Authors: Esther M. Soto
He looks at me hungrily, as if I’m dinner served on a platter. Hell, he’s practically salivating. Sucker. I’m going to enjoy this.
“I’m getting some needed relief, and you’re going to give it to me, doll.” He grins. He’s maybe in his late twenties, green eyes, light brown hair, leathered skin, probably younger than he looks. He reeks of alcohol mixed with a foul, sweaty scent.
“Well, whip it out, big boy.” I smile and his eyebrows go up in surprise; he can’t believe his luck. Struggling to undo his zipper, he grabs me again, this time pulling my hair, almost tearing off Mary’s beautiful bandana, and tries to force me to kneel in front of him. I see where he’s going with this.
On my way down, I grab his right pinky finger with my left hand and twist it back as hard as I can. He screams and pulls my hair with his left hand as his knees start to give out. Leaning forward and rising upward with lightning speed, I punch him in the throat and bring my knee up, hitting him in the jewels. He goes down like a sack of rocks, releasing my hair and grabbing at his balls.
“There you go, that should give you some
needed
relief
,” I say, swiping my messy hair back.
He’s crumpled on the ground in the fetal position—one hand cupping his groin, and the other cradling his pinky against his chest. He struggles to breathe, weeping and gurgling something to me, saliva dripping from his chin. He finally coughs out a barely audible hiss, “You bitch.”
Smiling, I look down at him, lying there looking like a fool.
“Fuckin’ A.” As Tommy would say. “If I see you again, I’m putting you in the hospital. Don’t forget it.” Kneeling in front of him, I grab his hair, forcing him to meet my glare. “Sober up, asshole. I’m your shadow. I see all. You as much as
look
at another innocent soul, I’ll be there.” I shove his head back and let go of his hair in disgust.
I rise to my feet, dusting my knees and hands off when I hear something behind me.
William is standing there, still as a statue, completely stunned. Quick on his heels, Mary runs up behind him.
From the look on his face, I don’t have to ask. He’s seen everything that just happened.
Shit
.
“What did Albert say?” Carol asks, breaking the silence looming over the dinner table.
Carol is seated at the head of the table, across from Will. Mary is next to me, and MJ is sitting across from me. Will has a quiet, somber look on his face, as does Mary. MJ’s eyes are keen, taking it all in. Will hasn’t looked at me since the incident at the factory. Why does this always happen? I guess men haven’t changed much. Is he mad at me? Threatened? Coming back to the moment, I realize Carol is still expecting an answer.
“Lily...Lily?” I tear my eyes away from Will to see Carol’s showing concern.
As I open my mouth to respond, Will interjects.
“Doc said it must be an injury to the head, nothing serious.
Lily
must have bumped her head when she fainted.”
He finally looks at me, suppressing a smirk. He’s not scared, or threatened. No, that’s not it. Then it hits me.
Pride. He’s
proud
?
“That’s not all, Mom—” Mary starts before Will interrupts her.
“Lily is now able to help out on the farm,” he finishes, shooting a scolding look her way.
On the way home from the factory, we all agreed that it would be best not to mention the incident to Carol or MJ, especially since that creep took advantage of their appearance and took off.
“We don’t want to worry Mom more than necessary,” Will explained to Mary. “Nothing happened to Lily, so we should be grateful she’s fine.”
“But what about him? The Good Samaritan, the one who saved Lily?” Mary asked.
Without missing a beat, Will replied, “That’s why it's called a Good Samaritan, he doesn't want to be found. No more questions.”
Finding I was gone from the truck, and being guided by the male screams coming from the back of the building, Will witnessed the incident. However, apparently Mary just caught sight of a man staggering away, so she assumed some mystery man rescued me.
I’m in way over my head with Will. I don’t do dating and I don’t do relationships. Perhaps this explains why he threatens me so. I haven’t felt this out of control since I was a child. Damn, where is Tommy when I need him? All those times he wanted to give me advice and I didn’t listen, or took me out ‘on the prowl’ as he called it—which always ended with me going home alone.
Tommy.
Thinking about him brings me back to reality. Tommy. What is going through his mind right now? Oh God, and what about Mrs. N.? Who’s watching after her?
Dinner is almost over, so I take the opportunity to thank Carol for the meal, and politely excuse myself from the table. I attempt to help with the dishes, but Mary stops me.
“It’s okay, Lily, you’ve had a long day. Why don’t you go lie down?” She’s worried about me.
I try to assure her with a smile. “I’m fine, but I’ll take you up on that offer.” I pause. “On second thought, I could use some fresh air.”
“Perfect, go on now, take a walk around the fence. If you start from the side of the house, it will take you around the barn and the maple trees, and right back to the house.”
She’s sweet, and the thought of her husband off to war makes my heart ache for her. “Thanks, Mary.” With that, I walk out the kitchen door and into the light, warm air.
I walk along the rustic fence, the light of dusk illuminating my way through the yard and adjacent barn with a soft golden glow. I think about Tommy, about our case. About a conversation that he and I had a couple of weeks ago. We were working late, finally called it a night, and headed for the bar down the street from the FBI office.
After a few drinks and a game of pool, Tommy sobered me right up with one question.
“Lil, do you think if we disappeared, would anyone miss us?” I remember the words startled me.
“What do you mean, of course they would!” I shook it off, but Tommy wouldn’t let it go.
“I mean it, Lil, I’m not talking about work. I’m talking about us. You. Me.”
“I would miss—” I began to say as he finished with, “besides you.”
Mockingly, I looked up, contemplating replies. “Lots of sex starved women,” I chimed cheerfully.
Tommy’s face remained stoic, not amused by my comment.
“I’m serious, Lily.” The whole mood shifted, just like it always did when he called me Lily. He meant business. His words made me stop and think. I hate when that happens.
“Come on, Tommy, be serious, you will be missed.” He slowly approached, stopping right in front of me wearing a sad expression.
“Do you know how many contacts are on my phone, Lil?” He continued without giving me a chance to answer. “Before you come up with some smart-ass remark, there are only four contacts on
your
phone not related to work.”
Stunned, I looked at him incredulously. “What are you talking about? You’re drunk—”
“One: me, two: that Chinese place by your house,” he counted them off on the fingers of his right hand, while holding the pool cue with his left, “three: pizza place, and four: Rick, the new guy.”
Speechless, a tinge of dread mixed with grief burned my throat, not only for me, but also for him. We are no different, Tommy and me. We kept each other close. We talked each other off the ledge. Tommy was standing on the abyss, and all I could do was just stand there, stunned into silence. Tommy took hold of his pool cue, and his eyes roamed my face, as if memorizing my features before saying goodbye.
“Two contacts, Lil,” he replied softly. “That’s how many on my phone. One,” he lifted his index finger slowly, “you.” He raised another finger. “And two, Charlie. That’s it. And technically, you’re both work.”
“That can’t be true. You’re full of shit, Tommy, and how the hell do you know how many contacts I have on my phone, you creep?”
“It’s true. I don’t keep digits on any chick,” he counted down on his fingers again, “I’m not full of shit, and,” he sticks a third finger up, “I saw how many contacts were on your phone when I assigned myself a ringtone.”
“I meant to talk to you about
that
,
you freak. I got charged for that, you know?”
He broke into a sad grin, slowly coming back from the edge, and I saw us stepping away from the abyss, together.
I glanced up at him and grabbed his jacket lapel, holding my pool cue to my side. I stared right into his eyes, all my heart and energy surging through me, straight into my words. “Listen to me carefully, Tommy. You know if anything ever happened to you, I would never stop looking for you.
Ever
.”
His jaw clenched. “Promise me, Lil,” his voice was barely above a whisper, “promise me you won’t let me just disappear.”
Somehow, I knew what he meant, and it wasn’t just physically. “I promise, Tommy. I swear it. You have my word.”
Tommy’s entire body relaxed. Grinning, he stepped back, and without breaking eye contact, said, “We need some tunes!”
Shit. “No tunes, come on, do we have to go there?” I replied, and as always, it was going to be an argument I lost.
“Yup.” Goddam grin. “I get to choose
and
you have to dance, too.”
I could never say no to Tommy, yet I always tried.
“Oh, hell no,” I muttered as I shook my head.
“Hell yes!” he screamed loud enough for the whole bar to hear.
We spent the rest of the night playing songs on the jukebox, drinking, and dancing. By the time the bar closed, we were both shitfaced. When we were asked to leave at closing time, he had the whole bar dancing and singing to “OMG” by Usher.
“Hello.”
Will is standing behind me. Apparently, at some point, I stopped walking and sat on the ground, and now I’m sitting in the dark looking up at the stars. How long have I been out here?
“Hi.” I start to stand, but he holds his hand up to stop me and then plops down next to me.
His scent does things to me. He smells real. Of spice, and work, and man. His broad shoulders cast a shadow in the pale moonlight. He pushes his knees up and rests his forearms against them, holding his hands together. He looks at his shoes, remaining silent. I’m sitting on the grass with my legs folded beneath me, my flowing skirt tucked safely under my thighs. The air around us is charged with an invisible energy; if a match were lit, I swear we would both catch fire. His elbow grazes my upper arm and I tense, my stomach doing somersaults.
“Listen,” he starts, but nothing else comes out. He slowly turns and examines my face. His sapphire eyes lock on my mouth, and he swallows hard. For a heartbeat, I think he’s going to kiss me. A struggle is going on inside of him as I watch, heart fluttering and nerves poking around inside my skin, tempted to lean in and meet him halfway. But I don’t. I wait for him to make a move. He’s different, and I’m different when I’m around him. Once his eyes meet mine, he blinks rapidly and comes to.
“Gosh. I’m sorry, I honestly don’t know what to say.” His words come out husky and strangled. “A week ago, I didn’t believe in time travel or whatever this is. But one thing I can say for certain,” his eyes darken, his irises overtaking his pupils, “since you appeared in my life, nothing makes sense. I don’t even know what to believe anymore.” He starts playing with the grass, ripping handfuls from the ground.
“If I were you, I wouldn’t believe
me
, let alone be gracious enough to take a stranger into my home,” I admit.
I keep my eyes downcast as we both pluck grass from the ground.
“Today at Doc’s…” He seems to be struggling, trying to choose his words carefully. “At one point, I thought I was imagining things. I can’t explain it. The moment I found you,” he pauses as he shakes his head, “there is one thing I haven’t told anyone.” He takes a deep breath as if to muster the courage to say what he’s about to reveal.
“What is it, Will?”
“When I stopped my truck and saw you lying there in the road, the first time I laid eyes on you,” he leans closer to me, almost whispering, “I honest to God thought to myself, just for a minute...that you were an angel. An angel that fell from heaven.”
I look at him in bewilderment, trying to keep a straight face. This isn’t a line; he’s dead serious.
Who talks like this?
I just stare at him dumbstruck.
“Deep down, I don't know how, but I knew right then and there, as I stared at your beautiful face, that you weren’t of this world.” Will chuckles incredulously at his own words.
The fact he just called my face beautiful did not escape me. My compulsion to lighten the mood kicks in, because this is getting way too intimate.
“One thing I can guarantee you, William Shaw, is that I am no angel.”
He must have detected the sarcasm in my voice because he pulls away from me and abruptly stands up. As he tries to compose himself, he offers me his hand. I don’t take it. I get up and dust the grass off my skirt.
“We have to talk.” Serious and distant now, he’s trying to keep himself in check.
I brace myself for whatever he has to say as we make our way back toward the house.
“What happened at the factory today cannot happen again,” he says, matter-of-factly.
I’m taken completely by surprise. I was not expecting that. I stop cold.
After he notices, he stops walking, too. I just met this man and he’s already telling me what I can and cannot do? I don’t think so.
“I didn’t want that to happen, but I wasn’t going to just sit by and do nothing while—”
He throws his hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying that you don’t need to go around grandstanding, folks will start asking questions. Girls don’t go around beating men in fights.”
Did he just say
girls
in the same sentence as
men
? Sticking up for someone is grandstanding? I have to turn away from him before I end up doing something I’ll regret. Twisting my neck to the sides, I try to relieve the tension coiling inside of me, beckoning me to do some damage. Where’s a punching bag when I need one? He must sense what his words are doing to me, because his tone becomes softer, almost apologetic.
“Don’t get me wrong. Part of me, a big part of me, is glad you did what you did.” He pauses to take a big breath, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Just imagining what could have happened to you...I don’t want to think about what would have happened if I’d walked around the corner and found his hands on you.”
His words make me uncomfortable. Trying to push my anger down, I take a deep breath. “I can take care of myself.”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t.”
Before I know it, he grabs my arm and turns me toward him, his strong hand ever so gentle. I don’t know what to make of him. He towers over me by at least twelve inches. I have to look up to see his face, his rugged features softened by the evening’s glow. The touch of his hand warms my skin, doing funny things to me.
Putting me on alert.
“Why are you doing this?” My words, laced with suspicion, come out strangled. I can’t figure out his motives, and it bothers me to no end. “Why are you helping me?”
Men don’t help women for nothing. Not in my world.