by R Weir
I wasn’t a big fan of hospitals and tried to avoid them at all costs, and by costs I meant the cost of staying in a hospital. My insurance was poor, and the co-pays and deductibles were bank-account drainers. I’d been hit in the head before and knew the sensation. I was pretty certain I’d live, and needed to sleep it off.
“I would prefer to go home and lie down. I think I’ll be OK once I get some rest. I’ve experienced this before. Usually it’s a dissatisfied client that bonks me on the noggin.”
“Is there someone that can take you home?” she asked as I made her smile. “You shouldn’t drive.”
“I’ll take him,” said Emily. “I can drive him in his car, and Jeanine can drive me back.”
“Can you handle a stick shift?” I asked.
She gave me thumbs-up. “Not a problem!”
“OK, that is good to know,” said the paramedic. “Let’s see if you can stand up and walk.”
With a little help I got to my feet. I was better and not as nauseous as earlier. I walked around and appeared pretty stable. It was like taking a sobriety test to make certain you were fit to drive. If only I could remember who hit me!
“So did anyone see who clocked me?” I asked. “That part stills seems a little foggy.”
The response was a universal no. I would have to wait until my memory returned to get that answer, if it ever did.
“A little bit of memory loss is normal,” said the paramedic. “Make sure you call 911 if it gets worse. I will release you, but you should go see your own doctor tomorrow so they can check you again. OK?”
I nodded my head in agreement, though I doubted I would go. I was pretty stubborn when it came to doctors. Unless I was bleeding outright and needed a tourniquet, I rarely went. It had been years since I’d had a simple physical.
“So keep ice on the lump on your head and take some Advil to help with the swelling.”
“Thanks, doc,” I said, while shaking her hand. “I appreciate the great service.”
Once all the paperwork was done they released me to Emily. She drove me home and walked me inside. I plopped down on the sofa and lay down. She found a plastic bag and filled it with more ice, to replace the one I had.
“Are you sure you’ll be OK?”
“Yes, I’ll be fine. I wish I could recall who hit me. I have a feeling it’s important.”
“I’m certain you’ll remember in the morning. It takes time.”
She came over, leaned forward and gave me a hug. She smelled good, even after a night out in the bar. “I’ll call you tomorrow and check up on you. I’ll head straight back to my friends and will let you know when I’m there.”
She walked out and I heard the car drive off. I got up and dead-bolted the door. I needed to be careful, as someone might be after me. I headed to the bedroom to lie down, my head still throbbing, and fell asleep in my clothes, a gun resting on the nightstand.
Chapter 18
When I woke up in the morning, my body was stiff as a board. I had slept pretty well, but my head still ached, though I wasn’t dizzy as long as I didn’t get up or move too suddenly. I required more Advil and a new bag of ice. The previous one had melted and soaked the bed. Thanks to the arid Colorado environment, the sheets would dry out quickly.
After showering and eating, I needed nourishment, since none of that great Boone’s food stayed down, so I whipped up a couple of scrambled eggs, some toast and sausage to fill the void. The rest of Friday morning was spent working up a bill for Emily. I wasn’t ready to send it to her yet but needed to put all the time and expenses together from my notes. Being both excited and nervous as I always was at this point in the dating process, it was mostly busy-work attempting not to contemplate the date tonight with Melissa. One never was quite sure how it would go, but I had high hopes of having a wonderful time. I tried not to over think what might happen. Hence the busy-work with putting together the detailed bill, as I was trying not to relive the events of the night before. The pain wasn’t quite so bad when I got paid handsomely for my trouble and the lump on the back of my head.
Later in the morning the cell phone rang. I recognized the number as being Brandon Sparks’s assistant. She was her usual non-chipper self.
“He wants to speak with you immediately,” she ordered. “You have not checked in with him and he is upset.”
“Couldn’t be helped,” I answered. “Got clocked in the head last night. It wasn’t high on my to-do list to call him.”
“He will send someone to pick you up.” It sounded like an order and not a request.
“Tell him not to bother,” I said, sounding perturbed. “If he wants to talk he can dial me himself. I’m not in the mood for his muscle duo to pick me up. He’s got my number.” I ended the call on that note.
It was maybe ten minutes later when Brandon called.
“You were kind of rude to Sue!” he stated. “She said you hung up on her.”
“I don’t like being told what to do,” I answered. “I got hit pretty hard in the head by someone last night, and for all I know it may have been one of your boys getting even.”
“Any evidence they were involved?” he asked.
“No, I didn’t see or remember anything about it. A little memory loss, but it will come back. All I’m saying is, I can’t say it wasn’t one of them. From their cold stares the other day I suspected I’d be seeing them again.”
“Well, I can give you my word. They do as they are told and if they don’t, they know what will happen, and it won’t be pretty.” He stopped for a minute and swallowed down a drink from the sound of it, a kick of JD from his bar to start the morning off right. He probably could sip steadily all day with no effect. “I heard through the grapevine you helped arrest someone stalking Emily. I’m disappointed you didn’t call.”
This confirmed what I suspected. A powerful man like him has sources, and it wouldn’t be long before I’d hear from him. I left out the part about not calling him on purpose.
“Well, between chasing this twerp down and spending several hours with the police taking my statement, it didn’t occur to me to jump on the phone and call you. I was tired but needed to still keep an eye on Emily while she was out with her friends. Then I got my bell rung. I’ve been trying to sleep off this king-sized headache I had, and talking with you isn’t helping much.”
I’d probably pushed him too hard, as I sensed from the long sigh. I doubted he was a patient man and normally was used to getting what he wanted. But at the moment I didn’t care much.
“Fill me in on the events that took place?” he asked. “I’ve learned bits and pieces from some sources. Is this who was harassing Emily?”
Stopping to contemplate before answering, I resisted telling him about it, probably because of my current grumpy mood. But there were limits to what I could get away with.
“Well, he did confess to me he had been following her but not to killing the dog. It’s difficult to say with him. He lies so much, it’s hard to tell when he is telling the truth. I do think he is mixed up in this somehow. Now he has a public defender so he isn’t talking, and is claiming I coerced the confession from him. He’s not being released from jail anytime soon, as he is broke and has no bail money. That is why he came to her office in the hope of getting his job back. His current employer is bankrupt and closing down.” I left out his claim she called him about coming in to talk.
“So, in your opinion, is this Rickie Ward the one?” asked Brandon.
No surprise he had the name. I’m sure he knew everything about Rickie now, which probably wasn’t in Rickie’s best interests. “As I said, I do think he’s involved, but proving it is another story.” I stopped for a second before asking my own question. “So, again, it would be good to know why you’re involved.”
There was one more sigh on the other end, and he didn’t answer. “I’d appreciate any future updates on a timelier basis when you have them. I hope your headache is relieved tonight.” The line went dead as h
e unceremoniously hung up the phone.
Odd, the phrase “relieved tonight.” Did he know about the date with Melissa? It wouldn’t be surprising. Somehow, someday, I had to connect the dots to him and Emily, but for now I needed to finish up the itemized bill and rest some more. There was no way I would miss my date tonight with Melissa, and I wanted to be my charming self. Once the computer work was done I set the alarm and returned to bed with a fresh ice bag to sleep. Not long after, I was awakened by a call from Emily checking up on me.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Head hurts, but all things considered, not bad,” I answered.
“I’m glad you’re OK. Any memory of who it was?”
“Not yet. Maybe in time.” I changed the subject. “Remember, I’m out tonight, and I don’t know when I’ll be home. So, no wild parties and staying out late. Best to stay at your friend’s place behind her building security.”
“I promise,” she stated after a long pause. “I’m jealous you’ll be having a good time while I’m stuck at home. Looking forward to seeing you at the barbeque tomorrow.”
The “jealous” statement had me a little perplexed, but I tossed it aside for now. After hanging up I closed my eyes and was sound asleep again until the alarm went off at 2PM.
Feeling better, I called Melissa to verify we were still on. She was positively bubbly on the phone, and hopes were high for a wonderful night. I didn’t mention about the barbeque or the bump on my head, as I wanted to wait to see how the date went. I showered again and had a light snack of some cottage cheese to help refresh my stamina. I was dressed tonight in relaxed-fit blue jeans, a white Colorado Rockies shirt and white Rockies ball cap, a standard go to the baseball game getup. I laced up the good Avia running shoes used to chase down Rickie the day before and comfortable to wear for all the walking ahead of me. Checking myself out in the mirror, I found a casually dashing man on the other side. My full attention tonight would be on Melissa and her’s on me, in the middle of the 40,000-plus fans attending the game.
I drove downtown, parked and made it to her office with plenty of time to spare. I waited in the lobby, and she came out dressed for the festivities. She had on faded blue jeans, an authentic black Rockies button-up jersey and Rockies visor hat with her hair in a ponytail sticking out the back. She carried a small duffle bag containing the work clothes she’d changed out of. Looking wonderful, she greeted me with a long full-mouthed kiss that sent a surge though my body. We strolled out hand in hand to her car to stow away her bag in the trunk, and then headed off toward the light rail that would take us to Coors Field.
I had always enjoyed Coors Field, having gone to many games since moving to Colorado. It was one of baseball’s jewels when it opened in 1995 and it still is today with great seats, including the Rockpile in dead center where the tickets were four dollars. I’d seen the Rockies play many teams over the years, from multiple vantage points, and all the seats gave you a good view of the beautiful field. Tonight the weather was perfect, as the temperature was in the lower 80s, so not quite as hot as it had been lately. No rain was going to spoil the game, as only a few clouds filled the sky. We arrived and walked the main level with a view of the perfectly manicured field of play. We stopped in the Rockies gift shop, and I bought Melissa a pair of Rockies sunglasses she admired. She modeled them for me.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“Sexy,” I answered truthfully. “It completes the ensemble.”
She laughed and we strolled out and rode the escalator up to the club level.
Next to the Luxury Boxes, Club Level was the elite choice of the park, with a sponsorship name, in this case Wells Fargo, gracing each section. There are over 4,500 of them, either infield or outfield seating, with a wonderful view of the entire park. In this case the Bristol & Bristol seats were down the left field line, keeping you out of the evening setting sun. Once seated, you have wait staff to bring you whatever you want. Enclosed client controlled concourse areas behind the seats provided protection from the weather. Two full service bars for all your drinking pleasures, ice cream shops, pasta, salads and handmade sandwiches provide high-end eating options beyond the normal food choices in the park.
We found our seats, and I watched the players warming up in the field. The Rockies had been out of the race since July and, as the cliché goes, played for pride. Their rivals, the Dodgers, had been cellar dwellers early in the season, but had been on a tear after the All-Star break and now were running away with the division. It had been several years since Los Angeles had fielded a winning team, and this year they were playoff bound.
A young waitress approached our aisle location and asked if she could serve us.
“Can I get lemonade?” Melissa answered. “The one with half a lemon in the cup.”
“Make that two,” I added. “Are you hungry?”
“I love the Rockie Dogs,” Melissa stated. “They are so large I can’t eat a whole one. Care to share?”
They were my favorite, and I could devour the entire beef foot-long hot dog with little effort. But I didn’t want to be a glutton. “Sure. With ketchup and mustard, and maybe some fries?”
“Perfect,” replied Melissa.
The waitress moved onto the next person, taking their order. I turned my head and stared at Melissa, counting my blessings. It was early in the relationship, if I dared to call it that, but there was a real pang of emotion inside when I saw her. Since it was all so new, I tried not to rush to premature conclusions, but a bond was forming that I was enjoying. She turned and looked at me as well.
“What?” she asked, almost blushing.
“I’m just admiring the view,” I said.
“Back at you,” she replied, placing a light kiss on my lips, her head now on my shoulder.
We spent most of the first few innings talking, savoring our food and drink, paying only modest attention to the game. I did all I could not to get ketchup on my white shirt when the hot dog came, and succeeded. There was something sexy about the way Melissa ate the foot-long, taking small bites, probably a quarter of the size of mine. She patted her face after each bite with her napkin, as if she were eating at a five-star restaurant. Her upbringing had certainly been fancier than mine. She had been cloth napkins, while mine had been paper.
The game itself started poorly for the Rockies, as the Dodgers plated four runs in the first inning. Colorado countered with filling the bases with nobody out, but only managed one run. From there the game spun out of control as the Dodgers scored at least one run in each of the next four innings to take a 10-1 lead. The stadium lights were taking over as the sun set behind us and the night air got cooler. The whole scene was magical, even though the team wasn’t playing well. The large Daktronics scoreboard filled the skyline with the bad news for the hometown audience. But the 40,000-plus attending the game tonight didn’t seem to care, and there were many Dodger fans in attendance enjoying the score. It was a casual atmosphere for America’s Pastime.
When the fifth inning ended Melissa whispered to me. “Do you want to get out of here?” she asked. “Somewhere we can be alone?”
I think my heart stopped for a second. “Yes. Did you have some place in mind?”
“The company has a loft a block or so away,” she said. “I have the key and it’s mine for the night.”
I caught my breath and took a last drink of lemonade. “Let’s go.”
Exiting the park into Lower Downtown, or LoDo as most called it, it didn’t take long to walk to the loft. Once we were inside I found it spacious and well maintained. There were solid wood floors, a colorful flower-print sofa and matching love seat, a large 80-inch LCD TV, surround sound stereo with wireless speakers, Blu-ray player and satellite for your viewing pleasure. The huge kitchen had all stainless steel appliances, including an oversized double-door refrigerator filled with food. Further in there were sliding glass doors leading to a balcony with gas barbeque, black wrought-iron table and six chairs
with a view of Coors Field. I doubted I could afford the utilities let alone the rent, which had to be astronomical.
Melissa poured us a couple glasses of red Chardonnay and made herself comfortable on the love seat, motioning me to join her. As I sat next to her my heart was racing so fast in anticipation of what might happen. We each took a long sip of wine and rested the crystal on the table. She snuggled up close after removing my hat. Staring deeply into my eyes, she placed both hands on my face and began kissing me: first softly and then more forcefully, with lots of tongue. I returned the favor, pulling her closer; her mouth was sweet and moist with a hint of the lemonade, my hands grasping her lower back, touching the soft curves of her body. It wasn’t long before my hands were under her top, enjoying the smoothness of her firm breasts, her hand rubbing my lap, now crowning with excitement.
She pulled away for a minute, seductively unbuttoning her jersey and bra. I removed my shirt while admiring her naked breasts and erect nipples that I ached to explore. We began kissing again, our hands enjoying all our pleasure spots. I had her pants unzipped, my hand sliding in, feeling the warmth between her thighs, her breathing increasing with the touch of my fingers. Her chest was heaving as my tongue explored the naked skin above her waist. We were both about to burst when she stood up, grabbed my hand and led me to the largest of the three bedrooms. A king-sized bed filled the room. On top were soft gold Egyptian cotton sheets and a comforter, with lots of throw pillows covering the top and a ceiling fan circulating the air to keep it cool. I enjoyed the complete view of her body as she slipped out of her jeans and underwear. Stepping close, she slowly removed the rest of my clothes, her tender hands exploring the soft fine hair on my chest. She grabbed the comforter, pulling it all the way down, taking the pillows with it. Not wanting to wait anymore, she pulled me on top of her and soon I was inside, her fingers on my rear end driving me deep, the full wave of climax shortly overcoming us both, our cries of ecstasy echoing off the walls. I rolled off of her, breathing hard but noticeably content. I pulled the sheets over us, and we fell asleep for a couple of hours before starting all over again.
