Halfway up, Mr. Farren called out. “Say, Fi-Fi. How’s your Mom doing? I stop in to see her sometimes. She might have told you. She looks like she has a pretty full plate.”
I turned, pivoting on the step. Have any nice chats about your son and me?
Out loud, I said, “She’s always been that way, Mr. Farren. I guess I’m just used to it.” Is this still bullshit conversation, or is he fishing for something?
Nope, I’m not paranoid.
For once, Mr. Farren had to look up at me. “I would imagine you’ve had to be pretty independent.”
Oh, God. I just want to go upstairs. Why does he keep talking to me?
I crouched down, sitting on the stair, resigned to an extended conversation. “I get along by myself pretty well.”
He nodded. “I reckon you do, but a girl your age could find herself in all kinds of trouble, left on your own.” He put his hand on the railing. “It’s good to be with people. That’s why I stayed around after my wife died. There’s always someone looking out for you, no matter what happens. Know what I mean?”
A chill ran along my back, but I gave him my best innocent grin. “I guess so. I’m just not used to it.” I stuck my thumb up toward the loft. “I’m going to go upstairs, now.”
“Okay, sure.”
I retreated up the wooden steps, feeling his gaze on my back. The thudding of my footsteps matched the pounding of my heart.
* * * *
Chip sat at his desk, staring intently at the blue-lit screen. I wasn’t sure he’d heard me enter until he said, without turning, “Find some room on the bed, Blue.”
I stepped over to the cluttered wreck he called a bed. I moved aside a copy of Visual Basic® 2008 for DUMMIES®. I plopped down after I made enough room to wedge my butt between all of his books.
After a couple of minutes, I started to feel a bit like the discarded paperback—set aside until Chip was ready for me. My dear friend had tunnel-vision of the brain.
His fingers flew over the keyboard, scanning the screen for information and typing in several lines of some sort of programming code.
A few keystrokes later, he closed the window and shut down the computer with a push of a button. “That’s enough for one day. Did you bring the stuff?”
I tapped my messenger bag. “Right here.”
“Okay.” He grinned at me, then reached out and grabbed my outstretched hands. “I’m glad you’re here.”
I smiled back at him. “Me, too.”
He led me to the door, grabbing his tan jacket off the bed. “Let’s go.”
* * * *
We walked through the park. I curled an arm around Chip’s, snuggling against him. In my opposite hand, I held a sugar cone, two scoops—one chocolate, the other mint chocolate chip. Next best thing to heaven.
The full moon glowed brightly overhead, beaming white. Appropriate for mid-October, I guess.
We spent the last couple of hours shuffling from ride to ride. Midnight approached; the crowd had thinned down to only a few of us teenagers.
As we walked along the wooded path, I glimpsed several couples hiding away in the bushes—developing a sudden and keen interest in botany, no doubt. I debated pulling Chip into the fauna to categorize a few leaves together.
The temperature had dropped rapidly, but the chill failed to penetrate the warm and fuzzy energy coursing through me.
I guess Mom’s right, I’m beginning to fall for this little computer geek. So be it.
I let Chip lead me along the darkened path.
He motioned toward the wooden roller coaster support beams just off the path to the right. The track arched overhead. “If we cut through under the Whirlwind, we’ll save some walking time.”
I let him lead. He diverted from the main walkway into wet grass. Crisscross shadows lay across the ground where we stepped. We entered near-total darkness.
A churning rumble built up above us. High-pitched screams passed overhead. Out of my peripheral vision, I spied the shadowy figures of another couple studying the track foundations, undoubtedly for a future architecture project.
As we walked arm in arm, moonbeams broken up by the track overhead created a flickering across Chip’s face. I couldn’t ignore the eerie, erotic sensation that drove me to act.
I stepped forward, turned in front of him, and placed a hand against his chest. The train passed overhead, causing a rumbling through the wooden planks that vibrated down my spine.
“Kiss me.”
He smiled, leaning over me. The warmth of his breath traveled across my face.
I sighed and hugged him. “You drive me crazy, Chip.” A second train passed overhead, the noise building into a rumbling crescendo; a dark shadow fell over us. Playful screams overcame all sound.
A charging body slammed into us, and Chip sprawled. The blunt force caught me full in the back.
Off balance, I tumbled into a wooden support rail, hitting it with my shoulder.
Still stunned, I kicked blindly at the moss, trying to find my bearings.
A bulky pair of hands gripped my jacket at the shoulders and lifted me off the ground.
My legs kicked into the air. I locked my hands around a pair of beefy wrists, but couldn’t stop myself from once again being slammed into the wooden support.
Pain shot up my back, and my vision cleared into sharp, painful focus.
I blinked, staring into the snarling face of a furious Clinty Buckner.
“Surprise, bitch!”
I kicked and twisted to no avail. His arms pulled me forward, and pushed back. My back smashed into the wood.
The world exploded in pain. My legs would not respond.
Stupid, to get caught like this. Now Clinty would kick the shit out of me.
He grabbed me up, getting close to my face and showing his oversized teeth. “I knew if I followed you, I’d get you. Now, we square up for the other day. You’re gonna be beggin’ me. C’mon, beg!”
Fuck him. No matter what I do, he’ll cream me.
I drew a deep breath of desperately needed air and snarled back. “Please...you fat shit...don’t breathe on me, again.” I kicked my legs back against the supports, but I couldn’t budge.
His eyes bugged in fury.
Someone tackled us. Clinty staggered, releasing my jacket.
I fell back against the support. Clinty stumbled past me. Chip grabbed Clinty’s arm.
Clinty grunted and flung his beefy hand into an arch that sent Chip sprawling.
I stared, watching, horrified as Chip spun off and tripped over another support.
Reflex took over.
I growled, drawing my knife out of my pocket. My thumb flicked the trigger, and I charged forward.
I slashed the blade across his huge chest, cutting a thin slice through clothes and skin from his huge shoulder to prominent belly.
Clinty screamed, falling backwards.
He collapsed to his knees, his hands clasping his chest.
I stood over him, panting for air. As I watched blood trickle through his T-shirt and jacket, satisfaction welled up within me.
The overhead rumble built up around us again, drowning out all sound and light.
When I could see Clinty again, he lay sprawled on his knees, grabbing his stomach as if to keep his innards from leaking onto the grass.
His eyes darted to me. His lower lip trembled. “Oh, God. You cut me. I’m gonna die. You bitch, you cut me—”
I advanced on him, holding the blade out in front of me and trying not to wince from pain. I swiped the point toward his face. “Shut up! If I wanted to kill you, you wouldn’t be talking now.”
He squealed like the fat pig he resembled and scuttled away from me, his arms rising in front to protect himself.
The rumble built up again, and when the cloak of darkness fell over us, I jumped around his back, leaned over, and grabbed a handful of greasy hair. I placed the point of the blade beneath his chin and pushed hard enough for him to feel it. Then, I ur
ged him forward, forcing him onto his hands and knees.
He reached up.
I pressed the knife into the flesh under his chin. “Don’t. Or you die, now.”
He yelped in shock and pain, and then let out a pathetic sob.
I relished his helplessness.
I straddled his prone body, putting my face behind his, whispering into his ear like a lover. “You...cowardly fuck!”
“Don’t kill me.”
“Oh, Clinty,” I whispered. “You’re already begging. How disappointing. How boring.” I drew the blade up as if to slash across his throat.
He screamed, his body shaking from the blow I never delivered.
I enjoyed watching it. I enjoyed causing it. The arrogant bastard needed a solid dose of terror, and I aimed to deliver in spades. “Oh, but I could kill you, Clinty. Slit your throat before you could raise a hand to stop me. So fast, I wouldn’t even get blood on my hands.”
“Please, don’t.”
“‘Please, don’t,’” I whined a high, mocking imitation. “Don’t tremble so much. It’s annoying me.”
Clinty had nothing left. No threats, no pride, no bravado. He lay beneath me, begging, overwhelmed from pure terror, pleading for his life. “I’m sorry. Please—please don’t kill me. I’ll do anything you say.”
I pressed the knife. “Shut up! Listen to me. You’re not going to die from that scratch I gave you. I didn’t even begin to cut through all that lard, but yeah—you’re bleeding like a stuck pig. Big surprise.”
I continued to keep one hand entwined in his hair, the other still pressing the point to his neck. “Do you understand now who you’re fucking with? I’m giving you this one last chance. You come near me, or Chip, or Phil, or any of their friends, and I’ll kill you. I won’t bother kicking your ass again.”
My own hand, holding the knife, started to shake from the strain. I tightened my grip. I heard him wince in response. “I’ll find you, and I’ll cut your heart out. This is your only warning.”
His head shifted in the start of a nod, unable to complete the motion from the knife pressed under his chin. He groaned something similar to a yes.
The coaster roared overhead, again. I tightened my grip as he blacked out of my sight for a second.
He didn’t even think about moving.
Light poured down on me, again. “Now. I’m going to pull away. When I’ve reached Chip, you will drag your fat ass off the ground, and be careful not to dribble any blood on your way home. Otherwise, I’ll have to tell everybody what happened tonight. Lucky for you, I’d rather nobody knew about this.”
Air blew out his nose in shaking spurts. “Okay. That’s cool. You bet!”
I pulled the knife away from his neck, and mustering my pride and strength, I managed to rise to my feet and stand over him.
I walked in unsteady, stumbling steps to where Chip sat, his back against the support. In his eyes, I saw utter shock at my performance.
I turned over onto my ass and watched Clinty totter to his feet.
He looked down at the slashed ruin of his T-shirt, still stupidly unaware that his injury was a simple surface wound.
His eyes met mine, reflecting sheer terror.
I crouched down next to Chip, keeping the blade out in plain view. “Get out of here.”
He turned and scrambled away.
The coaster passed directly overhead, rumbling as it went. The train momentarily blocked the moonlight.
By the time the joyful screaming ended, he’d vanished, leaving in his stead a few drops of blood reflecting in the grass.
The shakes hit. My arms and legs trembled out of control.
The knife fell to the ground.
Gentle arms encircled and cradled me.
I clung to Chip, and he held me tight.
I cried into his chest, punctuating my sobs with curses. Finally, the flow stopped.
“Chip...you really came through this time. He was ready to pound me into the emergency room.”
“I came through?” Chip’s shaking voice betrayed his shock and terror. “I’d be surprised if Clinty ever shows his face in school again after that. Jesus, Blue. Where did that come from?”
A bitter laugh escaped through my tears. “Oh, Chip.” I whispered the same words I’d used earlier. “Do you understand now, who you’re fucking with?” I felt his body stiffen.
I looked up at the moonlight reflecting off a wooden beam. “I told you I was trouble for you. Some of what you saw—part of that’s the real me. The part I had to bring out in Ripple, just to clear a path to an exit. Afterwards, I told myself it’s just an act, but I know I’m this close to something dangerous and awful.”
Chip held me tight. “Maybe a little dangerous, but never awful.”
I laughed and wiped my face.
Chip shuffled in the grass. “We need to go. They’re going to close down, soon.”
Loud shrieks cut through the air, and the train passed overhead, blocking the moonlight.
I shivered and leaned against him. “I know. Just hold me. Just for a minute.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
With only a few minutes to closing, the line to The Pirates of Perionne ride no longer existed. Holding hands, we walked down the stairs, our feet clomping on the wood. We descended to the circular platform. A single, bored attendant leisurely leaned on a long, wooden stick marked with a red line at roughly four and a half feet high. The platform continued its endless, slow rotation.
The stocky, college-aged attendant reached up, tipping his hat to reveal thick, blonde hair. “Good evening, Sir. Milady.”
His slap-happy charm made me smile.
I took a step toward the boat, but he moved forward in front of me, thumping the stick down and making a show of eyeballing the red line on the marker.
“I don’t know if you’re tall enough. It’s going to be close.”
I folded my arms. “How’d you like the stick shoved up to the red hash mark?”
Chip put a hand on my shoulder. “Blue...”
“Chuck!” An unfamiliar voice called out. “Are you flirting with the ladies again?” I peered into the darkness to see the silhouette of a second attendant, exceptionally tall and thin, with strands of dark hair peeking out from under his cap. He walked with practiced diligence along the wheel-shaped dock, using a squeegee with an extra-long handle to wipe out the boats as they emerged from the ride.
He looked over at me and tipped his own cap. “I’ve heard about her. She can probably do exactly what she says.”
Chuck called back. “Just keep wiping the boats, Bob. Don’t forget who wears the striped pants around here.”
Bob grumbled. “I’m just sayin’. If she does what she says, I’m not pulling it back out for you.”
Chuck grinned and stepped aside. “After you, Milady.” He removed his hat, waving me forward.
Chip shook his head, pulling me behind him. “Must’ve been a long day.” We walked along the dock, and he quickly outpaced me.
Bob removed his hat and waved it in the direction of the semi-dry boat. “This way, Sir. Milady.” He bent over in a corny bow. “Your chariot awaits.”
Chip took my hand, but I resisted, my wicked mind already foreseeing the possibilities. “You first.”
Chip stepped into the boat and straddled the still-damp seat. I stepped in, but instead of settling down in front of him, I fell backwards, dropping into his lap.
He grunted oof, and his arms encircled around me in a tight squeeze.
Bob raised his hat and shook it above his head. “Just a friendly reminder. It’s a three minute ride.” With a wink, he stepped across the dock and away from us, approaching the next couple.
My positioning on Chip’s lap proved to be a happy accident. With a casual glance over his shoulder, I could confirm what we’d figured and hoped, based on what Chip had observed from past visits. The attendant had escorted the next couple to the closest ride from the entryway—leaving three empty boats between
us.
Our little capsule drifted against the double doors, which split aside. We floated through into the noisy wonderland of cackling puppets, organ music, and “Yo-Ho-Hos.”
As if to ward me off, Chip pushed the flats of his hands against my lower ribs. “C’mon, Blue. We should get ready.”
My body ached from pent-up excitement. I twisted in his lap and pressed against him. “You heard the man. We have three minutes.” I planted a hard, rough kiss against his mouth.
Given his agitation and nervousness, he still responded. Sort of.
As our boat drifted through the room, I sensed, more than saw, the large pirate ship.
Like palpable electricity, tension filled my body.
I separated from his unresponsive lips, and instead leaned forward into a hug, my mouth brushing against his ear. “It’s going to be okay,” I whispered.
Who am I trying to convince?
Breathless, I turned to confirm that the pirates were still fighting off the natives on the island and the other pirate still chased the wench on the ship.
The boat turned in its track, lining up with the double doors to the final room.
I pushed myself forward to my own seat. “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
I gripped his hand, squeezing his fingers in mine.
“Anything going on behind us?”
I craned my neck backward. “The next couple hasn’t even entered this room.”
The doors split open.
The boat emerged to begin a slow semi-circle around the small islet.
The large pirate with the eye patch swung his machete at us. “Get your own gold, Matey! This be all mine!”
Chip released his hand from mine. “Now!”
Chip bolted from the boat first, landing in the sand and darting for the cardboard palm tree mockup with catlike agility.
I jumped after him.
My foot skidded off the vinyl siding, and I toppled into the sand. “Damn!”
I rolled across the ground, fighting down panic. My body slid to a stop at the edge of the pedestal, and I jumped to my feet. With one fluid motion, I stepped onto the wooden plank, gripped the sides of the plastic pot, and side-jumped into the gullet of the oversized cauldron.
Haunting Blue Page 19
