I'll Be Damned (Anna Wolfe Series) (16 page)

“Holy shit, Anna,” Janie says, resting her palm against her forehead. “This is bad.”

I shake off my ghostly paranoia. “What do we do? Call the police?” I ask. Calling the police isn’t the best idea, considering we have no proof of being stalked.

Janie sighs. “We can’t call anyone anyway,” she pauses. “We can't report this. If we attempt to explain what happened, no one would believe us.”

Janie’s right. If we report it, handcuffs would be our new matching bracelets. We walk towards my car, exhausted. Feeling no guilt after an event like this seems abnormal, but then again, if I believed a person was in that truck, it might be a different story. We slide in my car, happy to sit in the dense stillness. I need time to process the details of tonight’s events before they become tainted with discussion. I drive through the remains of the quarry gates, exhaling gratefully. Luckily for us, I didn’t tie ourselves up with too many turns. Within ten minutes, I’m cruising on the highway, allowing tonight’s events to gradually retreat in my rearview. They are just glitches from the past, stored in a memory I plan on forgetting. I puff out the stale air in my lungs, trying to find an equal balance between peace and lethargy for the ride home.

Chapter 6

At five o’clock a.m., my alarm jolts me from oblivion. Two hours of sleep is just the thing to start the day. I groan, inching my way further from my warm sheets and much needed slumber. Stumbling into the bathroom in a daze, I ponder how I’m going to get through today. Dizziness envelops me, making it impossible to avoid slamming into doors or walls. Even a cold shower fails to wake me up. My eyes are inflated and my dehydrated skin is so tight, I’m scared it will crack if I so much as smile. Tossing my makeup sponge on the counter, I watch the foundation splatter on my white countertop. I give up, and frown at my reflection and the mess I’ll have to clean later as I pull my hair into a messy bun. Good enough. I get dressed and quickly check on Janie before rushing out the front door. It’s five-thirty, leaving me thirty minutes to get to Savannah. Unlocking my car door, I jump into the driver’s seat and fly down the driveway.

I arrive at the shop right on time, and park my car out front. The doorway is empty and I’m relieved no one is waiting. I let myself in, illuminating the place with a flick of the lights. After dropping my belongings in the office, I rush to set up. The welcoming aroma of fresh brewed coffee and baked goods saturates the air, stimulating my senses. I swipe a corn muffin from the counter and pour myself a steaming cup of coffee. Thankfully, I have enough time to swallow both before the morning rush begins. The morning passes swiftly, although a little hectic, forcing me to tap into every hidden spring of energy. Although, downing eight cups of coffee with heaping mounds of sugar may have helped too. During the lulls, the screwed-up occurrences from last night tiptoe into my thoughts, but I shove them away mercilessly. Today is challenging enough without any added drama. The past never stays quiet and it certainly doesn't go away. I look down, and realize I’ve been wiping the same area on the counter repetitively.
How long have I been doing that?
I check the clock for the seventieth time, hoping it might be near closing. Wishful thinking, it’s only noon. I miss being busy, arranging and rearranging mugs and pastries. Being alone with my thoughts is torture. I groan just as the jingle of the door draws my attention to Kristy and Martello. Laughter defines their features, stirring the envy in me for their carefree spirits. 

“Nice of you to come to work,” I say, chuckling. Kristy's twenty minutes late, but it doesn't bother me. She’s covered my butt plenty of times, and being my best friend helps. She curtsies, before jumping behind the counter to wait on a few customers milling in the shop. I stroll over to Martello, who’s about to sit on his favorite couch.

“Hello,” I beam. “As usual, I love your outfit,” I tell him.

He rolls his eyes. “You’s always been jealous o’ my fabulous wardrobe, honey!” he counters.  

I giggle, impressed he has the kahunas to parade around in an ocean-blue, fitted tank top dripping in tiny sequins. He must look like a walking disco ball in the sunlight.

“Come sit here for a minute,” he says, lightly patting the empty spot beside him. I lower myself with nervous anticipation. “I’ve been having some concerns about you," he starts, flicking his fake chestnut hair over his shoulder.

“Martello, don’t be silly, I'm fine.” I run my hands up and down my thighs anxiously.

“No, you isn’t an’ don’t try that chill out stuff with me. You know it won’t work, I’m not Janie, honey,” he pauses dramatically. “That man you went to dinner with…”

“Shane?”

“Yes… I don’t like him. I feel something bad in my bones.”

“Just be honest,” I tease. Martello doesn’t join me in a smile, forcing me to wipe the grin from my face. “What do you mean? When we were at your bar, you had no objections.”

“No, I didn’t, an’ that’s the strange part. The minute he left, it was like a haze lifted. Lord, I’m telling you Anna… evil owns that boy.”

“Martello,” I respond, palming his leg. “I’m fine. I'm sure what you sensed was rational, but do you really believe in evil or whatever?” His observation almost persuades me to find the courage to confess everything... starting with my spasms and straight through until last night. I would
love to have a confidante to share my lonely thoughts, but I can’t. It isn’t the right time to reveal anything, but will it ever be? Things like this don't get better just because they’re ignored. 

“Girl, you needs to take this seriously! I’m concerned." He stops to reconsider his approach. "I have to tell you something, an’ don’t laugh neither,” he adds sternly. “I have a feeling he’s not normal,” he utters. 

“Not normal? What do you mean?”

He inhales, and looks annoyed. “It feels like he’s not human, or something crazy…” he answers, although his stare is transfixed on the floor. “You probably thinks I’m out o’ my mind, but I can feel things, an’ he just ain’t right, Anna.”

I reach for his hand, squeezing it with delight. “Martello, it's okay. I don’t think you’re crazy. Actually, you might be onto something.” He raises his head suspiciously. "I'm not joking," I say, in a dead pan serious tone.

“You believes my foolish inkling?" he asks, patting the non-existent sweat off his forehead. “Girl, I thought you was gonna tell me I was losing my mind.”

“Well…” I have to be careful how I word what I consider non-human. “I can sense a strangeness too.” Before I can elaborate, Kristy calls my name. Cara’s on the phone, and judging from Kristy's sour face, she's demanding to speak with me. Kristy hands me the telephone, rolling her eyes with loathing. I take a deep breath and place the receiver to my ear.

“Hello?” I say reluctantly.

“Anna finally! I feel like I haven’t spoken to you in forever.”

“It’s only been a few days," I respond, exasperated already.

“A few days too long! So, what’s new?”

“Nothing really. Same here, how about you?” This is painful.

“Nonsense. I heard you were on a date last night.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t a big deal.” This is one big drawback of being a sibling. No privacy. I like some things in my life to remain my own and unshared with others. Now, I have to regurgitate every detail to the one person in the world I try to dissociate from the most. I want to get it over with, so fifteen agonizing minutes later, I bring it to a close. With a moan, I wait to hear her thoughtless response.

“I think you’re undeniably silly,” she replies in a defensive tone.

"Cara, he’s different. There wasn't a connection."

"Don't be ridiculous. It was the first date. How can you tell if you like him or not? One date is too early to make hasty decisions."

“Cara, I don’t like him,” I utter point blank.

An annoyed sigh leaks from her mouth. “Anna, go out with him again. You owe it to yourself to give him another try; maybe you’ll even spend the night,” she giggles. “From what I hear, he sounds like a worthy man.”

Spend the night? Is she insane? And how does she know what kind of man he is? Nothing from this conversation makes any sense. She’s being narrow-minded and pushy, which is somewhat normal, except it’s toward me. I don't care how she feels; it’s mutual. Arguing my points will only fall on deaf ears, so I wait silently, ignoring her pleas of giving Shane another shot. Finally grasping my obstinacy, she redirects the conversation to her wedding. Apparently, the hairstyle on the maid of honor (who, by the way, isn't Janie or me) is revolting; her bridesmaids haven't gotten their dresses fitted yet; and the difficulty involved in choosing white or off-white linens is unimaginable! Ugh! Seriously, white or off-white? No one will notice! I shake my head at how outrageous she is. If I have to listen to another minute of her petty complaints, I’m going to stab myself in the eye with a fork.

"Are you there, Anna?"

"Yeah… sorry, Cara, but I’m busy. Can I give you a call later or after work?"

"Okay, fine," she replies, hanging up before I have a chance to say goodbye. She's angry, and for once, I don't care. I shrug her off and turn my attention to Martello.

“That girl is crazy,” he says the minute I slam the
End
button.

I groan loudly. “You have no idea.”

Martello stands. “Girl, just think about what I said; okay?”

“I will,” I smile.

With that, he exists the shop, leaving me with a hefty revelation to analyze.

***

Agonizingly, the time inches towards closing. I have ten minutes left until I can go home and tumble into bed. Just thinking of sleep makes me incredibly tired. Kristy left for the night and the overstuffed sofa looks mighty comfortable right now. I fall into it, allowing myself to sink into the cushions as soft as clouds. I unwind, thankful I don't have to provide anymore explanations or listen to vague warnings. My life is spiraling into a supernatural
CSI
episode. I’m drained, and turning off my worry-grinder is proving to be a challenge lately too.

Janie unexpectedly drifts into my mind. We haven’t spoken all day. I peel myself from the sofa, slowly walking to my office. I slide my cell phone off my desk, noting the nonexistent missed calls and text messages. Might as well check in and make sure she’s okay. I dial her number, but voicemail immediately intercepts. She probably forgot to charge her phone last night. Before I dial again, the sound of my door opening distracts me. I stuff my phone in my pocket, heading towards the front, and stop dead in my tracks. Pieces of black hair frame the twinkling blue eyes I find resting on me. My heart hammers, sending more blood to my already ruby cheeks. I curse under my breath for being so obvious.

“Hello, Anna,” Valen articulates coolly.

“Hi,” I respond apprehensively. My hands start fidgeting, so I ram them in the front pockets of my jeans, smushing a few receipts along the way. Our eyes bore into each other, refusing to retreat.

“Are you still open?” he asks, tilting his head slightly. “I would like to try a coffee.”

I shake the fog from my head, hoping to regain some self-control. “Yes… a coffee,” I repeat, rushing to hide behind the counter. “What would you like?”

“What’s your favorite?” he questions, casually leaning on the counter. 

“I…uh...the vanilla latte…” The words catch in my throat, when I realize how close he is to me.

“I’ll try that.”

Turning my back to him, I pull my faculties together and find a rhythm in the distraction. While fixing his latte, I feel his gaze passionately licking every inch of my body. A peculiar feeling stirs inside me. Images of him naked cross my mind, capturing my attention. Deep in thought, I fail to notice the scorching coffee cascading over the mug's rim. The hot liquid trails down my hand like a lava flow, scalding everything in its path. I jerk my hand back, instantly yelping. “Ouch… shit!” I cry, shaking my hand in the air.

“Are you okay? You need to run it under cold water.”