Fade to Black

by Molly Kate Gray

  Christian shrugged his shoulders. “She needs backup. I said I’ll do it.”

  “And miss your date with Shannon? Not a chance.” Zach caught sight of Rory just in time catch an amused grin on her face. He was sure that she must love having them fighting over her. All she needed was an inflated sense of self-worth. “I’ll be there. Just tell me what time.”

  • • •

  Rory spritzed a final misting of perfume over her collarbone and turned and looked at herself in the full-length mirror. For once, she wasn’t annoyed with Allie’s near-constant scrutiny of her own appearance. She glared at her reflection and took a step away from the mirror for better light before walking to the closet and retrieving her necklace. Adjusting the three strands to sit flat against her olive skin, she nodded approval at the art glass pendant picking up the faint hint of turquoise in her sequined bodice.

  Stepping into her black high heel platform sandals, she was pleased to see her legs looked even longer and sleeker than normal. Remembering Keith’s infatuation with her coated denim shorts last week, she was fairly certain he’d approve of her outfit.

  Her phone buzzed in a circle on the table. His number flashed across the screen. “Impatient, aren’t you?” She let her words drawl longer than necessary.

  “Just letting you know I’m waiting downstairs.”

  “Such a gentleman. I’ll be right down.” Ending the call with a merlot-tinted manicured nail, she gave herself a final once-over in the mirror. Perfect. Picking up her clutch, she checked to make sure the tiny red light glowed from the bottom of the bag. “I’m heading down. Text me with a 1 if you can hear me.” Spinning her phone in the palm of her hand, she waited for the single digit to glow from the unknown number. “Got it. Let’s roll.”

  Deleting the text as she stepped from the room, she closed the door behind her.

  “Someone’s going out.” Mrs. Hoffsteadler’s voice almost caused Rory to drop her phone.

  Rory nodded as she paused mid-step. “Tickets to opening night of the show.”

  “I should have guessed.” Mrs. Hoffsteadler nodded to herself. “That’s why Keith Houk’s pacing the foyer downstairs.”

  “I might be a little late.”

  “Well, see to it that you don’t make that a habit. I’d hate to lock you out.”

  “Yes ma’am.” Rory punched the button to signal the elevator. “I’ll be back before midnight.”

  “I’ll see you then.” Plucking wilted leaves from the ivy plant in the hall, Mrs. Hoffsteadler continued to hum to herself as she turned her attention away from Rory.

  • • •

  Keith did like the outfit — a great deal. So much so that Rory spent almost the entire closing act of the show keeping his hands in a respectable position.

  “Great seats.” Rory smiled appreciatively as Keith assisted her with her lace shawl, not ignoring the fact that his hand rested on her shoulder a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

  His fingers slid across her upper arm and continued until he took hold of her wrist. “Benefit of being a patron.” He entwined her fingers with his as he nodded to a gray haired couple in the neighboring box. “My mom lived for this theater. I’ve been coming to shows since before I could see over this railing.”

  “Must have been nice.”

  “If you like that sort of thing.” He motioned to the door.

  “And I suppose you do?” Rory paused as she caught sight of a familiar figure exiting a box at the end of the hallway.

  Dr. Maxwell stepped in time next to them in the hall. His face crinkled into a smile as he nodded to Rory. “You’re my new leading lady.”

  Rory tried to ignore the ick-factor in her professor’s double-entendre. “Right.” She paused and looked up at him gratefully. “Thank you for trusting me with the part. I know I’m new. You probably had that cast list in your head the whole summer.”

  “You earned it.” He stepped into a recess next to a bank of water fountains as they drew annoyed glares from the group of theater patrons leaving the box seats. “Have you considered going to New York at the end of the year? I have friends in high places. I could give your career a head start.” He chewed his lip and stared intently at her. Rory didn’t miss how slowly his eyes roamed from her toes, stopping just below her shoulders. Once again, she was thankful she’d packed this particular outfit in her haste to leave New York and travel to Peytonville. His eyes searched her face.

  “I’ve thought about it. I’m just not sure if I have what it takes.”

  “I’m fairly certain you do. Come talk with me during office hours next week.” Not exactly a request, he nodded to himself in satisfaction as he turned and walked back to his companion.

  “That was different.” Rory watched his retreating form.

  “That’s Dr. Maxwell. He has a group of favorites. He’s telling the truth. If he likes you, you’re almost destined to end up in New York or Chicago.”

  “And are you a favorite?”

  Keith grimaced and shook his head. “I’ve known him for years. He’s friends with my parents. I think that works against me. I keep trying to break into his inner circle. Haven’t quite gotten there yet.”

  “Well, now.” Rory swung her hand next to his. “Maybe I can help change that.”

  “Maybe so.”

  • • •

  “I can’t believe I forgot my wallet. Sorry we had to come by here, but unless you wanted to pay,” Keith gave an uncomfortable laugh. “I know exactly where I left it. It’ll just be a second.” Keith turned the key in the lock to his condo and motioned Rory inside. She ducked around the swarm of moths fluttering around the porch light.

  “It happens.” She licked her lips. “I guess I just make you nervous.”

  “Something like that.” Keith’s voice lowered in his chest as he closed the door behind him. “Want something to drink while we’re here? Our reservations aren’t until nine, and the restaurant’s not that far. It’s either wait here or wait there.”

  “Sure.” Rory stepped into the living area and looked around. From the hardwood floor to the designer leather furniture, the room was different from any college guy’s apartment she’d been in … and she’d been in more than she could count. The dark dining room table had a single placemat. “You have any roommates?”

  He laughed as he opened the door of the refrigerator. “No one would pass the roommate test my parents required.” The door closed and the lid of a bottle hissed open. “No. Just me. This is another hand-me-down.” Glass clinked against glass as he glanced in her direction. “My parents bought the condo for my sister. She was an interior decorating major.” He waved a bottle of imported sparkling lemonade toward the spiral staircase. “Hence the over-the-top-for-a-frat-guy housing.”

  “I don’t mind.” Rory took the offered drink and settled onto the couch. Holding the glass to her lips, she feigned taking a sip. “This is really good.”

  “Another hand-me-down from my sister.” He held up his glass of water. “I can’t stand the stuff, but all the girls love it.”

  “And have there been a lot of girls over to sample?” She brought her glass back to her lips.

  Keith’s cheeks reddened as he took a seat next to her. “Not as many as you’d think.”

  “I imagine living alone has certain … benefits.” She shifted in her seat and slid her already short skirt higher against her thigh, resting her drink against her knee.

  “That it does.” He slid across the seat until his leg pressed against hers. His hand closed on her kneecap, and she tilted to face him – just as she spilled the lemonade across her lap and his. “Oh, I’m so sorry.” She shot to her feet, careful to keep the glass in her hand. “I can’t believe I was that clumsy. Oh, this is sticky. Is there a sink anywhere?”

  “Bathroom’s tha
t way.” He pointed to a closed door in the hall as he brushed the liquid off his pants. “There’s a towel. Go dry off. It’s okay.” He rushed past her into the kitchen as she scampered behind the door he’d pointed out.

  Wasting no time, she reached into the dress’ pocket – the very reason she’d chosen the overly revealing dress. Finding a formal with pockets was virtually impossible. Pulling out a tiny test strip, she dipped it into the drink and waited as she spun the faucet on. “I’m really sorry.”

  “Hey, don’t worry about it. Not the first time something has spilled on it.”

  Cringing at the barely-veiled innuendo, she watched as the ivory paper turned a faint shade of green. “Of course it would test positive.” Careful to speak loud enough for Zach to hear her, but still soft enough to be muffled by the running water, she repeated herself. “The drink tests positive for GBH.” She poured the remainder of the drink down the sink and turned off the water after toweling her legs dry.

  “See.” He stood back from the couch and gave a half-bow. “Good as new.”

  “Oh, I’m glad.” She smiled as she walked back into the kitchen and placed the glass on the counter. “Do you need to change?”

  “No. You barely got any on me.” He brushed his fingers across his pant leg and sat back down on the couch. “Want a refill?”

  Rory ducked her head and glanced at him through her hair. “I think it’s probably safer without it.”

  “Probably.”

  “Do we need to go?” Rory pointed at the wall clock.

  “Still plenty of time. Besides, if we’re late, Max will still find us a table.” He patted the couch. “You were reassuring me that girls would like this room.”

  “I mean, what’s not to like? Comfy couch.” She slid onto the still-damp seat, noticing that he’d dimmed the lights in the room. She knew the camera in her bag was good, she just hoped Zach remembered to switch the setting on his end. “Good company.” She dropped her head and looked up at him from beneath her eyelashes. She reached out and toyed with the collar of his shirt. She watched his chest rise and fall — he was deliberately matching her breath for breath. He leaned into her, and she backed away.

  “So jumpy.” He laughed. “Definitely going to need to get you something to help you relax.”

  “No.” She pressed her palm to his chest. “Don’t we need to leave soon?”

  • • •

  “Not necessarily.”

  Even on the grainy display, Zach could easily make out Keith’s hand circling behind Rory’s back. He’d been in the car for four hours — enduring one of the most sexually charged musicals in recent memory. Judging from the static on her microphone, Rory shifted in her seat throughout the entire second act. Watching Keith now, he didn’t have to wonder too much as to why.

  “Keith.” Rory’s voice was firmer as a deep moan sounded close to the microphone.

  Suddenly it was as if he was watching bad porn. Rory seemed to be trying to slide away as Keith pushed her flat against the couch. His hand slid up her thigh and exposed the black lace of her underwear. Exaggerated breathing punctuated by the sound of lips on skin filled the darkened car.

  Rory giggled as she pulled Keith’s fingertips from beneath the lace trim. “What’s your hurry?”

  “You are.” He took hold of her wrist and pinned it above her on the couch. Kicking off his shoes, he blanketed his body with hers as she began to wriggle beneath him. Her dress rode up as he pressed his leg between her thighs.

  “Say it.” Zach stared at the screen, watching Rory clearly in over her head. His fists gripped the wheel so tightly; he’d be surprised if he didn’t end up with bruises the next day. “Say the words.” He was transported back to El Paso and reminded why he didn’t like working with an undercover agent. If he broke Rory’s cover, her weeks spent on the investigation would be over, and Captain Davies would likely discipline him.

  “Keith. Stop!” Real terror was in Rory’s voice. “No. I don’t want this. Keith, don’t.”

  It would be worth it. He stared at the building a half-block away. Houk’s living room lights were dim, but entwined silhouettes could clearly be seen through the blinds. Taking hold of the car handle, he threw the door open.

  And then everything changed.

  The larger of the two shapes shot to his feet as the smaller shape tumbled out of view.

  “Damn it! What did you do that for?”

  Something echoed over the microphone.

  “Ah!” Rory let out a faint squeak. “No means no.”

  “Get the hell out of here.”

  “Gladly.” Heels clicked across wood as Rory strode across the room. Slamming the door behind her, Zach watched as she leaned against the wall and straightened her dress. Shifting from side to side, she plucked her heels off and began to pick her way through the parking lot. Instead of walking to his car, when she got the corner, she deliberately turned away in the direction of the dormitory.

  Zach looked from side to side on the street. This time of night with her dressed like that? No way. He stepped back into the car and turned on the ignition.

  • • •

  Rory rustled her hair and let the cool breeze blow against her cheek. Rolling her neck from side to side, she felt the muscles in her back begin to seize already. She hoped yoga was on the health services schedule tomorrow. She came to a stop beneath a streetlight. Gently fingering her cheek, she hesitantly pulled her fingertips away and glanced down at them. “No blood.” She was relieved when she pulled her fingers away and discovered the wetness was simply from her eyes tearing.

  Wheels crunched along gravel behind her. “You’re going the wrong way.”

  “Not for my dorm room.” She didn’t have the energy to deal with Zach right now.

  “Come on. Get in.” Zach called out through the open window of the unmarked police car.

  Rory shook her head and kept walking. The sound of tires crunching on gravel followed just inches behind her. She spun around. “Really, leave.” The wind picked up as lightning turned the sky from gray to olive green. Perfect. Just like clockwork, the heat of the day had built to the spectacular storms the weatherman predicted earlier that morning.

  A slamming door replaced the sound of crunching gravel. “Get in the car, Rory.” Zach pounded his fist against the hood of the car. “Don’t be so stubborn, you’re going to get yourself hit by lightning.”

  As if on cue, a bolt arced across the sky and a finger hit the batting cage on the far side of the intramural fields. As the metal glowed orange from the heat for an instant, Rory knew she was defeated. She studied the street around her. The only sign of life was a stray dog pawing through the trash piled at the base of the dumpster behind one of the apartment units for married students on campus. Someone must have had a party. The dog was feasting on half-eaten pizza crusts. “Okay.” Rory nodded her agreement as she walked toward the car, careful to keep her face turned away from his.

  “How’d it go?”

  “Pretty sure you heard everything.”

  “Probably.” Zack buckled his seatbelt as he leaned forward in an attempt to study the expression on her face.

  “You offered me a ride. Can you please just drive me back to the dorm?” It was hard enough to sneak past Mrs. Hoffsteadler on a good day, but the dorm mother seemed to be psychic when it came to girls who were trying to avoid her. More than once over the past week, she’d felt the watery gray eyes judging her outfit as Rory went out for one social event or another. If she caught a glimpse of Rory’s face, she’d be lucky if the older woman didn’t call the police out to deal with the issue, and having that type of attention was one of the last things she needed right now.

  “But I wasn’t there. I wanted to hear your impressions.” He started the car and waited for her to begin to speak.

  R
ory adjusted the air conditioning vent to make the air blow more directly at her cheek. Already the bruised flesh throbbed and her right eye was tearing so much she could barely see. Pressing her fingers lightly against the edges of the bruise, she thought for a moment before she answered Zach’s question. “Keith’s not our supplier. If he was, he’d definitely have offered me something to try to make me relax.”

  “And he didn’t?”

  “GBH, yes. Ecstasy, no.”

  Zach pulled the car to the side of the road and snapped on the map light before Rory could react. In the pale yellow beam of the overhead light, the question about the drugs no longer mattered. Zach’s eyes focused on her face. “What the hell happened?”

  “I fell.” She met his eyes straight on. In her years as an undercover agent, she’d been drugged, stabbed, and thrown out of a car. Falling off a couch and hitting her face on the coffee table was clumsy, but not high up on the danger scale. “I was pushing him off me, and I underestimated the size of the couch. I bumped into the coffee table.”

  “But your eye.”

  “Is black, I’m sure. Tomorrow will test the limits of my make-up skills.” Rory tried to laugh it off.

  “That shouldn’t have happened.”

  “I know. I wasn’t being careful.”

  “You led him on.”

  Zach said the wrong thing. Now her cheek wasn’t the only thing pounding. Her heart thudded in her chest. “You’ve got to be kidding. I led him on?”

  Zach’s eyes slowly traced her outfit. He didn’t have to speak to tell her what he was implying.

  “Guys think with the organ between their legs.” She ignored the little warning signal inside her brain that reminded her she’d turned off her filter on her language about the same time as her face connected with the table. “The fastest way to get them to trust you is to make them think you’re interested.”