Dark Star (18 page)

“How -- ”

“I know you. And I know you’ve never loved
anyone the way you loved Nate Randolph. And the way he loved
you...” Callie sighed. “That was some
Casablanca
stuff
there. I don’t believe for one second the two of you were alone for
two months without getting together. What I don’t know is why
you’re trying to keep it a secret.” Callie gave her a hurt look and
Tonya could’ve kicked herself. Of course Callie would know what
went down; she was like the other half of herself. Keeping a secret
from her was impossible.

“I can’t tell you. I know I can trust you,
but it’s not my secret,” Tonya said.

“I’ve got a pretty good idea and you’re right
not to tell. Now, it’s time to feed this baby. Are you planning to
eat?”

Chapter Ten

Tonya looked up when Roshonda came bustling
through the door. What with all the excitement of her return and
fielding calls from reporters and such, she hadn’t had much of an
opportunity to check in with the operations manager. She’d
postponed her book tour indefinitely; right now she was simply too
emotionally fragile to deal with something so demanding. It seemed
everybody in New York was irate over it, but her book sales were
still so strong they couldn’t really complain. She’d done several
satellite interviews with various morning shows and they were more
or less content with that. She was still waiting for the publicity
to die down, but her fifteen minutes seemed never ending. Normally
she hated paperwork, but right now she was enjoying the
respite.

Soon after Callie got married they had rented
a small office space not far from the bookstore. Callie was rarely
in town anymore, but when she was she liked using it as a base of
operations. Since Roshonda was promoted to operations manager
they’d hired several more salespeople in the store as well as an
accountant, a secretary and other clerical personnel so the small
office in the store was simply inadequate. The office was in an
old-fashioned red brick building across the square from the store.
Their second floor corner office suite consisted of four offices
and a foyer. Tonya liked the quaint décor in the hundred-year-old
building, especially the wood floors and original molding. They’d
decorated with period pieces when they could and nice reproductions
when they couldn’t. Her desk was a massive oak monstrosity she’d
originally purchased for her home office only to discover it
wouldn’t fit up the narrow staircase. Leaning back in her antique
office chair with her bare feet resting on the desk she studied a
spreadsheet. She looked up when she realized she wasn’t alone.

“That guy is kind of spooky,” Roshonda
said.

“Hmmm,” Tonya responded, still distracted by
the spreadsheet in front of her. The accountant had printed the
reports at Tonya’s request. While she trusted the number cruncher
it paid to be prudent. She didn’t have the obsessive need to watch
every sou that came through the door the way that Callie did, but
she had no intention of being robbed, either. Callie did the
acquisitions and supervised most of the day-to-day operation of
their partnership, but Tonya was still at least nominally in charge
of the store.

“Hello? That guy Deringer, your bodyguard or
whatever. He’s spooky.”

“Spooky how?” Tonya said lowering her feet
from the desk and finally giving Roshonda her full attention.

“He just watches me. He doesn’t say anything,
he just watches me.”

Tonya tried to remember any odd behavior on
the man’s part, or at least odder than his ability to move around
undetected, but she’d been so busy she hadn’t really paid
attention. She did remember him commenting on Roshonda’s beauty the
night they’d kidnapped her. Even in the insanity of that evening
the
non sequitur
had stood out. Of course Roshonda
was
gorgeous. Her silky dark skin and Bambi brown eyes left
most men speechless around her. It would be more unusual for one
not to notice her. But surely the girl was used to that. They’d had
more than a few customers whose sudden interest in books was
suspect. So why was she tripping now?

“It is his job to watch things. I would
imagine that at this point it’s just reflex. I wouldn’t read
anything into it.” Tonya said, working hard to maintain an
expressionless face. “Do you think he’s coming on to you?”

“That’s just it. He doesn’t say anything. I
mean he speaks, says good morning and all that, but he never flirts
or makes jokes or anything. I get dudes hitting on me all the time.
I have lots of experience, but with this guy I have no idea what’s
going on.”

“Well I’m sure you’ve noticed he’s a good
looking man,” Tonya said still fishing.

“He’s alright,” Roshonda said confirming her
interest in the man. Deringer was many things, including more than
a bit spooky, but nobody could ever fail to notice that he was
finer than hell. Unless of course they were fighting like the
dickens to resist their attraction.

“Okay. So do you want to go out with him?”
Tonya decided to cut to the chase.

“Of course not,” Roshonda blustered. “After
that last buster, I have no desire to ever date again. I’m
done.”

“Roshonda you’re not even thirty yet.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been to hell and back dealing
with these jackasses. Nope. Done.”

Tonya shook her head. Roshonda’s history
was
a bit turbulent and it really wasn’t her place to
lecture the girl, especially considering that she had sworn off men
for a lot less than what her friend had gone through. Tonya made a
conscious decision to back off. “Well, if his looking at you is so
annoying, just ask him to stop. Dare’s a nice guy. Spooky as all
hell, but nice. He wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

* * * * *

“Will you stop staring at me?”

Deringer started, looking down at the object
of all his most recent lust-filled fantasies. “What?” Roshonda
stood before him, arms akimbo as she scowled at him, her hair all
but standing on end in annoyance. He almost smiled. She reminded
him of a little terrier he’d had as a boy. There was no one else in
the office today. Tonya had demanded that he leave her alone so she
could write so he’d wandered over to the office to check on his
latest obsession. As always she pretended he wasn’t there. He
didn’t really mind because from time to time she had to get up to
use the copier or some other machine and he got to watch her almost
criminally curvaceous body. He’d never seen a woman with so many
gifts -- her full round breasts were balanced by an ass that would
make a dead man sit up and say hello. He drifted off, contemplating
what he would do with her, starting with kissing that luscious
mouth -- for a year.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you that it’s rude
to stare?” she demanded forcing him out of a lovely daydream.

“It might have been mentioned a time or
two.”

“So why are you doing it?”

“Because my mama isn’t here.”

He watched as she pressed her lips together
as though to repress a laugh.

“Just stop it. Okay?” she said.

“Why? Did some moron make it illegal to look
at a beautiful woman? If they did I’m going to have to find myself
another country to die for.”

This time the laugh did escape. High and
musical, it swept over his senses like a cool breeze on a hot
day.

“Because it’s rude and makes me
uncomfortable,” she said after abruptly cutting the laugh off.

His thoughts scrambled as he struggled to
come up with something to say that would make her laugh again.
“What would you rather I do?”

“Nothing.”

“Sorry. I can’t accommodate that.”

“So what can you accommodate?”

“Dinner.”

“You have got to be kidding.”

“Nope. I eat dinner every day,” Deringer
said.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know you,” she said.

“I’m sure Tonya would be happy to vouch for
me. I have all my teeth. I’m even housebroken...mostly,” he
said.

Not a full laugh this time, but the smile
that broke through was almost as good. He watched as she
deliberately smoothed her face then turned and walked away.
Skittish. Somebody had done a real number on her. Well he had time.
The sigh came from deep within. Right now all he had was time.

* * * * *

“Rehab, huh?”

Tonya struggled to keep from rolling her eyes
as she repeated the same story. Again. “That’s right, Scooter, I
got hooked on painkillers from my surgery.” And if Nate weren’t
already dead she’d kill him for having to discuss her freaking
uterus with this bozo.

“And you decided to take off and go to
rehab,” Scooter said.

She walked back over to her desk and took a
seat, suddenly needing the barrier between her and the law officer.
Scooter remained standing, leaning against the bookcase just a
little to the right of the door. She’d always enjoyed her office,
which was decorated in the bright jewel tones she favored, but at
the moment it was much too close and confining. Despite being a
running joke in the community for winning a job nobody else wanted,
Scooter was the sheriff and she was lying to him. Wasn’t that a
crime? Considering all that had already happened it wouldn’t
surprise her at all to wind up doing time for this little
escapade.

“That’s right. Things just got a little crazy
and I thought I’d better deal with it immediately,” she said.

“Hmmm. Right in the middle of your book
dealie.”

“Yes.” She just managed not to suck her
teeth. Years of dealing with her mama had taught her better.

“Without telling your mama,” he said walking
toward her desk. He paused a foot or two away and leaned a
well-padded hip against the credenza.

She couldn’t quite utter such a bald-faced
lie so she nodded instead.

“You and Callie started hanging out with
those L.A. rockers and this was bound to happen.” He shook his
head, a mournful gesture which seemed to indicate that she and
Callie were involved in something akin to interstate baby
smuggling.

Tonya caught herself before she sighed with
relief. He was buying the story.

“Okay, well, I guess I’ve taken up enough of
your time,” he said as he heaved his bulk away from the credenza
and came closer to her desk. “I’ll get the report out to those boys
in New York City.”

Tonya smiled and nodded, not trusting herself
to speak. Then he stopped.

“Oh, by the way, Tonya, I don’t believe for
one minute that you’ve ever come close to being addicted to
anything other than licorice Jelly Bellys. But we’ll keep that
under our hats, hmmm?” He grabbed a fistful of the treats from the
crystal bowl on her desk and popped a few into his mouth.

Tonya automatically reached out to smack his
hand away from her bowl. Fortunately she checked the movement and
simply grabbed a few which she’d never eat since he’d contaminated
them. Everyone in her office knew better than touch her jellybeans.
She was so caught up in the etiquette breach that she failed to
respond to his last comment before he turned and walked out her
office. Then she laughed. Old Scooter did have a functioning
frontal lobe after all. She couldn’t wait to tell Callie. She
sighed with relief, mollified that the people who knew her did know
she’d never do such a thing. Score one for the fishbowl.

* * * * *

Later that day Tonya sat on the edge of her
bed with a tattered old shoebox on her lap. Scores of letters,
notes mostly, written so long ago the ink had started to fade, were
stored inside. She hadn’t opened them in a long time, but she had
never been able to throw them away. And now she was glad that she
hadn’t. They were the only thing she’d ever have of Nate. Back in
college most of their classes were far apart and in that age before
cell phones were common they would pass notes through Callie who
had several classes with Nate. Some were short, just a few lines,
but one went on for pages filled with his love for her. She went
over it line by line, though she’d memorized it long ago. In the
years after he left she had convinced herself that she’d gotten
over him, now she realized that all she’d really done was push
those feelings deep inside, where they had hibernated like poppy
seeds in an undisturbed field. She couldn’t have continued to
function without the stratagem; her agony had been too
overwhelming. His return had simply brought new life to a love that
had never died. But then she’d at least known Nate was still alive,
even if she thought he didn’t want to be with her. Now she knew
he’d never stopped loving her, but he was gone forever.

She closed her eyes as another wave of grief
struck her, soaking down into the depths of her soul. Crossing her
arms around her torso, she rocked back and forth, caught in a
riptide of despair. For a while she’d had some renewed hope. Her
period was late; it was due shortly after her return, and she’d
hoped that against all odds their final night of reckless passion
had left her with his child. However, it was not to be. Her cycle
had started that morning the accompanying misery only adding to her
anguish. Her heart ached so badly she moaned aloud as she swayed
trying to bring an end to the agony, but she couldn’t push this
aside as she’d done before and she eventually collapsed on the bed.
Lying there curled up on her side she repeated the lines of his
letter over and over, until she fell into a fitful slumber.

* * * * *

Tonya came awake with a feeling of déjà vu.
Someone was in her room. Panic set in. The Rooster had come for her
after all. She almost welcomed the intrusion. The bastard had
killed Nate and she’d be damned if she’d go down without a fight.
God willing she’d take him with her. She lay still trying to
collect her thoughts to strategize. They didn’t know she was awake
so she might be able to catch them off guard and get away.
Springing from the bed headfirst she caught the man who was leaning
over her under the chin with her head. He cried out in pain as she
brought her knee up to catch him in the groin before he could
recover from the chin blow. She missed, but the knee to the thigh
was pretty effective as he yelled again. She was reaching for the
heavy water glass she kept on her bedside table when his words
finally penetrated the fog of rage she’d been fighting under.