Girl Desecrated 1984: Vampires, Asylums and Highlanders, page 9
I couldn’t stand listening to her grovel and apologize to the cretin. I pushed down the silver cradle, disconnecting the call.
Lene shrieked and spun around. “What the hell are you doing?” She yelled loud enough for the whole bar to hear.
“Lene, think for a moment.” I cupped my hand over the coin slot. “Think of all the times he’s hit you,” I hissed.
Frantically, she started digging in her purse for another dime. “You don’t know what you’ve done…”
“I just saved your ass.”
“You have no right,” she started to cry. “No right…”
“You can’t go back to that bastard. He treats you like shit. Someday, he’s going to kill you, Lene.”
She kept rummaging in her purse, ignoring me.
“Listen to me!” I yanked the purse out of her hand, accidently ripping the strap.
Then she lost it. Sobbing loudly, she ducked her head and rushed past me, heading towards the washroom. I turned to follow, but stopped short. Every person in the place was watching, including Duncan. He was frozen in a half sit, half standing position. I looked down at the purse in my hands, feeling like a bully. The last thing I needed right now was a misinformed hero.
I forced a slight smile and waved my hand at him as if we did this every night. To be truthful, we did this break up bullshit twice a year. Followed by her finding a man, getting him all turned on, and then running to call Reg. This was all part of Lene’s weekend theatre performance. I’d been through it a million times before, only tonight she was going to keep her word. Even, if it had to be at the expense of our friendship.
Angus gave me a puzzled look as I followed Lene into the washroom.
She was sobbing into her hands by the paper towel dispenser. The lion-haired waitress was in there trying to help. I told her to get the hell out and waited until the door shut before I spoke.
“Look, I’m sorry about your purse.” I laid it on the counter beside her. It flopped to the side like it was injured.
She was sobbing her heart out.
I leaned down, trying to catch her eye. “Let him sit on it this time. At least one night?”
She stopped crying long enough to shoot me a dirty look. “I’ll lose him.”
“Good! Good riddance.”
She blew her nose loudly into the stiff paper towel. “Easy for you to say, you’re not in love.”
“If what you have is love, I don’t want any part of it.”
She fondled her purse, squeezing it between her fingers. “That’s where you seem to be confused.” Her tone was cold, “You aren’t part of it.”
“He’s an asshole.”
“I’m the asshole. He doesn’t deserve me!” She shrieked, stabbing at her chest with her finger. “He doesn’t deserve a whore for a girlfriend.”
“Don’t use his words!”
She turned her purse upside down and shook it. Make-up, tampons, and coins fell like consumer rain onto the chipped, grey counter.
I spouted out a line my mother’s nurse, Patrick, had used on me. “We both know you’re not a whore, Lene. You’re just searching for love.”
“You don’t know shit.” Tears were dragging her mascara down her cheeks in black rivulets.
“You can stay at my house. Reg won’t know you’re there and if he comes?” I pushed air out past my tight lips creating a pffft sound.
Her scrambling fingers found a dime, and she tried to walk through me, leaving her purse and all her things spread out on the counter.
I put up my hands and stopped her. I had to because, unlike me, she could change her life so easily.
She went snaky, then. Hitting me with her hands and screaming like a banshee for me to get out of her way. The force of her attack drove me up against the wall.
My temper flared. I got my balance and gave her a good shove the other way. She slammed her back against the stall.
“Don’t you hit me!” I warned, pointing my finger at her face.
I waited for the gruesome images, the Southern accent, the change in time and motion, but nothing happened.
Then someone pounded on the door. I nearly jumped out of my skin.
Duncan’s voice called out, “Lass! Lass?”
We froze, staring at each other with wide eyes like we’d been caught robbing the joint.
“Lene, please come out and talk to me,” he begged.
I didn’t give a shit if Lene wanted to use and abuse the local men, but Duncan sounded like he was genuinely worried.
“You need to deal with him.” I pointed at the closed door.
She twisted her hands. “You do it. I need to call Reg back.”
Duncan was Angus’ friend, and I could imagine Lene’s slutty behaviour screwing up my chances with Angus. Someone had to limit the damage. I put my hands up in a surrender pose.
“Fine. Make your damn call.”
I left first, hooking my arm in Duncan’s and half pulling him back to the table. “Something’s come up.”
I drew on the lie I’d used in the past. “Lene’s grandpa is in a wheelchair and sometimes grandma tips him out. Lene is their emergency contact.”
I didn’t know a man could look infatuated and deflated, all at the same time.
“She needs space to sort things out.” I kept him moving away from her, then gave him a gentle push towards his chair.
Angus was still standing by Lennox. I knew he had watched the entire drama by his troubled expression. Most normal guys would head for the hills at this point, but Angus held out his arm inviting me to slip under it.
I hesitated, looking between Lene and Angus, and back to Lene again. She was cowering over the phone, bleeding guilt all over it.
I couldn’t help her if she wouldn’t help herself, and it hurt too much to stand by and watch. I walked over to the guys, even though I could tell by Lennox’s cross look he still wanted to speak to Angus alone. Slipping under Angus’ arm, I leaned against his warm body, and it settled me in a way I hadn’t felt for years.
Lennox made a parting comment. “Ye should at leest tell ‘er.”
JAMESTOWN: HUMAN PAIRING
~
THE SHIP-WIVES WERE BECKONED TO the square to listen to a representative of the Virginia Company of London. He seemed an unpretentious man, a clerk, if you will, who had some important points to make before the Jamestown colonists started mingling with the new members.
The man stepped up on a makeshift wooden box and spoke a “good morn” to the good people gathered for the day’s celebration.
As he looked out at the more delicate gender, he released a sigh of satisfaction. The bride ship had come through, and it was hoped these ninety women would secure the colony’s growth.
The clerk waved a document in the air and the crowd hushed, anxious to hear what he would say.
“Each woman,” he called out, to reach the hearing of those standing furthest away. “Each woman, upon entering into marriage with a man of Jamestown, will receive as promised, one new apron, two new pairs of shoes, six pairs of sheets…”
He droned on, reciting the promises made by the Virginia Company of London. As each item was listed, gasps of delight flickered in the air. The gifting lent to the day even more enjoyment for these items were needed to set up a good home and many of the women were arriving with few possessions.
The representative talked at length about marriage licenses and how each couple would be married, one after the other, until all were satisfied.
When all was said, and done, there would be a lot of paperwork, but these contracts were the foundation of the colony, the building blocks that would ensure the birth of children on this new soil.
It wasn’t just the Virginia Company of London who wanted the population to grow in the colony, it was also the wish of Scarlett. These people who would be her neighbours, these men who would make business deals with her husband, these children who would grow by her child’s side, were the herd. From these people, would she harvest, and as they prospered, so would she.
The clerk stepped down off the crate and the human pairing began. Scarlett scanned the crowd of male faces, looking for the man she had already chosen.
CHAPTER 8: GILDING THE HEART
~
I TURNED MY FACE UP to Angus. “What does Lennox think you should tell me?”
One side of his mouth lifted in that quirky expression I was getting used to. “He thinks Ah should tell ye that yer legs go on forever, and when ye glide across the floor, ye drive us all to distraction.”
I snorted. “You didn’t see me fall over my chair, then.”
His eyes darkened. “Ah saw every inch of ye.”
Angus hadn’t made a move to go back to our seats, giving us more time alone. He was playing fast with his words, but he hadn’t dropped his arm to cop a feel yet. He hadn’t dropped his lips to mine either. He just let me lean on him and it seemed the most natural thing to have his arm wrapped around my shoulder.
He was warm. His chest and hips and thighs were a thick pillar of muscle and bone. I had seen men like Angus at the Fergus Highland Games, draped in their tartans and plaids. And I had seen what his type of build could do in the caber toss, stone put, and hammer throw. Angus’ was an ancient build of brute strength. He was meant to plow fields, to walk in the place of oxen, to press his weight down onto a woman until she begged for air.
What would it be like to wrap my legs around him?
His cheeks were flushed, and it was obvious he was wondering the same thing about me. I caressed the short reddish hairs of his beard, but I didn’t touch the throbbing pulse on the side of his neck.
“Dae ye ken yer eyes ur like Scottish honey?” His voice was husky and low, and a thrill stabbed the pit of my belly.
He turned my body to face his.
“Like Scottish honey left in the jar until it’s thick and sweet.” He gently pinched my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Left tae ripen intae the darkest gold.”
Angus was courting me with lines that stabbed deep in lonely, barren places, delivering his words in an accent that had me dreaming of castles and lochs, and strong thighs under rough kilts.
His lids grew heavy over his heated gaze, and he drew his bottom lip between his teeth before releasing it to sit full and soft above his strong chin.
Oh, I recognized this look. This was a man preparing for a joining of the lips, a sharing of the mouths, and a dance of the tongues.
I forced myself to step back.
“Settle down there, hero,” I warned, hooding my own desire behind a hard-edged glance.
He hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of my jeans and steadily pulled my hips closer.
“But that’s what Ah want, Kit. Ah want tae settle with ye.”
The willful personality I was trying to project was laid bare by his choice of words. From the jukebox, Billy Joel sang “An Innocent Man”, strangely helping Angus’ cause.
His lashes dropped as he moved in to kiss the side of my neck. I trembled right down to my feet.
“Yoo’re mine, Lass,” he whispered in my ear.
Oh, yes.
The fight hadn’t even begun and now it was over.
I was his.
My lips parted for his kiss, but instead of a breathtaking moment of first joining, the Southern Belle took advantage of my weakened state and spoke through me. “I think you forget yourself, Sir.”
I gasped in shock.
Angus pulled back to examine me, unmoving, unblinking, while an embarrassed flush burned my cheeks and stung my eyes.
A quizzical frown furrowed his brow, and I tried a shrug and a small smile, hoping he could forgive it.
“Hmm,” he grunted and peered at me like a scientist discovering a new species.
I started folding up the soft edges of my heart, just like I had folded up the newspaper over Donald’s scent. Pressing my mouth into a hard line, I raised my nose a notch higher than usual, just to let him know I didn’t care.
The ‘crazy’ wasn’t finished with me yet. It pushed another sentence out through my resisting lips. “What is it that you want, Fergus?”
His brows came down, pushing a wrinkle over his nose. “A good start would be for ye tae remember mah name. It ain’t Fergus.”
“Oh your repute precedes you, sir. I know exactly who you are.”
I whimpered at the end of the line, because it wasn’t me who was speaking. It was my bitch-alter personality, and she was way out of line.
He unhooked his thumbs from my jeans and then ran his hands down the sides of my hips as if brushing something dirty off.
I wanted to brush my hands off too, brush off my whole body, freeing me from the bizarre behaviour Angus had just witnessed.
Loss chipped away at the golden glow he had begun to put in my chest. I did a quick sweep of the bar. Lene was no longer on the phone. She was probably gone, back to dufus, and now I didn’t even have a way home.
“Angus! Angus! Angus!”
From the table, the men had begun chanting, unaware of our awkward exchange. Even Duncan had become reanimated and was holding up a glass of whiskey. “A toast from Angus!”
I stepped to the side to let him pass, looking down at the toes of my boots.
“Kit,” he pressed a light touch into my lower back.
The tendrils of depression that always awaited my failings, plucked away at me, trying to draw me in.
“Kit, come toast with me.”
If I hurt this much now, what would it be like tomorrow morning, when he was finished wasting his time? Or maybe we wouldn’t even get to tomorrow morning. Maybe that voice would take over, or I’d have another black out. I couldn’t handle tonight ending in a cruel dismissal the sane reserved for psychos.
Angus gestured toward our chairs. “One toast.”
I chanced a glance at his face. He looked wistful, as if he were sorry.
It gave me the nerve to nod and lead the way back to the tables.
Angus picked up two glasses of whiskey and handed me one. The dim ceiling lights reflected in the fiery liquid. It reminded me of campfire flames and all the bush parties I had honed my guts on. Five years of booze and sex, and here I was, eighteen, falling in love with a stranger, and ready with an open throat.
The men raised their glasses, and Angus looked at each man in turn. Then, he boomed, “Alba gu brath!”
The group echoed the toast with enthusiasm and tossed back their drinks. After a few appreciative snorts and coughs, they waited, the room growing quiet, while I held my full glass in the air.
I hadn’t tossed my drink back because this was the one that would tip me. Whiskey was my devil and this was the one I shouldn’t dance with.
Angus cupped the side of my face. His thumb brushed across my lips, igniting a throbbing pulse in my throat. A slow smile spread his lips, and he winked. The men sniggered and waited for me to finish the toast.
I drawled, “Fiddle-dee-dee”, and tossed back the whiskey in one tip, holding my throat open for the burn.
The liquid razed a path down my esophagus and into my guts, but I didn’t choke. I slammed the glass onto the table, and the men cheered like I’d made a perfect 12 o’clock caber toss. One look at Angus’ hungry glance, and I had to agree. I had just lined up a win.
We sat and Angus pulled my chair toward him until my knees were nestled between his legs. Three whiskeys later, I lifted my right boot and planted it against Angus’ shoulder, threw my head back and let out a Canadian bush-party whoop. The men nearly pissed themselves with excitement. Angus knocked my leg down, grabbed my hips with both hands, and effortlessly pulled me up onto his lap. My legs draped either side of his chair. I laughed low in my throat and slid my arms around his neck, my breasts pressing against his chest.
Nuzzling his ear, I whispered, “I’ve got two secrets.”
“Tell me,” he demanded, pulling back to lock eyes with me.
“It’s my birthday, today.”
There, it was out.
“Let me guess.” He grinned.
“You with your guessing games,” I laughed, tossed my hair and tried to look older.
“Yoo’re eighteen.”
I was a little put-out the game was already over. “And you’re not!”
“Nae, Aam not some boy to be played with, Kit,” he warned.
I shifted on his lap, very aware it was a man I was sitting on. “You’ll never guess my other secret.”
He wrapped his hands around my waist and lifted me into a more comfortable position.
“We’re gonnae hae a great nicht, Lassie,” he spoke in a thicker accent than I’d heard him use. “An’ then tomorrah nicht, yoo’re gonnae teel me th’ other secrit.”
“Tomorrow night…”
I lapped up his promise, until the spell was shattered by Lene appearing out of nowhere and grabbing my elbow. “No, you’re not, because we’re not going to be here tomorrow night.” Lene pulled me off Angus’ hot thighs, causing me to hop to keep my balance.
“Let’s go,” she hissed up at my ear, as she dragged me toward the front door.
I could have flattened her, but I let her steal me away. I was secretly happy to see her, happy she wasn’t with loserville. And, I’d gotten myself into a sticky wicket, acting like a whore, and about to break my vow to Patrick. Angus had acted better than most guys, especially when faced with my ‘alter’s’ voice, but still, I had to get away from him. My ‘crazy’ was just skirting the edges of my control, and the more I saw of Angus, the more I didn’t want him to see of me.
Groans and cat calls rang out behind us, and someone yelled something about a party pooper. Lene tried to pull me around the corner, but I dug my heels in. Turning, I used my best Southern Belle gesture to throw a kiss at Angus. He was glowering like a bull, his fist clenched on his thigh. He didn’t try to catch my kiss. Instead, he started to stand up, but Colin gripped his arm and said something to him.
I just had time to pout, before I was spirited outside and put into a cab by a furious, best friend who took the front seat. She hammered her door lock down with a fist and barked out her address to the cabbie.
