Chapter 13 Ace
Ace
After my surreal encounter at the Charlette, I almost head to Dottie’s before remembering my busted up face. There’s no way I can get by without an inquisition from Gigi and Dottie herself, so I choose to go home early tonight, instead.
My backpack is thrown over one shoulder as my feet scrape against the gravel, taking me to my humble little apartment. When I see my dingy building, a wave of relief rolls through me.
Sliding between a cut in the chain-link fence, I enter the parking lot and keep my head down but my eyes up.
Eddie, one of the sweetest old men you’ve ever met, is curled up into a ball near a set of trash cans, and I decide to go say hi.
“Hey, Eddie,” I greet him. Checking my pockets, I find a crumpled-up ten-dollar bill and hand it to him.
His toothless grin makes my heart ache. “Thanks, Ace. You know you don’t have ta do that.”
With a shake of my head, I argue, “Yes, I do. You keep my place safe, remember?”
A light blush peeks through his weathered skin at my compliment, but it isn’t a lie. In a roundabout way, he does keep an eye on my apartment in case anything fishy goes on while I’m away. I couldn’t be more grateful for an extra set of eyes.
“Don’t mention it, Ace. You know I’m happy ta help.” Tilting his head to the side, he covers his mouth in shock when he looks up at me. “What happened ta your face?”
I lift my hand to touch the sensitive bruise. “Ran into a door.” The lame joke slips past my lips, followed by a dry laugh and the memory of Jack’s concern. “I’m okay. Promise.”
“Ya sure?”
“Positive. Goodnight, Eddie. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“’Night, sweet girl. I’ll keep an eye on the place. Won’t let no more monsters get to ya, I swear!”
With a soft smile, I reach down and grab his frail fingers with my own before squeezing them softly. “I know you won’t, Eddie. See ya!”
The rest of my night is spent in my rundown little one-bedroom apartment near the railroad tracks.
After I stuff a granola bar into my mouth, I jump into the shower and let the hot water run over my skin.
Memories of my first meeting with Kingston run through my mind as fresh questions surface.
Am I in trouble? Did I make a deal with the devil by helping him?
Who is Kingston, anyway? The power emanating from him was potent––with a side of danger with a capital D.
But I didn’t feel threatened. He was right when he voiced the fact that I wasn’t really scared of him. I just can’t figure out why.
Rinsing the shampoo from my hair, I let my unexplained questions swirl down the drain with the shampoo suds, coming to the conclusion that I won’t receive the answers I’m looking for by spending any more time in the shower, no matter how much I dissect my night.
After drying myself off, I put on my sleep shorts and a tank top then slide under my covers. The comforting hum of the steam engines nearly lulls me to sleep when I hear a muffled noise coming from the kitchen.
What was that?
My eyes snap open, but I don’t move a muscle.
Did I imagine that?
I lie in wait, my ears straining to hear anything other than the damn trains that I found so comforting from only a minute ago. Now, they’re potentially covering up sounds of an intruder in my house.
Shit. Someone might be in my house.
Breathing out a stilted breath as slowly as I possibly can, I roll to my side and face the door leading to the hallway. It’s empty.
See? You’re probably imagining things.
But I still need to check out the family room to be sure.
At a snail’s pace, I sit up in my bed and gently press my feet to the cool hardwood floors before standing to my full height.
Shakily, I breathe in through my nose before releasing the air out through my mouth, attempting to hear anything out of the ordinary.
I’m greeted with an eerie silence that puts my senses on high alert.
Again, my rules scream at me. Rule #3: If something feels fishy, it probably is.
Trust your instincts. And right now, my instincts are flashing like a damn strobe light, causing a soft buzz in the back of my mind.
With a slow squat, I reach for the baseball bat tucked under my bed.
Keeping my eyes on the open door leading to the hall, I search for the makeshift weapon while trying to keep myself from having a full-blown panic attack.
When I feel the comforting wooden handle under my sweaty palms, I breathe a sigh of relief.
It’s okay. You’re not a defenseless woman living alone in a bad neighborhood. You have a bat and…and that’s about it. I’m practically a sitting duck, for shit’s sake. But I will not go out without a fight.
As quietly as I can, I take a step toward the hallway, trying to convince myself it’s all in my head, and nothing is wrong.
One step after another, I creep past my door and into the hallway with nothing but a baseball bat for protection.
Lifting the thick piece of wood into the air, my eyes slowly adjust to the dark, only to see a shadow sitting on my second-hand couch tucked away in the corner of the family room.
I’m frozen in place from absolute terror as I blink rapidly a few more times to dispel the dark cloud in my living room. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work.
“You gonna hit me with that bat?” a vaguely familiar voice rumbles throughout my tiny apartment.
I know that voice.
The sound shocks me to my core, making the item in question slip through my fingers. After a loud thud, the bat rolls a few inches away and leaves me defenseless.
“Apparently, not. No offense, sweetheart, but I think we need to work on your self-defense.” I dive for the light switch in the hallway and flip it before snapping my neck toward the culprit.
My jaw hits the floor when I see the intruder.
With one hand thrown haphazardly across the back of the couch and one foot on his knee, a very pristine Kingston gives me a cocky grin and says, “Fancy seeing you again.”