A Bedtime Story
Authors: L.C. Moon
A BEDTIME STORY
By L. C. MOON
COPYRIGHT 2014 © L. C. MOON
Cover art by Dominique Blais
Les Éditions D. A. D. inc
D. A. D. inc Publishing
Head Office
1637, rue Des Clapotis
Terrebonne, Qc, Canada
J6X 4N4
ISBN: 978-0-9938655-0-3
ISBN EPUB: 978-0-9938655-3-4
ISBN MOBI: 978-0-9938655-2-7
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be
reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any
means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the
written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses,
places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or
used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or
actual events is purely coincidental.
Know who you are, and they will too.
L
EV
M
ALKIN
T
o Claudia, truth be told, if it weren’t
for you,
A Bedtime Story
(
BTS
) would have forever remained my personal
“bedtime story”.
To my sister, Lana Chacra, a.k.a. Sissi, and most likely my (evil;
p) twin in another life. You understood
BTS
more than I did at times and did
not shy away from putting me back on track (in harsher ways than I expected: s) when
I got lost. Your unwavering faith in me, in
BTS
, is what got me to the finish
line. I will never forget our daily e-mails and their endless “last version!” I will
never thank you enough for your support and for all the memories we created, caught
up in
BTS
world, story, and music. Thank you. Most of Laura and Kayne’s story
was written with the songs you composed for them playing on a loop. In the most
excruciating moments of doubts, I only needed to play their theme song again, and I
would think to myself, BTS
has to be good if it can inspire such hauntingly
beautiful melodies
.
One cannot mention
BTS
music without mentioning Brent
Bourgeois. Brent, thank you. Listening to what you have done with
BTS
is a
very humbling experience. Some encounters are meant to be, and I believe Lana and
yours was among them.
To Cam, my VERY OPINIONATED… interested party;). I love you and
could not have asked for a better brother-in-law. You are more than family, you are
a kindred spirit. Thank you for your devotion, from the amazing lyrics you wrote for
BTS
to the time and dedication you have given to the book and music. I
would not trust
BTS
in anyone else’s hands.
To my editor, Natalie Najarian (a.k.a. Bubbles). I took over your
life. Shamelessly, one might say (though not me… lol). I will always cherish our
two-hour long (almost daily) conversations and heated debates over (grammatically
questionable) “AUTHOR INTENT!” lol. I have grown as an author under your care and
patience. Our friendship was way overdue but will pass the test of
time.
To my best friends and “FA-MEL-LY”, you are few and irreplaceable.
I could not have chosen better mates to travel this road.
To my friends and Beta readers, ML, AS, and SP, and a special
thanks to Tina E., JG Faherty and Donna J. Thank you for all your help and
support.
To Dominique Blais, a.k.a. Doom, I have always loved your art and
knew from the get-go that it had to be you and no one else. My expectations of you
were tremendously high, and you surpassed them by a mile. Thank you.
And lastly, to my husband, my best friend, the love of my life, and
always, my partner in crime. You know me like no one else on earth. You are the
protective older brother I always craved and the ally I always needed. Boubounet, we
have created our own little world. I look forward to growing old with you. Bald and
toothless, still goofing around, cracking up at each other’s jokes under our
friends’ discouraged headshake. It amazes me. Two accidents... and yet fated in the
stars. Je t’aime, plus qu’hier, moins que demain... 10-5 20-1-9-13-5.
S
he was standing still, amidst the chaotic
music and frantic crowd, holding a Long Island Iced Tea she had been absentmindedly
sipping for the past half hour. She had her back to him, and he was willing her
silently to turn around. He’d been watching her for two weeks now, keeping track of
her routine, her habits, and her correspondence. She kept to herself, no friends, no
pets, little to no contact with the outside world. She went straight home after her
shifts, bussing tables at the local deli where the obese, middle-aged manager
obviously kept her for ulterior motives, considering the amount of dishes she broke
in those two short weeks. He liked watching her. She was young, innocent, and
pretty.
Very pretty
. She looked even prettier in a grey chiffon cocktail
dress and nude stilettos. It was certainly a change from the jeans and hoodies he’d
gotten so used to seeing her in. But he wanted to see her face again, to take in her
delicate features and stare into those big round grey eyes. Maybe if he was lucky,
he would get a glimpse of one of her scarce but impossibly sweet smiles. He was
excited, tonight, he would finally make contact. And yet he felt slightly nostalgic,
tonight, the job was over.
She finally turned her head, only her head, with her back still
facing him, as if sensing his stare. Straight brown bangs framed her eyes. Her long
chestnut hair, usually in a ponytail, hung loose below her delicate shoulders,
contrasted against her porcelain skin. She looked sophisticated, far beyond her
years. He almost felt reluctance at what was to come, she was so pretty. Under
different circumstances, his plans for her would have been as sinister, though
designed for his own depraved pleasure.
But no, Laura Spencer was a job,
and
an important one at that.
***
It was supposed to be fun. The first warm night in
early spring had all of Montreal buzzing with life and excitement. Restaurants and
clubs were packed with the overjoyous liberated hibernators. Laura regretted the
decision the moment she stepped out of her door. Pamela, her overfriendly coworker,
had finally worn her down and convinced her to come out. “It’s a new club, classy,
you’ll love it! Besides, girls need to stick together. You can’t let me meet this
guy alone!” And her personal favorite, “He’s
soooooo
hot!”
Uuughhh
.
Pamela seemed awfully fine, flirting up a storm with the hot customer she had given
her number to, earlier that day. It didn’t take Laura too long to realize she had
become a third wheel, and she remorselessly wondered off to get herself a drink. She
was tired; she was always tired. She just wanted to go home. Tomorrow, a new
postcard might be in the mail. For the past six months, one card was delivered to
her mailbox every other week. She lived for those deliveries.
A few men had tried approaching her, and she gently brushed them
off. Suddenly, she felt a prickle down her spine. Turning her head around, she
noticed him. He was wearing jeans and a black shirt. He was tall, dark, and
handsome, very much so. She surprised herself by noticing it. She was barely aware
of her surroundings and the people in it. She often got in trouble at work for it,
too distracted to notice clients, bumping left and right into waiters carrying hot
plates, breaking a few too many plates herself. How she wished to be graceful and
elegant; she consciously tried to be aware of her movements. In the end, she
resigned herself to losing a tenth of her paycheck every other week to compensate
her employer for her clumsiness.
He was staring at her, very intently.
Not the typical stare
you’d expect from a man on the prowl
. She held his gaze for an instant
before her eyes instinctively fell to the ground. She didn’t dare look in his
direction again,
knowing
his eyes were still glued to her. She gulped the
remainder of her watered-down drink in one shot and headed to the bar for
another.
The very sexy, platinum blonde, miniskirt-sporting bartender was
evidently more interested in serving the male clientele. After a few
failed attempts at waving her down, Laura was about to retreat in defeat when a
freshly made Long Island Iced Tea miraculously appeared in front of her. Her heart
skipped a beat, in excitement, and in fear.
Could it be the incredibly handsome,
slightly creepy mystery man?
She was relieved, if not disappointed, to find
out it wasn’t. One of those overconfident corporate-looking guys was smiling at her,
wearing the typical stare you
would
expect from a man on the prowl.
“So… did I get it right?” He shot her one of those cocky smiles.
“Yes… hmm… I mean no… Sorry, I can’t take that.”
“Ah c’mon, don’t be like that. It’s just a drink. I saw you there
downing the last one pretty fast, seemed like you really could use another.”
She giggled awkwardly. “Sorry… I really can’t… I have to find my
friend. Thank you though…” she mumbled the last part nervously, as she quickly
turned around to make her exit, chiding herself inwardly for her lack of cool
composure. Before she knew it, she ran into a wall of flesh and was about to lose
balance when two firm hands caught her on either side.
“Easy there… you okay?”
It was
him
. She remained mute, simply staring up wide-eyed
at him. He was even taller and better looking up close. He was light tan with deep
brown eyes and dark wavy hair that fell to his chin. She gulped as he leaned in,
facing the square jaw, full red lips, and very strong muscular body, which at the
moment were too close for comfort.
“Are you okay?” he repeated himself slowly, speaking softly in her
ear. She could feel his breath on her face, feel her heart racing, and for some
reason, red flags going up all over the place.
“Yes… Thank you… I have to go…” she managed to blurt out before she
broke free of his hold. She looked around desperately for Pamela. She wanted to
leave.
Now
.
She found Pamela making out in a corner with Mark,
because now
he’s just Mark
, not the stranger for whom Laura had to play chaperone.
Pamela frowned at Laura when she voiced her
aggravation at the
disappearing act.
She was just with Mark
,
it’s okay, don’t freak out
,
like she’d known him her whole life. “Just fifteen more minutes? Pleaaaaaaase,
pretty pleeeeeeaaase?” She even threw in with eye batting and the whole hoopla.
Rolling her eyes, Laura warned her coworker,
not friend
, definitely not in
that moment, that she would go outside for a cigarette. Fifteen minutes. Not. A.
Second. More.
He was already outside by the time she made her way to the street.
He was alone, and he spotted her. It was too late to turn back now, no matter how
badly she wanted to… or not. She smiled politely at him and stood at the opposite
side of the door. He nodded his head to her, an imperceptible smile crossing his
lips as he took another drag of his cigarette. She was waiting for him to speak to
her, initiate small talk, but he didn’t. She was halfway through the cigarette, the
silence making her uncomfortable, even more so when confronted to his relaxed
posture. She was unnerved by his actions, or lack thereof, but reminded herself of
the way she had treated him earlier. He was only being gentlemanly, and she’d
brushed him off. It was up to her to make the next move.
“Hey… sorry… about earlier… I didn’t mean to be rude…” She flashed
him an honest smile. She did feel bad.
“It’s okay, no harm done.” He offered her a charming smile, a
heart-melting, teenybopper-mania-inducing, guy-next-door smile. Her heart fluttered
and she couldn’t stop smiling herself. “I just… I really suck at these things… and
by things, I mean most social interactions…” she blurted out nervously, as she
always did in these situations. Why couldn’t she be the composed, self-assured,
aloof type? Even her voice went up a few octaves, the sound grating her ears. This
man was in his late twenties at the very least, and there she was sounding like a
high schooler on her way to the prom.
“You doing all right,” he said with a knowing, indulgent smile as
he flicked away his cigarette. He then added, “Take care of yourself,” brushing her
elbow with the tips of his fingers as he made his way back in.
She was floored. He might as well have slapped her
in the face. She felt rejected, and yet she couldn’t help rubbing the spot he had
just touched, smiling to herself. She was still daydreaming, a telling smile on her
face, when she remembered hunting down dear Pamela so they could finally get out of
there. As expected, Pamela was found in the same corner, though the situation seemed
to have escalated. Looking away, Laura tugged at her friend in a vain effort to
detangle her from Mark. Annoyed, even more so than the previous time, Pamela
informed her that she would be leaving with Mark, adding in a gentler tone, “Is it
okay?”
“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I’ll just take a cab.”
Of
course it’s not okay. I came here for you
.
“Oh really? Yay! Thanks, you’re the best!” Pamela clasped her
hands.
“Yeah, you’re the best, Lisa!” Mark agreed.
She didn’t bother correcting him. She’d be impressed if he
remembered Pamela’s name come morning. She headed outside, relieved to have survived
the supposedly fun evening out. She was looking through her purse for her cellphone
to call a cab when she realized her wallet was missing.
Could this night get any
worse? Emotionally coerced by friend/coworker to go out? Check. Rejected by
handsome stranger totally rocking mixed signals? Check. Ditched by said
friend/coworker for obvious douche bag? Triple check
. As for the icing on
the cake, the case of the missing wallet… Laura would have gotten much more
irritated if she hadn’t been used to so much worse. As she lit a cigarette to weigh
her options,
and walking was not one of them
, he reappeared again.
“You’re still here.”
It wasn’t a question, more of a happy observation. And just like
that, her insides were swarming with butterflies.
“Well… I wasn’t here the whole time… I went to look for my friend
inside… Turns out she’s ditched me.”
“I meant at the club.”
“Oh… yeah, of course… I mean no, I’m leaving, or I’m
trying to. Turns out I lost my wallet too.” She offered him a self-deprecating
smile.
“So… a great night.”
“Yeah, you could say that again.” She let out a soft chuckle under
his amused gaze.
“I’m Kayne.” He offered his hand.
“Laura, nice to meet you.” She shook his hand, reminded of its
warmth and firm grasp.
“Do you need money for a cab?”
“Oh no… I couldn’t possibly. No, I’ll just walk… It’s not that
far…” she said unconvincingly.
He just gave her the look, like even he knew she didn’t believe
that for a second. He shook his head with playful disapproval and, reaching into his
wallet, pulled out a fifty-dollar bill.
“That should cover it,” he said, handing it to her.
“No. Seriously, I
can’t
take your money,” she said
adamantly, almost offended.
Why couldn’t he just offer her a ride… like normal
people?
“Where you heading?”
“Close to the university. It’s not that far. Seriously, I
could
walk…” “Hmm…” he uttered, unconvinced, and visibly entertained as
he put the money back in his wallet and turned around. He pressed his car starter
and started walking toward a granite Audi SUV, leaving Laura feeling abandoned and
confused on the sidewalk. “You coming?” he asked, barely turning his head back to
her, showing her a glimpse of his smirk.
Thank you!
She thought he’d never offer, and
damned if
she asked
. She caught up to him, smiling away. “Are you sure you don’t
mind?”
He responded with a sly smile, offering her his hand to help her
into the car. He turned on the radio once they were inside. She began to chat away,
jittery, the entire time, wondering if he
would ask for her number.
He turned to her from time to time, restraining a smirk, amused by her nervousness.
At some point he made a turn off route then turned to her, resting his hand very
gently on the top of her knee, for just a few seconds.
“Listen, Laura, I have to drop off something. It’s literally two
blocks down. Do you mind if we make a quick stop?”
“No, no, of course not. Please, go ahead.” She was still giddy from
his touch, from all the possibilities playing in her head, and honestly, she
welcomed the delay if it meant more time with him. This neighborhood wasn’t the
best, and the street he parked on looked even shadier. He smiled warmly at her.
“Well, it’s here. Do you want to come with me, or would you rather wait in the car?”
She looked around wearily. She didn’t want to be alone. “Hmm… I’ll go with you. If
that’s okay?” she asked uncertainly.
He answered with a soft chuckle and, after opening the door on her
side, offered his hand.
***
He had never seen her smile as much as she had in this past half
hour. She really had a gorgeous smile. He took some pride in knowing that he’d
gotten so many out of her for himself. He felt her tense from the moment they
entered the building. He was walking fast, and she was struggling to keep the pace.
The charade would be over soon. They got to a double door, and she threw him an
inquisitive look. He could tell she knew something was off. For starters, he wasn’t
carrying anything, but she made no mention of it. He did feel a few furtive stares
burning his back on the long walk down the corridor. By that point, he knew she had
followed him against her better judgment. He opened one of the doors and ushered her
inside, with a
ladies first
kind of gesture. She smiled nervously but
obeyed.
There were three men already inside the room. A short stocky one in
a pinstripe suit sat behind a massive mahogany desk facing them. He immediately
stood up to greet them, an ugly sneer marring his face. The other two could have
passed for Secret
Service agents, complete with black suits and
earpieces, if not for the AK-47s they carried. They stood stoically against the
walls on either sides of the room.