Disclaimer: I don't own any characters except my characters. Which are quite a few this time around. Let's try it this way: I don't own any Marvel characters that happen to show up in the upcoming chapters and which I'm sure you'll recognise without any need to name long lists.


48. Creston: Reputation

Thursday evenings were quieter indeed. Dale was still around, but he had fewer requests for singing and ended up leaving the sound system alone with its playlists. Instead, he and Angie danced a whole lot more. Isabel soon found out that Lena paid him to be around three evenings a week, and the rest of the days he was free to drop in to play, if he wanted, or just to fool around. Of course, he always ended up playing and singing a bit, because someone would always ask him to and he enjoyed such opportunities way too much to refuse.

"She's a cheapstakes," Victor had said. "Offers the Daltons a couple of free drinks and he always gives at least half an hour of show for free just 'cause he likes it. Moreno's the one who wins the most wi' that arrangement."

Though Isabel wasn't so sure. Dale was free to do as he felt like and she got a feeling he appreciated that freedom, not to mention he gave her the feeling that he enjoyed working with music for the sheer love of doing so.

The three chicks, as Victor called them, were always there, too. It turned out they came every single night, unless the weather was bad. On the previous Thursday, they had come in for dinner, instead of a drink, and Adella had called her over to chat for a bit before they had even had the chance to order, Isabel had also noticed that the three young women had measured Victor up and down.

"He's such a sight," Lyn had said.

"Lyn!"

For a fleeting moment, Isabel had felt a pang of jealousy, but then she had reminded herself Victor would have snapped the girl's neck without a second thought and felt smug that she alone could have caught a man as dangerous as him.

"What? I'm married, not blind."

"And she's right," Isabel had told Angie with a smug grin. "He is a sight."

"Don't encourage her," the doctor had said seriously. "She doesn't need it."

Oh, so Lyn liked stepping outside the fence, did she? Isabel couldn't help wondering if her marriage to Mountie Nelson had happened over a surprise pregnancy or something of the sort.

"And, anyway, you may want to keep a close watch over him," Adela had warned her in a whisper. "Belle Jackson strikes handsome men first. If I were you, I wouldn't let him cruise around Creston on his own. Especially not to go to the supermarket. It's her favourite hunting ground. The moment he starts offering to go shopping to save you some time, you know he'll be cheating on you."

Isabel had taken a step back. Victor had been going to the shops to make sure she didn't need to leave the house from day one. Obviously, it had nothing to do with the man-eater, but if those three noticed it, there might be rumours.

"That's how Franny started getting suspicious," Pru informed her. "Of course, everyone already knew about it. The moment a guy chats with her, he's done. If he hasn't cheated on you yet, he's five minutes away from doing it."

Something hadn't added up, though.

"I heard he had already cheated before dey married."

"That's when they first got friendly," Lyn joined in. "I told Franny. I told her a million times, but she wouldn't hear any of it and then Sam stopped talking to her to please Franny…"

"Just to cover up the affair, obviously," Pru had cut in to clarify. "They were steady by then. You see, Jackson lives in Erickson, and Maura Jervis is pretty much her neighbour. She keeps an eye on her, so she knows every guy that stops by. Sam, Franny's ex, he always parked his car near the gas station and then walked over to her house with a hat hiding his face. Maura figured out who he was in less than a year."

"A lot of men show up during the day and say it's because she's their accountant, and some are way old, but Maura says that some stick around for so long, they're either being hunted by the IRS or else."

"Belle Jackson?" Isabel had asked.

"Tall, skinny, long brown hair and showing off her boobs like she's in some porn video."

Isabel had killed a smirk, because that description could have fit Lyn like a glove, except she was heavily pregnant at the moment.

"She goes jogging in mini-shorts and a sports bra," Pru had added, " even when it's still too cold for it, and whether it's day or night."

"She tapes them too," Lyn had added, "and then blackmails the assholes into giving her money and jewellery. She's not stupid, that one."

"Oh, and she's always pestering the mounties about wild animals in her yard or alleged breaking-ins," Adela jumped in. "Just ask Lyn and Pru about it."

"Don Sherman," Lyn sneered, "was forbidden of going over. His wife, Amber, is completely obssessed with the idea of getting cheated on. The last time he went to Jackson's, he slept on the sofa for a week. He never went there again. Not that the others are pissed about it. There are at least a couple who've spent the night at Jackson's."

"Oh?"

"Lex Madison and Jasper Leavitt," Lyn clarified. "Old dicks looking for young action."

After dinner, the girls had been dancing and Angie had insisted with them to join the dance floor.

"Come on," she'd winked. "I'll tell Dale to add your favourite songs to the playlist."

Once more, Victor had said he didn't want to leave Lilia on her own and had instead told Isabel to sing something for him.

"No, 'mor," Isabel had said in Portuguese. "There'll be clapping at the end and Lilia will end the night crying. I don't want her to start hating these nights out."

"She has to get used to loud sounds," he had answered in slow Portuguese. "And there are fewer people tonight; it won't be so bad."

She had still been torn about it, but she'd sung. Back in Portugal, shortly after they had moved to Alentejo if her memory served her right, Victor had given her a CD with the best of Tracy Chapman and had then helped her to learn a few of the songs, so that night she had once more borrowed Dale's guitar and had sung The Promise, which was the quietest of the songs she'd learnt, not to mention Victor liked when she sang it softly to him, looking him straight in the eyes as she desired to be with him wherever he was and vowed to come for him.

But that had been the week before. Tonight, it had been Isabel to stray from her family even before they'd gotten to the table.

There was a counter by the entry where people paid at the end of the night, and Lena Moreno, Rosie's mother, was the one who usually occupied it. As Frances led Victor, she leaned on the counter and said they needed to talk about Rosie.

"It's just a moment," and there was immediate tension in her voice. "Jeff, take over for five minutes. This way, Mrs Kredall."

Isabel followed her through a previously locked door. She had expected to find herself in the woman's office, but discovered instead a relatively wide room with a few tables and chairs.

"It's a room for small private parties," she explained. "It's popular with birthday parties and anniversaries, so if you ever need a quiet place for a small function, just give me a call."

Rosie was right: she did not lose an opportunity to market her place.

"Now, tell me, has Rosie done…"

"No, no!" Isabel cut in, sliding her heavy handbag off the shoulder and letting it come to rest on one of the chairs. "Rosie is a fantastic girl, Mrs Moreno. She is responsible, attent; she remembers what Lilia likes and not likes… She is intelligent, she likes to help and… uh… I don't know enough words in English to express how happy I am dat she wants babysit my daughter."

The woman sighed, relieved.

"I want talk wid you not because I have a problem now but because I don't want problems in de future. You know dat I am in de town choir, and dat I sing and I play guitar. I play de piano, too. And dis Monday, when Rosie came to babysit, she asked me if I could teach her to play guitar."

Lena's face expressed all her displeasure, but she didn't say anything.

"I told Rosie dat if you give permission, den my lessons have rules. Is more or less de same rules dat my teacher imposed when I was a kid. First, I have to receive a copy of her school marks and I have to know what is de minimum marks you want of her. Den if she has a test dat has a mark below dat limit, she doesn't have no lessons until de mark is good again."

Isabel smiled and added a confession: "Was de only reason why I studied, when I was a kid. And when a kid is fanatic about a hobby and hates school, is de best way of make dem study. I don't mean dat Rosie doesn't like school, I don't know dat, but I can see she is entusiastic and entusiasm in teenagers usually means dat study is not very important."

"No, school isn't important for teenagers," the woman said harshly. "They're too young and too rebelious to understand its importance."

"Yes," Isabel nodded. "Dey only understand when is too late. Dat is why is important dat dey have something to motivate dem to study."

Lena took a step back and crossed her arms.

"Did you tell her you were coming to talk to me?"

"Of course. I also told her dat if she has lessons wid me, is not to learn to play one or two songs. Dat is what de majority of de kids want, you know? A shortcut to start feeling like dey're celebrities. But dat is an illusion. Music is like everything else: you have to understand de teory, and you have to work. Hard. You have to practise, sometimes very boring things, until you understand the instrument completely. If you don't do dat, you don't know music, you just know some songs. I told her dat if she is serious about de guitar, she will work hard and will be a long time before she can try to impress friends and I hope she understood dat if I see she is not working hard, wid de music or wid school, de lessons stop. She told me she wasn't afraid of hard work and dat she won't disappoint me. So, now, is up to you. Please think about it, talk wid Rosie, and… you have my number. Call me when you make a decision."

The woman was once more silent, her lips tightly together.

"Anything you want to ask me or…?"

"How much?"

"I am not a real teacher, Mrs Moreno, and I don't want be. I don't want money. Ah, I almost forgot. Rosie said she doesn't have a guitar, so I said dat she can borrow my old guitar to practice, but if her marks go down, den she gives de guitar back."

"And you don't want us to pay you."

"No. I am not offering to teach no one, Mrs Moreno. Your daughter asked for my help, and… Listen, I'm from Portugal. De only teenagers dat babysit are broders and cousins. If you pay someone to babysit, is an older woman dat you can trust, dat has experience… When Angie told me Rosie was good wid children, I wasn't certain, but den I saw her and… In all honesty, de way she treats my daughter, I am only too glad to help. So, think about it and phone me when you decide. If is ok wid you, I go join my husband and my daughter."

As Isabel left, she wasn't sure if the woman would agree. She could think the offer was too good to be true, or she might really not want Rosie to touch anything music related.

Victor was distracting Lilia and their food hadn't yet arrived, but he looked up when she sat down.

"How did it go?"

Isabel shrugged.

"Like you would say, she has a good poker face."

He handed out a flyer with bright orange letters.

"Franny-girl gave me this when I ordered. I told her ta count us in fer the evenin' competition next week and she said we gotta pay one dollar each."

Oops, Rosie must have forgotten that detail. She grabbed the flyer with a sigh. Time flew by so fast! To think that the Halloween was already the following week, and on a Friday on top of it. It was going to be so crowded!

"You still want?"

Underneath the orange Halloween in the flyer, there was an assortment of monsters: vampires, Frankenstein, mummies…

"I was thinkin' ya could go as a vampire." God! Of all the sutpid clichés he could have thought of, he had to choose vampires? "Ya already know how ta go fer the jugular."

That caught her by surprise. That night fresh in her memory and her cheeks burning, Isabel hissed a 'stop it'. But her blood was running faster at the thought of it and she knew Victor was aware of it.

"Dat was an accident," and it had been, but it didn't change the fact that she had often thought of repeating the deed.

Franny came in with her food then, and that was when she got the perfect idea to put an end to both the teasing and the vampire thing.

"If I'm a vampire, den you are my victim. Oh, and you, my precious baby girl, you'll be a little bat."

"Like hell I'll be yer victim! And I told ya: Victoria is goin' as a hunter."

"And you?"

He looked thoughtful for a moment as he chewed a piece of meat.

"I'm gonna be a vikin' warrior, complete with a bear pelt and everythin'. A viking berserker."

Isabel sighed and started eating, but this couldn't be delayed.

"Victor, listen, we have to be united. Think of it as… as our family against de world."

He already had a tendency to see the world as me agaisnt them, so she hoped he could connect the two concepts.

"If we go wid different masks, is like… like we aren't united. But if we go wid de same tematic – we are all vampires, or we're all hunters, or we're all vikings – den we show everyone dat we are united and nothing can separate us. And Lilia Victoria, she needs to grow up wid dat idea too. She has to grow up thinking dat, no matter what, family will always help and protect her. No matter what. And is dis little things dat create dat image. So, what you prefer: we're vampires, hunters, or vikings?"

He looked thoughtful for a moment then there was a girlish screech from the front of the restaurant.

"That was Rosie," Victor said. "She's thankin' her mother in a low voice now, so it's safe ta say she agreed to let you teach the girl."

Ah, great! She was really looking forward to it.

"They're comin' over."

Lilia, who'd been chewing her fabric doll, brightened up at the sight of her new playmate. It made Isabel think she really needed to start playing with children her age, and that meant that the Halloween party had to be a success… not in terms of winning stupid costume competitions, but in the sense of meeting families with young children and hitting it off.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your dinner, Mr and Mrs Kredall."

"Ya can call me Victor," he said out of the blue.

Quickly following suit, she asked the woman to call her Isabel.

"Well, I just wanted to say that I agreed… that my daughter Rosie can learn to play the guitar under the rules you proposed."

"Thank you for your confidence in me, Mrs Moreno."

"Call me Lena. Uh… I would like to put one condition, though."

"Yes, of course."

"I prefer dat Rosie doesn't bring de guitar home wid her."

The girl rolled her eyes with barely held anger, but Isabel guessed the woman's concern immediately: if the girl got a guitar in her hands, she wouldn't do anything else besides playing it, even if it was the most boring practice in the world. Not to mention it was a way of sabotaging the girl's efforts. If she didn't practice enough, she wouldn't become a successful player. But there were ways around that particular point.

Isabel nodded with a smile.

"And… you mentioned you're Portuguese."

Isabel's heart skipped a beat. Could it be the woman spoke Portuguese after all?

"Sim, sou," she confirmed.

"Pode ensinar cannços portuguessess à Rosie?"

Teach her Portuguese songs? Rosie was obviously annoyed by the thought but…

"Rosie's godmother, my great-aunt, she was born in the Azores and she still speaks Portuguese. She's very sorry that Rosie doesn't speak the language and I thought… if she at least sang a song or two. Her godmother would be very thankful."

My god! This was a complete jackpot! Even if Lena's Portuguese was a bit distorted, the woman could understand her when she spoke in Portuguese. Oh, she so wanted to be friends with the woman now!

"Well, I don't know if Rosie will like, but… I speak in Portuguese a lot wid Lilia Victoria because I want dat she is fluent, so is a good chance Rosie will learn a little Portuguese too. At least de favourite word of Lilia: dá. Give."

Lena smiled, relief and hope on her face, but then looked awkward for a moment. Her eyes fell on the flyer.

"Are you coming to the Halloween party?"

"Oh, yes. We were talking about de masks right now, right, 'mor?"

Victor nodded.

"I hope you'll enjoy it. But we also have a special promotion during the entire year, I think Rosie may have mentioned it. Because it's our fourth anniversary, all birthday parties for children and teens will have a discount equivalent to the age of the child and adults will have the same discount but only for family or couple meals. However, since you're going to all this trouble with Rosie, I'd like to offer both of you a completely free family meal for your birthdays."

"That's very nice of ya," Victor said. "Don't mind if we take ya up on yer offer. Isabel's birthday's on November 4, by the way."

What? Isabel barely held back a frown of annoyance.

"Alright. Do you want to book in advance? Maybe choose a particular table or…"

"Uh… in truth, I was thinking something at home…" And she looked at Victor with what she hoped was a clear instruction to backtrack on the whole story.

"Nonsense! Ya ain't gonna be cookin' on yer birthday, Nesi. We'll come here, have a nice meal… hey, maybe Dale won't mind settin' up a playlist with all yer favourites."

Great. Of all the days, the man had decided to be social tonight.

"If the weather's good," Victor carried on, "d'ya think we could get a table outside? Otherwise, somethin' near the stage."

Lena said she'd go and book it right now and Rosie took the moment to grab Isabel's hand.

"Thank you so, so much, Mrs Kredall. You have no idea how much this means to me."

Although she felt glad for the girl, Isabel wasn't in the mood for celebrations just about now. She needed to tear Victor apart for not backtracking on that birthday idea.

"You're welcome, Rosie. Go on and enjoy de night, ok? You don't have work tonight, right?"

She didn't, not after spending the evening babysitting, even if little Noel was a sweet. Not to mention he'd fallen asleep so fast, she'd had the chance to catch up on some late homework.

"You have dinner yet?"

"Oh, yeah, I have. And what about you, Lilia Victoria? You want to play some? Do you?"

Of course she did. In the very least, she wanted out of the chair.

"Take her fer a walk on the dance floor," Victor told her. "But don't let her get close ta folks havin' dinner."

Lilia was clearly excited to finally explore the place. Isabel guessed she'd soon stop being wary about the patrons and, the moment she learnt to walk, she'd want to explore everything in the restaurant. But even though she softened at the sight of Lilia's clumsy steps, as Rosie held her hands, Isabel was still boiling.

"I said I wanted stay de night at home, Victor!"

He had just moved the chair to the side so he could keep an eye on Lilia, but hadn't yet gotten his plate in front of him.

"What? You, the party animal, don't wanna celebrate yer own birthday with a bang? I'm shocked."

"Is not my birthday" she hissed through clenched teeth. "And I am not going to sing happy birthday because is not my birthday."

How hard was it for the man to get it? She was playing pretend, with this Isabel persona, but it still wasn't who she really was. She was Inês Sofia Ferro dos Santos; she'd always be Inês Sofia Ferro dos Santos.

Victor looked thoughtful for a moment and Isabel looked away, trying to swallow the anger before people noticed it. It was too late to go back on the birthday dinner, anyway.

"If ya don't wanna sing happy birthday, then don't. Nobody's forcin' ya t'do it. But you just got an opening wi'the woman and I ain't gonna let it go ta waste. We're takin' her up on her offer, an' that's final."

Oh, she was so furious right now! She couldn't even eat.

"'Sides, it's the date on yer documents, so ya better act like it's yer real birthday. Or are ya one o' those who don't ever celebrate no birthdays?"

She refused to even look at the man, in case she lost what little control she had over her tongue right about now.

"Look, I don't give a shit 'bout no birthdays, and I'm still gonna use the woman's offer fer mine, which is a as fake as yours. I don't see what's the big deal."

And the worst was that he would never understand. He didn't know his own birthday, so he couldn't understand how keeping faithful to that date helped her to retain her true identity.

"Of course I celebrate my birthday, Victor," she ended up saying. "But I am not going to celebrate false birthdays. Precisely because I celebrate my real birthday."

"Fine! Celebrate it all ya want. But ya're still gonna have that birthday dinner an' that's the end of it."

Once more, she refused to look at him and glued her eyes on Lilia. She had grown tired of standing, apparently, and was now crawling after Rosie in a mock tag game.

"Why ain't ya eatin'?"

"Unfortunately, I seem to have lost my appetite," she said coldly in Portuguese.

Amazingly, he shut up. Could it be he was finally realising how angry his actions had made her?

"If ya ain't gonna eat, why don't ya go sing somethin'?"

What? She finally looked at him, slowly and aware she was irradiating withering fury. The man was even wise enough to adapt his body language, since he undid the frown and sat back.

"What? Ya like singin'!"

She looked back at Lilia without a word.

"I thought singin' made ya happy," he grumbled, annoyed. As if he had a right to be annoyed.

"It is not singing that makes me happy," she explained in Portuguese through clenched teeth, not even bothering to glance his way.

Once more, he ate in silence for a few moments.

"I wanna hear ya sing," he said quietly, almost as if to himself. "I like it when ya sing fer me the way ya do."

Oh, he did, did he? Was that why he always forbade her from singing? Yes, because she wasn't stupid. He only asked her to sing because folks around wanted him to dance and he'd rather have the lesser evil. And if he was going to lie, the least he could do was do it decently, rather than show how much it hurt to spew half-assed alleged romantic lines.

"A word of advice, my love," he said in the softest Portuguese she could manage right now. "Don't contradict yourself. Especially when you know I have a good memory and am not likely to forget all those times you've informed me that you hate when I act like a fucking whore, singing in public for every man around to drool over."

For once, he looked away, obviously annoyed at having been caught in his lie.

Lilia was trying to climb onto the stage where Dale was correcting the playlist so it included the most recent requests. Suddenly, Victor got up and almost stomped to the stage. What the hell was the man doing now?

After a few moments, he came back to the table. The sound system started playing the opening lines of Waltzing Matilda. What was h…

"Dance with me."

She didn't want to, at all. Unfortunately, she couldn't refuse him. There was a cover to maintain, after all. So she sighed and took his hand.

The stupid thing was that it felt good, so good, to be in his arms like this, swinging softly in the warm safety of his embrace. She closed her eyes and leaned her head on his chest, the way she'd done a lifetime ago. For a moment, she imagined him whispering 'sorry'. Ha! As if he ever would.

Victor kept rocking gently even when the song was over and she didn't make a move to get away from him. Another song started playing. She didn't recognise it and it didn't really matter anyway. She could have continued dancing like this without any music. It was the closest she'd ever get to an apology even if he only meant it as a 'get over your anger already'.

"I hate it when the guys are oggling you," he whispered in a hybrid of Spanish and Portuguese. "When you're up on a stage, singing. But I still like the way you sing for me. That is not a lie."

Isabel sighed. So he was trying to apologise after all. But she was still annoyed! Maybe not furious anymore, maybe not even properly angry, but she was still nettled.

"Listen, I'll take ya out fer a big fancy dinner on yer real birthday, okay?" He switched back to English. "When is it?"

A little voice suggested telling him to go to hell. If she couldn't know when his real birthday was, why should he know hers? Sure, the guy himself had no idea what his birthday was, but still. She barely knew anything at all about his past. What gave him the right of knowing everything about her while keeping his whole past life hidden from her? It was settled. Even though he was being uncharacteristically sweet right now and doing his best to make it up for his blunder? Yes, even though.

"Nesi?"

She didn't comply. He wanted to see her won over, and she wasn't in the least inclined to be won over. She might not glare him half to death, but she was not going to smile and act like everything was just fine.

"Com'on, my Nesi, look at me."

He liked it when she sang for him, did he? Fine.

"Give me a second."

She said it in English and got away from his embrace. For a moment, she felt she was being mean to him, which wasn't really smart on her side. She knew very well she had to reinforce every nice behaviour of his. Apologising with a dance and offering ways to make up for a mistake counted as excellent behaviour, so maybe she should have told him upfront she was going to sing for him like he wanted, instead of leaving him on a cliffhanger.

"Dale, I'm sorry, can I use your guitar? I need to start bring mine."

"Sure."

Isabel sat on the stage and looked at Victor. Yeah, he was probably on the verge of feeling seriously humilliated. And, to be perfectly honest, he didn't deserve that. He had chosen the wrong moment to be social, true, and he'd completely missed the meaning of her glare, but he'd been social. And he'd been social for her sake, on top of it. Well, for his family's sake, to be honest, but that included her.

She showed the guitar and mouthed 'for you'. He didn't look happy but his shoulders relaxed. Since there was still a song playing, Isabel decided to look busy tuning the instrument while choosing what to sing. She wanted the perfect song, because Victor needed to know how much she appreciated his efforts to make up for his blunders.


Creed was seething inside. It didn't matter what he did, it always went wrong. He knew the woman needed to socialise with friends and to sing in public if he wanted her to be devoted to him. So what did he do, stupid that he was? The moment he saw an opening, he went for it. No matter if he hated the mere thought of it, he still went for it like a jackass.

Lena Moreno was the perfect option for becoming Isabel's friend. Her daughter was into music so Isabel could indulge in all the musical overdose she wanted with the kid and, plus for him, do it in the privacy of their home. The woman herself was the no-nonsense type and not only had Portuguese blood, it turned out she spoke the language too. What else did Isabel want? The moment Lena had come to the table, he had been outright friendly, even chatty! Was he looking forward to stupid birthday meals? Hell, no! But Isabel needed friends and he was willing to do his best to help her make the right ones. And besides, she liked partying, for crying out loud! Was she going to have a better excuse to have a big party with her freshly made friends at a safe location? Of course not!

He still didn't understand why she'd gone ballistics. Because of a fake birthday? She didn't have to sing happy birthday if it riled her that much; it was just an excuse to socialise. Wasn't that what she wanted, to socialise? To babble about with those stupid chicks and sing cheesy love songs on stage? It just didn't make any sense! What was wrong with the damned woman?

Victoria was crawling frantically towards him across the dance floor, and he breathed out a half growl before picking her up. It cooled down the frustration trying to rage inside him. But even though his daughter hugged him, it wasn't enough to ease his chagrin. He breathed in the girl's scent, his precious baby girl.

"At least you don't gimme no trouble, do ya, baby girl?"

He nuzzled her tummy and she laughed delightedly, grabbed his ears and hair. At least he could always count on his baby girl to look at him with nothing but absolute adoration.

"Good night, everyone. I'm sorry to interrupt de music dat Dale is playing, but I really need to say something to someone very special."

"Dah," Victoria prattled at his ear, her legs swinging excitedly.

There was a bit of nervousness in her body, though, and Creed rubbed her arm with cheerfulness.

"Yay," he whispered, "Mamma's gonna sing fer Pappa."

It was about time! She should have gone and sung for him the moment he'd asked her to, ages ago.

The first notes gave away the song: can't stop falling in love with you. He'd never heard her either play or sing it and wondered if she had learnt the lyrics properly.

"Wise men say

only fool sruh sheen…"

Right. He'd just have to teach her, wouldn't he? What on earth would she do if he weren't around to teach her to sing English songs properly? And he blamed his baby girl, quietly resting on his arm, for the slight grin on his face.

"Shall I stay?

Wouldee be a seen

If I can't help…"

Isabel looked up from the guitar and finally looked him straight in the eyes.

"falling in love wid you"

Her voice was tender and soft, but her gaze seemed a bit sad. It made him want to go to the edge of the stage where she was sitting and hold her tight. Tell her she was safe with him, that he would do anything to keep her safe and happy… if only she'd look at him with the devotion of the old times.

"Take my hand

Take my whole life too

For I can't help

Falling in love wid you."

She meant it, though. Hadn't she said before that she had to feel the emotion of the melody and mean every word of it? He was pretty sure that was what she'd told him two weeks or so ago. And the way she looked at him, the way she missed a few notes, the way she leaned her body towards him… Yeah, he was definitely taking her out for her real birthday. He'd take her somewhere else, maybe Vancouver, where nobody knew them. He'd give her the dinner party of a lifetime and she'd be smiling lovingly at him again. Forever.

Her fingers stopped in the meantime, and there was only her beautiful soft voice in the absolute silence of the restaurant. It was like a freaking love confession! Like telling the whole world she belonged to him and she was happy for it. It sent waves of shivering pleasure up his spine, that sappy voice of hers, and he'd have done anything…

"For I can't help

Falling in love wid you."

There was a sudden thunder of applause and Victoria literally jumped in his arm before starting to cry.

"Hush, hush, baby girl," he comforted as he headed to Isabel.

"Oh, meu amor, vem à mãe, vem."

Victoria did turn to Mamma, hugging her neck tight as she wailed helplessly, and Creed embraced the two of them. Behind them, the clapping died away, giving his baby a chance to start quieting down. At the same time, Isabel snaked a hand around his waist and pulled herself tighter against his body. She had meant every word of the stupid song. Well, every word she knew. She obviously had no idea what 'fools' and 'rush in' meant.

"Remember when…"

Damned! Dale Dalton was singing another of his cheesy country songs; time to put an end to the show. He might put up with Isabel's cheesy music, but he drew the line there.

One hand supporting their girl, who was still clinging sorely to her Mamma's neck, Isabel smiled up at him and he froze. Happiness and devotion. Finally! Hoping she kept looking at him with that loving reverence, Creed started swinging gently to the rhythm of the music. That gaze was worth every lame song the guy might want to butcher. He'd been waiting for it for so many months! Isabel laughed silently and gave herself fully to him, following his lead without a shadow of teasing, her gaze not leaving his for a split second. He hoped she had finally gotten over all the drama, that she would never again refuse to look at him devotedly.


Victor and Lilia were already outside when Isabel ran out of the restaurant, waving good-bye to Adela and her friends.

"It's about time," the man grumbled.

She ignored it, though, and slid a hand into one of his jeans' back pockets, taking advantage of the dark empty streets to squeeze his butt.

"Someone's hungry," he grinned. She could hear it in his voice.

"Someone's happy," she laughed, feeling light and free. "Lyn was telling me about Lex Madison, just now. He's a mountie, too; married, arrogant, and is known for cheating his wife."

She didn't mention Belle Jackson, nor did she mention that all the evidence there was of the alleged affair was the fact beloved Belle interrupted her jogging to lean on the guy's car and chat for a few minutes. Still, that was all the town needed to determine a guy was jumping the fence. The week before, when Isabel had told Victor the details she'd gotten on the local man-eater, he'd told her she didn't own him. Just like that, out of nowhere. Obviously, he'd been ticked by the girls' advice that she shouldn't leave him alone and should instead keep a steady watch. Isabel had let him rant about how he was his own man and could talk to whomever he very well felt like and was not about to be watched by anyone and especially not her.

"Apparently, he likes to act like he's de boss, but is very good at uh… keessass?"

"I think ya mean kissin'-asses."

"Isso," and she sighed. "Nelson doesn't like him and Pru says is a group of Mounties dat are dying to see him transferred. Namely, Don Sherman, Timothy Everett and Melville Campbell. Apparently, he is a machist jerk for de women mounties."

Victor got the car keys out of his pocket and unlocked the car.

"Ya know somethin'? I'm startin' ta think I won't need the services o' that background-check company from now on. Ya can take care o' that on yer own."

She laughed, carefree, as Victor put the sleeping Lilia in her car seat. Then she opened the other door and put the baby bag on the seat.

"Did Angie tell ya anythin' 'bout tomorrow's appointment? I overheard her tellin' Dale she wasn't feelin' right an' might stay at home."

"Yeah, I noticed she was pale and she almost didn't talk, but she told me she was ok when I asked if she was ok."

"Ya're her first patient, ain't ya?" He asked as he got in.

"Yeah, I think I am. But I chec… Merda. I left my bag in de restaurant!"

"Are ya serious?"

Isabel got out of the car, saying she'd be right back, and ran to the restaurant. How could she have forgotten it? She was sure she hadn't left anything by their table… oh, wait! She had taken her bag with her when she'd talked to Lena, in that private room. Maybe she'd left it there.

"Is everything ok, Isabel?"

"Yeah," she said, breathless from the sprint. "I left my bag in dat small room when we talked."

It was there, of course. How could she have forgotten it? No wonder she had felt so light when she'd left.

Isabel didn't run back to the car. She enjoyed the quiet night, instead. She had always liked the feeling of walking on dark empty strrets. It felt as if she owned the world and could do whatever she pleased. Especially on such a nice night!

Creston had fairly warm days, but the temperature tended to fall too much in the evening. She didn't like the large temperature difference and often wore thick jackets at night. This time, though, it wasn't really cold, at least not for the end of September. She got the crazy idea of inviting Victor for a night stroll in the woods. The woods nearest to the house, obviously. She was sure the man would like the sugg…

Isabel's heart stopped when she turned the corner. Barely breathing, she did not slacken or hurried a single step, even as her vision became tunneled. Belle Jackson. The jogger who hit on any dick that crossed her way, far or near. The solicit accountant who never refused to help a man file his IRS on time, especially if it meant inviting him to her private office at home. The man eater who'd ruined Frances King's marriage. The slut whom Amber Sherman had forbidden her husband to answer when she called alarmed over a would-be burglar or imagined brown bears. The bitch was talking to Victor. She was leaning on their jeep, every curve of that enticing body showcased. Tiger print leggings (how ridiculous could one get!) and a loose crossing-guard vest sliding down her naked shoulder. Laughing cheekily. Isabel looked swiftly around the dark street. Empty as expected.

"Hey," Victor turned to her. He was leaning on the jeep too, almost mirroring the slut. It turned her stomach. "Took ya long enough."

"Hi," the other one said as Isabel reached them.

She was still leaning on the jeep as if she owned the situation; as if Isabel had no way out besides swallowing the humilliation and making a cheery face. Isabel's face opened up into a casual smile. You cannot show your hand if you want to strike and find no defense.

"Hi," Isabel lifted her right hand to underline the greeting and, as luck would have it, the bitch returned her tempting gaze to Victor, as if Isabel meant nothing.

The greeting hand fulfilled its objective: Isabel grabbed the woman's head and pushed it hard against the jeep. Stunned, the woman offered no resistance and Isabel's right hand grabbed her neck as the left one gripped and twisted her ear.

"Shush," Isabel hissed, twisting the ear so badly the other one bent down and then choked when Isabel pressured her neck. "Not a word!"

The slut was holding herself against the jeep for balance, the other hand clutching Isabel's jacket like a claw. Good thing she had brought her heavy denim jacket, despite the balmy night, or she would have had to deal with the witch's nails.

"You talk wid my Victor one more time," she whispered, "and I kill you. Understand?"

Isabel twisted the ear a bit harder and the woman screeched.

"Shush! Don't wake de baby. You understand? Yes or no?"

"Let go of me, ya fucking bitch!"

Isabel twisted the ear so hard, the other one fell to her knees, then she banged her head against the door of the jeep.

"I told you to shup up," Isabel whispered. "I'm worried about you, honey. People can die during a break in and I hear you have many."

Silence. Good.

"You understand dat you never talk wid my Victor again?"

"Yes," the other one hissed furiously.

Isabel banged her head again and let go of her, took a couple of steps back. The slut looked up furiously. A couple of tears of either pain or fear had ruined her Cleopatra make-up and Isabel didn't hide a mocking smirk.

"Oh my God!" Isabel said in a normal voice, a fist lying casually on a hip. "You tripped and fell, honey? Want help to get up?"

She did not move a finger to act out the hollow offer.

The woman scrambled to her feet, leaning on the jeep for balance, and Isabel studied the woman's expression impassively then she lifted a finger and shook her head.

"No, no," Isabel warned. "I suggest you don't say a word. Not one. Go home and clean dat face."

Isabel followed the defeated figure with her eyes for only a moment, then she opened her bag and said it was good she always had antibacterial wet wipes. It's the perfect thing to clean blood from a jeep. She didn't say it very loud, but the slut hadn't walked away far enough not to hear it.

She then looked at Victor and smiled.

"Sorry I took so long. Can we go home now?"

He had a shocked expression as Isabel had never seen on him. It was then she realised exactly what she had done. The man had had no idea that Isabel, sweet, little frail Nesi, could act the way she had. Like a cold hearted…

"What the fuck's wrong with you?"

Oops. The mask had cracked a bit too much this time. It was one thing to know she had a temper, another completely different thing to hear her dish a death threat. Now what?

"Don't ever talk with 'my Victor'? People can die in break-ins?"

She'd really messed up this time. Now what to say?

"Who the fuck d'ya think ya are t'say who I can an' can't talk with?"

Oh, that was what had upset him! She should have guessed. Well, if that was all that had botthered him…

"Is nothing personal," she shook her head and opened the back door to put her handbag in. "We have a cover here, remember? We are de dream happy family dat live in our dream house in de middle of de wood. If people see Belle Jackson, because dat is Belle Jackson, if people see Belle Jackson talk wid you, we two gain a new reputation: you are her new fuck toy and I'm de poor cheated wife. Is not going to happen, love."

Victor shook his head, as if he wasn't sure he'd heard her right.

"Oh, you forgot what I told you last week? I tell you again: Belle Jackson collects men. And she doesn't really have to do nothing, because people see her interest in you and already say she fucked you. A rumour can be worse dan reality, love. Dis kind of thing has to be cut in de root and cut very well."

He didn't say anything but his eyes measured her up and down. Did it mean that what she had done, besides the unimaginable insult of calling him 'her Victor', was starting to sink in?

"Listen, you want to fuck dat slut, have fun. For me, is all de same. Hell, fuck every slut in de whole world! But de people in dis town can't dream of dat, ok? We have a reputation to maintain for de good of our daughter. Dat means no one can dream of a single problem in our heaven. Right?"

He didn't say anything, just kept gazing at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. It occurred to her he could smell lies, so he now knew full well that she hated the idea of him fucking around. Wonderful. Just wonderful.

Isabel breathed out and entered the car, taking her place next to her daughter's car seat in the back. The child was still sleeping peacefully, her sweet darling. Not a minute later, Victor got in and drove off.

"Would ya really kill her?"

Isabel stopped breathing for a moment. Of course not! How on earth could she pull off such a stunt and not get caught? Even if the woman's house was easily reached through the woods. Sure, at least one neighbour controlled the cars that headed the way of the slut's house, but they couldn't actually see the house. And there had been so many calls of phoney break-ins… With a few precautions… Holy Mary, what was she fantasising about?

"Of course not," Isabel said, frowning in order to keep in mind the reasons why she couldn't do it.

She didn't have dogs, from what Isabel had heard. There were also those stories that she filmed her adventures to use as leverage, or straight-on blackmail, so there would be plenty of men and women interested in not having her death investigated too deeply. For as long as her death looked accidental… Besides, if the videos did exist and Isabel were to find them, she could use them to cover her back if need be.

"I only said dat to scare her," she added in a low voice, telling herself it was true.

Harmless fantasies, Virgin Mary. She didn't promise the Virgin it really was just a fantasy, though.

"I thought ya didn't make empty threats," Victor said in a low voice.

No, she didn't. But the slut wouldn't dare to call Isabel's bluff, anyway. That was one thing she had learnt as a child: if you can make people believe you'll do what you say you'll do, you never really have to do it. The others won't risk it. And after having her head banged against the car, after having the threat plus the reference to break-ins… she'd go for easier targets. Why was Isabel's heart beating so fast?

"I guess I was wrong."

Isabel looked out the window. The fields and woods were plunged in darkness and she felt a weight crushing her chest.

"Ya don't own me," Victor said. "I don't belong to you."

"I know!" Isabel breathed eagerly. "I know, Victor. Dat was only for effect. You know I only say dat because of our cover. I know."

"Ya can't tell me I can't fuck whoever I feel like."

He had smelled her lie and it was eating him up.

"I know. I don't say dat to you, promise. But don't let no one know you fuck oder women. Is a humilliation for me and for our daughter. Please."

Don't let me know about it either, she pleaded in silence.

Victor stopped the car in the garage then went around and opened the door for her, stooped a bit to look her in the eye. Isabel tried to read the man's expression but it was in vain. Since he stood there, a hand on the open door and his eyes still judging her, Isabel remained seated, waiting for a reaction.

"I bet she won't risk crossin' ya any time soon. That was a hell of an impression ya caused."

Isabel smiled rigidly, half relieved. He hadn't called her Nesi, though, which meant he wasn't completely over the 'you don't own me' drama. But then he reached out and grabbed her wrist.

"Don't lie. Would ya kill her if she talked t'me again?"

Isabel froze.

"Don't lie."

Fine! The truth and nothing but the truth.

"No, not for talking."

"Not fer talkin'," he echoed in a low voice. "And if she tried to seduce me?"

Isabel swallowed, fought tears of frustration. Even if she fantasised about it, she wouldn't really kill her. Not really. She'd beat her. Maybe give her a permanent reminder never to cross her path again. Only, no. No.

"If I did anything, it would confirm to everyone dat you had cheated, even if you hadn't."

"And if I said I'd kill her fer ya? It's what I do fer a livin'. No one would ever trace her death t'us."

Holy Mary protect her! What could she say to such a temptation?

"Well?"

"Uh… I don't know, Victor!" But she saw the woman in her mind, leaning on the jeep where her daughter was sleeping, shamelessly seducing her… "Teach her a lesson, yes, but kill…"

But she did know.

"God!" She breathed out and shut her eyes close. "I would want to see her dead if she tried to seduce you again but…"

What was she saying? What on earth was she saying?!

"I don't mean dat I or you would kill her." She leaned her forehead against his chest. "Want to see someone is dead is not de same as want to kill."

"Look at me," he pulled her wrist to get her attention and she opened her eyes. "I will kill whoever compromises our cover, it makes no nevermind who it is or fer what reason."

Oh, God! What had she said?

"Take it easy, Nesi," Victor grinned and Isabel breathed better. "I ain't gonna do it anytime soon. Like I said, ya really taught the broad not t' cross ya. She was scared shitless."

Isabel tried to laugh but failed.

"Com'ere…"

Victor pulled her out and embraced her.

"I think I might actually be sorry if I never get ta see that badass side of yers again," he smirked.

He what?

"Com'on! Don't look so surprised. I might have enjoyed a nice catfight, but that was… impressive."

So he hadn't been shocked by her violence. She could release that cold-hearted side of hers around him because it wouldn't drive him away. Of course it wouldn't! He was a cold-hearted killer himself! Isabel welcomed his kiss with an eagerness that had Victor undoing his belt right there and then.

"Den next time," she grabbed his hair and pulled till he frowned, looking at her face. "Next time, kiss me in front of de slut and say… say whatever you want dat humilliates her even more."

Because whoever tried to humilliate her must be humilliated ten-fold. He grinned.

"How's about: Damn, woman! That was one hot ass-kickin' lesson ya taught the sleazy slut."

Isabel frowned theatrically.

"Has to be true!"

He kissed her then swooped a hand under her skirt and ripped her panties off her.

"I was so turned on, I could have fucked ya in the middle o' the street, ya dumbass."


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