DRAGON'S BREATH
Incredibly despondent, Donovan went back to his apartment after leaving the airport [and Selena] behind. His two weeks with her had flown and it felt as if he were with her only a day or two. He missed her already and she had been in the air no more than an hour. She would call him as soon as she arrived home, but he didn't know if he had the patience to withstand that. God. Listen to yourself. You sound like a man who cannot live without his woman. It's sickening. He sighed as he entered the kitchen. It was getting harder to say goodbye every time he or she left. In those first few months, he thought he might go insane. However, that insanity was slowly drifting away, because within two months, Larkin would be in Chicago, and this crazy long distance relationship could end. He could not wait until that day came. He reached up to an overhead cabinet where he kept a selection of wines. Donovan opened the door and grabbed a bottle without first looking at it. He needed to relax and a glass of wine would do it. He opened another cabinet where he kept the wine glasses and pulled one down. As he was pouring the red liquid into the glass, he heard a large crash just down the hall. It was distracting enough to jostle his hand. A few droplets of wine landed on the counter. What the fuck? Not bothering with the splash of wine, he went to the door, opened it, and glanced out into the hallway. A young man and a dark haired woman were trying to move a couch into a vacant apartment four doors down from him. Apparently, the man had dropped his end. Donovan fixed them with an irritated look. He hoped they were finished by tonight. He didn't want to listen to that shit while trying to sleep. He noticed that the woman looked up and smiled apologetically toward him. He nodded toward her absently and turned to go back inside. From the periphery of his vision, he noticed that she was watching him with some interest. He shut and locked the door. Donovan went back toward the kitchen to clean up his mess and then to drink his glass of wine. His weekend would be dead and lonely. On Monday, he would face work again and two more weeks without Larkin.
Donovan took his glass of wine over to the couch and sat down. He felt a bit of a headache coming on and knew that drinking the wine would only make it worse. However, he needed it to relax. He was a bit wound up and anxious. He always felt this way after Larkin left. He killed the wine in one large gulp and then leaned back against the sofa. He was trying to take a snooze, but the damn noise in the hallway wouldn't stop. Thud. Boom. Bang. The noise was followed by indignant curses of a young man and then the hissing commands of an enraged woman. Within his nap, he groaned. His building was a good one. It wasn't the best in town, but most of the people here were middle to upper middle class and virtually quiet. However, the new tenants were going to change that. If they didn't stop, he thought he might go out into the hallway and scream at them. As the voices faded within his dream, he thought there was something familiar about the voice of the woman. He almost had his finger on it, but it went away as he sank deeper and deeper into the fog of his nap. He would know nothing until the phone rang.
After his phone conversation with Larkin [it had lasted about three hours], Donovan felt jumpy and restless again. He had to do something to wind down. This feeling was also typical after speaking to her on the phone. He went into the bedroom with the intention of taking a shower. However, he couldn't shake the restless feeling. He went to his dresser and dug out a jogging suit. He spied his shoes in front of the closet door and snagged them. Perhaps if he ran for a couple of miles, it would exhaust him enough so he could sleep. After he was dressed, he went back into the living room, grabbed his keys, and walked out into the hallway. He immediately noticed that the woman and the young man were still busily moving their things into the apartment. As he moved past them, he noticed again that the woman was gazing at him curiously. In those few moments, Donovan took note of her short black hair and small build. Her skin was very dark, as if she had spent a good portion of her time in a sun bed. Her features appeared both sharp and dull at the same time. She wasn't unattractive, but something about her didn't seem right. The young man with her was more of a boy; perhaps a teenager, and he gawped at Donovan almost as much as the woman did. He ignored them and moved onward. They were a weird pair, but Donovan assumed that the woman was the boy's mother.
An hour and a half later, Donovan came back up to his floor, effectively sweaty and exhausted. He was relieved when he noticed that the two new tenants weren't out in the hall. They bothered him, unsettled him some way. Of course, he was never one who easily mixed with his neighbors. It wasn't wise in his business. He never knew if the people he encountered were enemies or legitimate. He entered his apartment and noticed that his message light was blinking. Donovan hit 'play' and stood back to listen. He smiled a little when he recognized Larkin's voice. She had called to tell him she loved him before she went to bed. He had made moves toward going into the bedroom when another message started playing. The voice was low and raspy, an obscene parody of Larkin. He waited, thinking that maybe she was playing some type of joke on him. Instead, the person simply laughed, muttered an 'oops,' and then hung up. Not normally a paranoid man, he decided to wait before he erased the message. He would record it and take it to Cody on Monday morning. Forgetting it for the time being, he prepared himself for bed, clearly ready to be done with this day. When he climbed into bed, he settled back onto his pillow, grateful for the comfort, but missing the body usually beside him so very badly.
The next morning, Donovan went out again. Normally, he tried to stay out of the public eye on the weekend. He reserved that time to rest up for the week ahead. As it was, he went out enough completing his regular job functions. However, his irritability and restlessness were at an all time high. He had completely forgotten about the new tenants and moved past the apartment without a flinch. As soon as he left the building, he noticed that the street was abuzz with Saturday activity. He suddenly had a yen for a cup of coffee. He had coffee in the apartment, but he wanted something not made by his hands. There was a coffee shop a few blocks down that he visited three or four times a month. When he entered, he noticed that the place was halfway full. It was still early. He stepped up to the counter and before he opened his mouth, a woman turned toward him. It was the new tenant on his floor. Last night, he hadn't been close enough to her to really see her. Today she stood no more than a foot away from him. She was smiling at him again, but her smile seemed filled with decaying little things between her teeth. It was an unsettling feeling. Her hair was short, but long enough in the front to cover her forehead and ears completely. Last night, the voice on his machine sounded like a parody of Larkin. Today, this woman's haircut seemed to be a parody of Larkin's hair, but nowhere near as close. He found himself wondering if she had been the voice on the machine, and if so, how did she get his phone number? The damn thing wasn't listed and no one had it whom he didn't absolutely trust wholeheartedly. Another thought entered his mind. Paige? Maybe it was her who made the phone call, but why would she? He hadn't heard from her in over a year. As the woman waited for him to make up his mind, he found himself wanting to find another person to serve him, but she was the only one behind the counter.
"Good morning, neighbor," she said, her voice raspy and low.
Yes. She was definitely the one who had made the call. How had she found his number? Why was she trying to imitate Larkin? Donovan, you're paranoid. Everything you see and hear is a coincidence. At first, he didn't know how to answer her. He wasn't sure he wanted to answer her. He wasn't a man who took to people very easily. "Good morning," he said solemnly. "I'd like a double espresso."
He's all business, she thought as she moved away with his demand. Last night, he hadn't said a word to her, only exchanged a few cold glances. Today, he wasn't any better. Hmm. Maybe when she brought him his espresso, she could try speaking to him again. He had to let his guard down at least from time-to-time. One man could not remain so cold night and day. Every now and then, she glanced back at him while he waited for his order. He wasn't looking her way at all. His eyes were focused on an object only he could see. Damn it. You will look at me. You will notice me. She brought him his drink. "That's two fifty, neighbor."
Donovan dug out his wallet and slapped a five onto the counter. Without waiting for his change, he found a table completely out of the woman's line of sight. He had no desire to allow her any other opportunities to stare at him. He drank the strong liquid and then looked over to the vacant table beside him. Someone had left a newspaper and he reached over and grabbed it. He felt her eyes on him the entire time he leafed through the paper. Sooner or later, he would ask her what her deal was. If she was interested in him, he was off the market. If she had issues with him, he would deal with her as he dealt with all others. He finished perusing the paper approximately an hour later. When he folded it and laid it back onto the table, he glanced up at the counter again. The woman was still behind it, working busily. However, she didn't turn one eye toward him. Thank God. I was getting incredibly tired of her. He left the coffee shop and hit the streets again. The woman was still shaking him up a little. Overtly friendly people turned him off, made him suspicious almost immediately. Those types of people had the most to hide. If he saw her up close again, he might ask her name and check her background. It couldn't hurt. It might ease his mind and stop creeping him out. He wanted to get out and do something, but he wasn't in the mood. Instead of trying to stake out some activity, he turned and walked back toward his apartment building. God. He was pitiful and sickening, so very damn hooked to Larkin that he couldn't think straight. He thought it might be worsening because her move was drawing closer and closer. He couldn't wait for that day. Donovan stopped again [surely looking like an idiot] and turned back around. The apartment was a place he definitely didn't need to be. He would wind up brooding even more.
* * *
Much later, Donovan went out to dinner after seeing a movie. He chose a place that would be considered a dump to the average person, but he loved it. Everything inside was old-fashioned and from an earlier age. There was no other place like it around town. He came as often as he could and ordered a meal with enough cholesterol to kill five men. It was a rare indulgence and one he leaned heavily on when there was a lot on his mind. He picked up his greasy burger, bit into it, sighed contentedly, and then reached for the thick chocolate milkshake sitting near him. Heaven. If I ate like this every day, I would weigh five hundred pounds in a month's time. He sensed eyes on him and he moved to put his burger down onto the plate. Using his napkin, he glanced around the room. Groaning inwardly, he looked up and saw his strange ass neighbor lady. Is she following me? Goddamn it. Even my treats are ruined for me. She only kept her eyes on him for a few seconds before looking away. He shook it off and grabbed his sandwich again. Damn it. He would damn well enjoy his dinner without brooding about some stupid shit. However, he would find out what her name was before he left. It was time to check out the staring woman.
Donovan ate his meal, polishing it off with relish and every now and then, he would look up at his neighbor. She had yet to make eye contact with him again. He felt as if she wanted to look, but didn't. He looked up when she began to move. If he didn't speak, he could lose her and his opportunity. "Excuse me," he called before she moved past him.
She stopped and glanced down at the handsome man with a little smile on her lips. "Hello again, neighbor," she said through her husky, raspy voice.
Why do I get the feeling that she's faking? "Good evening. My name is Frank Donovan. Would you like to join me?"
Finally. All the following I've been doing is paying off. "Of course, Frank, thank you. I'm Bailey Devere." She sat at his table in a chair directly across from him. At that point, she began to scrutinize his features. This Frank Donovan was hard-edged and stoic, but still handsome all the same. She couldn't exactly call him gorgeous, because he wasn't, but he was interesting. "I absolutely love this place."
He nodded sedately. "Same here. I noticed your moving in last night. Where did you come from? Somewhere else in Chicago?"
She shook her head. "No. I'm from Ohio and have lived there all of my life. My brother and I moved to Chicago when I bought the coffee shop I saw you in earlier. I'm glad you're finally talking to me. At first, I thought you were going to be something of an asshole," she said with a devilish little smile.
You have a lot of nerve. "That's been said about me before," he replied with his own smile. "Actually, you and who I assume is your brother were very noisy as you moved in. I can be irritable at times and last night was one of them. How do you like this area so far? It's not the kindest city in America." He hated this small talk chitchat shit, but he wanted to get as much information about her as he could. He had no desire to know her better. There was something buried beneath her outside veneer and he couldn't exactly pinpoint it. Whatever it was, it was ugly and massively unattractive. "Chicago isn't for everybody."
She smiled. "You're right about that. I like it fine, but my brother is having adjustment issues. Poor kid misses his crowd in Ohio, but I couldn't leave him behind, not without supervision. Our parents are deceased and Beau is only eighteen, technically a man, but still, he needs guidance."
Bailey and Beau Devere? How utterly fake. Weren't they the main characters in A Streetcar Named Desire? I am living in some fucked up alternate universe and when I wake up, it'll be fourteen o' clock. This is weird and unsettling. This conversation must end soon. "I can understand," he said thoughtfully. Actually, he didn't give a ripe shit. "Well, Ms. Devere, it was very nice chatting with you, but I'm expecting a phone call tonight and I need to get home," he said as he stood.
She stood at the same time. "You know, I was about to go home myself. I left poor Beau alone. I'm afraid that when I get back, he'll have twenty kids in the living room with pizza and beer. Care to walk with me?"
Actually, I'd rather not. "Of course I'll walk with you."
Donovan's mind wandered as Bailey droned on and on about her new life, the coffee shop, her brother, etc. I don't care, I don't care, and I don't care some more. You talk too much and I can't stand that. Yammering people do not have brains. They rely on their mouths to make up for their ignorance. He nodded in the right places and smiled vaguely, but he barely caught three words. He walked onward with her, his mind mostly on Larkin, and the fact that she would be calling in less than an hour. He entered the building before her, holding the door open. After she slipped inside, he had hoped she would walk ahead. However, she did not. She waited for him and they continued toward the elevators. As they rode up to their floor, he could see her watching him from the periphery of her vision. If she touches me, I might flip out.
"So, Frank," she said with a sigh, "would you like to come to dinner some night next week?"
He shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I'm heavily involved with someone else right now," he said.
His response didn't thwart her a bit. She smiled. "That's quite all right. She's a lucky lady."
He shook his head again. "No, I'm the lucky one." When the elevator stopped, Donovan exited it before she did. Without so much as a goodnight, he went to his apartment and let himself inside. He locked the door behind him and sat down on the couch. "Damn it. What a bizarre ass woman," he said aloud. The phone rang beside him. He didn't think about it, he simply reached over and grabbed it. "Hello?"
"What? No Donovan barked harshly my way," Larkin asked amusedly from nearly seven hundred miles away.
"I don't bark that to women I love," he answered simply. "I might as well say this right now. I miss you."
"Me too," she said. "Weather willing, I should be clear to come to Chicago in a couple of weeks. The upper brass is a bit more lenient about the trips since I'm transferring. I can always say I'm scouting for a place to live and so on. Frank? Your voice sounds strange. Are you okay?"
He had said no more than twenty words to her, but she could pick up that his voice sounded strange. He was, indeed, lucky. "Sort of," he answered, but not answered. "Actually, no. I had a bizarre encounter with a woman all day today. She and her brother moved in last night. She's been watching me, following me maybe, and it's a little weird."
Larkin laughed a little. "Maybe she's got a little crush."
He smiled. "She did hit on me a little."
"Oh gosh, I can hear your ego inflating second by second, Frank." She sighed. "What it must feel like to have so many people after you."
"I'm only yours, Selena," he said, his inflections and nuances changing dramatically.
"Oooh, I love it when you speak to me like that," she said, her husky voice growing huskier. "So, babe, tell me…what are you wearing?"
He chuckled. "No way will you do that to me again. It's why I punish you so much when we're together."
"Punishment? You call what you do punishment? I'd like to see what you do to please."
"Selena? I hate breaking into this, but I have to bring this back up," he began. "Would you check again about the bus accident? I'm very concerned and paranoid."
"I'll check," she said. "I don't think anything is wrong. Maybe she's just someone weird who wants you. If you evaded her advances, perhaps she'll back off."
"Thank you," he said, "I know this sounds crazy, but I've been looking over my shoulder for years and it's a hard habit to break."
"It's okay, I understand. If I find out anything different, I'll let you know as soon as possible. Now…can we cut the shit and get back to us?"
"We can. The move, Selena, where were you thinking of living?"
"I haven't really thought about it."
He sighed and licked his lips a little. Suddenly, his mouth was very, very dry. At moments such as this, he was straightforward and almost blunt, but not with her. "Would you live with me or at least consider it?"
"I'll consider it," she said. "I'll give you a definite answer the next time I see you."
"You're making me wait two weeks," he asked incredulously.
"Yeah, I sure am, babe. Your punishment for not telling me what you're wearing."
After another long phone conversation, and about a dozen 'I love yous,' the only thing Donovan felt like doing was hitting the sheets. From down the hall, he heard noises in front of what he assumed was the Devere's apartment. It sounded as if they were having either a party or an orgy. Whatever the case, this bunch wouldn't last long in this building. In fact, he was thinking of complaining himself. He needed to get them away before they caused even more trouble.
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To be continued…