Page 16 of The Twelve Days of Christian
My brain frantically searches for an explanation. “I forgot something. Had to come back.” I tap the laptop bag slung over my shoulder.
“Didn’t know cleaning had got so hi tech.”
“I’m a student. Doing cleaning to pay my way,” I say, sliding the bag so it’s now clutched against my chest, armscrossed protectively around it. I wouldn’t put it past him to make a lunge for it. “Left my laptop behind yesterday.”
I don’t know why I’m still standing here, answering his questions, and spinning him a story. I guess it’s the authority in his voice. He not only dresses like an old time copper, he talks like one. I’m hoping, even if he’s not a cop, if I offer him a legitimate-sounding story, he’ll leave me alone. His disbelieving shrug, as he turns his back on me and strolls off towards the river, sends a surge of annoyance.
“Not that it’s any of your business,” I call after him, but if he heard it, he ignores me.
Trying to look more confident than I feel, I head in the opposite direction along the embankment. I want to look back to see if he’s following, but I don’t. Worried he might be, I take a convoluted path back to the tube station. This guy is looking for Christian and there’s no way I’m letting him use me to find him.
I deliberately let the most direct train home pull away from the platform without me. Instead, I catch another, and another, jumping across different train lines, always keeping a discreet eye on my fellow passengers. However, I don’t see the man again. I think I’m safe. It’s surprising how sneaking around like this comes so naturally. Maybe I could have an alternative career at MI5.
I hear it the moment I walk through the door of my house. There’s yelling and the dogs are yelping excitedly at the door to Christian’s room. They race towards me, barking, and sliding to a halt with a clatter of claws on the wooden floor. But before I’ve had a chance to greet them, they’re off again. They sit at the closed bedroom door like they’ve trapped one of those pesky squirrels in the tree out back, tails thumping and letting out little yips.
What the hell is going on? Is Christian playing some game with them? Then there’s a bellow from behind the door that tells me this is no game.
“Get. The. Fuck. Off. Me.” There’s a thump and an audible ‘oof’. “Fuck! That hurts. For chrissakes,” he yells, “you don’t have to do that. Don’t you know who I am?”
Chapter 9
Day Three
I am pinned tothe bedroom floor, my cheek pressed flat against the hard surface, unable to raise my head, because a small hand is exerting incredible pressure on it. One of my arms is bent painfully up my back.
And a tiny woman, even more slight than Haley, is sitting on top of me. Growling. That’s the only word for the guttural noise coming from her throat. It’s audible even above the yelping dogs who are going nuts out in the hallway.
The door flies open and the dogs spill in, leaping over me in delight as if this woman has laid me out on the floor purely for their entertainment. Out of one eye, I look up to see Haley standing there, handson hips.
“Sam,” she barks, wide eyes fixed on the crazy woman. “It’s OK. I know him. He’s staying here.”
The woman’s grip on my arm loosens a little and I groan at the release of the pain.
“Really?” she says. “You didn’t say?”
“No,” Haley sighs. “I didn’t. Look, it’s a long story, but—”
“But it’s one that can wait till this mad cow gets off me,” I say.
The cow in question shoves my arm upwards again, and I wince.
“Sam.” Haley’s patient voice is like a mother trying to calm a toddler tantrum. It’s easy for her to be patient; she’s not the one who’s being assaulted. “This is Christian. You know,Christian Steele. From the band.” I hear a small huff of annoyance from above as Haley pleads with this wild creature who’s hurting me to do as she asks. “Please, let him up and I will explain.”
The woman mutters to herself, as if reluctant to free me, but does as requested. She releases my arm and clambers to her feet. Even though she’s small, it’s a relief to get her weight off my back. I crane my head upwards and glare at her. She meets my eyes with an unapologetic glower.
I roll over and sit up, drawing my knees towards my chest and resting my forehead between them for a bit. I’m still dazed from when my head whacked the floor as I went down. Not to mention the shock of being wrestled to the ground by some five-foot-nothing girl in navy scrubs. There’s a damn big dent to my ego bigger than the one in my head.
“Sam,” Haley says, in that same smooth tone, “how about you go make some coffee? And maybe take the dogs?”
Tully and Mularkey are still dancing around us, the only ones enjoying this damn situation.
“Come on girls,” Sam calls and they follow her out the door. Haley closes it behind them. Now it’s safe, I rise to my feet and stagger to the bed.
“What the fuck, Haley? Whoisthat?”
“Shh, Christian,” she hushes. “Look, it’s a long story.”
“OK, I’m listening,” I grumble.
