“Yeah,” Mara replied. She shifted her brilliant blues back to the front of the room, hoping Mr. Navarro had not noticed her diversion. Then she quickly retrained them on Lilly.
“So are you still in jail?” Lilly asked, squinting in anticipation.
Behind Lilly, Chloe Godfrey giggled a little louder than she ought and Mara gave her a wide-eyed stare, hoping she’d get the message. After a quizzical expression creased Chloe’s mocha brow, the girl finally got the idea and closed her bright cherry red painted lips. Mara could not help but smile back at her Latina friend. Her cheeks were plump, her wavy deep auburn hair a near perfect match to Mara’s own locks if it weren’t for the blond dyes Mara kept in place.
“Yes, still in jail,” Mara admitted with a huff. “I’m not going to make it to the party tonight. How many times are you going to ask me that?”
“Until it stops amusing me,” Lilly joked. “I mean you were just having a little fun. What’s a little fun from time-to-time going to hurt?”
Mara grinned mischievously back at Lilly, “Try telling that to my parents.”
“You mean your prison guards?” Chloe chimed in from behind, giggling quietly.
“Yeah, I guess,” Mara smiled and shook her head. Her grin intensified as she continued, “Well, it should be a good night either way. Nathan’s coming over.”
“How do you plan on that? I thought you were not allowed to see each other except at school,” Chloe asked, bewildered.
“I’ve got a window in my…”
“Ladies, do you have something you’d like to discuss with the class?” Mr. Navarro interrupted, clearing his throat to make a point. “Or maybe you’d like to explain one of the problems with the Articles of Confederation.”
“Uh…” Mara stuttered. “I…uh…”
“Lillian?” Mr. Navarro tried with a raised brow.
She stared blankly at him, mouth trying to form words, but not knowing what to say.
“No?” he asked. “How about you ladies try and pay a little more attention. I’m sure whatever you’re so determined to talk about can wait until class is over.”
“Yes, Mr. Navarro,” Mara grinned, happy to be noticed by the man, even if not for the best of reasons.
Mr. Navarro shook his head lightly and returned to lecturing the class on the virtues and shortcomings of America’s first constitution. For a few minutes, Mara maintained her attention ahead on the teacher. It wasn’t too difficult. Then her thoughts moved to her plans tonight. She smiled. She may not get to party at Zed’s, but she had something better planned.
The party was coming to her.
CHAPTER 4
The cool fall breeze whipped around Dalton’s slacks and tousled his hair. He fastened the two middle buttons on his light leather jacket.
It had shaped up to be a cooler than usual autumn in the region. The temperature was no higher than fifty, maybe fifty-five, degrees and it was only an hour past noon. The wind chill had to be well under that. As unpredictable as North Carolina weather could be, shifting through all four seasons in a matter days and then back again, if the last few weeks were any reliable indicator winter was going to be a real bitch this year.
Dalton stood in the middle of a small clearing among an innumerable host of trees, everything from red maples, sweet bay, black gum and sycamores. Their leaves were painted in a myriad of reds, oranges and yellows, as were their fallen comrades littering the lawn. The land was mostly untouched, with the exception of the blacktop highway that ran by the property on the other side of the tree line where his client should have arrived about eleven minutes ago.
He hadn’t, though. Instead, Dalton paced the grass, kicking at fallen leaves, stray patches of clover and the occasional dandelion, trying to determine at what point he should give up waiting. He needed this client. Well, he wanted this client. It meant fulfilling a dream, a goal that he had put in place years ago. The opportunity to make a mark, to design something different, something unique among the classic architecture of the region.
He settled on at least another ten minutes before he gave Mr. Bostian a call. As long as the race car driver was on his way, or even planned to come, Dalton would wait.
A minute later, a brand new white Jaguar F-Type purred slowly through the opening in the tree line and onto the grass. It came to a stop next Dalton's BMW and the engine shut off just before the door opened and Gavin Bostian stepped out on the uneven ground.
“Be careful there, it’s not evenly graded yet,” Dalton called out to his client.
His client stumbled slightly but managed to hold himself upright. Gavin grinned. His thick brown hair was spiked, nothing too aggressive, but just enough to compliment his youth.
For a driver, the twenty-eight year old was fit, Dalton thought, but he did not know many race car drivers. Sure, he lived less than twenty minutes from one of the most iconic speedways in the nation, but racing had never held his interest, especially after being trapped in the traffic jams it caused on I-485 and down Concord Mills Boulevard every race week.
“So what do you have here for me?” Gavin asked, extending his hand. Dalton accepted and gave it a firm shake.
“Well, this is only a small portion of the full lot,” Dalton began, spreading his arms out to signify the area around them. “The full lot is exactly three point eighty-two acres bordering the lake. It’s a wide lot, so that should give you plenty of room on either side for some privacy.”
“So I assume the lake is just beyond the tree line there?” Gavin asked, pointing toward the other end of the opening.
“Yes, and if you want the house on the lake itself, it would be no problem to clear out an area of your choosing,” Dalton explained. “That’s sort of what I thought you would prefer. I mean you’re property would border the lake anyway, why not enjoy it?”
Gavin nodded, pleased, his hands clutched at his hips. Dalton brought the tablet up in front of him so that Gavin could see. In the view screen, the tablet’s camera projected an image of the lot before it.
“So I took the liberty of drawing up some rough ideas. Of course, the look of the land may change, but this can give you an idea how things might look.” Dalton swiped a finger across the screen from right-to-left and a mockup of a flat-roofed, white stone-walled house came into view overtop of the real landscape.
“Oh, whoa,” Gavin stuttered at the gadget. “Now that’s cool. The house design looks good, too.”
Dalton grinned and explained how he felt that the flat roof style would enhance the utilitarian feel of the house while allowing Gavin to make use of solar-energy atop the structure without the visual blemish. Gavin nodded vaguely. Dalton felt he knew that expression, on to the next design.
Fifteen minutes and five mockups later, Dalton felt confident he was heading in the right direction. Gavin’s reaction to the mockups had provided him valuable insight to what the man was looking for, and fortunately it was still down the same track the two had discussed over a month ago.
“I’d definitely want to push out onto the lake, but I like the property,” Gavin assured Dalton. “Let me bring Kimberly by this weekend, let her take a look around. I’ll give you a call on Monday and we can move from there, but I’m pretty sure she’ll love it.”
“That’s great,” Dalton was ecstatic, but he held in his pent up excitement. “Just don’t take too long. You never know when someone else might come in and swoop it out from under you.”
“Yes, sir,” Gavin agreed and shook Dalton’s hand again. “I’ll give you a call. Have a happy Halloween.”
Lenore tossed a second bag of party-sized Twix bars into the metal-framed buggy. So far the cart held two bags each of bite-sized Butterfingers, a variety pack of Reese’s candies, peanut butter and regular Snickers and Smarties in addition to the Twix already in the cart. She might not enjoy Halloween, but she was not going to allow Mrs. Hightower, their neighbor situated at the end of their little peninsula about three hundred yards down the road, have the b
etter selection. The last thing Lenore wanted to hear were kids whining about the free candy she gave them.
After the incident with the cat earlier that morning, Lenore had accomplished little in the form of real progress on her novel. A few edits here and there. A few elaborations. Nothing substantial, though. The climax was still nagging at her. It was not so much what should or could happen but how real the story should be. Life was full of surprises and rarely did a real-life story end with every seam and imperfection made right. How true to that fact she should stick eluded her.
Gliding down the aisle, Lenore dropped another bag of candy in the buggy, more Reese’s. There was always room for more peanut butter. Rolling around the end of the aisle, past a display of flavored potato chips, Lenore moved into the frozen foods to pick up some of Aiden’s favorite snacks; breakfast corndogs.
“Lenore?” a familiar high-pitched voice called out down the aisle. “It is you!”
Lenore raised the edges of her lips as a plump black lady approached her with arms outspread. It was her friend, and hair stylist, Tamieka Dula. Returning the gesture, Lenore gave Tamieka a generous squeeze, careful to mind her precisely-placed light brown hair.
“Tamieka,” Lenore said. “Good to see you. How’ve you been?”
“I can’t complain,” the short, dark-skinned woman replied, with a gentle staccato laugh. “Just doing some last minute shopping for dinner with Larissa tonight. She decided that she was over Halloween. Apparently it’s only for little kids, so we’re having dinner and a scary movie marathon instead. I’m going to make her watch the original Dracula.”
“Oh, that sounds great! I wish I could convince my family to do the same,” Lenore sighed. “Aiden’s going to some party, Mara won’t speak to me since she’s grounded, and Dalton…who knows. I’d definitely prefer a movie night over handing out candy to a bunch of random kids in the dark. It frightens me.”
“You?” Tamieka’s eyes went wide, showing the bright whites and thin red veins surrounding the irises. “You, frightened? Surely not, I mean I remember reading that horror you wrote, what was it called…”
“Beneath My Sin,” Lenore filled in the blank.
“Yeah, Beneath My Sin. That one was horrifying. Had me scared for nights.”
Lenore chuckled quietly. It had been her most intense horror story, not her only, but definitely the most intense.
“But that doesn’t mean I don’t get scared. Sometimes I write about what scares me, to face it. Doesn’t always help much in the end, though,” she laughed.
“I guess so,” Tamieka said, closing the glass freezer door and placing a box of some soon-to-be fried snack. “How’s your new book coming? I cannot wait to find out what’s going to happen to Kalem.”
“It’s coming along. I’ve hit a small rough patch, but I’m sure it’ll work out fine. As for Kalem,” Lenore grinned mischievously, “you’ll just have to wait and find out.”
“Such a tease,” Tamieka threw her hands in the air dramatically.
“That’s me. Have you read Anonymous yet?” Lenore asked.
“Anonymous? No, I don’t think so,” Tamieka answered. “Is that another of yours?”
Lenore took a pack of cheese sticks from the tall freezer and dropped it in her buggy. “Yeah, it’s a bit more recent than Beneath My Sins, sort of techno-thriller slash horror. If you swing by tonight, I can get you a copy.”
“Definitely,” a wide grin crossed Tamieka’s face. “Is four or five too late?”
“Not at all. I’ll see you then. I’ve got to finish up my shopping,” Lenore nodded with a generous grin.
“See you then,” Tamieka gave her another hug and then made her way down the aisle.
Ten minutes later, Lenore was leaning back against the grey leather bucket seats of her Mercedes-Benz van with the wiper blades swiping intermittently across the windshield. The music played softly in the background, some random pop artist that she had never heard of, as she maneuvered the van left onto George W. Liles Parkway, matching speed with a late nineties-model Toyota Camry with a COEXIST bumper sticker.
She thought about her conversation with Tamieka at the grocery store, how her own voice had trailed off at the mention of Dalton. She huffed and pursed her lips. She doubted he would remember to be home on time tonight, he rarely did lately. Pressing the button emblazoned with a tiny green phone handset on her steering wheel, she initiated the car’s onboard phone system through her phone’s Bluetooth. Scrolling through the contact list, she selected Dalton Summers and initiated the call.
The familiar ring played on the car speakers as Lenore changed lanes, the Camry could not seem to manage a consistent speed. She tapped her fingertips atop of the steering wheel.
“Hello, Lenore,” Dalton’s voice came on the line, just as soothing as it had been almost twenty years ago when they were dating. The only change was a slight maturity, a gentle gruffness that had come with time.
“Hey,” she answered, smiling though he couldn’t see her wherever he might be. He sounded happier than he had in a while. “How’d everything go with your client?”
“It went great,” Dalton was ecstatic, responding almost before she could finish her question. “Mr. Bostian really liked the lot I showed him. I think we’ll end up cutting an opening out through the trees onto the lake, but that was expected. Who wouldn’t want a lake view with the lake bordering your land?”
“That’s true. So I guess you still have a lot to do before closing the deal though, right?”
“Oh yes. He still has to make a decision on the lot first, then we’ll start working out the floorplan, then…” Dalton trailed off, realizing he was babbling. “Well, you know how all that goes. You’ve heard it time and time again from me.”
Lenore could not help but grin, hearing Dalton excited. She sighed, “I’ve heard it before, but I don’t have a problem with hearing it again. I’m glad it’s working out.”
She switched gears and spoke up again, “I know you’re busy, so I wanted to remind you to be home tonight before the trick-or-treaters start up if you can, probably about six-thirty or so.”
There was a brief, but noticeable pause on the other end of the line.
“I’ll try, Lenore, but with Mr. Bostian coming around on the lot, I may have to stay late tonight,” his voice had changed. It was still soft but Lenore could detect a wall, a sudden defense that had sprung up between the line. She frowned.
“Okay, but please try,” Lenore said, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice. “You know how I don’t like being alone with all the trick-or-treaters and the real crazies do come out in droves on Halloween, too.”
“Stop fretting, Lenore. It’s Concord, we don’t live in New York or Charlotte,” Dalton failed at consoling her. “You’ve just watched one too many horror movies and way too many true crime documentaries. It’s eating your nerves. It’s childish really.”
Lenore instinctively reeled her head back and looked at the LCD display on the center console, her brow scrunched and a frown drew across her lips.
“Childish? I tell you that I'm genuinely scared to be alone tonight, on Halloween of all nights, and you tell me I’m being childish? Really?”
“Lenore,” Dalton was on the defense now. “Okay, it was the wrong word. Just don’t fret, I’ll try to be home as soon as possible.”
Lenore refused to answer the poor attempt at an apology, if it even was an apology. He had sounded so dispassionate, uncaring. She looked ahead. Maples and sycamores lined the small two-lane road, red and orange leaves sprawling high over the pavement like a natural tunnel that blocked most of the sun on clearer days. She sighed.
“Lenore?” her husband’s voice came across the line with only the slightest sliver of empathy in his tone.
“Okay.” She would not give him the pleasure of a greater answer. She would work it out once she saw him tonight, but right now okay was all he was getting.
“I’ve got to go, Lenore,” Dalton hurried.
“Bye, see you tonight.”
“Love…” The line went dead before she could finish her sentence, “you.”
Eyes glued to the myriad reds and oranges of the leaves above her, a tear escaped the corner of her eye and traveled down her cheek. She looked up toward the sky. Rain clouds covered the pale blue that resided on the other side.
Her mind flashed back to happier times. Dalton stood in front of her booth at the arts festival in Georgia those many years ago. That silly grin on his face as he asked for a copy of her book, just a day after making the mistake of telling her he didn’t like horror stories. The way his brilliant blue eyes mesmerized her just before he asked her on their first date.
Was that really so long ago? she thought.
The familiar ring of the release bell rang, the noise drilling into Aiden’s classroom through the only entrance. While Mrs. Jackson tried to finish her sentence, the class erupted into the zipping of backpacks, shuffling of feet and scratching of chair feet against the floor. Aiden slid the oversized Algebra II textbook off his desk and into his pack. He leaned forward to catch the teacher's last words.
“Don’t forget, pages thirty-two through thirty-four are due on Monday,” the teacher yelled above the bell and the crescendo of noises building in the classroom as students packed up in a hurry. It was the weekend, and Halloween at that, no one wanted to be left at school for a second longer than required.
Stowing his last belonging, a green number two pencil, away in the front compartment of his pack, Aiden jumped to his feet and locked his eyes on his target. From his perspective, Aiden could not see Faith's emerald eyes and long black eyelashes, or the dimples in her cheeks when she smiled. He did not need to see them to imagine them. He had it all stored away in his mind, a perfect photocopy of her brilliance, but it was still nothing compared to the real thing.
He examined the gentle waves of her almost black hair. It cascaded back and forth halfway down her back before ending above the perfect shape of her hips and legs. She was beautiful, no longer the tiny little kindergartener that he used to spend most of his free time with as a kid.
To Watch You Bleed Page 4
