by Jamie Wahl
Charlotte pursed her lips at Michael’s stunned expression. “Really?”
Michael blushed. “Sorry. I know her from…my…apartment.”
Charlotte gave him a fairly disapproving half-smile.
Oh, I’m sorry, the nymph said in his head, I didn’t realize she was your lover.
Michael choked but turned it into a cough as the nymph made her way toward them across the waiting room. “Michael!” she called out, every male in the room gawking at her thigh-high boots shining in the florescent lighting. “I can’t believe I ran into you here! Oh, hi!” she said, pretending she’d only just seen Charlotte. She held a manicured hand. “Hi,” she said again, flirtatiously. “I’m Carrie, Michael’s neighbor.”
Charlotte blinked. “Um, hi,” she said, “I’m Charlotte.”
The nymph called Carrie turned to Michael and made a pouty face. “Michael, I locked myself out of the building again and no one will buzz me in. My girlfriend works here and I was going to try to get a key from her, but it would be soooo much better if you let me in. She hates working on Halloween and she’s going to be totally pissed if I page her but I really need to get in because I have a party that I have to go to because my friend’s ex is going to be there and—”
“Michael can help you,” Charlotte interrupted. “I’ll stay a while and see if I can’t charm my way in to see him.”
“I bet you could,” Carrie said, winking at Charlotte.
“Thank you, Carrie,” she said with a smile. She turned to Michael. “I’ll call you if I find out anything. You go home and get some rest.”
“Yeah,” Michael began, but Carrie was already leading him away, an arm hooked around his.
You’re welcome, Carrie laughed mischievously in his head.
Michael’s eyes grew wide. He turned and waved at Charlotte, who waved happily back, shaking her head a little.
Carrie led him outside and they walked toward the packed parking garage next to the ER entrance. “How is your friend?” she asked, still clutching his arm.
“They said he’ll be alright.”
“I’m glad,” she said, laying her head on his shoulder.
“Where are we going?” Michael asked, their footsteps echoing around the bleak cement landscape.
“Callista asked me to bring you home with me.” She patted his arm and sighed.
Michael cleared his throat.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
“Nothing. You just—aren’t what I expected.”
“And what were you expecting?”
“Um….” Michael figured no answer would be good there.
Carrie laughed to herself as they approached a 70’s era Cadillac with leopard interior. She opened the trunk and turned to Michael. “Alright, I’m sorry about this.”
“About what?” Before Michael knew what was happening, Carrie pulled a silk bag out of her purse and pulled it down over Michael’s head. It had a chemical smell that assaulted his nostrils. He grabbed blindly for her wrists, but she was far too quick. The world spun with dizziness. He felt her lift him off his feet easily and set him onto the felt lining. He had one thought before he heard the distinctive slam of the heavy metal trunk.
That’s more like it.
Then everything went black.
About the Author
Jamie Wahl lives in Alabama with her husband and four kids where she works as a muralist. She wrote most of this book sitting in the lobby of the YMCA, with her kids in childwatch next door. She wore sweat pants so that when the trainers walked by she could pretend she was stretching. Other than that, she’s totally professional.
