18. Crickets #5
This leaves me with no choice but to wander aimlessly, looking for a dark corner I can disappear into.
The reading nook that had been next to the fitness center when I was younger has since been renovated and added to the spa facilities, and the cigar lounge is filling up with guys fresh off the golf course.
Moseying around the turn into the next corridor, I freeze at the sight of Jase and Patrick emerging from one of the parlors.
Jase is grinning like the Cheshire Cat, but Patrick looks…
Well, I’m not entirely sure.
If he were a normal person, I’d think he just saw a dead body, his tanned complexion now pallid, almost gray. Jase pats him on the shoulder and pulls him into a sideways hug, whispering something that has Patrick’s eyes narrowing.
Before either can spot me, I bolt through the nearest door…
…which takes me outside.
I don’t care. I need space.
Lots of it.
And you don’t get much roomier than outside.
I couldn’t care less about the humidity right now, but walking through a garden now swarming with bees (that I happen to be highly allergic to)?
Yeah, not my smartest move. I try not to bring too much attention to myself, but my perfume, though subtle, seems to be attracting them, forcing me into a high-heeled attempt at a run.
Only once I reach the café on the other side of the garden do I slow down, relieved to find no one on the patio.
The sun is about an hour and a half from setting, so with it shining directly on the site, it’s undoubtedly hot.
But more importantly, it’s quiet. I go to the far side and lean on the stone railing, where a tree provides just about the only shade I can find.
The view overlooks part of the golf course to my left and the river to my right. The railing I’m on is the same one that runs along the entire facade of the building, but despite both overlooking the river, I can’t see the section where Jase pulled me back to safety last week.
I can still see the falls in the distance, and the memory is enough to turn my stomach.
Just drown it all out.
Going over to the nearest chair, I plop down on it and shut my eyes. The constant buzz of cicadas and the distant rushing waters of the river play as my soundtrack, lulling me into something vaguely resembling calm—
—until an all too familiar voice cuts in.
Jesus H Christ!
Did Jase seriously follow me out here?
Anger quickly obliterates any other emotion, and I’m about to storm off when I realize he isn’t talking to me .
Given how far I’m slumped in my seat, I don’t even think he sees my body. I peer over the back of my chair, and sure enough, he has his phone pressed to his ear as he paces the width of the patio, not looking anywhere in my direction.
I lift my legs up to rest them on another seat so I can hide them from view as well and slump back down. He’ll finish his call in a few minutes, and when he is, he’ll go back inside, and I’ll have my peace and quiet.
Unfortunately, that still leaves me privy to his conversation. Or at least his side of it.
“I obviously need it before the exchange. He can’t fulfill his end of the bargain without it,” says Jase.
Pause.
“Trust me, he got the message. Loud and clear. He won’t be a problem.”
Another pause.
“How about tomorrow night at Murdock’s?”
“It’ll cost extra, given the short notice,” I hear another voice say faintly. The tinny quality makes it clear it’s coming from the other end of the call, meaning only one thing.
Jase is coming closer and closer to me.
Shit.
“I’m good for it, as long as I get what I need,” he assures. “There’s no knowing when the next party will be held, so I need to make sure I have it on hand.”
For the love of all that is sacred, just go away, Jase!
I silently chant this like a mantra, like a prayer, hoping against hope that some divine intervention will force his legs to head back inside when he ends the conversation.
No such luck.
Eventually, Jase comes strolling into view, ruffling a hand through his hair until it’s properly disheveled. He sighs, or at least begins to, but he freezes the second his eyes land on me.
Yeah, I don’t apologize or even bother to explain myself. It’s obvious who was here first. If anything, he should be the one leaving.
But he isn’t. Nope, apparently, the jackass is allergic to taking a hint, because Jase leans against the railing in front of me, looking like he might say something as he slides his cell back into his pocket.
I’m not in the mood.
Rolling my eyes, I stand up and turn to go, only for him to call out, “You don’t have to leave.”
“Trust me, I want to.”
I make it about ten feet when he asks, “Is she always like that?”
The last thing I want to do is give him a chance at starting a dialogue, so I don’t take the bait and inquire who he’s referring to, but I at least look back at him.
He smiles, though it’s humorless at best. “Your stepmom used to be much more subtle around other people.”
And now I’m pretty sure my expression matches his. “Yeah, well, I’ve limited my social interactions for years around here, and I’ve been gone for the last nine months, so she’s apparently out of practice. Not that anyone notices.”
Jase lifts the hand not in his hair, revealing two frosted bottles of beer. He uses something on his keychain to pop the tops and extends one to me.
I can’t help but pause at the thought, knowing that the opportunity to get my hands on any alcohol around here tonight is low at best.
“You know you want it.”
“Yeah, but the company…not so much.”
“Come on, we’re both out here for a reason. If either of us stayed in there any longer listening to everyone’s clucking, the police would be marking the club up in crime scene tape by now.”
I want to kick myself for the slight smile that pulls at my lips. “True.”
“I know you think I’m the spawn of Satan or whatever, but let’s face it, there’s far worse company inside.”
The pitch is hardly enticing, but between the humidity and my desperate need for some liquid courage, I drag my feet back over to him and take the bottle he offers. “Thanks.”
The cool amber drink feels like heaven going down my throat, and the taste turns sour as Jase gestures back to the waterfall upstream. “It really is a sight, isn’t it?”
“It was always my favorite place to go.” My smile isn’t just humorless. It turns brittle, and he doesn’t miss it.
He lowers the bottle from his lips, the statement lingering in the air. “ Was? ”
I take another drink, gulping down just a little too much, a little too fast. “I haven’t been to the Falls in years.”
I can feel his eyes on me, challenging, but I can’t bring myself to meet that stare.
“It ended up having a bit of a negative connotation. Couldn’t bring myself to go back.”
A solid minute passes without either of us saying anything. Only when I finally force myself to look over at Jase does he dare ask, “When was the last time you went?”
“The last time we were supposed to meet.”
He goes so utterly still that I’m not even sure if he’s breathing.
Yep, that’s right, asshole. I was there, and I saw everything.
You’re every bit worthy of my hatred, and now you know it.
The laugh that slithers its way from my throat is low and cruel. “I suspect you had a far better time than I did.”
I don’t care that my drink is still half-filled. I set the glass bottle on the stone banister, the harsh clatter serving as my mic-drop as I turn back for the café doors.