Satan's Breath

by Temple Madison

  She pushed the change into the machine, then pushed the Coke in his hand and closed his fingers around it as if he were a child. “Enjoy your Coke.”

  “D-Don’t d-drink whis…whiskey. Bad stuff,” he said innocently, then smiled. “L-Love soda…p-pop, though.” Then he added, “Thank—”

  Before he could finish his slow, hesitant speech, she smiled. “It’s okay, Erik. Just be more careful next time, okay?”

  Erik gave her a shy smile. “S-Sure t-thing.” He turned and shuffled away.

  Blaze looked after him, wondering.

  Greg’s curious gaze darted between her and Erik. “You look almost interested.”

  “Stick it up yours, clown.”

  “Just a word of advice, Toots. Don’t let his shyness get you all excited. He only acts that way to charm the ladies. He’s really another Jack the Ripper.”

  “And how do you charm them? With your brains and good looks?” She looked around at the empty room. “Funny, I don’t see anyone around.” Then she looked back at him with stabbing eyes. “Your fan club must be on vacation.” With a smirk, she whirled around and walked toward the back.

  “God, that woman is cold. I wonder if she’s ever been with a man.”

  Wade looked at him surprised. “Are you kidding? If she hasn’t, she does a damn good show for a virgin.”

  Greg watched her, scanning every inch of her curvaceous body as she picked up the things she came for. “She’s the coldest little icicle I’ve ever seen. Maybe she needs a good roll in the hay to melt her down.”

  Wade grinned when he saw the look in Greg’s eyes. “You mean with someone like you?”

  “I told you, I’m not interested,” Greg said, his gaze still glued to the peppery redhead.

  “Oh, yeah, I forgot,” Wade said. “Just like you’re not interested in a cold beer on a hot summer day.”

  “Maybe so,” Greg bellowed out, loud enough for her to hear as she clicked by in her boots, “but in the wintertime, I like heat!”

  They both watched her swaying hips as she passed by them. “Dear God,” Wade said as his eyes moved over her body, “look at the way she’s built.” He was silent for a moment, then looked over at Greg. “Something’s wrong here, man. She’s melting us instead of us melting her.”

  “Shut up, stupid.” Greg leaned forward and watched her as she pushed against the door.

  Suddenly she stopped when Erik walked up to her and said something. She answered him, smiled, and put her hand gently on his cheek.

  The minute her fingers touched his face, Greg felt a huge pang of jealously rip through him. “Damned freak! I guess it takes a weak mind to get to Blaze Alexander.”

  “A weak mind, along with a tall, muscled body and lots of long blond hair.”

  “What in hell does that dummy have that you and I don’t?”

  Wade looked over at Greg and frowned at his chauvinistic attitude. “I don’t know, man, maybe he doesn’t call her Toots.”

  * * * *

  Erik’s room was filled with shadows. As he drew on his cigarette, the tip glowed in the dark. He had his radio on and listened as Blaze’s sexy voice filled the small space. He leaned back against the headboard of his bed picturing her in his mind. Her voice stirred something deep within him, and when she spoke, he felt like she was right there in the room talking just to him.

  “Did I tell you what happened in the market the other day? I was in the produce section feeling the, uh, cucumbers. Right in the middle of my fun, a guy came up and began talking to me. I found out he was single and didn’t know too much about choosing fruit. He was cute, so I showed him how to squeeze, uh, thump a melon. Well, Savannah, I don’t have to tell you that it was the most satisfying day at the market I’ve ever had. Somewhere between his cucumber and my melons, we became goooood friends!

  Erik had thought a lot about Blaze ever since the day she had been so nice to him. He lifted his hand and stroked his cheek where she had touched it. While he listened to her deep, sexy voice, he closed his eyes, visualizing them laying together making love. While caught up in his fantasy, he happened to glance down at the tiny square of paper that seemed to glisten in the dim light of the moon as it fell across his bed.

  He recalled creeping around Greg’s office, carefully going through her file and scratching out her number on a piece of paper. When he finally had what he wanted he slammed Greg’s desk drawer quickly and ran out. He knew he’d never have the nerve to use it, but just to have it, to slide his fingers across the small piece of paper, to feel the thin, black-ink numbers that were spotlighted by the moon.

  * * * *

  After Blaze’s show was over, she was walking past Greg’s office on her way out.

  “Hey, Blaze!”

  She stopped and looked in. “Blaze? I didn’t think you even knew my name!”

  “We have to call a truce for a minute.”

  She looked around the office. “Don’t you ever go home? You’re here night and day. When do you sleep, for God’s sake?”

  “You’re interested in my sleeping habits? Why, Ms. Alexander, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were hitting on me.”

  She smiled. “Oh, I’d like to hit on you, all right, but the kind I’m thinking of leaves bruises.”

  “Ohhhhh!” He drew out the sound suggestively.

  Blaze’s eyes rolled. “You make me sick, you pervert!”

  “A truce, remember?”

  “For what?” Blaze glanced down at her watch impatiently. “Make it quick, Bozo. I’ve got to get home.”

  “I’m talking about Erik Grant. I take it you two are getting on like old friends. Am I right?”

  “Yeah? So what?”

  “Blaze, I told you once to leave him alone. He’s a mental case that given any encouragement will probably come after you. A man like him has no sense of right or wrong. Like a child, he sees something he wants and grabs for it.”

  “And you think he might want to come grabbing for me, right?”

  “Exactly.”

  “So I should keep my distance and start treating him like trash?”

  “You can’t be too careful.”

  “Is that why you and Wade Perry treat him like trash? Are you afraid he might come grabbing for you?”

  Greg fumed. “You goddamned bimbo, I’m trying to warn you. Don’t go around him anymore, or you might end up raped or even killed!”

  “If I’m ever raped, you miserable son of a bitch, it won’t be Erik that does it.”

  “Are you trying to say something?”

  Blaze cut her gaze over to the well-worn couch, and then back to him. “Don’t you think it’s about time for a new couch? This one looks like it’s seen a lot of action in the past few years.”

  Greg smiled sarcastically. “First, you’re concerned about my sleeping habits, and now the condition of my couch. Really, Ms. Alexander, don’t you ever think of anything but sex?”

  “You dirty bastard, don’t ever think you’re going to get me on it, or you’ll find out what the term hitting on means in Blaze Alexander’s dictionary!”

  “You’re a regular little she-devil, aren’t you? Well, for your information, Ms. Alexander, I keep that couch in here because there are times I work around the clock, and need someplace to crash.” He walked over and slammed open a closet door, and then indicated with his hand. “You’ll also notice that I have several changes of clothing, and the men’s room has a shower.” He slammed the door closed, turned to her with his legs spread, then put his hands on his hips. “One more thing,” he said softly, and with finality. “Just so you’ll rest easy, let me assure you I’m not the least bit interested.”

  “Yeah? Well I’d like a copy of that sentence typed up, signed, and notarized. I have a feeling I’m going to need it.”

  Greg sputtered, “Why, you conceited little tramp!”

  “Truce, remember?” She curled her lip and looked at him as if he couldn’t follow his own ridiculous rules. She abruptly turned
on her heels and walked out.

  When Blaze got home, she was still raging from her conversation with Greg Brannigan. “The bastard!” she muttered to herself as she slammed in and locked the door behind her. She threw her things down and got in the shower. After a long, satisfying cooling off period, she got out and the phone rang. “Yeah, Blaze Alexander here.” She didn’t hear anything. “Hello?” She listened closely, but didn’t hear anything but breathing. Finally, a rasping voice came through.

  “Hello, Blaze. I enjoyed your show tonight.”

  Blaze looked down into the mouthpiece. “Who is this?”

  “You don’t know? Why, I’m disappointed that you don’t recognize my voice.”

  “Hey, whoever you are, get off the freakin’ phone!”

  “I’ve got to hand it to you, Blaze, you’ve really got class. You’ve got the suckers in this town hot for you. When your show comes on, the whole town closes down. Yeah, no more drinks sold, too many clinking glasses. No loud chewing noises, they have to hear. The only thing making a sound when you come on is heavy breathing, and a lot of moaning and groaning. Yeah, you’ve really got these suckers in the palm of your pretty little hand, sweetheart. Too bad it won’t last.”

  Blaze heard a click, and then the dial tone. She looked down at the phone, and only one name came to mind. Greg Brannigan. “What in hell are those clowns down at the station trying to pull?” She threw on her clothes, and with wet hair and no makeup, she got in her car and sped back down to the station.

  When she arrived, she stomped in and headed straight for Greg’s office. Running in with her hair dripping, she yelled, “I’ve seen some nut jobs in my time, but you, Mr. Brannigan, take the cake. What in hell do you mean, calling me at four-thirty in the morning, trying to scare the hell out of me?”

  Greg looked at her dripping hair and clean face with a questioning look. “What are you talking about?”

  “You know what I’m talking about. Not an hour ago you brought me into your office to warn me about Erik. When I didn’t bite, you called me to scare me into believing you.”

  “Lady, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I haven’t called you or anyone else. I’m bushed, and the last thing I want to do is play stupid little games with you.”

  “I don’t believe you. You’ve been on my case since I first got here. You can’t fire me, so you’re trying to scare me out of town.”

  “Hey! It’s no secret that there’s no love lost between us, but I wouldn’t sink so low as to try to terrorize you. It’s not me, and it’s not my style!”

  Blaze knew he was telling the truth, and felt helpless. “Then who, dammit? Who is doing this?”

  Greg put his palms down on the desk, and leaned over toward her. “I warned you. I told you that this would happen, but you wouldn’t listen.”

  “Erik Grant? Impossible!”

  “Why is it impossible?”

  “Because. This man spoke very well. I mean he didn’t stutter, or sound like a retard in any way.”

  “Yes, but Erik may not be a retard. Did you ever think of that?”

  “You suspect him of faking it? But why?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but I can’t think of anyone else at the station that would do something like this.”

  “I just can’t believe it was him. He’s too sweet, gentle.”

  “Well, if it wasn’t Erik, it was probably just one of your weirdo fans.”

  “Not possible.”

  “Why?”

  “They couldn’t have gotten my number. It’s not listed, and the telephone company has strict orders that it’s not to be given out under any circumstances. Not even in cases of an emergency.” She frowned at him, and then began pacing with her hands on her hips. “Do you keep a file on me?”

  “Sure. I keep one on all the employees.”

  “Does it have my phone number on it?”

  “Of course. We have to know how to contact you.”

  “Then any bastard can look in my file.”

  “Yes,” he said, as if proving his point. “Even Erik Grant.”

  “He can’t read.”

  “He says he can’t read.”

  “Oh, God!” As Blaze thought about what he said, she seemed to deflate, and everything that kept her on her feet came out in a steady stream. With all her grit gone, she slumped down in a chair.

  Greg rose from his chair and sat on the side of his desk, looking down at her. “Just what did he say?”

  “Let’s see,” she began, fingering her wet hair thoughtfully. “That he heard my show, and that I had Savannah eating out of my hand, and something about the city closing down when I came on, and, oh yes, he said that it was too bad that it wouldn’t last.”

  “Sounds like a threat. If it is Erik, it doesn’t sound like he’s just having fun with you. This may turn into something dangerous. I take it you didn’t call the police.”

  “It wouldn’t help.” Blaze got up and began pacing. “I’ve called before, and they just say things like, uh, Well, Ms. Alexander, considering the kind of show you do, you have to expect something like this.” She shook her head. “No help at all.”

  Greg went over to Blaze and put an arm around her. He was surprised she didn’t push him away, so being encouraged, he led her out into the shadowy hallway and began walking her toward the front door. “Look, I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. Chances are it was just one of your fans having a little fun with you. What you need now is rest, so I think you should go home and get some sleep. Lock up and take the phone off the hook if you have to, but get some rest. Meanwhile, I’ll give it some thought and we’ll talk about it tomorrow. Come in a little early if you want and I’m sure we can come up with an answer.”

  Blaze looked up at him and gave him a weak smile. “Well, okay.”

  When they reached the end of the hall, he stopped and smiled down at her. “Did you know you’re all wet?”

  “Is that an insult, or an observation?”

  He put a finger beneath her chin and lifted it. “You’re not even wearing any makeup.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, but when I got out of the shower, I intended to go to bed, not to a party.”

  Fingering her wet hair, he whispered, “Do you know when a woman is the sexiest?”

  She looked up at him curiously. “No, when?”

  “Right after she gets out of the shower.” As he spoke, his gaze slowly moved along her face, and then he lifted a finger and began pushing her dripping hair back. “She wraps a towel around herself, her wet hair is combed back, and her face is fresh and clean.” Greg’s heart thudded when she lifted her gaze to his. His voice became raspy. “The way you look right now. The way you smell. Like soap.”

  “Darn, I left my towel at home, and put on underwear.”

  “What a shame.” Greg felt his groin tighten.

  Blaze saw his face moving toward hers, and for an instant she felt her body become rigid with fear. He had her flat against the wall and she didn’t move as his lips touched hers slightly.

  “Need an escort home?” he whispered.

  “No, I think I can make it.”

  Greg looked disappointed.

  “Greg, I’m sorry, but we don’t like each other, remember? Besides, you said you were bushed.”

  “Well,” he smiled, pulling her to him, “I’ll try to dredge up the energy from somewhere.”

  She pulled away from him. “I’m sorry, Greg. I, uh…”

  Greg stepped back, suddenly angry. “What in hell’s the matter? Being faithful to the dummy? I’ll bet you wouldn’t say no to him!”

  “I don’t want to have this conversation at this time of the morning, Greg. I’m going home, and I suggest you do the same. We both need rest.”

  “Yeah? Well I thought we were going to get some together!”

  “My God, hasn’t a woman ever said no to you?”

  “Not if she ever wants to be asked again. But I’ll make an exception in your case
,” he said sarcastically, making a dramatic wave of his hand toward his office. “Let me assure you my couch is there if you change your mind. It’s always open to tramps, bitches, and trash like you.”

  Blaze turned her face away quickly so he wouldn’t see the hurt look in her eyes. Pulling herself away without responding to his hurtful words, she walked into the lobby and out the front door tempted never to return.

  Greg watched her for a moment, and then turned back to his office, muttering obscenities.

  Blaze ran through the parking lot, the cool night wind blowing through her wet hair. God, she’d come so close to saying yes. The moment was sweet and warm and she’d been tempted. Was it Greg? Was he the one who would slay her dragon? But she hated him. If she’d said yes while caught up in the moment, and her visions of her uncle Ralph had come back, what would she do? Run? Again?

  She couldn’t take the chance. Besides, she knew her hero couldn’t be Greg. But if it wasn’t, who was it?

  Chapter 5

  The next afternoon, Bran Farewell came stomping into Greg’s office with a sheet of paper crackling in his hand and slammed it down on his desk. “Permission denied!”

  “But Mr. Farewell—”

  “I said,” he paused, glaring at Greg, “permission denied!” He placed his hands flat on the desk, leaned over, and frowned down at his station manager. “Greg, you’ve been trying to get rid of Erik since the first day I hired him. Now, I don’t know what it is about Erik you don’t like, but it’s between you and him. I won’t let you fire him, and that’s that!”

  Greg jumped up from his chair and rushed around his desk. “But Mr. Farewell, Erik has been calling…”

  Mr. Farewell turned to face Greg. “I don’t believe he’s been calling Ms. Alexander, and she doesn’t, either. I’ve already talked to her, and I’ve also talked to Erik. This is apparently something you thought up to get Erik out of here, but it’s not going to work. Now whatever it is that’s between you two, work it out on your own time. I’ve got better things to do than settle arguments between two brainless idiots!” Mr. Farewell huffed out of Greg’s office with a cloud of smelly cigar smoke trailing after him.