Better Than the Best

by Amabel Daniels

  Positioned between the kayak hut and the ice cream stand, Emily listened to Allison’s woes and watched Kelly goof off with Junior. She analyzed. Measured.

  Junior with Kelly… Emily weighed the possibilities. It was obvious he was in love with her, and Emily had seen Kelly playing around with the boy. Everyone on the beach did. He was younger than Kelly. But did she really want him? Is Junior Forty-One? Emily had to know. Was dying to know. If Kelly wanted Junior, then Emily would take him.

  It would take time…and energy. Junior wasn’t a man. She was more used to stealing adults. Not juveniles. They weren’t so trusting in the game of sex. Some hadn’t even been introduced to the game of sex yet. Sometimes that innocence was an advantage for her, other times, it was an extra obstacle.

  Oh, she had stolen her share of adolescents. Number Twenty-Four had been a twelve-year-old who lost his virginity with her. It was Emily’s revenge on the mother. Taking her little boy from precious youth to the reality of manhood. It was a sweet steal. To steal a parent’s child’s virginity—no returns on innocence. Emily was a master of her craft. But there was no denying it would take time to accomplish the theft of Junior from Kelly. Emily was too ripe for the satisfaction of ruining Kelly.

  Her decision was made easier. She’d kill the boy. Or kill Kelly? Emily walked back to her car in the parking lot, coaching herself again to resist killing Kelly. How easy it would be, to sneak in the townhouse and kill the woman. Such notions teased her, taunted her. Kill her! Her mind screamed the thought, but Emily resisted. It would be too simple. Too fast.

  With a smile, she drove home to expedite an online purchase.

  Chapter 12

  Glancing up from a thick tome of philosophy which wasn’t telling her much about the real mysteries of life, Kelly listened to Clay come home next door that night. Different book? She checked the stack on the coffee table. Classical Electromagnetism by Jerrold Franklin. Her dorky curiosity wasn’t quite in the mood.

  Digital slashes on the cable box told her he was home a little later than usual. Is he going to be imposingly social, knocking on my door with an invitation for a late cookout, or is he going to be tipsy and horny with a date on his arm?

  Giggles and laughter sounded on the front porch and Kelly rolled her eyes. Definitely the latter. It took them some time to get inside his half of the townhouse because from the sounds of moaning and raspy breathing from the front, Clay was either getting inside his date on the porch or she had advanced asthma.

  Moaning turned to erotic cries, and Bertrand Russell’s History of Western Philosophy forgotten, Kelly slammed the book to the coffee table and buried her face in her hands on her knees. It would be another sleepless night.

  “Why does he have to be so loud and obvious?” she asked Eddie next to her on the couch. His brown tail lazily flapped twice in a wag.

  She followed the sounds of the couple making their way through the front door. Shuffle of feet, giddy giggles, husky whispers, and the slam of the door. Not wasting a moment, Kelly took her cue and slipped her tennis shoes on, grabbed a sweatshirt, and headed outside.

  It was getting to be a pathetic habit, having to escape her apartment to avoid the sounds of normal people like her neighbor getting it on, a stark reminder she wasn’t. Not that Clay could really be normal, though. He’d have to leave his balls to science when he died.

  Darkness spanned the lakefront, not a cloud to mar the blanket of navy blue. No moon, but she found her way to the sandy beach anyway.

  Peace? She stood on the edge of land before water and stuffed her fists in her pockets. The water was peaceful but she couldn’t agree the sentiment suited her.

  Calm? She stared at the horizon, a blend of dark blues in the distance, with short, frothy waves striping in the slow wind. She might not have her peace, but she couldn’t completely deny calmness. It was soothing in a way, to start fresh in a new place as she had been for the past few months. Even if she still felt lost in a large sense.

  She scanned the beach and sky, darkness and solitude surrounding her like a vast sheet. Aside from the gentle laps of waves at her feet, all was silent. No headboard thumping next door. No television. No animals. No cars. No worried phone calls from Atlanta. No townspeople gossiping. A deep breath left her lips, stretching the void which ached in her chest.

  Alone? A familiar sting burned her eyes and she slumped to sit in the sand. Alone. It was what she had wanted, she reminded herself. Her therapy. Her recovery from a blunt divorce and unloving relationship. Alone. She had wanted her space to accept some forced truth that she wasn’t at fault for Norbert’s death, for his daughter’s anguish at losing him. To sink in guilt when she read all those editorials about Atlanta’s shabby healthcare killing off a promising governor candidate.

  As she leaned back in the sand, crossing her arms behind her head for a pillow, she wallowed in the emptiness of the wide-open space around her. No peace, some calm, and a lot of alone.

  Warmth tickled her skin as the tears flowed freely. Too routine to cause a sob or noise anymore, Kelly let the tears fall, hoping someday they would cease. Memories tugged at the ache in her ribs, thoughts and illusions that had once made her giddy and giggling and smiling.

  Pain of her ex’s rejection broke down her esteem, scars of the betrayal stabbed at her pride. Kelly lost track of time as she leaned back in the sand, watching the lightless sky give her no answers or signs of hope. Drowned in her sadness, in her heartbreak, in her guilt, she lay and waited for a resolve of peace to claim her darkest thoughts.

  She’d give Clay a few hours. God forbid if he had found another Medusa. It wouldn’t serve well to return to her apartment when a rejuvenated love-fest was bound to commence. Her neighbor had quite the stamina for his lady friends.

  Breathing in the balmy lake air, she shoved aside the pain of her broken marriage and considered Junior’s idea.

  Go back to school? Sure, she loved to learn. Return to the medical field? She winced. Not to save people, but to stabilize them… She had always been praised for her take-charge attitude, her infallible grip to keep cool when chaos broke out on the floor.

  It was much later when she thought she heard a car coming down the drive. She wondered who it was. The next moment, she heard the motor clearly. Will’s Harley. She inhaled deeply, confident he wouldn’t see her past the bank of grass leading to the drop-off to the beach. Hidden from his view, she stared at the sky, listening to the roar of his bike coming from town toward his home behind the townhouse. Throaty puttering drifted past her and she could imagine him pulling into his garage. A slight crash sounded and Kelly winced. Knocked the trash cans over. Drunk. She shook her head slightly. It was a miracle he didn’t kill himself.

  Annoyance turned to anger at the thought of her landlord. Drunk again and it was a miracle he didn’t kill himself? It was a miracle he didn’t kill someone else. Everyone had their problems, but his irresponsibility rubbed her the wrong way. Hypocritical it may be, but she judged Will’s rude and sullen behavior just the same, she was sure, as everyone in town judged her edgy, shy, sad behavior. But her moping wasn’t a danger to anyone else. His recklessness was.

  One moment she was admiring the depth of the blue and the quiet of the outdoors, the next, a leather jacket and jeans tripped over her. A squeak of alarm left her lips as a harsh curse came from his.

  “Fuck.” Will rolled with the fall, then caught himself on his elbow. Leaning in the sand, he squinted at her.

  On his hands and knees, he wiped the sand from his eyes and screwed up his expression at her. Kelly frowned at him and rubbed her shoulder, no doubt where his boot found its obstacle. Not that he had been walking straight anyways. A sudden flash of headlights shone on his face, lighting from near the drive to the townhouse. Oh great, nympho Clay must be in the mood for an orgy if another visitor was arriving.

  With a grunt, Will fell back to the sand and sat next to her. He craned his neck to face the sky. His blurry gaze went back to her face a
nd he blinked more of the sand from his face. Masked with a drunken scowl, his attention had settled on her eyes. She wiped her tears away.

  “What the hell are you doing out here?” he asked.

  Kelly dragged her gaze from the water as she leaned up on her elbows to face him.

  He frowned more at her silence.

  “You’re bleeding,” she said.

  His hand went up to his forehead, touching the sticky ooze. “Wouldn’t be if you hadn’t been lying out here like a booby trap for me to fall over.”

  Her attention returned to the lake. “Trust me. You would have fallen on your ass without my help. You’re drunk.”

  He ignored her comment. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

  “Clay brought home another woman. I didn’t really want to hear them go at it.” She sat up. “You might want to clean off the cut. It could get infected.”

  He shrugged.

  “Right. You’re the sad drunk veteran. Why would you care about a stupid little cut?”

  His eyes were cold when he faced her. “Look who’s talking.”

  She gave him a dry stare and he scowled even more.

  “You’re the one who’s bawling like a baby out here.”

  At his harsh words, her shoulders moved a little and the movement revealed some of her neck. His stare seemed to burn into the exposed flesh. For the first in a long time, Kelly opted for silence, lacking anything flippant to say to his observation of her tears.

  “I don’t give a shit if I bleed to death,” he said. “Not much worth living for.”

  “Now it’s the sad, drunk, suicidal veteran.”

  His jaw twitched.

  She sat up straighter and wiped sand from her sleeves. “Do me a favor. If I interrupted your journey to the water for a fatal swim, which” —she cleared her throat— “if you’re not suicidal, swimming right now might kill you since you’re so damn drunk.”

  His fist clenched as she continued.

  “Reconsider. Sleep off your bad night instead, okay? I’ve had enough drama for one day.” Suicide was no joking matter. She recalled the hysterical edge to Norbert’s daughter when she was informed of her father’s death. Will might have his problems, but Kelly doubted he’d ever been suicidal. She wouldn’t leave him alone.

  “Touching.”

  “Seriously. I’ve got a hard enough time getting sleep as it is.”

  “Yeah. You’ve got a rough life. Your man left you for something better. Tough shit.”

  “I’m not going to compare my problems to yours,” she said, her patience tested.

  “You don’t have a fucking clue what my problems are.” It was more of a growling snarl than a retort.

  “I’ve heard.” She twirled circles in the sand with her finger, avoided his eyes. “Not the same since the war. Sad. Mad. Drinks all the time. His best buddy died.”

  Will stilled.

  “Never married. Didn’t have a good dad. Mom left him. Sad stuff.” She dared a glance at him and cleared her throat. “Used to be the stud of the town. Women loved him. Men envied him. Was such a sweet boy when he didn’t misbehave. Always courageous and strong and ready to give a hand.”

  She met his eyes then. “What they say in town. But I’ve always been one to make my own judgments and it’s clear to me they’ve got it all wrong.”

  Will scoffed. Written on his grim lips was the expectation she was going to say something lame.

  “I mean, that’s what they say, but I only know what I see. Maybe they want to think you’re a big tough sad war hero who had a tough childhood but all I see is a wimp.”

  His glare shot to her like he had been stung. Whipped. Shocked with live wires.

  “A wimp,” she repeated and for an instant, she feared what she was doing. Past the alcohol, past the anger and hostility, she could see his pain. Having learned from four brothers, she knew men weren’t always receptive to being babied. Those times called for other measures of communication.

  “What?” he asked.

  “A wimp. I don’t know why everyone thinks you’re so special and fearsome. All I see in front of me right now is a large, irresponsible, heartless, cruel, self-serving weenie who needs a shower.” Her mouth went dry at his harsh expression. She was walking on thin ice as she continued. “A wimp. Wuss. You know what I mean.”

  “What did you call me?”

  She licked her lips, hoping to God reverse psychology worked on even the most temperamental assholes in the world. All she wanted was to goad him back to being human, but his expression of murder had her second-guessing. It was none of her business, but she couldn’t deny she was drawn to him. She wanted to help him. Second nature had her wanting to help everything living and breathing. Will’s pain drew to her with steel tentacles.

  Why can’t I ignore him?

  She swallowed thickly.

  He moved too quickly for her to register what was happening. Besides her bias that he was nothing but sloppily, slurry drunk at the moment, she wasn’t prepared for him to launch himself at her. In seconds, he had her solidly pinned to the sand.

  “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” He bit the words out, with his face dangerously angry above her. His arms were taut, the muscles seeming to rip his sleeves.

  A fleeting instance of fear paralyzed her. Just as irritating, a hibernating heat swelled in her blood. Drunk, angry, tired or not, Will wasn’t a bad sight on top. Why did he do this to her? She cringed. Hormones. Hormones and a lack of release.

  She tried to sit up—not easy with his grips harsh on her arms above her head.

  “I’m not an expert but if your life was so damn bad, you would have faced your problems. I mean, it’s not like it’s hard. Grow up and deal. Move on and all.”

  “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!”

  “It’s probably none of my business. I’m a random tenant. Hell, if you’re content to mope about the war and your friend and your dark morbid little world, I’ll leave you to it. Like I said, I’m not comparing my problems to yours. It’s—”

  “You’ve never killed anyone, have you?” He tightened his grip on her arms. It was a brief squeeze, more of a side effect of energy as he exploded. “Huh? You don’t know what it feels like to watch someone die in your fucking hands! I should have died. Not him. He had people waiting for him to come home. It should have been Matt getting off the plane, not me. He had a life, a future, a family!”

  Kelly bit her cheek as Will’s outburst simmered and then cooled. His glare was intense and his weight was no longer imposing but steady on top of her.

  “Golly.” She was surprised at the neutral calm in her voice. “Sounds like a breakthrough.” Returning his gaze, she dared not to smile and hoped she appeared bored, indifferent to the confession which likely hurt him to share. “I’ve got to tell you, Will, I wonder how long it’s been since you’ve gotten those thoughts off your chest.”

  He blinked dumbly.

  “Speaking of, mind getting off mine now?”

  His brows furrowed almost in confusion, maybe from the grim humiliation.

  Kelly worried while Will seemed to struggle to get his words in order. His lean face was etched in pain when she shoved at his rock-hard abs.

  She squirmed to sit up as he got off of her. His retching had a painful note to it. She crouched next to him as he puked the alcohol out of his system. “Oh Christ. You’re not even a drunk. Not a real drunk.” A real alcoholic wouldn’t vomit his night’s accomplishments. And he wouldn’t be able to do all his running with hangovers. Will was still weaning. The realization turned her lips up in a slight smile. Alcoholic schmalcoholic. He wasn’t fooling her.

  Rubbing his strong back, she shook her head. “Now you’ll really hate me. First, I bully you into acting like a human. And then you’re going to have a bitch of a hangover regretting you said anything to me.” With a final pat on his back, Kelly stood up and went home.

  Never watched anyone die?
Oh the stories I could tell you. As she left Will on the beach, Kelly couldn’t help but criticize his false accusations. She’d seen plenty of people die. Norbert, she watched him take his last breath.

  She stopped in her step and turned back to see him. He sat there, his head hanging low.

  Despite everyone’s insistence, Kelly couldn’t shake the guilt that she had killed Norbert. If she really was a perfect nurse and she was magically in the right place at the right time…

  She sighed and resumed her walk home. Maybe she’d never seen a family member or a personal friend die, but she was no stranger to death. As inaccurate as Will was, he still proved her wrong on one count. She had tricked him into speaking his mind about losing Matt, putting his thoughts and fears to speech. How much of a coward could she continue to be, if she wallowed and refused to move on past the misplaced responsibility of one stranger’s death?

  Chapter 13

  Kelly soon learned Clay could not only piss off the ladies, but their men as well.

  The night after Will had encountered her on the beach, an angry pounding woke her late at night.

  She opened the door with a frown and the man in front of her winced as though he’d been duped into taking a bite of fat-free food.

  “You’re not Nikki.”

  “No shit. Who the fuck are you?” She wasn’t fond of his attitude or the whiskey on his breath. She had never seen him before.

  He turned around to pound on Clay’s door. “Nikki! Where are you, you little bitch? I know she’s with you, you motherfucking asshole. Don’t you dare touch my wife.”

  Kelly started to shut her door with the realization that Clay had taken someone’s wife for the night.

  “Don’t shut the door.” As he retreated back for her, she slammed it shut. Fists banged loud enough to wake the dead and Kelly eyed the frame with skepticism.