It wasn't often that Clara had to hide out to lick her wounds, but the next three days were definitely a time there. It was one thing to have been outed at Mad Dog's - she really must have made an impression on Bunny as 'Bess' for the rabbit to have recognized her - but it was a whole different level that Katz should have shown up on that same night, on that exact moment as he had. Was he following her? How did he know she'd be there? How did he recognize her?
There were so many questions and so few answers. When she explained what happened to Francis the next morning - of which Francis had been beside himself with worry - he couldn't explain much in theory either. That night at three AM, when Clara hadn't returned, Francis had called her cell, and had been uncomfortable when a man (Katz) had answered it. When she at last returned, he had all but become a puddle of relief.
But Katz...Katz. Katz was just shy of five years ago, if memory served. The man himself must have an excellent memory since he had barely seen much of Francis or Clara, or so they thought. He had had several spiders, all the size of a Christmas present, and it made sense that he treasured them so. Had the pair intended to spend the night, who knows what would have happened. Instead, they had trapped one of the horrifying creatures, left, and sold it to someone for a few grand. But why did it take Katz five years to track them down, to track her down? It made no sense!
Clara tried to reassure herself. The phone could, and would be, replaced. Mad Dog didn't know anything beyond that she had taken money at that time and place, there was no way to be traced. Katz couldn't find them - how could he? They would just lay low for a while. And outside of some scratches on her arm, which would heal scarlessly, Clara was unharmed from it all. Plus, they still had some money from it. And...she never really liked that purse anyway.
On the third day, Francis said he was going to hit up a human city to get a few scores. Clara agreed and reminded him that she didn't have a phone just yet. "I'll pick one up for you - let's see, bright pink with rhinestones, right? The ones filled with candy?" He teased her.
She threw a small pillow from the couch at him, which he expertly dodged as she laughed. "Get it for yourself and risk some cavities, why don't you?!"
"Oh come on," Francis smiled, his white, pearly teeth showing as he picked up the pillow, "I'll bring us back a giant chocolate chocolate truffle cake, something worth risking the dental bill." He plopped the pillow on the couch before sitting on the other side, a seat from her.
"Mm," she mused, "that does sound existique. Fine, deal. And I'll be sure to make a steak dinner when you come back. Which will be…?" They didn't have a landline and not having a cell phone made it all the more keenly relevant and made her aware that they were nearly in the middle of Nowhere. Sure she had a small little car, but even then, that was at least a thirty mile drive to something - seven if she needed Courage.
Francis' hazel gaze softened with sympathy. "About two days. You could always join me." He suggested with great hope. He wasn't too keen on leaving her alone here for more than a few hours. It was unlikely that anyone should bother her here, but still, it was supposed to be unlikely that Katz would ever see them again. So much for that.
Clara grimaced and put her head on her hand on the edge of the couch. "I think I'd more of a hindrance than an asset right now." She made a face, nose scrunched. "I just...still feel pretty fucked up. All of that...twice in a row, I could have been…" Been what? She shuddered to name it, any of it.
Francis reached out and placed his hand on her arm, squeezing in reassurance. "I know. I understand." He loathed to think of the 'what if' as well, his blood boiling and his stomach churning with fear. "It's okay if you sit it out. Rest and recover...and clean and cook." He barely pulled his arm away in time to avoid being smacked, laughing softly. "Seriously...hey, why don't I have Courage come spend the night? At least for one night?"
Clara thought about this for a moment. "Ya know what? Sure. Call him up and ask if he'd come over. I can pick him up. We'll stay up watching old movies."
"Does the 'Gremlins' count?" Francis asked as he went about texting the purple dog.
She made a soft noise. "Mm. No, he'd be too scared for that. We'll do other stuff - Sound of Music, Moulin Rouge, and the like."
"All musicals night?"
"Boy can sing like a choir child, why not?!" She laughed as Francis' phone buzzed. "What's he say?"
"He said yes! I'll tell him you'll pick him up in an hour. Sound good?" He asked as he texted away.
Clara nodded and smiled. "Good, yeah." Once Francis had finished, she reached out and touched his hand. "Thanks Francis. I don't know what I'd do without you."
The man smiled softly and squeezed her hand. "Ah, probably just...you know...thrive. Make millions. Become some poor sap's beautiful, young wife and take him for all he's worth. Take over the world with a laser beam, the usual." He found it a bit hard to breathe for a moment.
A laugh fell from her lips. "Hardly!" She protested, shaking her head. "No...no, I don't know what I'd be doing but it wouldn't be anything of value like that. Nice thought though." She stood. "Well, let me get dressed so I can take off the same time you do. Two days."
"Two days." Francis echoed, but there was a hint of something hollow in the depth of his heart when he did.
The sleepover had been a great hit. Honestly, Clara forgot how fun they could be...mostly because she had never really had them. After she picked up Courage, they stopped by a store in Nowhere to pick up junk food - popcorn, candy, pretzels, apples, sodas, beer, and a frozen pizza. They also picked up some cheap movies to watch and a couple board games, though those weren't quite as fun given that they were things like checkers.
The night went quick and before they knew it, stomachaches and all, it was three in the morning. Courage had dozed off on the couch and Clara let him. She turned off the movie, tidied up as much as she could, and placed a blanket over Courage. Francis had his room and bed, Clara had hers upstairs, but oddly enough there was no real guest room. The couch was plenty comfy though so she hoped Courage wouldn't mind. He snuggled against the blanket once she placed it on him.
As she turned off the light on the table next to the couch, she smiled. The purple haired lad was sweet and kind, definitely a one-of-sort persons. Now dark, the moonlight peaking through the windows, Clara felt suddenly wide awake. Her typical bedtime was four or so in the morning so it wasn't unusual, but perhaps it was the sugar that kept her wired. Oh to sleep so peacefully as Courage, she envied him.
"Night, pup." She reached out and lightly scratched his ears, enjoying the velvety softness. He shifted and murmured something in his sleep. She started her way up the stairs, guided by memory and moonlight, when she felt the sudden urge to look outside.
She wished she hadn't.
Out there in the distance, several dozen yards away or so, she saw something. It wasn't obvious at first and, truth be told, if the moon hadn't been nearly full, she would have missed it. It was a car. She tensed and stepped beside the window, behind the curtain. It was a car. It had to be. It certainly wasn't a rock as they don't roll around like tumbleweed. She peeked against and wondered who it could be...and why. On top of that, could they see her? Could they be using binoculars? And if so...how long had they been watching?
She felt sick suddenly and knew all the junk food would return if she wasn't careful. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath. When she looked again...the car was gone! She blinked and looked all around. For the next few minutes, as she locked the doors and windows around the house, she also looked around to try and see the damn car. But...nothing.
Was she seeing things? Maybe she was just...tired. Maybe it was the...the...the sugar, the sodas, yes. Maybe it was the junk food. Or maybe they hadn't cooked the pizza all the way and she was seeing things, yes, that could be it. Because if it were a car, which it wasn't, who would be in it? Mad Dog had no idea where she lived and neither did...neither did…
Could Katz have pulled something from her phone?
Clara shuddered and went to the kitchen. She pulled out a large knife, the butcher knife, and made her way upstairs. A quick glance out of those windows also proved, from a further distance, and there was no one anywhere around. She tried to keep an eye out, but as the night went on, her eye lids grew heavy. Before too long, she had fallen asleep on the bay window, knife at her side, looking for something that wasn't, couldn't have ever been there.
The smell of bacon, maple syrup, and coffee woke her. Clara blinked and winced as she moved her neck. "Ah, fuck." She cursed as she massaged the kinks out. Sleeping like that hadn't been pleasant, up against a window. She saw the knife at her side and looked out the window, wincing at the bright light. No...nothing, yet again.
Clara made her way downstairs, pausing only to wash her face and her teeth. She thought it wise and discrete, for now, to leave the knife in her room. Better to not walk in with it...poor Courage would have a heart attack.
When she made it to the kitchen, she spoke. "Morning Courage." She greeted, surprised to see the lavender-haired young man flipping pancakes in the air. "How long have I been out?"
Courage caught the latest pancake in the pan before turning to look at the blond woman. "Good morning, Clara." He tossed the pancake to the plate and turned off the oven. "It's eleven...we both slept in a bit." He gave a sheepish smile.
"Hell, the way I live, that's a normal sleep schedule." She went over to pull the milk and sugar for their coffee. "Did you sleep okay?" It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if he had seen or heard anything...off last night, but she resisted.
Courage placed a plate of eggs, bacon, and pancakes before her. The butter and syrup were off to the side as he gestured. "Yeah, like a rock." The young man nodded. "I think your couch is actually comfier than my bed."
Clara snorted softly as she slathered a bit of butter over both pancakes. "Yeah? That's good, I think. Do you wanna stay another night?" It was half a joke, but she was also mostly serious. After that car, she was uneasy.
Courage poured syrup over his pancakes and then paused to add milk, nearly a fourth of a cup, to coffee. There was a joke in there somewhere, but Clara didn't have the energy to say it. "I'd love to, but I have to meet with my publishing agent tomorrow." He offered a genuine sympathetic look. "Meaning I gotta get to bed at a reasonable time...and finish my rough draft."
Clara paused, accidentally pouring too much syrup and having it fall to her eggs, as she looked at him in surprise. "Wait, you aren't even done with your first draft and you spent the night?! Courage!"
"I knoooow!" He tugged at his ears a bit. "But it's fine, really! It'll get done for sure. I know what I want to say, I just have to write it. Anyway, it's just a rough draft. No big deal!" He went to sit at the table now that everything was prepared. Clara followed him. He cut into his pancakes.
"I guess so...but still. I had no idea you were so...living dangerously-like." She teased him as she bit into a strip of bacon. Courage paused and their eyes met. "What? What's that look?" He started to shovel bits of pancake into his mouth and made a gesture, as if he couldn't talk now. "Don't make me start playing Charades because I will."
Courage's shoulders shook which barely restrained laughter. He chewed and swallowed, pausing to take a large gulp of his mostly-milk-coffee before he spoke. "I mean, I didn't mind because Francis said you didn't want to be alone for a bit. Something about a...I mean, he didn't say it, and you don't have to talk about it unless you want to, but a near...you were almost attacked." His ears flattened at the last word.
Clara paused, utensils in the air. Attacked? Well, yes, yes she supposed she was nearly attacked - kidnapped almost too. But...she shifted in her chair. It felt...uncomfortable that Courage should know that. It was almost too close to the truth, but then again, perhaps that why Francis had told him. It guaranteed that Courage would come over, that he would be attentive, but he was too shy to ask for more details. It was a surprise to Clara, no acting required, but that would be the point. It was as close to their real life as Courage would get.
"Ah, yeah...no, not much to say. I was walking alone down the street at night in the city - I know, dumb - and some guys tried to attack me. I ran and got away, no big deal." She shrugged as she told that lie, cutting her pancakes and taking a bite. "Thanks for staying though," she meant it, "it made the day more comfortable." The night not so much because of the car, but still. Or perhaps it had, given that she had fallen asleep even fitfully. "And thanks for breakfast." She smiled wide. "Tasty."
The dog's ears were so expressive in his shock, his fear, and his relief. He was as easy to read as an open book. "I'm so glad you're safe!" He nearly howled, the knife and fork left on the plate. "If you need me, I can try to work something out for another night." He started to say, about to ramble off on some plans.
Clara shook her head and reached out, covering his mouth with her free hand. "No, no, no, no. It's okay, really! One night did me lots of good...but sooner or later I gotta sleep alone to be okay with everything again. Anyway, we're out in the nearly-middle of Nowhere...who even knows I'm out here? Seriously, it's fine. You are an amazing friend, pup." She smiled and sat back.
Courage had a bit of pink covering his cheeks, but he beamed proudly. "Alright...well, if you'd like, I'll come by tomorrow afternoon for lunch? Then Francis should be back by dinner."
"Absolutely." She agreed and dug back into breakfast.
How did Clara get so lucky to have a neighbor like Courage?
Much to Clara's relief, there was no car that second night. She slept mostly well, though she did wake up a few times. It was an otherwise normal day, peppered with lunch from Courage and a copy of his first draft to review for pleasure and feedback. Close to six, she started to slowly cook the steaks, potatoes, and asparagus. She pulled out a bottle of red wine and even got some candles to be cheeky. Francis was due back soon, hopefully in the next hour.
But seven rolled around and he didn't show. She kept dinner in the oven to keep it warm, but when eight, nine, ten, and eleven went by, she knew it was a wasted meal. She ate hers at the least and tried not to panic. Where was he? Had he gotten pulled over? Caught? She shuddered at the thought. But where was he? She wished she had a phone so she could call him.
By midnight, she couldn't help herself. The only way she could get to a phone was to either wake up the Bagge family - which would raise some questions, especially if Francis had gotten caught - or go into the animal city (yes, the one she had sworn to lay low from) for a pay phone. She paced and paced, but nothing. By one o'clock, she knew she had to risk it. Collecting some change, she drove into the animal city and stopped at the first pay phone. A quick look around showed that she was alone.
She got into the phone booth, inserted the coins, and dialed Francis' number. She was expecting him to answer after the second ring and apologize so profusely, to say that he was finishing up a big scheme, to say that he had gotten laid and he forgot about dinner, to say...well, anything. Really, Clara was at a point at 1:30 in the morning where she wasn't picky.
So when the phone rang five times and went to voicemail, her stomach dropped. She hung up, waited a moment, then called again. Maybe...maybe he had picked up some woman and they were asleep...or busy. Surely he'd answer now. He had to.
Except...he didn't.
Instead of five rings and voicemail, it rang twice...and it sounded like someone picked up, but hung up immediately. Clara felt that unease grow up her spine. She looked around her just to be sure she was, in fact, alone, and called one more time. Third time and whatnot. This time, however, it went straight to voicemail.
She hung up the phone, a few pennies coming out as her change. She left them there. She stared at the phone for a minute longer before moving. Maybe...he was home. Except this time, it sounded more like a prayer than an assumption. The drive back was the longest she ever took. There was no need, or rather she didn't have patience, for taking a few different routes to throw off any tails, because she didn't see anyone. Once she got home, she saw she was the only one there and the lights were all off, just as she had left them.
So if Francis wasn't home...where was he?