Page 13 of Bryce

“Can we talk?”

“No.” Sheshook her head and deliberately glanced at her watch. “I haveto be up at dawn tomorrow to get things started. We have a couplecoming in. Please close the door on your way out.”

“Zahra…”

“Bryce,please.”

Hesitating a bit, hestared at her as if trying to read her thoughts and then with animpatient lift of one broad shoulder, he stepped back and closed thedoor with a snap.

Rushing forward, shesecured the lock and leaned against it, her heart thundering.

*****

He was the one pacingthe length of his bedroom. Zahra Woods. The memories came crashingback with the force of a bloody sledgehammer.

The year had beentumultuous, sixteen turning seventeen, those awkward years when hisparents had yanked him from his school and shoved him into publiceducation to give him a dose of reality and to pretty up their image.

It had been painfulfor him, bloody impossible and the first thought had been to pack abag, take some money from his account and just run and never lookback.

He would have gonethrough it – maybe. But to his shock, he discovered that therehad been less than two hundred dollars there. When he asked themabout the pitiful amount, they had loftily told him that he wouldhave to earn it.

“How else areyou going to appreciate what you have?”

So, he had had tosuck it up and stay. And it had been worse than he anticipated. Theentire population knew who he was and half of them treated him likesomeone to kneel down to and the other half with contempt.

With the exception ofZahra. She had also been a misfit, and they had found each other onebalmy afternoon when he had stumbled outside and found solace under agiant oak tree. She had come out shortly after and simply ignored himwhile she read her book.

He had struck up aconversation that had been mostly one-sided, but eventually, they hadbonded, and he learned that she was from a dysfunctional home aswell.

He had seen theunhappiness in her eyes and the way she tried to get away from thehurt and pain, by sniping at anyone who tried to get close. He hadbeen the exception and within weeks, they had become friends. But ithad been more than that.

They had been eachother’s sounding board. A respite from the storm that facedthem every goddamn day. Her mother was selfish and self-absorbed.When she learned that her daughter was friends with the son of BlaineWhitlock, she had tried to cash in on that, using her daughterruthlessly to try and get an audience.

He recalled thehumiliation and pain on Zahra’s face when the woman keptpushing. He had approached his father in desperation, just to getthat look off her face. And the old man had laughed in derision.

He recalled the wordshe had spoken. “I know who she is, and her talent is limited atbest. She should stick to soap operas.”

He had told Zahrawhat was said and never went back to her home again. And that hadmanaged to make things even worse for her. Zahra had accepted andunderstood, but her mother never let her forget and blamed the entirething on her daughter.

Plopping down on asuede tan sofa opposite the bed, he clasped his hands between histhighs and stared at the fire broodingly. He had ended up hurtingher. He knew she remembered. Christ!

They had not pledgedundying love or anything like that, but they had been close and hadbeen each other’s first. And he had to confess to not thinkingabout her but fleetingly when he left. He had not told her he wasleaving either.

And he was here ather place. He could leave. The thought occurred to him while he wasdownstairs. But bloody hell! The place was perfect, and he needed thepeace and quiet. He would try and get her to talk to him, try andmake amends, explain why he left without a word to her and try andget them on an even footing.

Try and seek herforgiveness. He was planning to be here for close to four weeks anddid not need any extra tension.

He would get her tosit down and listen to him. he had been desperate to leave, to besomewhere else and he wasn’t thinking. Shoving up, he startedpacing again. Yes, he would force her to listen to him.

*****

She could not sleepand damned him for doing this to her. She was settled – hadbeen settled and contented and yes, happy. Now she was unsettled and– No - she shook her head. She was not going there. He was herpast.

A small slice of itand he was going to stay there. It was stupid to go back. He was ahotshot movie star, not the small screen, but the big one. He was outof her league, not that she was interested. She would be crazy to goin that direction.

Turning her head, shestared out at the moonlight slithering through the green curtains. Itwas still dark out and it would be for the next two hours. She shouldget up. There were things to be done.

She had bought somefish for supper and was thinking of making a fish chowder and bakingsome pies. She had a couple coming in and even though the rooms hadbeen scrubbed clean, she always liked to go in and give the place aonce over.

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