Chapter 21: Eavesdroppers and Packrats
Dedicated to LawdyMissScarlett and Ondine. Hope it's not too choppy or messy.
Previously on AGW: Ashley dumps Scarlett (1); Rhett tells Scarlett—almost—everything (21)
Question: Who's afraid of the big, bad wolf? Answer: Not a single teenager I know.
"What just happened? Seriously. What just happened?" Scarlett screamed into her hands.
She dragged her fingers down her face and stared at them. Great. They were black with mascara. Now everyone would know she'd been bawling. The thought of Stu or Brent—or worse Suellen or Melanie—finding out that Ashley had just dumped her cranked her hurt into rage. Pure rage.
No one ended it with her. No one went back to their old girlfriend after her. No one broke her heart. No one.
The trophies of the Wilkes' champion dog glinted at her in their case. Gold caps in some overhyped rapper's mouth. She growled, the sound exploding from her gut, and ripped open the latch. She threw her hands across the shelves, sweeping them off in kettle drum crashes. Bang. Bang. Bang. She reached the end. The one Ashley had knocked off and put back in its prominent place, above the cabinet, stared down at her. Ashley. Who did he think he was? No one messed around with her and got away with it.
She snatched the prized Best In Show cup off its pedestal, and whipping around like a shot-putter, hurled it across the room. It wobbled helter-skelter through the air, barely edging over the top of the back of the huge sofa, and smashed into the marble fireplace. Bits of stone burst into dust. A crack appeared in the expensive decoration.
Scarlett panted, a wicked smirk on her lips. Her muscles were starting to relax and her breath to cool when from the depths of the sofa she heard a voice. It was a thick drawl, the kind that was fading from the South, the kind that slickered over the ears and dropped warm liquid into the veins. It was lead to her.
"I hope that was the last one."
A man stood up. His hair was black. His face was tan and his teeth were white. Those were the only things she would be able to remember later on. Humiliation gooped down on her. It was in her eyes, her ears and her head. It would forever brownout this memory.
The man's smile grew as he loped around the couch and approached her. She gaped at him as her brain sputtered and shorted.
"I'd hate to need stitches before I saw any real action."
The way his Bill Compton voice oozed over the word action sounded dirty, secretive. It blipped into her dumbstruck, crashing mind. Her senses rebooted and so did her anger, and her mouth.
"What are you? Some kind of pervert spy who gets his rocks off eavesdropping on teenagers?"
Scarlett folded her arms across her chest and pouted her best pretty-ugly glower. To her shock—and annoyance—the guy just laughed. And hard. She darted her eyes away to the pile of trophies at her feet, growing more and more uncomfortable as he chortled.
Who was he? She'd never seen him around the Wilkes' place before, but Mr. Wilkes always had big, lavish 'barbecues' with unfamiliar faces. She never paid much attention to those outside her group of friends and neighbors. And of course she'd only had an eye for one person tonight—but she wouldn't think about him. She hated herself for not hating him. Tears threatened to prickle again in the corner of her eyes, depression to trickle in through the fury.
She glanced up at Chuckles the Clown. He'd stopped laughing. He was watching her. She wriggled. Something about this guy made her want to do one of two things: run to her daddy (Please, please let Gerald be too drunk to notice how long she'd been gone from the poolside) or run at him and comb her hands through his hair. His clothes were designer and he was good looking, maybe he did Just For Men shampoo commercials. She flushed at her hormonal, ADHD thoughts.
The guy casually leaned against the empty trophy case and grinned, like he had freaking read her mind.
"I'd be lying if I said I was sorry I was forced to listen to your discussion with your, er, friend," he said. "It's been years since I indulged my secret obsession with telenovelas."
"I'm glad I could amuse you," she flared. "Maybe I could have used my Spanish if you'd given me some warning. I failed the class but I think I remember one word at least. Cha—"
"Creo que recuerdo màs, mi linda," he interrupted.
"Makes you feel special, does it? Showing off to some girl half your age?"
"Showing off? I would prefer to think of it as backing off."
His face fell into smooth lines, Scarlett's into confused ones. WTF. Who was this guy? Did he always talk in riddles? He might as well have been speaking Spanish—she probably would have understood him better.
"Look," she spread her hands up, "I don't know who you are or why you were hiding out in Mr. Wilkes' library, and honestly I don't really want to know why a grown man's hanging out in here, alone and in the dark. But what I do want to know is if you can keep your mouth shut, because the last thing I need tonight is for one more thing to go all schizo on me."
"Schizo?"
"Schizo. As in postal. As in…"
Her voice faltered but she wasn't going to cry again. It was bad enough knowing this guy had already heard her total breakdown. She wouldn't let him actually see her fall apart. She lifted her chin. Her eyes stilled into deep green pools.
"It's been a long night, okay? I'd just appreciate it if you forgot everything…sir."
She added that last bit a little late. Mammy was always pounding into her how flippant she was with adults. Maybe he'd appreciate the courtesy. She could tell her attempt at politeness had caused some effect on him. He'd made a face. Not really good or bad, but different.
His black eyes flicked up and down her. Her insides squirmed. He definitely wasn't disapproving of her way too skimpy sun dress—the white-eyelet number that she'd worn to rattle Ashley's cage was just see-through enough to show off her forest green bikini underneath. In fact, Mr. Creeper seemed way, way too approving of her outfit, and especially all that skin it barely covered up.
Her insides flailed some more. She hugged herself. He locked his intense gaze on her face.
"He's not worth it," he said conversationally. "Your friend, as you call him. He's not worth it."
"How do you know? You don't even know him."
"True, but any guy who'd throw you over for someone else isn't worth your time—and certainly not your sixteen-year-old tears."
He'd paused when he had mentioned her age and Scarlett felt a nip of worry. Technically she was as out of bounds to Ashley as she was to this man—who had to be in his late twenties or early thirties. Yet another reason why this guy had to keep his mouth shut. No one wanted a proactive stranger bringing the cops and child welfare into this.
"Ashley is a really good man, solid." She batted her eyes and dimpled. "We've known each other for years. He didn't take advantage of me, or anything."
He raised his eye brows. She dropped the sweet sixteen act.
"Whatever. He's definitely not the type of person who'd listen in on someone else's private conversation and then laugh about it to their face."
The guy's grin returned—white caps and all.
"No but from the little I've seen—or heard of him—neither is he the type to destroy an entire room in a tantrum and not even apologize for nearly lobbing someone's head off with a golden urn."
She glared. He winked. She reacted.
"You're a dick."
Scarlett started to turn around. John Doe D-bag could clean up her mess—she needed to get back to the party. But he said her name and stopped her retreat. Any even-footing she'd believed to have achieved crumbled away. He'd called her name like he knew her, like they were longtime friends—and it was more than that richness his heavy drawl slathered on it. Something entirely more.
She looked at him. She remembered her face was caked in mascara and dried tears. All her humiliation dumped back on top of her.
He took two steps closer to her. The canine booty shined down at their feet. The reflection danced in his eyes, and hers.
"I won't retaliate by name-calling, even if you are clearly informed enough to know the difference between male and female genitalia, and their less than scientific terms."
She gasped at his very pointed peek down her body.
"But I will try and give you some grown-up…advice." His face grew almost serious. "Be happy that your first won't be your last."
It took Scarlett a few seconds to fully understand his comment. And before she could think, she talked, flipping her hair back and bopping her shoulders.
"He wasn't my first, actually."
She puckered her lips and whipped around, stomping through the glimmering, doggy litter. Her hand grabbed at the knob. She glanced back at the man. He spoke. The buttery glamour of his speech glued her to the spot.
"Scarlett I promise you, he won't be your last, either."
He flashed a dazzling, vampiric smile at her. She had that same conflicting urge to run at him, and from him. Well she wasn't any Sookie, and she sure as hell wasn't a Bella. His laugh echoed as she ran down the hallway.
"Mommy! Mommy!"
Scarlett looked down at her toddler, who was frantically tugging at her shirt. Water puddled in the rims of Bonnie's big, blue eyes. Her mouth was scrunched up into a rosebud of wrinkles. Scarlett's eyelet dress—the one she'd never been able to give up and that had just sparked her spaced-out trip down memory lane—hung loosely on her daughter's tiny, apple frame. The hem draped around her like a wedding gown's train—perfect since she'd dug it out of her mom's closet to play 'Cinderella' dress up. Her huge teddy bear (moonlighting as a prince) lurked behind in the doorway, his arms and torso stuffed into one of Scarlett's maternity suit jackets.
"Sorry baby, mommy got lost in thought."
"Well come back. I don't want you lost. I want you home."
Scarlett smiled and shook her head. Almost three-year-olds were even more literal than she was.
"Was there something you wanted?" she asked, finishing folding the towel that was half-creased in her arm and placing it in the pile of clean laundry on her bed. She turned her attention back to her daughter.
Bonnie's pudgy hands dropped her shirt and she stepped back.
"Come play with me. Ple-ease"
Her chin started to wobble. Scarlett caved.
"What do you want me to be?"
Her daughter beamed.
"My fairy mother."
Scarlett grabbed a blue towel from off the pile of laundry and playfully swatted Bonnie with it.
"Faker," she said, wrapping the towel around her shoulders. "And it's fairy godmother."
Bonnie giggled and ran—tripping and waddling—over to her bear. She dragged him into the center of the room, refusing any help.
"We get married now," she commanded.
They had been playing for only a few minutes, Scarlett blasting 'Bipptiy Boppity Boo' from her iPhone and waltzing with Bonnie and the enormous teddy bear when she noticed a man's shadowy outline creeping along her hallway. Her heart shriveled and her blood gelled. She reached for Bonnie but at that moment her daughter bounded away.
"Daddy!" she squealed.
Rhett knelt down in the doorway and caught his leaping daughter in his arms.
"Hey Bonnie-boo." He hugged and tickled her. Her laughter chimed, a peal of bells. Scarlett sank down into the bear's chest, clutching her neck. Blindly she turned off the music.
"I knocked," Rhett said, hesitating at the bedroom door, with Bonnie slung around his back.
"Wasn't it locked?"
"Not many doors are locked from me."
"Right."
Her eyes traveled behind him. A duffle bag and a pillow were wedged against the wall. She raised her guarded gaze to his face. He was showered and clean shaven but the edges of his eyes and face were still rough. The gash from this morning's assault marred his full lips. It was faint, not faded.
"What you doing here daddy?" Bonnie asked, sliding off his back and craning up her neck.
Rhett's eyes stayed on Scarlett for a moment. She didn't know what he had seen, or what he was looking for. She didn't know what she had wanted him to see. He grinned down at his daughter.
"You know how you have sleepovers at my house?"
"Yes."
"Well tonight I'm having a sleepover at your house."
Bonnie sucked in her breath. Gleeful and giggly.
"Now, Bonnie boo, if you go into the living room, there's a surprise waiting for you."
No need to tell her twice. She screeched in delight and pattered around his legs and down the hall. She only ran into a wall once.
Scarlett heard Bonnie find her present—a new doll judging by the pitch and volume of the scream. In five minutes her daughter might remember she was alone, ten if the doll had come with enough accessories. Scarlett smirked, picking at the lint on the teddy bear's arm. She knew Rhett was still in the doorway, watching her. Her shallow smile slipped away.
"I'm sleeping on the couch," he said.
That voice—he could have been reading off a pizza menu. It told her nothing. She nodded, her eyes still on the bear's fuzz.
"I think that's a good idea. It's a comfortable couch."
The silence was so deep and the break so long that she had to look up. He hadn't moved. His eyes teemed with…
Bonnie yelled for him and he turned his head, telling her he was coming. But he didn't go immediately. He paused, his hand on the oak door frame, and stared back at Scarlett.
"I like Bonnie's dress," he said. He beat his palm twice against the wood and sighed. His gaze warmed. "I liked it better on you."
She smiled and he winked. Bonnie hollered for him again and he jogged—for the first time not away. Just down the hall.
Key (because I loaded this one with references, since she's so young, again): Bill Compton and Sookie Stackhouse are from True Blood, about vampires in the modern American South. Sookie's a mortal, Bill Compton's a vampire. Bella's the mortal damsel in Twilight. (Yes, there's a theme…) Telenovelas are Latin soap operas. Just For Men's a dye shampoo for guys going grey. WTF is 'what the "freak"' in texting slang. Rhett says "I believe I can remember more, my pretty."(At least that's what I think. My Spanish is pretty rudimentary and so I double-checked with Google.)
Note:
Oh I think it will take some time for things to really iron out...
The next chapter will not be a flashback, but a lesson for the future. It was fun to go back into young Scarlett's mind. She's so much snappier, lots of pep and not much filter. And to contrast that with the woman she became post-kidnapping and Bonnie.
Thanks for all the kind reviews, if you do or don't sign in.
Also I've decided to go ahead and finish this before I update again on Rosier. I only have a couple chapters left there but I want to finish this. Hopefully before I travel again. We'll see.
Cheers.