Unlovable

by Sherry Gammon

  “Sam would like to see you again, Maggie, you’re welcome to stay with us.”

  “Thanks, Booker,” I said, less than enthusiastically, “but I’ll stay here.”

  “I don’t like the idea of you being here alone. I’d prefer you stay at Booker’s.”

  “I thought your security system was top of the line.”

  “It is.”

  “And didn’t you say no one could get through without the entire MET showing up on your doorstep?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I said, defiantly.

  “Okay,” he said, too easily.

  “So how many of your buddies are you going to assign to watch the house?” I may not understand Calculus, but I certainly wasn’t stupid.

  He let out a heavy breath. “One, maybe two,” he admitted.

  “I guess Booker’s security system is not as good as you both claim,” I said casually.

  Booker laughed. “She got you there, kid. Fort Knox has less security than this place. She’ll be fine,” he said, again too easily, which meant Booker would be volunteering to watch over me.

  Seth ignored us both, changing the subject. “If we ask Booker nicely, he may take us to the shooting range tomorrow and you can practice shooting a gun.”

  I cringed. “Why in the world would I ever want to do that?”

  “It sure beats being killed,” Booker said. Seth glared at him.

  “No guns,” I said firmly.

  “This is purely for self-defense. What if I’m incapacitated in some way, and you need to protect me?” Unfair! It was a dirty trick. I’d do anything to protect him, and he knew it.

  “Okay, but I bet I’m a lousy shot.”

  The next morning Booker picked us up at 9:00 A.M. and drove us to the range. Seth taught me how the gun functioned. I’d forgotten how heavy the thing was and after he placed it in my hands, they dipped several inches. “Wait until you shoot it,” he said, “it has a fairly good kick.” Whatever that meant. Too embarrassed to admit I was completely gun illiterate, I just nodded. Booker laughed. Nerd!

  “Maggie, a few rules first. Never point a gun at anyone,” Seth instructed.

  “Doesn’t that defeat the whole purpose?”

  Booker laughed. He was really starting to get on my nerves! I stuck my tongue out at him, he laughed even harder.

  Seth ignored us. “Maggie, it’s better to err on the side of caution is all I’m saying. You should always assume the gun is loaded. Even if you’ve removed the clip and have checked to see if the chamber is empty,” he said, pointing to each part. “Always keep the gun pointed down at the ground until you are ready to use it.” He aimed the tip of the gun straight down.

  “Gun points down, got it.”

  Seth and Booker took turns shooting at the target first. The two of them and their macho egos battled it out to see who could get the highest score. Men!

  The target was set to mimic random movement, making it harder to hit. After several loud rounds, Seth pushed a small yellow button, and two battered targets slid forward along separate wires. Booker won by ten points. “You have to wait for the opportune moment, my friend.”

  “Yes, Captain Jack Sparrow, or be darn lucky.” Seth said, begrudgingly. “Look, you missed the target entirely here,” he said, pointing to a bullet hole an inch below the target.

  “Even the best make a mistake now and then,” Booker said, still gloating.

  It was my turn next. “Face the target, Maggie, and slowly raise the gun out in front of you, cupping it in both hands.” Seth reached his arms around me and positioned my hands properly on the gun. I stretched up, kissing his cheek.

  “I doubt that will help, Magpie.”

  “Doesn’t hurt.” Seth winked down at me. I refocused on the target, holding the gun as he instructed. “Good, now squeeze the trigger.” I closed my eyes and pulled the trigger. The power of the shot threw me back into Seth’s chest, and I completely missed the target. Booker laughed again.

  “Can he leave?”

  “Book, please stop. You’re not helping.”

  Unfortunately, Booker’s lack of teasing didn’t help either. I shot the gun a couple dozen times, each time missing the dumb target.

  “I can’t do this, remember the Winter Festival and the water gun game? I didn’t get one drop of water in the cup.” This whole thing was quickly becoming exasperating.

  “Maggie, it may help if you keep your eyes open,” Seth whispered in my ears. My eyes flashed to Booker, who had turned his back on us. His shoulders were jouncing in laughter. I looked fiercely at the target, and forcing my eyes to stay open, shot at the stupid thing one last time.

  “I hit it. Look!” I punched the yellow button, and the target slid forward. There was a small nick out of the corner of the paper. I smiled. Seth smiled. Booker laughed.

  “I’ve never heard of anyone dying from a flesh wound, but there’s always a first time.” The smile left Seth’s face and was replaced by a look of nausea.

  “I need more practice, I’ll get better, promise.” I certainly can't get any worse, I thought, setting the gun down and backing away from it cautiously.

  “We’re out of time, Seth, we’d better clean up.” Booker patted him on the back. “Don’t worry. We’ll make sure she’s with one of us at all times until these two are caught. We’ll protect her with our lives, if need be.” Seth nodded.

  “What’s wrong, Maggie?” Book draped his arm around my shoulder, giving me a nudge. “Don’t let this shooting thing bother you, and I’m sorry for laughing.”

  “I’m never going to be able to do this,” I bemoaned.

  “Sure you will. Just remember two things. One, watch for the opportune moment.” He stopped and smiled broadly.

  I knew I was going to regret asking, but I did it anyway. “And the second thing?”

  “Keep your eyes open.” He grinned devilishly before leaving to tell whoever was in charge we were done, taking the gun with him. Seth swept me into his arms and planted his delicious mouth on mine.

  “I’d rather do this than shoot a gun any day.”

  “Yes, except kissing me won’t save your life.” I didn’t tell him how very wrong he was. He took my hand, and we headed for the car. Booker was standing outside waiting for us.

  “I don’t believe anyone’s ever necked in the shooting range before.”

  “We need to find you a woman, Book,” Seth said dryly.

  “Make sure she can handle a gun, please.” I whacked him on the arm. “Hmm, did a butterfly just land on me?” He glanced around pretending to look for some nonexistent bug.

  “One of these days, Book,” Seth said. Booker threw back his head in laughter.

  31

  “Please don’t go?” I cinched my arms around Seth as if there was enough strength in them to stop him.

  “Maggie, I’ll be back in a couple of days. You haven’t touched any of the homework that Mrs. Gianchi sent over. Maybe without my distractions you’ll be able to get it done.”

  “I like your distractions.” I kissed him.

  “You should go visit Sam. Booker has him under lock and key too.”

  “No thanks. I’m not in the mood to deal with Book’s raillery” I smoothed out his brown tee shirt where I’d wrinkled it kissing him. “Please hurry back.”

  “I will. Remember, don’t undo the code for anyone.” I nodded, it was only the thousandth time he had said it today. After an all-too-speedy kiss goodbye, he left.

  I reluctantly gathered my stack of homework and sat down at the table. Seth was right, without his distractions the work was done quickly, though it wasn’t nearly as much fun. Later, Booker took me to visit my mother, which only depressed me more. After a bowl of chicken soup, I tried watching some old movies, except it wasn’t the same without Seth.

  The next day was just as monotonous, and to make matters worse it was raining which didn’t help my gloomy mood any. I puttered around determined to find something to do
. I cleaned out the refrigerator, dusted everything there was to dust, and vacuumed every room in the house. I even cleaned the bathrooms, proof positive the doldrums had taken possession of my soul.

  I finally decided to take a bubble bath to kill time; Seth would be proud. Naturally, as I settled into the tub, my cell phone rang.

  “Hi, I miss you,” I said, surrounded by a sea of bubbles.

  “I miss you too. What have you been doing without me?”

  I briefly narrated my boring morning to him. “I also finished all my homework, and currently I’m sitting in a tub of bubbles wishing you were here. How much longer before you come home?”

  “Tomorrow. I’ll try and catch the 10:00 A.M. flight.” I sighed. “Maggie, call Booker. Sam would love to see you again.”

  “Maybe I will.” Wow, I was desperate enough to put up with Booker’s teasing. Quite sad, really.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.” He hung up before I could say it back. I set the phone back down on the side of the tub and sank deep into the bubbles. Within seconds, it rang again.

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too, but sorry, Jailbait, you’re much too young.”

  “Funny, Booker. How are you?” I scooped up a handful of bubbles, blowing them into the air.

  “Actually, Sam’s not doing so well today, and I have to go into work. I’m hoping you could spend the night here.”

  “Sure. What’s wrong with him?”

  “I don’t know. For the past couple days he’s been unusually tired and listless. I tried to get him to go see Cole, but he insists he’s 92, and 92 year-old people have been known to get tired. In any case, he shouldn’t be here alone.”

  “I’ll be right over.”

  “NO! I’ll pick you up.”

  “You don’t want to leave Sam alone. Besides, I know there’s an agent outside.”

  “Not for long. The storms wreaking havoc, and he's being called away to help with the growing number of accidents. Maggie, do not leave the house until I get there, understand? I’ll be over in ten minutes.”

  “Fine, good bye.” I jumped out of the tub, quickly dressed, and shoved a few things into a bag, finishing as Booker’s car pulled into the driveway.

  I punched in the code and opened the front door while Booker shook off the rain droplets from his umbrella. He was in his full uniform, including a blue MET raincoat and large chunky rain boots.

  “Why did you open the door?”

  “Because it’s rude to leave an MET agent standing on the doorstep in the rain. They shrink in water, you know.”

  “What?”

  “I opened the door to let you in. You did want to come in, right?”

  “You were told not to open the door for anyone. I know Seth’s code, I can punch it in myself.” He was not in a good mood.

  “Sorry, I didn’t think—”

  “Exactly, you didn’t think. Get your things.”

  “Wait a minute. Seth also told me not to leave the house. How do I know this isn’t some kind of test, Puss ’n Boots?”

  His jawed tightened. “Listen, funny girl, if you don’t grab your stuff and get in the car, I’m going to arrest you for being a pain in the—” he cleared his throat, “neck.” He stormed across the room, yanked my bag off the counter, and walked me out to the car.

  I was glad to see the torrential rains had eased into a small thunderstorm. I sat soberly with my window cracked, smelling the rain. “What’s wrong?” Booker asked.

  “Nothing.”

  He let out a growl, a real live growl.

  “Okay, fine, I miss Seth. Happy now?”

  He rolled his eyes. “I’m sure it’s been a rough 24 hours for you.”

  It’s been 30 hours, actually.

  He pulled into his driveway and turned toward me. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper, Maggie. Sam’s not doing well, and it’s got me on edge. I just can’t lose him.” His eyes filled with pain as he spoke.

  “Don’t worry about it.” I gave him a quick hug.

  We walked in and found Sam stretched out on the recliner next to the couch. He didn’t look well at all.

  “Grandfather, are you alright?” Booker rushed over to him.

  “You worry too much, I’m fine. Old men do have a tendency to sit down you know.”

  “9-1-1’s backed up about an hour because of the weather, so if you need–”

  “Have a nice day, sonny,” Sam glared. Booker rattled off the rules again to both of us, set the alarm, including the electric zapping one as he left.

  “Thank heavens he’s gone. It’s time to party!” Sam rubbed his hands together playfully. “Are you hungry?”

  “I’ll get it, Sam. What do you want?”

  “Not you too? I’m just tired. Now, what do you want to eat?” he demanded.

  I tried to think of something easy. “How about a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?” He frowned, but said nothing as he struggled out of the recliner and waddled slowly to the kitchen, mumbling under his breath about my choice of lunch. He made the sandwich and set it on a plate when he’d finished.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I’m exhausted from making such a labor intensive meal. I need a nap.” His sarcasm reminded me of Booker, and I almost laughed.

  I attempted to draw him into some small talk, but he more or less grumbled his replies. After lunch, I suggested we play a card game.

  “Do you know how to play Phase Ten?”

  “Are you sure my old heart can take the excitement?”

  “I had hoped you would fall asleep in the middle of the game so I’d win by default.” Finally, a smile.

  He won the first two rounds, but during the third, he became restless, and the game dragged on forever. When Booker called for the fourth time, Sam spent the phone conversation lecturing Booker about being over-protective until Book’s cell phone finally died.

  “Good. Maybe we’ll finally have some peace.” After the card game was over, Sam suggested we take a break before playing another. He slowly rose and walked over to the couch, collapsing onto the end.

  “Do you feel like taking a little drive to the hospital? I do believe I’m having a heart attack.” He said it so calmly you’d think he was asking me to go on a simple drive through the country.

  “No, we can’t leave, Sam! I’m calling Booker.”

  His face was flushed, and he was sweating profusely now. “His phone’s dead, besides, we both know he’d probably end up killing himself trying to get here in this weather. Please, Maggie, with 9-1-1 being backed up, it’ll be faster if you drive,” he said, clutching the front of his shirt. My eyes darted to the window. The small thunderstorm had blossomed into a full-blown monsoon. “The key’s on the hook by the back door. Go get the Roadster and pull it around to the front. I don’t think I can make it all the way to the back garage.”

  I grabbed the black rectangular key, and punched the complicated code into Booker’s security system. I ran down the pathway to the back garage, darted through the narrow hall, passing by the samurai swords. I entered the garage, quickly tapping the garage door opener, and scurried over to the car. Before I could climb in, someone jumped out of the shadows. My breath caught in my throat.

  “This was just too easy,” spewed an oily voice; it was one of the Dreser brothers. He was the smaller, less evil looking of the two, not that there was much of a difference. The first thing I noticed was the blood red eyes embedded deeply beneath two bushy eyebrows; he was high. I also noticed the little silver gun from before, held tightly in his hand.

  “Where’s Booker’s Granddaddy?”

  “He’s not here,” I lied. “He wasn’t feeling good so Booker took him to the hospital.” I tried subtly to head back toward the hallway.

  “Take another step, girlie, I’ll kill you right this minute,” he said, his voice was as smooth as silk and deadly.

  He leisurely skirted around me, licking his lips and smiling. I slipped my hand into my pocket and wrapped it arou
nd my cell phone. My only thoughts were of Sam. I had to get him some help. But who should I call?

  “Get your hands where I can see them. Oh, and hand me your cell phone,” Bill said.

  “I don’t have a cell phone.”

  “Yeah, right. Then what are you clutching in that pocket of yours?” he snapped. “Hand it over, now!”

  I pulled my hands out and slid the phone across the garage floor. It stopped at his feet, and he crushed it with his massive foot. “Car keys,” Bill said, wiggling his fingers. I tossed the box to him and he dropped it to the ground, crushing it also into a wad of unrecognizable plastic and circuitry.

  “Do you know why I’m here?” I didn’t answer him. “My father wants us to avenge our brother’s murder,” he said, smoothing his ugly black shirt. “Me and Alan are also hoping to boost heroin sales for daddy dearest while we’re at it. There is a lot of potential in Port Fare. Of course, if Alan doesn’t stop killing those young girls just for the sport of it…” He shook his head in disgust.

  “Just for the sport? He killed all those girls just because?”

  “What can I say? The guy’s ruthless with a knife, always has been,” he shrugged. “He’s amazing to watch once he gets started.” Sickened, I leaned against the car, praying Sam would stay inside and not come looking for me. “Alan ordered me to kill the old guy, Sam. He’s going to be real upset that I got to kill you instead of him. He thinks you are just about the prettiest little thing he’s ever seen,” he said, grinning. “You’ve made it hard for him to concentrate on our assignment. Maybe now with you out of the way, I’ll have an easier time keeping him on task.

  “Remember the night in the park? Alan swears you saw him. He watched you sitting there all by yourself, wanting you so badly. When we learned you were involved with the scum cop, it was a like a bonus. He could kill you and cause the cop pain.”

  A chill ran through my body, I was never going to see Seth again. The monster began walking toward me. “Please, please don’t do this,” I pleaded.

  “I wonder if my brother Jeffery begged your MET buddies before they killed him.” The smile abruptly disappeared from Bill’s face. He started circling around me once more, his withered tongue slithering across his lips.