he added, pulling the door behind him, as though he knew I planned on going through his things.
From the curtain’s edge, I watched him press again
st the gusts of wind and climb into the passenger's seat next to Kevin. They spun out of the driveway in a hurry, swerving and going about their way. In the same breath, I turned around and listened to the forceful breeze whipping in all directions, making the house creak and groan. Evergreens swayed and crashed into each other.
A foggy mist blocked out the sun. I’d been looking forward to spending some leisure time with Chris, but the meeting came up, a meeting I hadn't been invited to, and I was fine with it. The pretty black sweater was worn by me for less than ten minutes. No one was here long enough to notice the cool violet hearts on the collar, except for him.
Chris did notice. Which was more than enough to make me smile again. The apricot shampoo had worked. This was definitely something to be grateful for.
“Thank you, Mom.”
As I held my arms and rubbed them, I figured being alone would be most useful tonight. On the bright side, it was an opportune time to investigate. I wanted to revisit the portrait in Chris’s bedroom and find out why that interesting face kept popping up in my head, reappearing like an unending daydream.
But when I got to his room, the double doors were locked. A small device was cleverly camouflaged in the lumber of the door, a sort of electronic pad that required a pass code. I bit my lip. There were too many storage facilities and too many banks in America for someone’s room to be bolted up like this.
If something was that valuable, it should’ve been placed in a facility that specialized in locking things up, not systematically buried in his bedroom. Leaving the hall, I wanted to laugh at his request for me to ‘stay out of things’ as though I had any choice in the matter; he’d already made certain I couldn’t get inside his room. For now.
There were six rooms altogether, including the attic. I tried opening the other four rooms, but they were locked as well. There went my quest. At least they didn’t have an Inspector Gadget system like the one guarding Chris’s bedroom.
By the end of the day, I ended up treating myself to more cereal and a warm bath, wrapping the scarf around my head and soaking in the tub. Warm salts swirled around my body, melting away the accumulating thoughts. Foam kissed my chin as I stared back at my reflection in the tub’s chrome trim. This time, when I exhaled, it was deeper than usual. The tub could’ve swallowed me into oblivion, and I would’ve enjoyed the water engulfing me.
My string of consciousness glided into another world.
Sliding underwater, I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of liquid filling my ears. Flashbacks from the the musical streamed across my mind. Within moments of being under, I could see the woman’s performance again. She had the entire audience spellbound with her riveting song, and it seeped into the core of me. Her voice climbed higher. Since the operetta originated in Italy and the cast spoke little English, her words were difficult to understand. But I comprehended beauty. This song was a rare gem, lifting me above the crowd and awakening my spirits.
Moments later, the flashback was over. I climbed out of the tub and grabbed a towel from the sink, wiping the mist from the mirror. My appearance was the same as it'd been yesterday, except there was a peculiar quality in my face; a slight glow lurked beneath my skin, making it almost transparent. There was also a strange mark on my top left shoulder, which I outlined with one finger, trying to remember if I'd bumped into anything that would cause the skin to break. But there was nothing; not even soreness to give it away.
After putting on black sweats and a t-shirt, I realized the door was cracked open, and I hadn’t unlocked it. Before I could think much about this occurrence, I hung the towel onto the door’s hanger and walked over into the hall. The attic door was closed, and my gaze narrowed to a trail of shoe prints on the ground.
“Who’s here?” I held the door and searched each end of the hall for a response.
Their stained prints led me straight down the eventful labyrinth. As I followed them closely, I listened to the wood groan beneath my feet. I realized being fully alert was a natural consequence of being inside such a colorful environment.
Thumping echoed from downstairs and vibrated against the walls. As they grew louder, it sounded like someone was pacing across the entrance. I reminded myself to take slow, steady breaths.
Turning the corner, I peeked through the large main hall. The door was open, and flapping against the wall; it’d been responsible for making the thumping noise. Once I turned around and saw the shoe prints were gone, I was led to believe I had imagined them. While seeking to find the marks that I'd been following from the bathroom, I ended up searching every room in the house. Sure enough, the prints disappeared. This house had a mind of its own, just like the attic.
Here I was, being welcomed by some strange apparition in an attrited mansion. Here I was, being trained to be a professional Collector . . . with this unidentified force hovering my trail. Something (or someone) was out there, watching me, waiting for the perfect time to make a move. I wasn't wrong. I could tell by the way my neck hairs stood on end.
And yet, the logical part of my brain was convinced this was nothing but mere excitement, coming from the roaring winds which were pounding against the rooftop. That would explain the shoe print hallucination. I wanted to believe that more than I wanted to believe the shoe prints evaporated into thin air. Either way, I raced to the door with the intent of shutting it.
Instead of sealing the door, I took a breath of fresh air. The wind was harsher than it looked and blew me halfway down the steps. I ended up traveling across the driveway and getting a better view of the sky. Clouds of mist fused together and looked like the beginning of a tropical storm.
Right then, I made a hopeful plea that Chris and his friends would be okay out there, driving around in this kind of weather.
As I headed back inside, the scarf whirled above my head, circling and forming a mini twister. The draft carried it higher, out my reach, and I leaped up, almost snagging it between my fingers. Then the cloth escaped my grip, soaring into the forest.
“Great.”
Treading across loose gravel, I noticed there was a tunnel-like area on the path where foliage thrashed. Dust whirled and made a transparent screen. My foot crushed over sticks as I tried to find where the scarf had gone. That's when I saw it lying on some boscage.
Taking a deep breath and dashing onto the open passageway, I quickly snatched the scarf from the shrubbery and wrapped it twice around my wrist. That’s when the murmurs began to take their course. Passing winds started sounding less like drums, and more like gentle whispers calling my name.
Calise . . .
The Time Stopping People Page 9
