Lightning Strikes

by Cass Sellars

  Following a blistering shower, she pulled on her street clothes and headed for home. She’d just keep the lights off and the blinds closed until the woman got a clue, she vowed, shaking her head at the absurdity of hiding in her own home and idly wishing she could park her car somewhere other than the exposed front lot.

  She pulled in quickly, half jogging to the lobby and glancing behind her toward the road, grateful when the street appeared empty.

  As the lobby door closed soundly behind her, she spotted a bundle of flowers and some sort of box at her door. Looking around her, she approached the offerings slowly, half expecting them to explode. She then noticed a familiar hand-drawn smiley face in pink ink glaring up at her from the box.

  “Dammit! How the hell did she get in here?” she said to the empty hallway. Spying the unit opposite hers with the crooked D, she answered her own question.

  Neither of the offices in the building kept evening hours and, in fact, she rarely saw anyone there on most afternoons. The damn new people were already pissing her off. She had been spoiled by the peace of being the only full-time occupant in the building and it would be up to her to ensure that her future harmony was preserved.

  She was furious that Becky had shown up uninvited. She was even more angry at herself for being so stupid, but she was more than willing to take it out on the new neighbors, peaceful coexistence be damned. She marched to the door and knocked loudly. She knocked again, even louder this time, when the door didn’t magically slide open at her impatient fist’s initial request.

  “Who is it?” A voice filtered through the wood.

  “Your neighbor, across the hall. I need to talk to you,” she demanded.

  When a woman finally answered, Syd began waving wildly toward the opposite side of the hall. “Did you let some crazy bitch in here?” Syd continued to point indignantly between the presents and the foyer door. Without waiting for a response, she continued her rant. “This is supposed to be a secure building. We don’t let people in unless we know them. Got it?” Her new neighbor stared at her. Sydney continued her wild gesturing, never even really looking at the woman.

  “Um, yeah, sorry. It won’t happen again. I didn’t know she wasn’t your…whatever.” She slid the door shut in Syd’s face and Syd heard her throw the lock.

  As she stared at the now closed door, Syd managed to reel in her anger and realize how she must have sounded. A few deep breaths later, she knocked again and waited. After several seconds of silence, the door creaked open again. She forced herself to appear a little less crazy and perhaps more focused, and she held out a slightly wilted daffodil she’d spontaneously extracted from the bunch still on the floor near her door. She looked awkwardly at her shoes and rolled on her toes, to her heels, and back.

  “Truce?” Syd offered to the sound of her neighbor’s laughter.

  “Should I be insulted that I am getting hand-me-down flowers?” She gave Syd a sideways smile.

  Syd stared at her. She squinted as the memories rolled forward and she recognized her nervous dance partner from the Pride.

  Recovering quickly, she said, “Probably, but I had no advance warning that I might be an ass clown this evening, otherwise I would have been more prepared.” Her eyes met her neighbor’s again as she offered her a sheepish smile. Syd hoped she thought her angry persona from the moment before was perhaps a little safer now.

  After an uncomfortable silence, the brunette extended her hand and rolled the door over a bit farther with her hip. “I’m Parker Duncan, your security risk of a new neighbor.” Her hand was trembling when Syd took her fingers, more to hold them than to shake her hand.

  “I think we’ve met. I believe I am the one you ran from at the Pride.”

  Syd watched Parker as she stood at the door, in her nightshirt, fidgeting like a schoolgirl.

  “I didn’t exactly run. I mean, I enjoyed it. The dance part, not the running part.” Parker slapped her hand over her face. “I’m really not normally an idiot or a security risk, I don’t think.” She gestured at the little display near Sydney’s door.

  Syd laughed while still holding Parker’s hand in hers. “I’m Sydney Hyatt and I’m not normally such an ass, I don’t think.”

  The silence lingered heavily until Parker said, “I’d invite you in, but as you can see, I’m kind of ill-equipped to host at the moment. Her hand slid from Syd’s and she swept the space in a grand demonstrative gesture. Parker hefted the door all the way open to reveal stacks of boxes and void spaces where the kitchen appliances should have been.

  Syd took one step inside, appraising the condition of the loft—and the woman. “How about I offer you a glass of wine instead of a secondhand flower, across the hall at my place? My kitchen’s a bit further along than yours and you can officially let me apologize for being a jerk.” Sydney had no idea why the invitation had escaped her lips. She had intended on working and pretending not to be home for the rest of the evening.

  Parker stared up at Syd and seemed to search for an answer. She continued to gaze at Syd as she waited for a long-overdue response.

  “Or not?” Syd stared at the half-dressed Parker.

  “Oh. No. I mean yes. Okay. What is my damage?” Her eyes flew open and her hand covered her mouth. “I didn’t mean to say the last part out loud,” she said, blushing repeatedly. Syd laughed again, thinking she was very neurotic…and damn cute.

  “It’s okay if you want a rain check.” Syd cringed at the words she had used on Becky not long ago.

  “No, I would like that.” Suddenly she looked down at her attire. “I need to change first, huh?” Syd watched Parker smooth a hand over her face as if attempting to push away the rising color from her cheeks.

  Syd chuckled, as she inventoried her outfit. “I, for one, think it’s completely adorable but if you insist…” She flirted mostly out of habit…mostly.

  Parker smiled and managed, “Give me two minutes to change, okay? I’ll just knock.”

  “No need, there isn’t anyone else here, or at least until you invite them in.” Syd winked at her again to make sure she knew she was kidding. “It’ll be open.” Syd turned back toward the hall and collected her unwanted bounty from the threshold in front of her door.

  *

  Parker slid the door shut and vaulted up the stairs, flinging open flaps of boxes to find jeans or pants or something. “Ridiculous,” Parker scolded out loud. She reminded herself that she was not in the market for a woman let alone one with a temper problem and a crazy girlfriend. Then there’s that damn wink. Who falls for that shit? Parker admitted it was incredibly charming and it worked on her just a little.

  After several minutes of no luck finding jeans, she succeeded in piecing together a long gray jersey skirt and a white knit tank. Sliding into black flip-flops as she walked, she finger combed her hair once again and hurried out the door as if the invitation might be rescinded. She crossed the hall toward the sliver of light that leaked out from the neighboring studio.

  The door was open as promised. Parker took an audible breath to calm her nerves as she curled her fingers around the old oak slab. She pulled it open, just enough to slip in.

  She gazed over the huge expanse of the warehouse, at least three times the size of hers. Sparkling lights twinkled from enormous fixtures against the high ceilings and half walls. Clearly expensive furnishings were pulled together in muted colors and subtle accents. Built-in shelves spanned the facing walls and columned up behind the couch. The kitchen stretched across the wall at her right, boasting colored pendant lights and shiny Viking appliances. Syd’s tight, slender body moved behind the counter as she dried two large red wine glasses and slid them next to an open bottle of cabernet.

  “You can come all the way in,” Syd called, making Parker jump. “That was a quick change.” Syd nodded at her new outfit.

  “Well, I have no mirrors up yet, so I either look bohemian chic or fashionably vagrant.” Parker laughed at herself, knowing it was more likely the latter
.

  “I think you’re great—I mean, you look great.” Syd’s raspy voice floated over Parker as she handed her the glass. “I saw you were drinking red over there, so I assumed…”

  “Oh, yeah, my favorite, actually.” Parker was briefly impressed that Syd had noticed. “I like it somewhat forward and with a bit of a bite.”

  “Hmm. That describes most of the women I wind up with if wine can also be crazy,” Syd lobbed, making her laugh again. Syd set her off balance somehow.

  Syd led her to the living room, gesturing for her to sit on the near end of the couch opposite the chaise.

  “Your place is gorgeous,” Parker gushed. “Mine will never be this great.”

  “Sure it will. I think you’ve got a good start. I wondered who would buy that one. It was a wreck.”

  “Silly me. I have a penchant for things that need to be fixed in a big way.” Parker thought how true that actually was.

  Syd pulled a bent knee to rest under her other leg, enabling her to turn and face Parker. She leaned to the side, resting her arm over the low back of the couch, slowly twisting the glass stem in her fingers.

  “I can’t believe I saw you last week in a random bar and now you’re living across the hall. Some coincidence, huh?” Parker felt Syd’s eyes as they seemed to inventory her features.

  “Kind of crazy, especially since I made a fool of myself.” Parker shifted her gaze to her wine and swirled it absentmindedly in the bowl of the glass.

  “You didn’t, actually. And now that we’re not in a noisy bar, I want to apologize for making you uncomfortable. I really wasn’t trying to.”

  Without thinking, Parker gestured by placing her fingertips briefly on Syd’s knee. “You didn’t. Really.” She pulled her hand back from Syd’s leg as if the surface had burned her hand. “I just, I don’t think I was ready for…to be close with anyone, and it just kind of shocked me to be there.” Whew. Parker longed for the ability to speak in complete sentences again. “It’s just been a little rough for a while.”

  “Breakup?” Syd asked her over the rim of her glass.

  “Yeah. Epic, you could say,” Parker admitted.

  “How long?”

  “Were we together? Eleven years, married for ten.”

  “Was it over before then?” Sydney seemed intent on shifting the subject of the conversation to her.

  “I suppose it was. Either we just didn’t admit it or one of us already had a foot out the door. I always used to counsel my friends to get out of bad relationships, and then I ended up in one. There’s an old song I used to love about not bothering to leave because your stuff’s already there.” Parker continued, less focused on the room. “And I never wanted to be in that kind of relationship—so maybe it was for the best, you know, that it stopped before that.” Parker briefly wondered how she was suddenly in a deep analysis of her recent past with a stranger.

  Syd whistled. “Damn, girl. I get it, no apologies necessary.” Her gray eyes locked on Parker making her shift under the heat of the stare.

  Quickly changing the subject, Parker pointed to three tall statues on the bookcases surrounding the fireplace. She stood to get a closer look, secretly appreciating some separation from Sydney’s intense energy. “What are these trophies?”

  Syd followed, stopping close behind her. “They’re AVATARS, awards for my industry. It stands for Audio Visual Awards—Television and Radio.”

  “Wow. You must be good.” Parker felt the hairs stand up on her arms as she sensed heat radiating from Syd’s body behind her. At least she thought it was from her.

  She chuckled softly near Parker’s ear. “It helps when you like what you do. It’s how I got started. I rarely do that work anymore.” Syd slid her hand gently to guide Parker down to another shelf. Parker inhaled sharply when Syd touched her.

  “This is my favorite. The first award I ever won when I went out on my own.” A keyboard was carved in bronze and a pair of bronze headphones hung at a tilt on the corner of the trophy. “It’s a really small regional award, but I knew I had made the right choice to do this for a living when they handed me that one.”

  “That must have meant a lot. What is it that you do now? What does D.R.I.F.T. stand for?” Parker turned to look up at Syd, not realizing how close she was. Her arm brushed against the taller woman’s muscular stomach as Syd returned Parker’s stare. Parker bit her bottom lip. “Sorry,” she whispered. Parker froze in Syd’s gaze, willing her to move, to break the spell, to…something.

  Syd briefly assessed their significant height difference for no particular reason. She stared at Parker’s mouth and then into her blue eyes while attempting a casual shrug she didn’t feel and betraying the intense attraction she did. “It’s okay.” Holy hell. Butch up Hyatt, this is crazy. You don’t fall for girls, you have fun with them and then run them out of your life. She mused that the last thing she needed was an uncomfortable conquest she passed every morning in the hallway.

  Syd gently swiped the back of her finger across Parker’s flushed cheek, pushing a strand of hair from her face.

  “It stands for Digital Reconstruction and Independent Forensic Technology. Basically, I help police departments, lawyers, and justice groups reenact crimes by recreating the scene and the suspected actions of the criminals. It helps investigators visualize the crime and juries understand what they’re deliberating about.” She recovered her composure by discussing her business. She wondered why Parker cared about any of it.

  “Wow. That’s fascinating. Ever get scared?”

  Sydney was glad for a diversion from the intoxicating connection she felt as her new neighbor stood too near her. “Sometimes I’m on a scene soon after the crime or in some really questionable areas, but I’m usually armed and there are typically a bunch of cops nearby.” Sydney stared intently at Parker and stopped her hand from reaching out to touch her again.

  They both jumped when a loud tap against the window broke the relative silence. Parker pulled away. Despite the drawn shades, streetlights illuminated the silhouette of a thin miniskirted visitor knocking against Syd’s front window, cupping her hands in an attempt to peer through the crack between blinds.

  “Mother of hell.” Syd stepped back, grabbing Parker’s hand. “I know you are going to think this is crazy but I need to take you to my bedroom.”

  “What?” Parker gasped as Syd grabbed her hand and dragged her farther into the loft.

  “Trust me. I’ll explain in a minute.” She jogged down the hall pulling Parker behind. They whirled into her bedroom as Syd pushed the door closed behind her. When Parker began to speak, Syd laid her finger over her lips and whispered, “One second.”

  As she pulled the blinds down fully on every window, she passed by her nightstand where she considered pulling out her Sig Sauer P232 pistol. Instead she walked back to stand in the mostly dark room in front of Parker to explain.

  “It seems I have something of a stalker. Apparently, you’ve already met.” Syd rolled her eyes as Parker covered her mouth in shock.

  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” A new wave of red bloomed across Parker’s face.

  “Don’t worry, I didn’t know either. I was dancing with her right after you and I parted ways at TPL.” She winked mischievously. “So technically, this is all your fault. If you hadn’t left me standing there, we never would have…” She let the sentence die on her lips, unwilling to acknowledge what had happened afterward.

  Parker pushed her away playfully. “How many things can you blame on me in the thirty minutes I’ve known you?”

  Laughing, Syd sat on the bed, patting the space beside her. “True, I’ll keep the rest stored up for later,” she joked, tapping her temple as if to lock away the memory. Syd launched into the story hoping to excuse her behavior. “Anyway, she followed me home the other night, and after getting pissed that I didn’t want her to stay over, she started looking for me at the Pride and apparently coming by here to visit with my new neighbor.” Sydney made a s
weeping gesture at Parker.

  Parker’s eyes widened as she now took the spot on the bed Sydney had pointed to. “You know, I think I saw that Jeep a couple of times while I was moving in, too.” Parker sat, still clasping her wineglass with both hands.

  “Great. Just what I need.” Sydney shook her head at the prospect of protracted dealings with Becky Weaver.

  “Have you called the police or anyone?”

  “No, I just heard about this today and I haven’t really decided what to do,” Syd replied with a sigh. “We have…seen each other before but I let her come here the other night for the first time. Because of that, I think she might have thought it was going to be more. It was my fault.” Syd tilted the last swallow of wine past her lips, clueless as to her next best move.

  Parker pressed her lips together as she thought. “Maybe she needs to think you’re not available.” They heard another tap at the front window. “Maybe then she would get mad and go away.”

  “Who knows? I have never mentioned being with anyone, I’m sure she knows that. I have a reputation of sorts,” she said sheepishly.

  Parker swigged back the last of her own wine, her expression suddenly playful. “Well, I’m out of wine”—she held up her glass in demonstration—“and you can’t fix that for me while we’re locked in here. So we must act.” Parker launched her fist heavenward as she grabbed her wineglass and Syd’s arm dramatically.

  Syd studied her.

  “She saw me earlier, right?” Parker continued heading down the hall. “But she doesn’t know who I am. Follow my lead.”

  Syd stared appreciatively at the new personality that seemed to erupt from Parker as she was suddenly marching behind her toward the front door.

  Parker slid open the big door and Syd followed her closely. She led the way into the foyer and Becky’s face appeared in the glass sporting a slightly confused expression.

  Parker pushed open the door for her and smiled at Becky. “Hi, I’m Par—Patricia. Patricia. You and I met this afternoon, right?”