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Falling in Deep Collection Box Set

Page 95

by Pauline Creeden


  She’s mine.

  An idea flared in his mind. His feet carried him from the shed out onto the thick grass. They always have people here. He considered the backyard. Ah ha. His gaze rested on the back of an older man carefully clipping errant branches from the shaped bushes at the rear of the house. “Excuse me.”

  The diminutive man halted. He bent to retrieve leaves from the pebble walkway. Tucking the bits into the pocket of his white pants, the gardener waited with a serene smile. When Calder drew near, the older man bowed slightly. “Yes?”

  “Did you see anyone in my shop today?”

  “I did not.” His response was stiff.

  “Are you sure?” Calder pressed.

  “I did not.” The man bowed slightly once more and turned back to the bush, continuing to pick and trim small branches.

  His movements slow, Calder turned back to his shop. Making small strides, he sighed.

  All right, Gaire, I’ll wait. I will wait…

  Calder’s thoughts turned art-ward. With the gallery opening, he could not spare a day to wandering the beach, looking behind driftwood. Not an option. He glowered. I hate the social parts. Surely I can talk Mike into going along. More cheerful now, he went on painting the froth on busy waves splashing on a sandy beach behind the outline of a laughing, picnicking family.

  Chapter 4

  The next day dawned without the usual layer of opaque fog on the Strait and Bay. Calder’s message for Mike had not yet been answered, but he wasn’t concerned. Mike always arrived for occasions dressed well and on time. Social niceties were important, both in the home and in the circles Mike frequented. His thoughts drifted back eleven years.

  It had taken Mike months to ’fess up to his San Franciscan lineage. Mike had given him a shiny new bicycle not long after they met, but he’d let Calder believe that he’d stolen it for his new friend. Calder had struggled with disbelief and amazement when Mike had finally told the truth. He demanded Mike prove himself by inviting him to dinner. Mike had obliged and showed him the home on 25th Avenue North in the historic neighborhood from the early 1900s with a clear view of the Golden Gate Bridge.

  Mike had offered Calder space for an art studio in the backyard so the artist could listen to the ocean while he painted. Mike convinced his parents to consider Calder a philanthropic project, however begrudgingly, and Calder satisfied his pride by paying a small monthly rental. Through them, he had been introduced to a local art dealer and the gallery owner that had taken an interest in his ocean scenes and found his scruffy, long-bearded look a novelty in California’s high society landscape.

  Almost as if on cue, the phone rang. Mike’s number displayed on the screen. Placing the cell to his ear, he heard Mike jostle the handset. When he spoke, Mike’s voice was lowered and, Calder thought, turned away. Rustling sounds, then into the mic in a regular voice, “What time’s the thing?” Again, Mike murmured something Calder could not understand.

  Calder instinctually craned his ear, then realized it did no good. “That brown-haired woman?”

  Mike uncovered the receiver. “Huh? What?”

  “You heard me.”

  Mike cleared his throat, asked about what Calder was painting and finally answered, “Yes, I’ve spent time with Venora since you took that nosedive.”

  Calder crowed with delight. “I knew she’d keep you busy. Bring her opening night?” Mike was silent. Calder pictured Mike’s face while he considered the long-term implications.

  “It’s at 7:00, formal, you know the drill,” Calder said. “I’m wearing my beach bum get up – trashy jeans, sandals, polo shirt, the whole bit. You know how they all like the quirky, and it makes the socializing bearable.”

  “Got it. I’ll dress in a tailcoat and get something sparkly for Vee.” Mike fell silent again. No doubt thinking of dressing her, Calder thought wryly.

  “Do you like her pretty well?”

  Mike was quiet for a moment. “Yes.”

  “Tell me about her?”

  “Yeah, I’ll let her tell you. Our usual lunch tomorrow?” The phone crackled.

  “Sure.”

  “See ya.”

  * * *

  Lunch found Calder fidgeting on the curb in front of the main house, his back to the costly, Mediterranean-style dwelling and its manicured lawn. He assumed Mike would show up in one of his fancy cars since he’d specifically asked him to wait there.

  When Mike pulled up, he had not brought a sports car, but a Ford Raptor. Raised from a normal height, it boasted a custom paint scheme accompanied with oversized mud tires. Calder opened the rear door.

  Mike’s eyes were covered in sunglasses, but the lower half wore a smile. The woman in the passenger seat was also smiling beneath her shades. “Hey, Cal, brought something you wouldn’t have to sink down into for once.”

  “Have I seen this one before?” Calder grabbed a handle and stepped up into the truck.

  “Nope, Vee helped me pick it out. I told her we needed something that the three of us could ride in. Those back seats in the sports wouldn’t have worked for you at all.” He patted Venora’s knee. “You can thank her over lunch,” he added.

  They pulled quickly away, zipping in and out of traffic and around curves. He never does anything cautiously. His thoughts continued in this vein until they pulled up short under the awning of a fusion restaurant. Calder hopped out of the truck to hold the door for Venora as she carefully climbed down from the fashionably lifted truck.

  Mike drove forward to the far part of the lot and parked across four spaces. The horn honked several times as he jogged toward the restaurant, key fob in hand.

  As Vee walked past Calder to go through the door, she pulled the sunglasses from her eyes, catching Calder’s gaze. She looked down to tuck the shades into her shoulder bag, but when she looked up, Calder leaned back, nearly letting the door close on her. What the… Her pupils were narrowed to slits. The irises were red, surrounded by black etching-like markings in the whites. He blinked rapidly and glanced again. Her eyes were very humanly, dull brown, her expression bland.

  Shock slackened his jaw. Am I seeing things now? He craned around to watch Venora walk in. What was that?

  Mike slowed from his jog. “What’s the matter, Cal?” He stepped through the open door. Over his shoulder, he tossed, “See something you like?”

  Calder tried to smile, but involuntarily grimaced instead. Striding into the dimly lit interior, Calder asked, “Hey, where’s Venora from?” No answer.

  His eyes adjusted slowly, and by the time he could see clearly, the two were already being seated at a small round table, in a private corner. Crossing beneath the whomp-whomp of an off-balance art deco ceiling fan, Calder joined them.

  Mike said to the fluttery waiter, “We’ll have a fruit and cheese tray before, with the house special in forty-five minutes. Waters for each.” Mike nodded toward Calder. “He’ll have a whiskey on the rocks and I want a martini. Vee?” Mike turned to the straight-backed woman. Calder watched her eyes.

  She demurred, saying, “Alcohol is so drying, Mike. I’ll just have water.” She smiled sweetly, but the happiness did not quite reach above her cheeks. Placing her hand in her small purse, she pulled a shaker filled with gray crystals from her purse.

  “What’s that?” Calder asked, still intent.

  “Sssea ssalt.”

  Calder stilled. Was that a hiss?

  “The taste is better.” She sounded normal again. As she turned the grinder, a small tattoo on the inside of her left forearm caught his eye. A white-haired mermaid clutched a trident in one hand while the other gripped a crown in a tight fist.

  When Calder blinked, the tattoo had disappeared, and he remained silent. The clink of silverware faded, his scrutiny riveted on the form across the table.

  The arrival of the cocktails interrupted the interlude. The flighty waiter handed Calder a short glass. The ice cubes tinkled against the crystal with the twitching of Calder’s hand, his gaze darting back an
d forth between the lovebirds roosting across the black expanse of tablecloth.

  Maybe I didn’t see that. As the amber liquid disappeared with each new chime of ice cubes, Calder felt more and more at ease.

  Her eyes are brown. He shook his head. That makes no sense.

  Seeing nothing new to cause alarm, he pulled his sketchpad from his messenger bag and began drawing an underwater scene. Pulled into the creative process, he did not hear anything until Mike kicked him under the table. Calder startled and glanced up, he asked slowly, “What?”

  Two long thin tongues quickly retracted from Mike’s ear into Venora’s mouth. Trepidation dried Calder’s throat, his grasp on the charcoal tightened until it snapped.

  Six inches, six inches, where was her tongue… oh no. Her tongues.

  He stuttered for a bit, then harshly, “What?” His heart thudded in his chest, his pulse drumming in his ears.

  “Sorry. I just asked what you were working on.”

  The silence stretched as Calder pressed his lips together, trying to see the puzzle pieces before him.

  What is going on? What is that she… thing? His thoughts were still jumbled from the shock. What is happening to me? She… she… she…

  Gaire’s warning sprung into his mind. They were at the same place, on the same night.

  Realizing the silence was growing awkward, he forced himself to relax and smile. “What do you think? What do I always have on my mind?”

  “She can’t find me here.” A foreboding settled in Calder’s stomach. Real. Real. This must be real, too.

  All the moisture had disappeared from his mouth.

  Mike’s eyebrows reached toward one another. “You okay?”

  Calder kept smiling to cover the horror, ignoring Venora’s mud brown eyes. “Yep.”

  The arm Mike had wrapped around Vee came forward, pulling down the sketchbook. “Will it be her?” Calder released the sketchbook, bracing himself for the scolding while watching the two-tongued she devil from the corner of his eye. Mike studied Calder’s sketch, then shared the image-in-progress with Vee.

  He pointed at the blank portion in the center of the paper, the drawn water shading, fish and seaweed framing the white space. “She’ll go here, Calder?”

  Calder nodded, wondering where his knife had gone. Venora squinted at him. Perspiration beaded on his forehead beneath her scrutiny. His hand brushed across his pocket, even as he stared down the creature across the table.

  What the… I need to get Mike away from her.

  Mike flipped back in the sketchbook a few pages, oblivious to the tension building between his best friend and his girlfriend.

  Mike continued through the sketches. Calder leaned forward on his elbows. “Where are you from, Venora?”

  “The Pacific Ocean.”

  “The Pacific?”

  Mike stopped on a finished sketch of Gaire. “Here she is.” He held the page out for Venora. “Look, sweetie.”

  Calder didn’t miss the sharp intake of breath or the way the feminine lips pulled tight.

  Mike frowned, “Are you okay, Venora?”

  She nodded, reached forward to tap on the page. “Who is that?” She asked nonchalantly, but the corners of her harsh eyes pinched together. Her gaze strayed to Calder.

  She. She cannot find me here. Gaire’s words echoed in Calder’s mind. Oh, no. She has Mike.

  Mike snickered. “It’s the woman Calder is looking for.”

  “Well, she’s not very pretty, is she? Poor thing.” A derisive sniff wrinkled the graceful slope of her nose.

  Mike frowned and studied the image. “Really? I think she is…” His gaze lifted to Venora and the words faded at her vehement countenance.

  Calder felt baited, manipulated, and an angry flush crept across his neck, but he forced a laugh instead. “I can’t possibly hook all the women Mike does.” He reached for his sketchbook, gently easing it from his friend’s hand. “I guess my subconscious knows that.”

  He kept his movements leisurely, relaxed, much like he moved when coming across a poisonous snake in the hiking trails in the mountains. He didn’t want to spook whatever might be sitting across the table from him.

  How do I protect Mike? Gaire… I need you.

  Chapter 5

  The afternoon wore on, full of painting, thinking, and obsessing over the words in the note and the new woman. Calder cringed. The thing on Mike’s arm. Helplessness overshadowed his planning.

  First, he considered going to the police. Hello, officer, there’s a two tongued lady licking my best friend’s brain. No, that won’t work. Despite the situation, Calder laughed at the ridiculousness. The next thought sobered the flash of humor. Mike can’t possibly realize Venora is… whatever she is. I have to find out what she is and what she wants with Mike. Can’t spook her.

  Leaning against a barstool, Calder finished the family beach scene. He also finished a bar scene with a lonely dark-haired woman sitting at a small table beneath a green pub lamp. The color of her eyes… He had considered painting a drunken man sprawled on the floor beneath the table, but decided against it.

  Venora was there that night, so was Gaire… They must be related somehow. What does Vee want with Mike?

  A knock sounded on the tin door. “Yes?” Calder called, gruffly, expecting Mike’s voice in return.

  An older voice spoke. “Calder? This is Dan, Mike’s dad?” The statement ended in the lilt of a question.

  Calder grinned. Almost as if I might forget my landlords, he thought to himself before standing.

  “Just a sec.” Calder pulled himself into a full body stretch. He had been concentrating on another painting, and his body had grown stiff. He took long strides to the door, sliding it open in one quick whoosh.

  “Hello, Mr. Love. Would you like to come in?” Calder stepped back, sweeping his arm across the air in invitation.

  “Sure,” Dan said, his mouth quirked into a grin that could have been Mike’s, but for the age lines surrounding it, and where Mike’s hair was blond, Dan’s hair had turned gray. Dan stepped toward the stock of finished canvases while Calder whooshed the door closed again. Dan pulled one painting forward, gently resting it on his knee, then another, then another, humming and smiling, obviously appreciating what millionaire goodwill had encouraged. He leaned them back into their place, turned, and offered his hand. “They’re good. Looks like you’re ready for your show.”

  “Yessir, I think so.” He took the hand, gripped it firmly, and shook it. “I’ve put a lot of effort into giving the best of what I’ve got and making the most of the opportunity. Thank you, again.”

  Dan smiled. “Our pleasure.” He pulled his hand from Calder’s and crossed his arms. “I don’t mind telling you, you’ve proved us wrong. I’m afraid we’ve never encouraged Mike’s friendship with you.”

  Calder nodded stiffly. He clenched his teeth as the full weight of Dan’s words piqued Calder’s temper. Where is he going with this?

  Dan continued, “In fact, when you were teenagers, we did everything but forbid his friendship with you. Mike can be a hardheaded jerk.” He paused, seeming lost in thought. “You probably suspected our disapproval.”

  “As the system kid, you get used to the idea of not being good enough.” Calder felt the harshness in his voice.

  Dan nodded, but when he looked up at Calder, admiration gleamed in his eyes. “I’m glad we were wrong. I think you’ll do all right at the opening. And Mrs. Love and I are happy to have been a part of this.” He waved toward the paintings. “And you’ve been good for Mike, kept him real.”

  The silence stretched. Calder crossed his arms, uncrossed his arms, and then tucked his hands into his pockets.

  Dan still studied the finished paintings. He turned to Calder, “Have you met Venora? Mike seems smitten.” Calder only shrugged. “I’m none too pleased. He’s been spending like a madman since that woman came along. He’s already told her about us. That’s unusual for Mike.”

  Calder st
udied the older man’s expression, wondering if Dan had seen anything… weird… about Venora. Instead of voicing the question, Calder remained silent while pondering Mike’s sudden change of mind over Vee and introducing new people in his life to his parents.

  Dan crossed his arms. “I want to ask for your help.”

  Calder lifted his eyebrows. “Anything.”

  “We have to find out if this Venora is the real deal or if she is after our money. I want to do that without running her off. If we push her away, Mike will only follow.”

  Calder considered Dan’s reasoning. Makes sense. Mike would do just that. “Yessir, I agree.” Besides, I need to figure out how she fits with Gaire. If she runs, I can’t do that.

  “Will you help?”

  Calder nodded. “I’ll do everything I can.”

  Dan didn’t add anything else about Venora, offering only a “hmmm.” Turning, he shook Calder’s hand once more, before offering a final, “See you tonight.” He let himself out the studio door. Calder returned to his painting, still shaking his head over the oddness of the unprecedented visit and Mike’s behavior concerning Vee.

  Five o’clock brought the sunlight in through the west-facing window. Calder stood, stretched again, when there was another knock. “Yes?” The sound of his own “S” sliding across his tongue brought Venora to mind. Calder shivered.

  “Special delivery.”

  Calder loped to the door, flinging it wide. The momentum carried it down the tracks. “Hey, Mike.” He leaned out. “Is Vee here?”

  Mike shook his head. “She’s shopping… With my mom, I think.”

  Calder dropped his paintbrush. “Oh?” Can’t call her with Mike here… Do I still have her emergency number in my phone? “How long have they been gone?”

  “She’s mine.”

  That’s an odd response. Calder blew air through his teeth, letting out a long, low whistle. “Noted.” In his periphery, he watched Mike pick up a brush and study the tip; shrugging, Calder wiped his own brush on his pant leg and returned to painting.

  “What do you think of Vee?” Mike juggled a roll of paper towels. “I’ve started thinking about her more seriously. Kids…”

 

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