Page 60 of Call Out
“I’ll be home after midnight,” he confirms. “Turn the alarm on for the downstairs zone before you go to bed.”
“I’ll wear my new stockings.”
“You’ve got new ones?”
“I wouldn't have to replenish my stock if you didn’t rip them off me all the time.” I cluck my tongue playfully, shivering at the thought of firm hands and fiery eyes.
“Buy as many as you like, I ain’t complaining,” he says with a throaty chuckle. “Nothing beats your soft skin, but those damn stockings are something else.”
“Hm. Okay. Utterly naked or nylons. It will be a surprise,” I tease, dunking the paintbrush into a jar of white spirits. “And you can pretend to resuscitate me, kissing me back to life wearing that sexy tight black shirt of yours.”
Danny’s laugh tingles over my scalp. “I’ll change into a clean shirt before I climb the stairs.”
“You sure know how to turn a girl on.” The doorbell rings. “Right, I have to go. I ordered a meat feast pizza.” I giggle wickedly.
“You better be talking about pizza here, and not the delivery guy,” he jokes. “I’ll be home soon.”
“Goodnight,” I sing, kissing the receiver. “I’ll save you a few slices.”
A siren cries behind his reply. “Later, baby.”
I toss the phone onto Nonna’s chair. The color catches my eye. Why didn't I think of it before? I’ll transform this room as an ode to her favorite piece of furniture. Deep mustards, golden tones and royal blue. That way it will have pride of place in our home and fit into my new life with a respectful nod to my guardian.
Before unlocking the door, I flick on the porch light. I hadn’t realized the bulb had blown until Danny replaced it. Home maintenance is the last thing on my mind. Tending to the garden, changing the bedsheets and making cups of tea is enough activity for one woman after a long day at work, especially when it’s the late shift.
I snatch my purse from the console table and jerk open the door. My heart levitates. A circular barrel of steel jabs my breast.
“Back up, or I’ll blow a hole in your thieving heart.” Zoe’s southern twang strains. The revolver bites into my skin. I freeze. “Are you really that fucking dumb? I said back up.” She swipes her nostrils with the cuff of her sleeve and sniffs.
“Zoe, what are you doing here?” My steps are rushed, spurred on by a dark glare burning up with hatred. It’s only when my ass slams into the couch, that she moves the threat away from me.
A halo of icy blue surrounds dilated pupils, so enlarged they look bottomless. Blonde messy lengths hang out from under a grey track hood, and the hand gripping the gun trembles. She dances back to the door, kicking it shut. I scramble for the glass paperweight, the closest weapon to hand.
“I’ve got this.” She raises the gun and sneers. “You’ve gotthat. Don’t think that piece of cheap shit will trump this.” With a movement of steel, she motions for me to drop it. “Make some tea. We’ll chat over tea. You like that weird shit, don’t you? He likes it too.” Wide eyes dart around, taking in the decor. “He lives here.” Words drip in part sentences, rushed and unsure. The gun waves aimlessly from floor to bookcase to my face. “They want me to stay in another facility, away from the only things that keep my life from falling apart.”
“Who does?” I ask softly, shuffling alongside the navy armrest.
“I can’t believe he likes it here.” She drags the hood back with the same hand that clasps the weapon. “The walls are fucking trippy.”
It’s a risky move, but I tip sideways like a teapot with one arm lowered, ready to grab my phone. When my eyes cut to the fabric, it all goes wrong. My head suddenly whips to the side. Pain splinters in shards of light and dark. The rattle of teeth vibrates in my brain. My knees give way and instead of falling forward, I crumple to the ground like an accordion.
“I’ll make the fucking tea,” she hisses into the side of my face, with a breath like rocket fuel and venom spitting against my cheek. “To wash this down.” Fingers burrow into my cheeks. Instinct locks my jaw. A hand skates to my nose and covers over my mouth. I thrash and scrape, begging for air. I kick and squirm, doing my utmost to escape.
I can’t breathe!
Muffled screams burn my throat. Just when I fear my lungs are ready to implode, her hand lifts away. I instantly widen my mouth to inhale deeply and urgently. The moment my jaw unlocks, grainy particles tip onto my tongue.
The ache in my head throbs with an intensity so damn painful that I’m second guessing whether I’m still alive.
“Hope you like it.”
“Noooo,” I murmur, trying to push up from the floor. The powder coats my mouth, absorbing into my bloodstream faster than pills. I spit and retch, but the bitter crystalline residue is already within me.
“It’ll be okay.” Zoe pats my back with a snide afterthought. “Have I told you I don’t like you?” she adds.
“I don’t like you, either.” I bare my teeth, mustering energy from the pit of my burning belly.
Righting myself to sitting, I pat the swollen area at the side of my head. Crimson stains my fingertips and a cold chill sprinkles my skin. After countless lessons of dangerous men, it’s a woman who wants to hurt me.
