46

Rune Alignment

Chapter 14.

"That fucking bitch!" he growled as he slammed down the receiver. He'd been trying to call her for hours. 'All circuits are busy, please try your call later,' my ass. She's unplugged her goddamn phone! He was shaking with anger. People passed by him without a glance. Saturday morning, many pretties running, jogging, walking along, not a one of them worth his time.

With hands jammed in his pockets – so close, just a tweak – he marched off to find another pay phone. He had decided to walk this morning as he made his rounds, trying to reach her. He had to stay out of his place and away from his car. The temptation to indulge was too great. He was too close to loosing control again. He nearly completely lost control Thursday night. Once he realized he had found Gleason, the desire to have her was overwhelming. He'd over done it, he knew; he'd lost control and left too many messages in his frustration. It felt so good, though, to know where she was. It felt so good, too, to indulge. But . . . too much of a good thing is a bad thing. He was so sore, rubbed raw. But too much of a bad thing can be so good.

She had gone straight to the police – the big strong copper had become her hero. Must be careful; he didn't want this fun to be over before it started. He had to take it easy. Leave her alone just a bit. Slow down. Walk around. Don't get caught.

It was daylight and he could not risk being seen indulging himself in the front seat of a car while at a pay phone. His game was a delight in the dark, however; the risks, the cool air – stirrings, wonderful stirrings – stop, stop now. He crossed the street and headed north.

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Bobby and Gleason finished eating and he began to clear the table. "Do you want to take a shower?" Gleason asked, taking plates from him. "You are not going to clean up this kitchen after cooking that lovely meal."

"I don't want to put on grungy clothes after a good shower. How about if we run by my place, I take a quick shower, change and then we go off to the market? It will take less than an hour. It's still early; the market will be open for hours." Bobby's hands indicated the sequence of events.

"Alright; but let me do up these dishes, it won't take a minute. You sit."

Bobby nodded and picked up the butter and honey and put them away. He refolded the napkins and returned them and the tea cozy to the second drawer. Then he took the tea towel and began to dry the few dishes and cutlery and put them away. He knew his way around her kitchen. This is what life could be like, he thought. This is so good. Gleason glanced up at him and smiled. He couldn't remember being happier.

"There, all done. Let's go. I'm excited to get to see where you live and then see the market. It will be good to get out." Gleason dried her hands and took a step toward the living room. Bobby caught her around the waist, placed a hand on the side of her face, thumb under her chin, and kissed her warmly. She kissed him back. They broke and looked at each other deeply, and then she said, "Let's go."

Bobby went back to the bedroom to retrieve his weapon and then found his shoes. He slipped on his jacket and took his keys from the pocket. Gleason took a length of cream wool fabric from a hook on the wall behind her door and picked up her bag. "I'm ready."

Bobby held out the new cell phone, "Here, put this in your bag."

"But I'll be with you, won't I? I won't need to call you."

"Just take it, ok?" Bobby didn't want to frighten Gleason but she was a candidate for kidnapping. It was a risk going out in public, but he would keep her close. He knew the caller was local from the first call last night at Dickie's place. The guy was using pay phones. If the threats were anywhere near true, Gleason was not safe at all. He did not want her going back to the university until the caller was in custody. He would talk to her about that tonight.

Gleason took the phone and slipped it into her bag. Bobby opened the door, showed her through and asked for her keys to lock the door. They were quiet in the elevator and all the way to his car. Once inside, he asked, "Are you sure you want to go out? It's ok if we stay here."

She was silent for a moment and then said, "No. I want to go. I can't become agoraphobic. Besides, I want to see your place." She smiled and he grinned back.

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He walked up the street, passed Gleason's building, and noticed the empty parking spot in her lot; her car was still there. Well the copper left did, he? Used her, left her. No, no, he would not have used her; he would not want her once he had seen my handiwork. He would be repulsed. He would think how stupid of her to allow that to happen to herself. He would finally realize how stupid she really is. He probably left because he grew tired of her stupid chatter and simpering fear. Oh, I can make her afraid, so, so afraid.

Fear is intoxicating, he thought. Her fear is a fine wine, with a musky aroma and robust flavor. How he wanted to taste that fear, taste her again; drink in her terror. Run his tongue over the places where he had marked her. Careful, he told himself, feeling s stir, not on the street. Later, later.

He continued past her building, smiling at his cleverness. She's up there all alone. So frightened.

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"Ok, this is it," he said as he parked. He jogged around the car and opened her door.

Gleason was beaming. "I don't know why I'm so excited about seeing your place. This is more fun than going to the market."

"Well, prepare to be disappointed," he said as he unlocked the lobby door and pulled it open, "this is a four floor walk up. I'm on three." He followed her up the steps. Bobby stepped in front of her at the third floor, led her to the second door on the right and unlocked it, pushed it open and ushered her in.

"Mr. Bobby! Oooh, who eh dis preddy lady?"

"Estella, I forgot today is your day. This is my friend, Gleason. Gleason, this is Estella, she keeps the health department away. I'll be out in a minute. Do you want anything while I shower?" Bobby asked as he threw his jacket on the back of the chair in the kitchen. Gleason shook her head and quickly glanced around. Bobby excused himself and headed to the bedroom.

Estella smiled a wide, cheek-puffing smile and half nodded, half bowed to Gleason. "You are a preddy lady for Mr. Bobby. He like you, I see it. He has no udder lady. Mr. Bobby need a lady. He too lonely all deh time." Over her shoulder she shouted, "Hey, Mr. Bobby, you donne make a mess in my clean battroom. You hear?" She turned back to Gleason. "I clean good today for Mr. Bobby. You help me, yet? We put deh good sheets on Mr. Bobby bed. You help me, yet? Tomm on."

Gleason glanced around, trying to take in Bobby's apartment, dropped her shawl and bag on the sofa, and followed Estella into the bedroom. "Tch, tch, dat Mr. Bobby, he so sloppy sometime," Estella clucked as she picked up his discarded jeans, shirt and boxers from the chair in the corner and tossed them in the basket in the bottom of his closet. She took a set of blue and white striped sheets from the closet shelf, turned to Gleason and said, "Here, help me wit dis," and shot an end of the fitted sheet across the double bed to Gleason. "Dese are Mr. Bobby good sheets. I save dem for when he has a preddy lady stay over. He never use dem. Till today." Another huge smile.

"Oh, no . . . I don't think . . ." Gleason blushed and stammered, "we just stopped by for him . . . to shower and change." Estella just smiled and nodded.

They were pulling up the nubby coverlet when Bobby stepped into the bedroom. Everyone froze. Gleason and Estella stopped mid movement, each holding a side of the coverlet in the air. Bobby stopped dead, looked from Gleason to Estella and back again. He clutched a towel around his hips with one hand.

"Oh, Mr. Bobby . . . you look very good nakit. You big and strong," Estella said with a big smile, unabashedly looking him up and down and then up again. "You lady and me, we put deh good sheets on for tonight."

Gleason reddened and grinned but could not take her eyes off Bobby. Estella was right – he did look wonderful. The breadth of his shoulders, his muscled arms, flat stomach and the width of his chest all were so obvious without clothes. His hair was wet and curly and he had shaved. Nice, thought Gleason, very nice.

Bobby went beet red and suddenly found the pattern in the carpeting of utmost fascination. "Um, uh . . . ," he sputtered, right hand chopping away at the air. He dared a glance at Gleason. He looked like a child caught doing something unthinkable.

"Oh, Mr. Bobby! You so shy. Look, he all red. You a good boy, Mr. Bobby. You momma did good raising you to be a good man." To Gleason, she continued, "Come on, we let him put some clothes on. Den he take you out for some fun. And den tonight. . ." she said with a smile in her voice. Estella patted his chest as she passed in front of him. Gleason looked up and grinned with eyebrows raised. Bobby just rolled his eyes and shut the door after them.

Gleason was dusting a shelf in a bookcase when Bobby returned to the living room. He was dressed in fresh jeans and a button-down blue chambray shirt he had tucked in, he held his leather jacket. "Gleason, what are you doing?" he whispered as he stepped up behind her and took the rag. "Estella, we're leaving," he called to his housekeeper in the kitchen. He gathered up Gleason's shawl and bag and guided her to the door with his hand in the small of her back.

"Ok, bye-bye. You and deh lady have a good time today. And tonight. Bye-bye preddy lady," she emerged wiping her hands on a dishtowel, smiling like the sun in the sky.

Following Gleason down the steps, slipping into his jacket, Bobby said, "I'm, uh, I didn't mean for . . . I forgot that – Estella is. . ."

Gleason stopped and turned around on a step and looked up at him, "Bobby, it's ok. I got to meet your housekeeper, see your apartment and more of you than I ever expected," she said with a smile. Bobby groaned and said, "Let's go."