Emma reached across the table and placed her hand on his fist, which was opening and closing. Her touch was cool, welcomed. She wore flesh-colored nail varnish, which shone in the flickering candlelight. Her fingers were dainty, long, and slim. "Don't worry, Jack. You’re doing absolutely fine."
"I am?" He grinned, half-believing her.
"I'm yours for the evening. I asked you out for a reason. If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be here. Enjoy yourself, I'm enjoying the company." With that, she leaned back and removed her arms from in front of her.
Jack's worries washed away. Suddenly, the evening became a lot calmer. He breathed out, commending his luck in his head and grabbed a menu. He handed one to Emma and opened his own. They scanned the options, her eyes moving slowly, his already decided. Emma licked her lips. "What's good here? Coming from someone who's eaten here before."
"The spaghetti and meatballs is excellent. The secret recipe sauce is the best I've ever tasted."
"Sold. I need some garlic bread. Or is that redundant and boring of me?"
Jack chuckled. "Have whatever you want, who cares what people think?"
"True."
A waiter stepped over with a notepad. He didn’t leave any bread. His pace was hurried, anxious, as if he didn’t want to be there. Jack raised his head, smiling nervously at the newcomer. Emma watched Jack for a split second before joining him.
The waiter cleared his throat. "Would you like to see the wine list?" An English accent, which took Jack by surprise. The waiter's pointed nose and blond hair spoke of Scandinavian heritage. Maybe there was a shred of it in there somewhere. The waiter raised his pad. He didn’t smile.
"Erm…" Jack fumbled, realizing he was underage. Emma slid her foot up his leg, distracting him. He gazed at her and she winked. Her eyes turned to the waiter and Emma leaned on her hand, elbow placed on the table. "No, thank you. Can we get a bottle of the house red?"
"A wise choice, madam." The waiter walked off. Once he was gone, Jack hushed his voice and looked at his date. "We’re underage."
"You might be. I'm twenty-three. How old are you?"
"Twenty. But…"
"Shhh, it’s fine. Have you drunk wine before?"
"Homemade stuff…once. And some beer."
Emma winked at him. "It's fine. Let’s have some fun. Besides, it's nice to learn I'm not a total cradle-snatcher. Only twenty. You're very cute for a man just out of his teens. A great complexion, nice smile. Going into that bookshop was the best decision of my life."
"You're just saying that." Jack tried to follow up his statement, but couldn’t think of what to say. Emma leaned in. "Yes, but it doesn’t mean it's a lie. I'm an honest person, I speak the truth."
At that point, the waiter returned and showed them the wine. Without looking, Emma nodded. He placed the wine on the table and left. Jack glanced at Emma; her smile was radiant. He leaned in. "I'm glad I went into the bookshop too. Who'd have thunk more than one person likes 1984."
"It's only a classic. Shocking really." Emma laughed.
And with that, the night flowed smoothly. They drank two bottles of house red—an oaky Merlot—and shared a spaghetti and meatballs with side orders of garlic bread and ravioli. The meal was plentiful and filling, there was no room for dessert. The conversation was elegant, relaxed, and friendly. They split the tab and found themselves on the sidewalk two hours later.
"Tonight was great, thank you." Emma squeezed Jack's hand between her fingers. Jack looked at her. "My pleasure."
"Look. I want to invite you back to mine…but I have an early day tomorrow. What say we hang out tomorrow night? You can come to mine, I’ll make us some dinner and we can curl up watching a movie."
"Sounds perfect."
Emma leaned in and kissed Jack on the lips. A jolt of electricity coursed through his veins. Her lips were soft, moist. The faint smell of wine tickled his nostrils. Her scent soon followed, engulfing him, making him close his eyes. Emma hooked her arms behind him and pulled into his body. The kiss became deep and forceful. Tongues swiped against one another.
After a few moments, they separated. "Wow." Jack wiped his lip with the side of his finger and gazed into Emma's eyes. Emma matched it, a look of lust betraying her dilated pupils. "Tomorrow…we can pick up where this kiss left off."
Jack nodded. "I'd like that."
He hailed a cab for Emma. A blue sedan pulled to the curb and he opened the door for her. Emma slipped a piece of paper into his hand. "My number. Text me."
"Sure."
She climbed into the car. Jack watched it pull from the curb, waved, and felt a sudden loss at seeing Emma leave.
This was possibly the best night of his life.
Then it dawned on him. The two bottles of wine, the company, the amazing smell of Emma's perfume. His blood alcohol level.
"Shit, I can’t drive home."
He took his cellphone from his pocket and dialed his house phone. He checked his watch. Just before eleven, would Mom be in bed? The phone rang several times before clicking to the answering machine. You've reached the home of… Jack hung up. "Shit."
Jack walked a few feet down the road and hailed another cab. Another sedan, yellow this time, pulled to the curb. Climbing into the back, he directed the driver home.
Twenty minutes later, he was walking up his front path. He noticed the lights were off and the house was dark. Even the porch light was dimmed, which was weird. Mom always left it on to deter burglars. He shook his head and walked in the door. He didn’t notice the door was unlocked as he stumbled through the entrance, closing it behind him. His head started to blur due to the wine.
He flicked the porch light on and stumbled up the stairs.
Within minutes, Jack was comatose on his bed.
The throb of a hangover stirred Jack from his deep slumber. A groan emitted from his lips, and quickly ceased when the sound became too much. He lapsed into silence—glorious, comforting silence. He pulled the warm duvet over his head and closed his eyes.
The shrill sound of the alarm clock almost gave him a heart attack.
He jumped out of bed, flinging the duvet onto the floor, slid on it a little as it caught the carpet, and tapped the top of the clock. His eyes narrowed against the sunlight that streamed through his blinds. Using a forearm, he shielded his eyes, ambled back to the bed and lay on its warm, comforting surface. He glanced at the clock.
It read 07:30.
"Shit." He realized college was imminent.
He pushed his face into the pillow and groaned.
After a moment, he realized he hadn't heard his mother. Normally, she would come in and wake him up, or prompt him, should he miss the alarm. After last night, he expected her to appear at the crack of dawn for an update. His mother was too curious.
Curiosity killed the cat.
But she hadn't come. He couldn’t hear any of the usual sounds of the morning. No whistling or singing and no running shower. The smells were absent too. The fresh coffee, the sweet aroma of bacon and eggs. Her Celine Dion CD would sometimes be playing if she was in the mood. The morning lacked Canadian crooning.
He heard nothing.
Absolute silence filled the household.
He listened harder; hoping his ears were simply affected by too many Italian grapes. He listened for a full minute.
Still nothing.
Which startled him a little.
Did she have a date he didn’t know about? An early meeting? Jack rubbed his sore head, willing the hangover to vanish. His mother was right, she warned him to drink less because of college. He hadn't heeded her advice.
He thought of Emma, her beautiful face, the dream-like eyes. Her fragrance. The way she spoke, her lip smiling at the corner; he wondered if she was aware of it. Such a wonderful evening. He'd be seeing her tonight.
Immediately, he decided he was going to skip class. What's the worst that could happen from missing a seminar about different types of paper? The thought of class bell
s and slamming lockers and screaming kids was too much for him. His cranium pulsated on the pillow at the sheer thought. He leaned down, collected his duvet and pulled it back onto the bed. He smothered himself in it and closed his eyes.
Within seconds, he was asleep.
Jack swallowed half a glass of orange juice in a few seconds. His eyes wandered to the fridge and its assortment of magnets, leaflets and junk. His mother had left him a note, one he'd been told about last night. It completely skipped his mind.
It dawned on him now though.
His evening with Emma might have to wait.
"Shit."
He grabbed his cellphone and swiped the screen, unlocking it. Should I phone Emma or is that too needy? Jack bit his lip, thinking.
He decided to text instead.
His fingers danced over the digital keyboard built into his iPhone. Within seconds, the text box read: Hi, it's Jack. Thanks for a wonderful evening last night. Tonight: Trick R Treating with my cousin. Forgot about it. Raincheck? Xx
His thumb hovered over the send button. After a second, he deleted the two kisses on the end and sent it.
No need to look pathetic.
Jack finished his orange juice. He took his toast from the toaster and plonked them on a plate. His phone skittered across the kitchen surface.
He had a text from Emma.
Hiya. No problem, come around after, if you want? Day off for me tomorrow. Late night could be fun ; ) Last night was gr8. X
Jack felt a tremor of excitement sliver up his spine. She'd used a kiss on the end so he now knew the protocol. His tongue poked out as he constructed the reply: Hello. No problem, can be around at 10? Shouldn’t be out long. Tonight sounds like fun. I'll bring dinner. X
He buttered his toast, sat down, and started to eat. He eyed the leaflets on the fridge. Nothing. No clues as to his mother's whereabouts.
Must have an early meeting. It's happened before.
Something felt a little off about it though.
His phone jumped again. With a mouthful of breakfast, he read the reply from Emma: No problem, food sounds good. Bring Pepsi and condoms. ; ) See you soon xx
Jack gasped out loud. His cheeks burned with embarrassment and he couldn’t help but smile at Emma's audacity and forwardness. He'd noticed the lust in her eyes last night but passed it off as the wine talking.
You were so wrong, he thought.
He clicked a quick reply: Sure. Tonight can't come soon enough. Xx
He paused and smiled. She'd put it out there. He changed the word come to cum. Feeling brave, Jack sent the message.
No going back now.
Jack finished his toast. After washing the plate, he slumped on the sofa and turned on the TV. He started to relax, not watching the shows so much as staring blankly at the screen. His mind was on the evening ahead. He might be having sex tonight.
He hoped so.
It was Halloween after all.
Scotty was working on his third Snickers before Jack confiscated his earnings for the evening. He looked down into the plastic bucket. Scotty had enough sugar in there to start a diabetes war. Snickers, Twizzlers, Black Jacks, Baby Ruth's, M&Ms, Milky Ways, Twinkies and many more. With a mouthful, Scotty grabbed for the bucket. "That’s my candy. Give it."
"You've had enough. Your mom will be pissed if you get chunks all over your costume. She paid good money for that."
"You said a swear."
"What? Pissed? That's not a swear."
"Is so. Dollar in the swear jar." Scotty spat peanut and nougat as he spoke. He finished the Snickers and put the rubbish in his pocket. "I'll tell Mom."
They stopped on the sidewalk. Jack sighed and pulled his wallet from his back pocket. Jack removed a five and put it in the bucket. "I'll do you a deal. Here's a five. You can keep it and I get to curse if I see fit, but you can't tell your mom, deal?"
Scotty thought about it, twisting his lips and creasing his forehead in thought. "Deal."
"Good boy." They walked for a moment, taking in the brisk, autumn evening. Jack looked down at his six-year-old cousin. He was dressed in a sheriff outfit, complete with gun belt, fake pistol, handcuffs and various other plastic gadgets. His brown shirt held a shiny, silver badge that read SHERIFF. His brown cowboy hat finished the getup, matching his brown trousers and shoes. He looked like the real deal. His gun belt clinked as he walked.
"What's chunks?"
"Huh?" Jack gazed down the street. A couple of little devils, one red and one pink, crossed the street. A group of child-like zombies accosted a man walking the opposite path, who fell over laughing, whilst a vampire and a Frankenstein held hands, chatting to one another. Several ghosts, portrayed by mutilated bed sheets, ran around making oooooo noises.
Halloween in Lake Whisper was a huge occasion; everyone got involved.
"What's chunks?"
"It's a horror book anthology by Alex S. Johnson. It has some weird, sick and depraved tales in it. Has your mother been giving you naughty books?"
"No, you said it just now. You don’t want me getting chunks on my outfit?"
Jack laughed. "Oh, that. Yeah, if you eat too much chocolate, you'll throw up. Chunks is sick, puking. You had three Snickers. Even I can't eat that many. You're a brave but silly little boy." Jack took the cowboy hat from Scotty's head and ruffled his hair.
"Why didn’t you get dressed up?" Jack gave him back the hat.
"I'm too old for this. It's for kids. Adults don't dress up, we do other things instead."
"Like what?" They turned the corner onto Scotty's street.
"Making drinks and food, getting the sweets reading to give to all the sheriffs and ghouls and demons that knock on the door. Remember, if we don’t keep the demons at bay, bad stuff happens. That's why you need to brush your teeth and say your prayers, okay?"
Scotty nodded, not saying anything. Jack felt a little bad for blackmailing the boy, but hey, in the world of social media and imminent threat, some kids could be protected. He was just following his aunt's way of parenting.
"Can we go back out again? I didn’t get enough candy."
Jack smiled. "I think you got plenty. Remember; don’t eat it all at once." Megan, Jack's aunt, stepped up behind them, her arms folded, a smile on her face. Jack winked at her. He turned to Scotty and bent down, looking him in the eye. "And whatever you do, don’t let your mother eat any, it's good candy for sheriffs who uphold the law." He handed him the orange bucket of goodies.
Scotty rolled his eyes. "Whatever." He laughed and skipped up the path, past his mother, and into the house. Jack straightened up and turned to Megan. "Any trouble?" she asked.
"None at all. Good as gold, as always."
"Thank you for taking him. It's nice to have some time alone with what's going on…you know, in the news?"
Jack shook his head. "What news?"
"Don’t tell me you haven't heard?"
"Heard what?" Jack narrowed his eyes. Megan's face dropped like she was bearing some bad news. Jack noticed immediately. "Aunt Megan?"
A chilly wind picked up. Megan shivered. "It's cold. You'd better get home."
And with that, Megan started walking back to the house.
Jack frowned. That was weird.
Megan scooted up the path and disappeared inside.
Jack stood alone on the sidewalk.
The wind ceased a little. The laughter of children filled the dark, crisp evening. Jack looked along the street at the various Halloween ornaments, displays and memorabilia. One garden had a full graveyard on its lawn, complete with gravestones and a coffin protruding from the shattered earth. Several inflatable skeletons on various houses wobbled in the breeze.
Jack walked back the way he came.
He took out his cellphone and unlocked it. With a few dashes on the screen, he typed a text to Emma: On my way, see you soon xx
"This is an awesome house. You live here alone?"
"I do now. Was my folks’. They left it in the will."
"The will?" Jack gulped. "Shit, I'm sorry."
Emma nodded; her bottom lip trembled a little. "It's okay. I never really got on with my folks, anyway. We weren’t that sort of family. Not the hug and pep talk and evening dinner types."
"Yeah, but still. Losing them at your age…"
"Can we not discuss it…please?" Her voice wavered and Jack nodded, not saying a word. He sat on the soft, green sofa. Emma turned, wiping a tear from her eye. "Drink?"
"I'll have a Pepsi, please."
"Sure." Emma turned and walked into the kitchen. She vanished through a curved archway. Jack looked around the room. TV and DVD, fireplace—not lit—and a huge mirror hanging above. Ornaments on several shelves and plush, grey carpet. The blinds on the window were closed, the curtains hooked onto the wall. The room smoldered with a warm orange glow. It made Jack feel sleepy.
"We have DVD's upstairs if you want to watch something?" Emma walked over to the sofa and handed Jack a cold can of Pepsi. She was carrying a can for herself and some chips. She placed them on a small, wooden table beside the sofa.
"Sounds great."
"Have you got school tomorrow?"
"It’s not school, it's college. But yes, I have. I can skip it, though. Brushstrokes are so boring!"
"What do you do?"
"I'm studying art, painting…stuff like that."
"Won't you get into trouble for bunking off?"
"Bunking off?"
"Skipping class." Emma smiled. Jack watched her lips for a moment. He licked his own lip. The glow of the room lit Emma's face up. He smiled. "Ah, okay."
"So will you?"
"What?" Jack sipped his Pepsi.
"Get into trouble?"
"They won't even notice I'm missing."
"Good. I want you all to myself tonight."
"Then I'm all yours."
Emma said nothing. Her smile turned into a grin and her eyes sparkled in the room's low luminosity. She stood up. "I'll dish up dinner."
"Sure thing, I'll help."
Emma walked through the arch again. Jack followed.
Whispers - Volume 1: A Collection Page 10
