Chapter 19
I tried to sleep after Perry left, but only tossed and turned restlessly. It was no use, so I gave up the spirit by turning on the bedside lamp. Under my pillow, I kept a legal pad handy along with a pen, so if I woke up in the middle of the night with new story idea or a plot twist to an existing story, I could write it down, before losing the thread of thought.
I sought sanity in doodle art by drawing flowers along the borders for a while, thinking of Perry and the kiss. I was confused and yet, exhilarated. He desired me. As he once told me, “the body doesn’t lie.” I imagine when I melted into his arms, he knew that mine wasn’t lying either. I found myself writing his name over and over, until I began to do a subconscious trick that I taught myself during my college years, a writing exercise of free association. I wrote for a few minutes, word after word. When the pen stopped, I read the results.
“Perry, lips, mouth, stone, hard, soft, happy, warm, desire, yearning, don’t stop, more, smile, eyes, huckleberry, blue, glowing, glints, steel, silver, darkness, night, dreams, scared, fears, regrets, David, money, betrayal, hate, bitterness, David, run, hide, fear, uncertainty, death, pain, blood, sorrow, grief, loss, limbo, searching, grasping, stars, moon, ocean, surf, boathouse, Perry, hope, trust, desire, happiness, love, me, him, love, no, Melinda, ex-wife, questions, uncertainty, kiss, lips, Perry, love, yes, wishing, love,Perry, love?”
I stared at the words, seeing every emotion that I had felt over the last few months. The list began with Perry and ended with love in question. In between was the situation with David and the questions about Perry’s ex-wife Melinda. As my eyes grew heavy, so did my heart. I turned out the light and let out a long broken sigh that echoed in the room long after I was asleep.
The phone ringing woke me up from a dream of exquisite passion. For a moment, I was tempted to ignore the phone and fall back into the dream’s arms. But if someone was calling me at 2 a.m. then I needed to answer the phone. My thoughts were that it was Gene calling about David.
“”Lo,” I said in a woolen voice.
“Is this Miss Rosewood?” I didn’t recognize the masculine voice that spoke. It had a resonance of a deep bass that would imprint upon my memory forever. There was also an undercurrent of a Northern accent, maybe from New York or New Jersey.
“May I ask who is calling?” The answer was a slow exhalation of air, a click as the receiver was hung up and then silence.
The strange call terrified me to the depths of my soul. Who would know that I was here? Who knew the Pirate’s phone number, besides Gene? I felt that if had to do with David somehow. The thought unnerved me so much that I walked through the house checking all the doors and windows, making sure they were secure. After my security patrol, I made a decision that I had hoped I wouldn’t have to make.
In the closet where I stored my luggage, there was a bag hidden inside one of the pockets of the largest suitcase. I had to move all the smaller cases to get to it, as naturally it was on the very bottom of the pile. I shuffled around the suitcases, wondering about the caller and a suspicion grew. He was connected to David somehow.
It was too late to call Gene and I didn’t dare tell Perry about my suspicions, because I would have to tell him everything. And I wasn’t prepared for that, not yet. Just because he kissed me didn’t mean I should start pouring out all the sordid details of my past.
I located the bag easily. It was an old makeup bag. I sat on the floor outside the closet, surrounded by my luggage and opened the bag. The gun wrapped in a silk scarf was exactly as I placed it, when I was packing my luggage. Gene gave it to me, much to my protests. He came to take me home from the hospital, after the accident. On the way back to my townhouse, he had much to say.
“Kerrie, you know what you have to do, babe! You can’t continue to live, looking over your shoulder. No one will protect you, if you’re caught by surprise. Hell, David was no help, was he? You’re lucky to be alive.”
“Gene, let it rest. I don’t want to talk about this.” I replied, crying softly looking out the window as he drove. The trees along the roadside blurred into one line, the shade ranging from black green to viridian.
“I’m sorry. You’re weak and I’m an asshole for beating you up about something that’s not your fault. By the way, where’s Mr. Troubles?” He viciously meant David.
“He’s probably at his apartment, recuperating from his own injuries.” There I was defending David again. I was becoming a broken record.
Gene made a disgusted sound, but let the conversation drop. I knew he meant well, because he really cared about me. After the deal with Banning House went sour, he helped me with the fallout and thanks to him I’m a successful writer who dances to her own tunes. Never has he tried to be a puppet master.
He waited until after he helped me get comfortable on the couch, before he gave me his “present.”
“Ker,” he began in his best fatherly voice, which was ironic because he wasn’t much older than me, “look you need something for protection.”
I interrupted adamantly, “No Gene, I’ll be fine. Look what happened was an accident. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Drop this…now.”
Reaching into his inner coat pocket, he pulled out a revolver. “I bought this for my second wife, Ellen. During the time we were married, we lived in a very tough neighborhood. Our apartment was burglarized on two occasions. I didn’t want Ellen to be without some self-protection, so I bought her a Lady Smith and Wesson. She never had to use it. When we divorced, it was one of the few items she didn’t skin me for. I think you need this now. It’s light and easy to use. You got five shots and you can conceal it in your purse.”
I didn’t want the gun but took it because he was so upset and worried over me. For a while, I kept it in my office, hidden behind some books on my bookshelf. When I decided to take the trip to the ocean, I brought the gun with me. I carefully wrapped it in a silk scarf before hiding it in the makeup bag along with a box of shells.
The task of unwrapping the gun from the silk made me feel more in control and not as shaken as I was earlier. I took lessons on gun handling a few years ago, when I was doing some research for one of my novels, “The Guns of Love.” The heroine, Jayne, who at an early age witnessed her parents murder by a gun toting pack of outlaws had to overcome a fear of guns and in the end, killed the villain before he could kill her and her hero. My head ached from tension and also lack of sleep. I quickly put the suitcases back into the close, but not the gun. Before I put it under my pillow, I made sure it was loaded. Slumber was a sanctuary, and I slept deeply, without remembering my dreams.
I sought sanity in doodle art by drawing flowers along the borders for a while, thinking of Perry and the kiss. I was confused and yet, exhilarated. He desired me. As he once told me, “the body doesn’t lie.” I imagine when I melted into his arms, he knew that mine wasn’t lying either. I found myself writing his name over and over, until I began to do a subconscious trick that I taught myself during my college years, a writing exercise of free association. I wrote for a few minutes, word after word. When the pen stopped, I read the results.
“Perry, lips, mouth, stone, hard, soft, happy, warm, desire, yearning, don’t stop, more, smile, eyes, huckleberry, blue, glowing, glints, steel, silver, darkness, night, dreams, scared, fears, regrets, David, money, betrayal, hate, bitterness, David, run, hide, fear, uncertainty, death, pain, blood, sorrow, grief, loss, limbo, searching, grasping, stars, moon, ocean, surf, boathouse, Perry, hope, trust, desire, happiness, love, me, him, love, no, Melinda, ex-wife, questions, uncertainty, kiss, lips, Perry, love, yes, wishing, love,Perry, love?”
I stared at the words, seeing every emotion that I had felt over the last few months. The list began with Perry and ended with love in question. In between was the situation with David and the questions about Perry’s ex-wife Melinda. As my eyes grew heavy, so did my heart. I turned out the light and let out a long broken sigh that echoed in the room long after I was asleep.
The phone ringing woke me up from a dream of exquisite passion. For a moment, I was tempted to ignore the phone and fall back into the dream’s arms. But if someone was calling me at 2 a.m. then I needed to answer the phone. My thoughts were that it was Gene calling about David.
“”Lo,” I said in a woolen voice.
“Is this Miss Rosewood?” I didn’t recognize the masculine voice that spoke. It had a resonance of a deep bass that would imprint upon my memory forever. There was also an undercurrent of a Northern accent, maybe from New York or New Jersey.
“May I ask who is calling?” The answer was a slow exhalation of air, a click as the receiver was hung up and then silence.
The strange call terrified me to the depths of my soul. Who would know that I was here? Who knew the Pirate’s phone number, besides Gene? I felt that if had to do with David somehow. The thought unnerved me so much that I walked through the house checking all the doors and windows, making sure they were secure. After my security patrol, I made a decision that I had hoped I wouldn’t have to make.
In the closet where I stored my luggage, there was a bag hidden inside one of the pockets of the largest suitcase. I had to move all the smaller cases to get to it, as naturally it was on the very bottom of the pile. I shuffled around the suitcases, wondering about the caller and a suspicion grew. He was connected to David somehow.
It was too late to call Gene and I didn’t dare tell Perry about my suspicions, because I would have to tell him everything. And I wasn’t prepared for that, not yet. Just because he kissed me didn’t mean I should start pouring out all the sordid details of my past.
I located the bag easily. It was an old makeup bag. I sat on the floor outside the closet, surrounded by my luggage and opened the bag. The gun wrapped in a silk scarf was exactly as I placed it, when I was packing my luggage. Gene gave it to me, much to my protests. He came to take me home from the hospital, after the accident. On the way back to my townhouse, he had much to say.
“Kerrie, you know what you have to do, babe! You can’t continue to live, looking over your shoulder. No one will protect you, if you’re caught by surprise. Hell, David was no help, was he? You’re lucky to be alive.”
“Gene, let it rest. I don’t want to talk about this.” I replied, crying softly looking out the window as he drove. The trees along the roadside blurred into one line, the shade ranging from black green to viridian.
“I’m sorry. You’re weak and I’m an asshole for beating you up about something that’s not your fault. By the way, where’s Mr. Troubles?” He viciously meant David.
“He’s probably at his apartment, recuperating from his own injuries.” There I was defending David again. I was becoming a broken record.
Gene made a disgusted sound, but let the conversation drop. I knew he meant well, because he really cared about me. After the deal with Banning House went sour, he helped me with the fallout and thanks to him I’m a successful writer who dances to her own tunes. Never has he tried to be a puppet master.
He waited until after he helped me get comfortable on the couch, before he gave me his “present.”
“Ker,” he began in his best fatherly voice, which was ironic because he wasn’t much older than me, “look you need something for protection.”
I interrupted adamantly, “No Gene, I’ll be fine. Look what happened was an accident. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Drop this…now.”
Reaching into his inner coat pocket, he pulled out a revolver. “I bought this for my second wife, Ellen. During the time we were married, we lived in a very tough neighborhood. Our apartment was burglarized on two occasions. I didn’t want Ellen to be without some self-protection, so I bought her a Lady Smith and Wesson. She never had to use it. When we divorced, it was one of the few items she didn’t skin me for. I think you need this now. It’s light and easy to use. You got five shots and you can conceal it in your purse.”
I didn’t want the gun but took it because he was so upset and worried over me. For a while, I kept it in my office, hidden behind some books on my bookshelf. When I decided to take the trip to the ocean, I brought the gun with me. I carefully wrapped it in a silk scarf before hiding it in the makeup bag along with a box of shells.
The task of unwrapping the gun from the silk made me feel more in control and not as shaken as I was earlier. I took lessons on gun handling a few years ago, when I was doing some research for one of my novels, “The Guns of Love.” The heroine, Jayne, who at an early age witnessed her parents murder by a gun toting pack of outlaws had to overcome a fear of guns and in the end, killed the villain before he could kill her and her hero. My head ached from tension and also lack of sleep. I quickly put the suitcases back into the close, but not the gun. Before I put it under my pillow, I made sure it was loaded. Slumber was a sanctuary, and I slept deeply, without remembering my dreams.
penned by Painter Lady at 10:01 PM
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