Charlie Cradle's Wonderful Existence: A Novella

by Scott J. Callaway

  Chapter 6

  The next morning, Charlie was woken up by a loud knocking sound at her door. Rolling over in bed, she pried open her left eye just enough to see what time it was on her Star Wars R2-D2 alarm clock.

  8:31 am.

  Who the heck was knocking at her door this early in the morning? She didn’t remember ordering anything from Ebay or Amazon lately, so it couldn’t have been the delivery guy. And her next door neighbor, Margery, an elderly woman who was convinced that a young guy down the hall ogled at her lady parts whenever they passed each other, and often asked Charlie to use her internet to research defensive techniques, was out on vacation visiting her son and wouldn’t be returning for two more months. She was the only other person who ever knocked on her door. That was largely due to strictly only having online friends. Internet people didn’t knock on doors.

  Once again, whoever was at her door knocked even louder the second time around. So Charlie dragged herself out of bed, threw on a housecoat and grumbled a few choice words along the way to answer it. Too tired and grumpy to bother looking through the peephole to see who it was, she just grabbed the handle, twisted it sharply, and flung the door open.

  Charlie’s expression went from a drowsy don’t-bother-me-in-the-morning look to wide awake in seconds when she saw that standing before her was a woman of stunning and attractive professionalism. She had short, straight black hair, serious eyes expertly framed with a dash of eyeliner, fair complexion, and full red lips that Charlie felt were laced with ill intent. Her outfit was made up of a frilly white dress shirt that was left unbuttoned near the top to reveal more cleavage than Charlie could ever dream of having, a black leather underbust corset going around her midsection and cupping her breasts, and tight, dark blue denim jeans with black cowgirl boots. She stood in the doorway, holding a black leather jacket thrown over her shoulder with her index and middle finger. Whoever she was, she radiated confidence and command, and as Charlie stood before her wearing nothing but a purple bathrobe with cartoonish flowers, she felt like shrinking beneath the weight of her gaze.

  “Charlie Cradle, I presume?” asked the woman, eyeing her with obvious distaste.

  “Yes,” said Charlie, hesitantly, “I’m Charlie Cradle.”

  “May I come in?” she asked, but before giving Charlie any time to answer, she impolitely walked past her and straight into the living room, where she threw her leather jacket onto a chair and appeared as if she were inspecting a crime scene.

  Charlie was stunned, and certainly didn’t appreciate a random stranger barging into her home. “Actually, I--”

  “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?” said the woman, pausing her inspection, facing Charlie with arms crossed and placing most of her weight on one hip.

  “Who are you and what do you think you’re doing?”

  “The name’s Roxy. I’m a bounty hunter. And I’m looking for a certain someone of whom I believe you got connections to. So, how about we make this easy and you just tell me where he is, got it?”

  “A what?” asked Charlie, her mind reeling with the question of why a bounty hunter would have any interest in her? Didn’t they just hunt down criminals or something? “What are you talking about?”

  “Mortals,” Roxy rolled her eyes and turned back to continue looking for clues. “You all seem to have such a hard time understanding details. Sometimes I wonder why you continue to prance around like you have such important lives to tend to. Ugh! And look at this place! Total nerd central! Why he has any interest in you is beyond me.”

  Two things set Charlie off at that moment. Number one, who was she to come uninvited into her home and insult her like that? Sure she might have been graceful and gorgeous, but that didn’t give her any right to criticize her the way she did. Charlie thought that if she were just a bit braver, she’d sock it to her. But then, considering Roxy was a bounty hunter, maybe getting into a fight with her might not be such a good idea. And number two, what did that comment mean about being mortal?

  “Listen,” said Charlie, “I don’t know who you are or why you think I’ve got anything to do with whoever you’re looking for, but I want you to get out now.”

  At Charlie’s command, Roxy halted by the computer desk, stopped all that she was doing and faced Charlie, wearing a mischievous grin. “What if I don’t? What are you going to do to me?”

  “I, uh…” Charlie wanted to be cautious and choose her next words carefully. She had never gotten into a fight before and wasn’t sure if her first one should be against someone like Roxy, who had a look in her eyes that seemed to be begging her to try. “I’ll call the cops. Bounty hunter or not, you don’t have a warrant and you came into my home without my consent.”

  “Oh that’s so cute,” said Roxy, laughing. “Don’t worry, honey, I don’t plan on hanging around this dump any longer than I have to. Now, just tell me where I can find Rowan and I’ll be out of your hair.”

  Rowan? Why is this woman after such a nice guy as him, she wondered? He was kind, funny and caring. Was there something about him that she didn’t know of? Suddenly, dangerous possibilities raced through her mind. Was he secretly some kind of serial killer or something? What if he was a thief or a human trafficker? It’s just that he seemed so nice. So much muddled her mind in that moment, but one look at Roxy and she knew that whatever Rowan might be guilty of, that woman definitely was equally up to no good. Charlie would have to be more careful from now on until she discovered the truth, but there was no way she was giving him up to the likes of her.

  “I have no idea who you’re talking about,” said Charlie, lying.

  “Oh, is that so? Then where did you get this?” Roxy grabbed a small white card off of Charlie’s computer desk and held it up for her to see.

  It was Rowan’s name and email address.

  Charlie kept her mouth shut, practicing her right to remain silent and refusing to give up any information.

  Roxy grinned. “You know, the more you resist, the harder it’s going to get for you – for the both of you. I know you’ve emailed each other, so there’s no sense in prolonging the inevitable. I’m going to catch him. But, if you insist on being difficult, then I’ll let you two play your little game until I’ve cornered and trapped you. He can’t keep hiding behind the mask of a wizard forever.”

  “Leave now,” said Charlie, determined not to be bullied any longer, “I’m not telling you again.”

  “Fine, fine,” said Roxy, waving a dismissive hand and heading for the doorway. “But when you see Rowan again, be sure to give him a kiss from me and tell him Roxy’s closing in.”

  As Roxy exited her apartment, Charlie angrily slammed the door on her heels. Annoyed and fuming from the ears, she then stomped her way to the window where she watched Roxy mount a black and red racing motorcycle and take off spinning from where she illegally parked by the sidewalk. Charlie wished she had the nerve and skill to give her a beating, but she knew all she would accomplish was pulling out a bit of her hair before being taken down and possibly having a few ribs broken. She hoped that would be the last that she saw of her, but she knew it wouldn’t be. Roxy seemed like a no-jokes kind of woman that took her job seriously, so chances were they’d have another run-in eventually.

  But all that begged a more important question. A question she would soon have to get answers to if she wished to avoid any more social unpredictabilities.

  Who was Rowan Astaire?