With Cruel Intent (13 page)

backwards, threw half of the remaining

board at Jasper who brushed it aside like

a mosquito, before turning and running at

full speed across the space and over the

same fence his friends had used as an

avenue of escape. A moment later a

defiant finger raised in belligerent triumph

appeared above the top of the fence.

“Punks” Jasper spewed, then

turning his attention to the quivering

librarian he said, “You okay?”

“Just about peed myself but I’m

okay, lucky you showed up when you

did,” Blanche replied, still shaking from

the ordeal.

“I was just on my way out to the

job site and saw you was in trouble,” he

said compassionately, putting both of his

strong hands on her shoulders to help

steady her. “Been meaning to drop by your

place anyway to give you the details on

that competition I was telling you about.”

He provided the information

which Blanche put into her phone,

promising to attend, after all he had been

her rescuer on two separate occasions and

he was really, really buff and quite sweet

for a ‘gorilla’. Jasper promised to stay

with Blanche until her ride showed up so

they sat on the bench and enjoyed a minute

or two of small talk before Blanche saw a

BMW turn the corner and accelerate

toward them.

“Looks like my ride,” Blanche

said, tilting her head in the direction of the

oncoming car.

“Too bad, I'd have enjoyed some

more time with my damsel in distress,”

Jasper said, as he stood and took her hand

to help her up. She was still trembling

from the fright she’d received at the hands

of Mikey and crew. “You sure you’ll be

okay?”

“Yeah, but thanks, you are just so

sweet.” She wrapped her arms around his

thick neck and pulled him down so she

could kiss his cheek. “Thanks again, don’t

know what I would have done without

your help.”

The BMW skidded to a stop at the

curb and Bev’s head popped out of the

sunroof, “Blanche, you need me to call the

cops, this guy bothering you?”

“No, no, nothing like that, he just

saved me from a bunch of thugs.” Once

again, Blanche committed to attending the

upcoming competition. They hugged and

Blanche was on her way comfortably

seated in the front of Bev’s B’mer.

“That’s quite a hunk of man you’ve

found yourself there?” Beverly’s voice

suggested more of a question than a

statement.

“Jasper? Yeah he’s been my hero

on more than one occasion since I hit

town. Lucky for me he was close by this

morning. Don’t know how long I could

have held off three horny teenagers with

an umbrella,” Blanche said, trying to

laugh, her voice still quivering.

It was obvious to Beverly that her

client was in no condition or state of mind

to do any house hunting so she suggested a

quiet location with hot coffee, padded

seats and delicious donuts. After finishing

her first cup of white-hot chocolate and

glazed donut, Blanche began to feel

somewhat better. The tremor in her hands

had ceased and her voice was much less

shaky but her anxiety level was still

elevated as Beverly tried to console her.

“Men, and boys for that matter,

walk around with their brains in their

penis with no thought for anyone but

themselves,” Beverly suggested, polishing

off her third donut, this one covered in

white frosting drizzled with maple.

“Believe me, I’ve known my share and

most are idiots through and through. Even

the ones that you think are semi-normal

turn into some sort of sex crazed alien the

minute they get a hard on. Take my

deceased husband, the one I was telling

you about with the spoiled rotten son, he

was a genius when it came to money and

real estate. I learned so much from him

about the markets, when to buy, when to

sell, that sort of stuff, but the minute I’d

show him these.” Taking her covered

breasts in both hands, making sure not to

get any icing on either one, she bounced

them slightly; drawing stares from some of

the locals seated a few tables over. “He’d

turn into a babbling fool, unable to make a

coherent sentence until he’d gotten his

rocks off, pardon my French.”

Bev was enjoying having someone

she could spout off too. Her favorite

subject as of late was the abuse she’d

received at the hands of men in general but

more specifically from the son of her

dearly departed.

“Did I tell you the latest? Did I?”

she asked, not waiting for a reply she

pressed on. “Well, I’ll tell you what

darlin’, that little son of a bitch is still

screwing with me even after the courts

awarded me my fair share. My stepson,

some kind of aid to a high falootin’

congressmen up there in Washington, has

got it in his head that I’m just gonna roll

over and let him push me around and give

up my millions,” she continued in her over

the top Southern accent. “That pompous

piece of shit really gets me going. First it

was momma this and momma that, now

that some money is involved he treats me

like a two bit whore that was screwing his

daddy just for his money. I’ll show that

little pipsqueak what this mommas got in

store for him,” she said rather loudly,

drawing more looks and quiet whispers

from customers throughout the shop.

Blanche nodded when she felt it

was appropriate and tried to act

understanding, but wasn’t it her that was

the victim this morning and not Bev? It

was sweet that she was trying to take her

mind off the skaters but she was kind of

ranting and Blanche was not enjoying the

additional attention.

“So tell me about the job the

oldest one has, he really works for a

congressman,

a

US

Congressman?”

Blanche politely asked.

“Yeah, little kiss ass that he is,

worked his way into this job with the help

of his daddy. From what I gather he does

all the congressman’s dirty work. Does all

the hiring and firing and finds little

trollops for the congressman to screw

when his wife ain’t around. I ‘spect

Jeremy gets his fill of that office poontang

as well, takes after his daddy in that

respect,” the agitated real estate woman

fumed.

“That’s

his

name,

Jeremy?”

Blanche asked.

“Yeah, Jeremy ‘Kiss My Ass’

Marshall and the worse thing is he keeps

sticking his nose in my business here in

Valdosta. Don’t know why he can’t just

leave well enough alone and worry about

his father’s estate and getting this behind

us. Some of my friends in the business tell

me he’s prodding around about some land

that is soon to be developed just north of

here. Probably needs my millions to

secure some financing for something he’s

got in the works, most likely very

underhanded if I know Jeremy and the way

he operates.” She paused long enough to

fill her mouth with another bite of donut.

“You must be sick of hearing about

my troubles, honey. What’s up with you

other than fighting off a pack of boys after

your goods?” she said, pointing the half

eaten donut at Blanche’s front, leaving

powdered sugar on her friend.

Blanche didn’t want to get into

much with Bev after hearing the realtor go

on and on about her woes so she tried to

bring the subject back around to her

housing needs. After approximately thirty

minutes of condo talk and another cup of

cocoa, the women left the donut shop, all

eyes on them as they hurried through the

doors and into the BMW. Beverly was

good enough to swing by the library for

Blanche then sped off, anxious to meet

with her lawyer and cuss for another

couple of hours about her stepson. In her

mind she’d worked hard for those millions

and he was not about to take that away

from her. No frickin’ way she was going

to let her stepson screw her, that was for

sure.

Blanche’s workday began like

most once she got to the library. She was

relieved to see that there were only a few

items in her assorted boxes and no

skulking teenage boys prowling among the

shelves. She’d had her fill of testosterone

driven madness for one day. Mr. Marcus

was busy tinkering with some shelving

units on the upper floor when she arrived

and she had not yet had an opportunity to

speak with him, but he was making some

incredible ‘worker man’ noises that

echoed throughout the library. Thankfully,

it wasn’t busy and no one seemed to care

that the occasional clang or bang could be

heard, followed by a random cuss spoken

harshly by the maintenance man. Two

hours into the racket and just before

Blanche was to take a break to get some

lunch the little custodian ambled down the

steps from the second floor. Sweat ran

down his cheeks and a white, stretchy

headband ran around his forehead in an

effort to keep the salty solution out of his

eyes.

“Sorry about all the commotion up

there this afternoon,” he offered. “Those

new shelving units they sent for the

magazines didn’t quite go together with

the ease that the instructions indicated.

Never do for some reason, anyway, got

them together and they look nice. You’ll

have to mosey up there when you get time

and take a look.”

She always looked forward to the

random interactions she got to have with

the personable, little man throughout her

day. Kind of reminded her of her dad and

brought back some fond memories of her

childhood. He was always quick with a

compliment and a smile and today was no

different.

“That’s quite the outfit you’ve got

on there today, really highlights your

figure, you’ll have the boys in the back

fighting over who gets to help you with the

coding this afternoon.”

Blanche knew the remark was

intended just as it was given, a sincere

observation meant to compliment with no

creepy overtones or insinuations.

“Why thank you Marcus, just a

little something I haven’t worn since I

started here and thought I’d give it a go.”

Blanche blushed slightly, making her face

glow with appreciation.

“Well, you did good, anybody in

particular you ah, um, how do I put this

tactfully? You got your sites on a

particular target with this?” He gestured

with his hands, indicating her figure in the

tight, thin sweater stretching a little lower

than her usual attire and the slacks a bit

tighter in the seat than anything she’d worn

to date.

“Now, now Marcus, you know

you’re the only man around here that I’ve

got an eye for,” she said, with a wink of

her striking blue eyes and a pat on his

shoulder.

They both laughed but Marcus had

his suspicions. Blanche was like the

daughter he never had and he enjoyed her

personality and the fun banter they

exchanged on a regular basis, but he

strangely felt a certain obligation to watch

out for her best interests as well.

“Marcus, Mr. Marcus, you got that

shelving unit up yet? My heavens with all

the noise going on up there one would

have thought you were putting together a

tank or something,” the words arrived

almost before the director as she scurried

up to the front desk.

“Yes ma'am, was just telling

Blanche here how nice they look. You

should get up there yourself and have a

gander,” Marcus replied.

“Well I shall, once I get the new

items for the museum cataloged and put