Chapter 29
The next morning I needed to clear my head and I wanted to run. Monroe was already awake, trying to make coffee and getting frustrated with my mom's coffee pot. He turned when he heard me come into the kitchen and he was frowning, holding a bag of coffee filters.
"I miss my French press," he scowled, looking at the foreign objects in his hand.
"Honey, I miss your French press too, believe me. I'm completely spoiled." I hugged him from behind. "There's a local coffee shop that's fair trade we could go visit this morning. A friend of mine owns the place. It's nowhere as good as yours, but it's better than this stuff by far," I offered, standing on my toes to kiss his neck.
"I really need caffeine and I'm willing to try anything over this," he complained, setting down the coffee filters with an air of revulsion.
"Great! I was thinking coffee and then a run through the park," I said, heading back upstairs to get ready.
"A run?" he asked, sounding contemplative.
"Yeah… it's like a walk, but faster," I flashed a playful grin. He scowled at me this time, but then grinned back afterwards. Monroe followed me upstairs and we both got ready. I grabbed a few bottles of water from the fridge and an ice pack and threw it all into a cooler for post-run.
Mom came into the kitchen as we were about to leave. I told her where we were headed and asked if she needed anything.
"No, I'm fine, Sweetie. But you know how much I've always hated you going through the woods in that park." Mom had a look of distress on her face. "Would you stick to the path for my peace of mind? I always worry you're going to fall and break your neck when you run through one of those hiking trails."
"Mother, I'll be careful and I'll stick to the path for your sake." I gave her an assuring smile and took her hand and gave it a squeeze like I used to do when I was young. She smiled back, looking more relaxed. Monroe and I walked out and got into the yellow Focus.
"You aren't staying on the path are you?" Monroe asked with a devilish grin as we buckled up.
"Nope. I never do," I replied with a smirk.
(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)
I drove us to Ray's Monkey House on Bardstown Road. The brightly colored sign depicting a man and monkey sitting in a large red coffee mug hung above the entrance.
"Ray's Monkey House?" Monroe remarked, seeming amused by the name.
"Yeah, literally," I replied. Monroe did a double take then caught on.
"Oh, dude, that's kinda putting it out there isn't it?"
"How many people are really going to figure it out?" I reasoned.
Monroe chuckled, "Got a point there."
We walked in to the aroma of fresh coffee. Marcel 'Ray' Singer was working the counter. His dyed, green hair set bright against his chocolate skin. I always loved coming to his coffee shop. Each time there was something new and different on the walls. To say his taste was eclectic was still putting him in a box. Ray was a free spirit, and he didn't let anything hold him down.
Today the coffee shop had a tribal theme of local artwork and he was playing a CD of music with some great drum beats that brought the artwork to life. It was like walking into the jungle. My friend Ray beat to his own drum and anything strange or unusual was right up his alley. A true Aquarian, no doubt.
"Renée! Long time, no see!" he said warmly. "What are you doing back in Louisville? I thought you were in Portland making the big bucks."
"Hey, Ray!" I smiled, but then it faded quickly. "I had a death in my family. I lost my dad." I sighed. "We buried him yesterday."
He frowned. "Oh, girl, so sorry to hear that! Why doesn't anyone call me about these things?"
"You got rid of your cell phone last August, remember? You said it tied you down."
"I'm still online though," he remarked. "They could've sent me a message."
I chuckled. "Yeah, an old AOL e-mail address you rarely check isn't considered online anymore."
"Facebook and Twitter will take your soul. Freedom from technology is the way to be," Ray replied. "Well, I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, Renée. Anything you want, it's on me." His eyes moved to Monroe behind me. "And whatever your friend wants, too," he said with a wink.
"Thanks Ray, this is my boyfriend, Monroe. Monroe, Ray and I went to high school together."
Monroe went to shake Ray's hand. Ray took it, but then looked Monroe over and went full woge into a monkey. Monroe did his customary woge in return.
"Renée he's a…" Ray sputtered, jumping back as Monroe retracted. Well, most things strange and unusual were right up Ray's alley.
"Yes, Ray, he's a Blutbad," I replied, keeping my voice down. Ray was practically cowered down behind the counter. He was probably the only Wesen friend I had in Louisville that didn't already know about the visitor I'd brought to town. Freedom of technology had its price.
"Dude, I'm reformed, it's cool, man," Monroe interjected. It was good to hear him speak up. He'd been quite reserved at the funeral, I'm sure out of respect, but here he could be himself.
Ray still looked bewildered, but I smiled at him and he seemed to settle down.
"Does Chloe know?" Ray whispered to me.
I laughed. "Oh, yeah. Chloe and I have had several talks about this. And we're good."
Ray seemed pleased by this news. Everyone from high school knew I was protected by Chloe. If Chloe was okay with something I was doing, then it must be all right. Ray stood up straighter, but his amber eyes still showed me he was quite afraid.
"So, what can I get ya?" Ray asked. Monroe was already reviewing the list of beans. He was also looking over the vegan and vegetarian menu.
"You've got a really good list here, man." Monroe commented.
"Thanks. We try to cater to everyone," Ray said with a little strain in his voice.
"They hand grind whatever you pick," I mentioned to Monroe, smiling.
Monroe chose a Peruvian dark bean espresso lungo. (Which I think he only chose to test Ray.) I ordered a Bananas Foster latte. We had Ray grind some beans to take back to Mom's house. Monroe said it would help him get by until we went back to Portland.
"Banana latte, really?" he asked, amused.
"It's good stuff, and Ray makes the best around." I beamed while looking over in Ray's direction.
Ray gave me a smile as he handed us our drinks and went back to helping a patron with their order. The music changed to Guns and Roses' 'Welcome to the Jungle' and I had to chuckle.
We sat near the window, enjoying our coffee while we did some people watching. I liked having Monroe with me in Louisville. I had so much I wanted to show him here. Too bad it wasn't May. I'd planned a week of sightseeing in the spring. But we were here in March, and I was trying to get through all this. Maybe he'd still come back with me in May.
"I'm really curious what Nick is going to find out," I said, recalling the research from last night.
"He may not tell us anything, I'll give ya fair warning," Monroe replied, enjoying another sip of his espresso.
"What?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "Why wouldn't he?"
"That's just how he operates sometimes, man," Monroe said, watching Ray from behind the counter. He lowered his voice. "I'm not privy to all of the you-know-what work."
"Well, that's disappointing." I frowned, taking another sip of my latte.
"But maybe once you tell him what you can see…" Monroe started, his eyes widening with excitement.
"All in due time," I replied. How much time that was gonna take was uncertain, but it seemed to pacify Monroe for the moment. I wanted to know more about the coins and Hitler and Wesen that were involved with the robbery. I hadn't been this excited since I found out JFK was a Blue Beard. It had added quite a few more assassination conspiracies, for sure.
We finished our coffee, and Ray gave me a big hug as we were about to leave. "You be careful with that one," Ray whispered in my ear as he was hugging me.
"It's really okay, Ray," I replied. "I appreciate your concern, though."
We left Ray's and headed back to the car.
"He does know I could hear him, right?" Monroe growled and his eyes sparked red.
I held his hand. "Yeah, I think he was hoping you were listening."
"Do these Wesen not know anything about Wieder?" he asked almost to himself.
"Around here there's no such thing as a reformed Blutbad," I replied. "There's a reason you were my first real interaction."
"They seriously need some education out here, man," Monroe muttered, letting go of my hand and crossing his arms.
"Monroe, Honey, I'm really sorry. You're just new to them. They'll get over it. I don't really care what they think, honestly. I know you, and that's all that matters to me." I smiled at him, but his eyes were still red and indignant. "Let's go for that run and clear our heads," I suggested, as I pulled out of the parking lot and headed to Cherokee Park off of Eastern Parkway.
(*)(*)(*)(*)(*)
The sun was brightly shining again, and I was looking forward to getting out there and losing my thoughts in my MP3 player. It was five miles of trail, and your footing had to be good to run through all of it. Part of it was concrete, which allowed me to run as fast as I wanted. (That was what my mom referred to as 'the path.') The middle section was a hiking trail that was similar to the wooded area near my house in Portland. It stretched out three miles, and I had to run slower there, but I knew it backwards and forwards. Heck, I could've run the whole thing in my sleep. The last part was one mile back on the concrete. I used to come here practically every chance I could. It was my true Zen, the second being yoga. Between my music and the splendor of the outdoors, all my cares would melt away. Natasha Bedingfield's 'Pocket Full of Sunshine' came to mind, and I pulled out my MP3 player. I found the song and let it fill the car.
"Take me away, a secret place.
A sweet escape, take me away.
Take me away to better days.
Take me away, a hiding place.
I got a pocket, got a pocketful of sunshine,
I got a love and I know that it's all mine.
Do what you want but you're never gonna break me,
Sticks and stones are never gonna shake me.
There's a place that I go that nobody knows,
Where the rivers flow and I call it home.
And there's no more lies in the darkness there's light,
And nobody cries, there's only butterflies…"
I sang along and caught Monroe watching me. When I turned he was grinning.
"It's always a song with you," he said as Natasha finished singing.
I shrugged. "It's my form of expression."
"You have a really nice voice," Monroe said with a smile. "You should sing more often."
"I'll take you to karaoke sometime, and we'll both do some crooning." I laughed. What would Monroe's signature song be? I'd have to think on that one.
"Uhh… Yeah, no. I'll just stick to whistling a tune now and then." He grinned.
I parked the car and we both got out. The sun beat down, mixing the cold with its warmth, and the combination swirled around me. Here I was happy. Everything that had happened the last few weeks was going to be cast aside.
"I thought you said we were running in the woods," Monroe commented, looking at the concrete trail in front of us with uncertainty.
"It is in the woods, you'll see," I replied. "There are a few bridges going over Beargrass Creek and plenty of trees on either side. It's beautiful!" It really was beautiful. I'd missed these trails, and for an hour or so I was going to find my Zen again. I did some stretching while Monroe was taking in the scenery. After I'd finished, I ducked my head back in the car and pulled out my MP3 player and headphones from the console.
"You're going to listen to music while we run?" he asked.
"Oh, when I run there's no talking. Plus, you'd have to keep up to be able to talk," I teased, giving him a grin.
"You don't think I can keep up?" Monroe scoffed and then that devilish grin appeared. The fire in his eyes was accepting my challenge.
"I was state champion three years in high school track," I said proudly. "Didn't you see the trophies?"
"Why not four years?" he questioned, tilting his head slightly.
I smiled back at him. "I didn't start till sophomore year."
A/N: Thanks to Ayame Shinu for my 100th comment! YAY! Now can I get 200? LOL!
So, a few things on this chapter. If you've ever read the real Grimm's fairy tale of Little Red Cap (AKA: Little Red Riding Hood) you might see where I'm going with this... LOL! (I added a link to the story on my profile)
Ray Monkey's House is real... Well it was real. They closed not too long ago, which I was kinda sad about. I liked the idea of it being run by a Wesen who was bold and daring enough to visibly put what he was out there for the world to see. I have a pic of their sign on my profile, too.
I had no clue if there was such thing as a Bananas Foster latte when I wrote about it, but it sounded something a Monkey house oughta have. I looked it up, and there are recipes how to make one, so I thought that was kinda neat. I may have to try one just because. (:
Yes, your author is from Louisville, KY. When I first created Renée's character and was choosing a place for her to hail from, I just used my city since it was easy. Little did I know where her story would lead, and now I'm kinda happy I chose Louisville, because here I'm in my own element. I love finding places in Portland to write about, and Louisville is the same way; the places and the streets are real.
So Monroe and Renée are about to head into the woods...
Stay Tuned...
