Leo drifted to the ceiling and mimed bowing a stringed instrument. Oh, break out the violins. I think I need a tissue.
"Dad implied I ignore women altogether in order to concentrate on the sport. Actually, I want it all the career and a special relationship—but I'm an athlete, and meeting nice, normal women is tough."
He leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees. "Yeah, sure, I guess you're right. Someday when I least expect it…"
Another long pause. "Hey, someday I'll have to do something else, but for now, I'm okay. If I have to, I can always sell the apartment building."
Leo's ears pricked up at that. Why would he have to dump the apartment building? He could probably sell the rights to his life story for a million bucks. I, on the other hand, worked my tail off as a real writer and struggled to pay the rent— but I'm not bitter or anything. Snort.
"I know, Ma. Thanks for listening. Have fun at bingo." Charlie smiled.
"I love you, too." He hung up and went straight to his exercise room.
Leo floated after him. I do hope he won't sell the building. I don't think I can stand any more changes. His aunt might ruin it for him, though. Even though her nephew is giving her husband a job and she should be grateful for that, she makes a habit of poking her nose into everyone's business.
Charlie squatted on the rubber floor and pumped out some furious push-ups. Leo hovered directly above him, pumping up and down with Charlie's push-ups. This was fun—kind of like a workout but with no effort.
In a way I do feel sorry for Charlie … I get the feeling he's not used to his aunt's ways, and he is worried about her itchy trigger finger. Not that she's going to shoot anybody—I don't think so, anyway.
She's trigger happy on the telephone and has threatened to phone the police for everything from a little noisy sex to a homeless person walking by. I hate to think what having cops at the building would do to Charlie Baker.
For one thing, it would put him in the newspaper and expose his whereabouts—his safe haven.
Good-bye peace and quiet.
Hello, rabid fans. Leo chuckled sadly and drifted out the window.
On Shirley's drive home from work the following night, she cursed her rotten luck. The real motivation behind her move to the big city was to meet cute guys and date maybe even have sex.
In a bed! Something she had to go without for the most part while living under her father's roof and ever-watchful eye. Backseat sex just didn't cut it anymore.
Yesterday, the most incredible guy asked me out… and I had to work. Crap. Crap. Crap! It had been a crappy shift, too. They were already understated and the assistant head nurse called in sick. Thanks a pantload. That meant Shirley had to give out the meds for the whole floor and that would make any new nurse neurotic.
She hadn't even met the whole staff yet. What if she made a mistake? She needed this job to pay her rent. She needed to pay her rent to keep her apartment. She needed to live in her own apartment to have a life!
Hopefully, a cute intern or two would show up before she made a med error and was tossed out on her keester. Even a tiny taste of independence excited her as nothing else had in the last… how many years? Maybe since her training wheels had been removed.
Just thinking about her quest ending in failure and retreating home to New Hampshire upset her enough to bring on an asthma attack. The motivation to leave wasn't all about dating.
She needed a fresh start. She had been "that weird Ericson girl" ever since she was little. For some reason, she could smell blood blocks away. It's why she became a nurse in the first place.
It seemed only natural that she should take first aid courses. Shirley's thoughts kept her thoroughly preoccupied as she parked her aging Volkswagen in the alley behind her building. Apparently, none of the long-term residents owned a car, so she secured free assigned parking space.
Hooray! Strolling away from her car with competing thoughts swirling through her brain, she fumbled in the dark for her back-door key. Suddenly, her feet went out from under her and she found herself hurled to the ground and pinned by
some foul-smelling brute.
A moment later she realized she had hit hard pavement with her head. Unable to find her voice right away, or even process what had happened, she lay there, dumbstruck. The moon reflected a glint of metal nearing her face.
"Shhh… Don't scream and I won't hurt you—much." Maniacal laughter followed.
A hand fumbled with the buttons on her coat. Oh my God. What is it they tell you to do in case of rape? Oh, yeah, scream! Shirley inhaled deeply and let out a blood-curdling scream. She did not even recognize the voice as hers. Suddenly her throat tightened and she recognized another threat—her asthma.
She remembered being told to fight but not struggle. They liked it when a woman struggled. Gouge out his eyes! Punch his nose up into his brains. Fight as if your life depends on it.
As she tried and failed to get near the bastard's face, her assailant grabbed her wrists in one hand and pressed the sharp knife to her neck with the other.
He sizzled, "Shut up! I told you to shut up!"
She pushed his arm away from her and freed one hand. Grabbing anything else she could get a hold of, she tried to yank him off of her. His jeans must have hung low on his hips because she grabbed onto the waistband of his underwear.
Raaappe! The perp yelped.
His eyes flashed in horror and she realized she had just given him a world-class wedgie. Dear God, I'm going to die. I'm going to be raped and killed in a back alley on my first night as an independent adult. I'm never going to fall in love, get married, hug my children, or live in a mansion.
The knife pressed into her flesh, and the warm trickle down her neck meant he had pierced the skin. Should she scream again? Would he just kill her and leave her rather than rape her? Or would he, Ewww, kill her first, then rape her? Oh, my freakin' God!
As she contemplated what would be the lesser of all possible evils, the man flew off her and landed a few feet away. At first, she didn't see anyone else. When she blinked, two shadowy figures stood over the gasping pervert. One of them clamped his boot on the rapist's neck and pointed a gun at his face.
The other one hurried over to Shirley and helped her up. "Thank you. Both of you. You saved my life!"