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~~~Kyla listened to the manager of the RV park grumble and huff about her checking out early. Kyla told the middle aged woman with the wrinkles and colouring of someone who drank a few nights a week and smoked two packs a day, that she didn’t need the deposit back, just wanted to hand back the keys. She knew that if the woman had gone down there she’d see the screen door was now gone and that’d forfeit the deposit, anyway.
Tristan hovered in the doorway of the office while she did everything and then when the manager muttered that she had to go investigate the condition of the trailer before finalizing the paperwork Tristan sauntered up to her, leaned over, put both palms on the desk, and then he looked her in the eye and calmly said, “You’re going to sign off on that and give us the original file. You don’t need a copy. Kyla Spencer was never here. You’ve never seen her or me in your life. Give her the deposit back.”
The woman stood still while he spoke and then nodded at him after he stopped speaking and then dazedly handed Kyla the $500 cash that was held as a damage deposit.
“I should leave something for the screen door,” Kyla mumbled to him.
“Fuck it, it’ll take nothing for them to put it back on,” he growled and then grabbed Kyla’s hand and impatiently rushed to the parking lot. He clicked a keychain button and a black Impala chimed as the doors were unlocked and the engine started. He opened the passenger door for her. She got in, feeling astounded at how easy it was for him to get the grumbly cantankerous woman to just agree.
“Where’s your phone?” he asked.
“I left it at your condo,” she was a little taken aback.
“Not that one. Your original phone.” he nodded toward her purse.
“I, uh..”
Tristan snapped his fingers in front of her face, impatiently, “Get with it, Kyla.”
“I ditched it.” She blinked hard at his callous demeanor.
“Ditched it where?”
“Back home.”
“Good.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“I’m just making sure you don’t still have it.”
“No, I don’t. Why?”
“Tracking.”
“Who would---”
“Later.” He backed out and they were on the road.
She looked out the window, feeling pissed about being dismissed so flippantly.
“Kyla, don’t,” he warned, “I need you to not.”
“Not? Not what? Not wonder what’s happening? That’s like saying not to blink when someone is about to poke me in the eye. You can’t not tell me what’s going on and expect me to be a deer in the headlights. I’m not that woman back there. I’m not Julia.”
“That’s for sure!”
She huffed out a big breath.
He gritted his teeth, “I’m not in a good place right now.”
“You think I am?”
“Kyla…”
“What?” she spat.
He took a deep breath, “I have a lot to say to you but I’m using every iota of self-control I have right now to make damn sure I don’t grab you and drain you dead. Is it too much to ask that you just PLEASE give me a wide fucking berth?”
Kyla clamped her mouth shut and stared out the window, blowing out a long slow breath through her nose.
A few minutes later they were pulling into a waterfront parking lot.
Tristan produced a cell phone from his jacket pocket and pushed a few buttons.
“This is Mr. James, I rented the Impala just as you were closing last night. Yeah, I’m parking it at Belleville Street. I’m catching The Clipper here. In the glovebox, yeah. There’s one arranged on the other side? Good. Thanks.” He hung up.
“James?”
“So no one tracks me. Let’s go get you some caffeine before we board. Lack of it is making you grouchy.”
“Me? Yeah, and lack of blood’s making you grouchier.”
Who would be tracking them? Sam? Someone else?He flashed her a dirty look, got out, slung the duffle bag over his shoulder, and grabbed her hand and they walked to a little coffee shop. Tristan fiddled with the phone, removed the battery, then dropped the pieces in the trash can on the way in.
Going to a waterfront café hand in hand… they were about to be on a boat together where she could smell the sea while looking into his eyes. Everything she’d dreamt of just yesterday and here they now were. But this wasn’t a vacation. He wasn’t a happy ‘fantasy come true’ moment. And she didn’t know what was next.
When is he going to talk to me?
When he passed her a coffee he said, “Take a pill.”
“Is it going to mess me up? I already had that shot and…”
“I don’t know but it’s a must. Take it as soon as you wake up every day. You can’t forget.”
She made a well duh face and he shot her a dirty look.
She took the pill, and then she decided to focus her attention on nothing but the bliss inside that coffee cup for at least the next few minutes.
