A Girl by Any Other Name (56 page)

“Maybe.”

“She’s a total freak. No one likes her but you. You guys don’t even make sense together. I’m the

head cheerleader and you’re captain of the football team. We make sense. You and her… It’s like

you’re taking pity on her.”

I had never felt like hitting a woman before. My fists even clenched, but my breeding wouldn’t

allow me to do any more than that. “I’m warning you, Wendy, don’t talk about her like that. It’s none

of your business.”

“I know you try to hide it, but I can see you’re into her.”

Was that what everyone thought? I felt my blood boiling in my veins as I gritted my teeth. “I

don’t fucking try to hide it.
She
does. You are right. She is the reason I won’t go out with you.”

Wendy leaned in close to me, letting her hair graze my cheek. It felt like starched sandpaper. I

took a deep breath, which was a mistake because her perfume invaded my nostrils and strangled me.

“Is it a curiosity thing? Does she do nasty things in bed? Because I can—”

“Shut up, Wendy.”

“God, what a waste. You don’t see that you deserve better than her?”

I stared at Wendy, seeing her ugliness through all that makeup and cherry lipstick, “There is no

one better. Get out.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” I leaned across her and opened the passenger side door. “Get the fuck out of

the car.”

“You’re not coming in with me?”

“Hell, no.”

“But…but…you’re my ride.”

“Wendy, please exit my vehicle. Don’t worry, you’ll find some other guy to ride.” It was a cold

statement, but I was done with Wendy Watson.

Wendy turned to me once more. “You’ll be sorry for this, Cal.”

“I don’t think so.”

She slammed the door so hard I heard the window rattle in the frame. I was just glad she was

gone. I had such a fierce need to get to Sylvie it was burning my skull. I quenched the sinking feeling

in my stomach, knowing I wouldn’t feel relief until I saw her.

I made the fifteen-minute drive in ten. I tapped on her window, but there was no answer. I pulled

on it, but it was locked. I ran into the woods, stumbling over a few branches, searching for her in the

dark. I finally made it to the lake and breathed a deep sigh of relief when I saw her on the dock

fishing. I could just make out her shadowy figure with the small lantern set next to her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, blinking rapidly.

I took a deep breath, telling myself to calm the fuck down. “I wanted to dance.”

“Why didn’t you stay at the dance then?” she asked, with a weak smile.

“The girl I wanted to dance with wasn’t there.” I walked over to her and held out my hand.

“She’s here.”

Sylvie stared at my hand for a minute, biting her lower lip nervously. She finally took it with

measured hesitation, but I grasped it tightly and pulled her up.

“We don’t have any music.”

I chuckled. “I’m your Huckleberry,” I replied, taking out my cell phone.

“Is that new?”

“Yeah, it’s cool. I can download music on it.” I scrolled through the selections until I found the

song I was looking for.
Brown-Eyed Girl
started playing. I’d downloaded it because it reminded me

of her. “You like Van Morrison, right? You were listening to them the first day I met you.”

“You remember that?”

I slipped the phone into my pocket. “I remember everything.” She slid her arms around my neck

and I grasped her waist. It wasn’t the slowest song, but we danced to it as if it was. I held her in my

arms as tightly as I could, knowing this was where I belonged. I loved her and although she’d never

said, I knew she loved me too.

“You smell good,” she commented, her body relaxing as we shuffled to the music.

“You smell like dead fish,” I replied.

This elicited a hearty laugh from her. Sylvie always got my weird sense of humor. I was kidding,

though—she smelled fine. Actually, she smelled divine.

“Cal, I’m sorry,” she said. “I wish things were simpler. I wish—”

“Shush, girl, I’m trying to dance with you. Just stop talking and let me hold you.”

She did and when the dance was over, she surprised me by putting a hand on each side of my

face and pulling me toward her. It was a passionate kiss, open-mouthed with our tongues exploring

hungrily. Her lips were soft, and she smelled of mint and strawberry. I breathed her in, tasting her

scent. I let my hands travel up her back and felt my dick grow hard when she pressed her body closer

to mine. There we were, two figures against the pale Prairie Marsh moonlight, me in my Sunday suit

and her in her fishing outfit, but it didn’t matter what we were wearing or where we’d come from. We

belonged with each other. To each other.

When she pulled away, we were both breathing hard.

“Sylvie, I’m really sorry.”

She covered my mouth with her hand. “Don’t apologize. It was bound to happen sooner or later.

Just kiss me again.”

I didn’t get her statement, but hell if I was going to deny her or myself another kiss. We made out

like that for a few minutes until she pushed me away again. “Someone’s in my house,” she said with a

hitched voice.

I looked up through the densely packed woods and saw the light streaming from her window.

“Yeah, it’s your dad.”

“No, Cal. My bedroom light is on.”

I sighed in frustration, pissed off by her distraction. “Again…it’s your daddy.”

“No, he never goes into my room.” The panic in her voice was wavering on hysteria. “I have to

go.”

“Calm down, I’ll go with you.”

“Stay here,” she said with a command to her voice I wasn’t expecting.

“Like hell I will.” She was already running through the woods. I ran after her. We made it to her

house and she was about to run to the front door when I grabbed her by the waist and pulled her

toward the back of the house. “Let’s check it out first.”

She nodded. “’Kay.”

I walked her backward toward her windowsill and we both crouched below it. I could make out

some shadowy figures through the blinds. They were slanted just enough to allow a visible but

obstructed view.

I swallowed hard as my spine went rigid at the sight. Mr Cranston was sitting on Sylvie’s bed,

bleeding from his head as two men took turns punching him. Their backs were to me. One was tall

with broad shoulders and balding. The other was shorter, but with a strong build. Judging from his

laughter, he was taking pleasure in Mr Cranston’s pain. They both wore baseball caps, but curls of

dark hair stuck out from the edges. I’d never witnessed anything like this in my life, except at the

movies. One of them pulled out a gun and held it to Harry Cranston’s head.

I turned to Sylvie just as her mouth dropped open. She was about to scream. I cupped my hand

against her lips, suppressing the sound before it escaped.

“Shut up,” I whispered and pulled her down so we were out of sight. “Who are they?”

I released my hand, but kept it close in case she felt the need to scream again. She looked up at

me, white as a ghost, lower lip trembling. “Cancer,” she answered.

“Where is she?” one of them said loud enough for us to hear.

“I told you, I don’t know,” Mr Cranston replied. He sounded resigned, like he knew he wasn’t

going to survive this. It freaked me out.

A fat tear formed in the corner of Sylvie’s eye as her body shivered violently against mine. I

pressed my hand against her mouth again. I didn’t trust her to keep whispering. She bit the skin of my

palm so hard that I released her. “I have to go help him.”

“There is nothing you can do. They have a gun.” I slid my phone from my pocket and dialed the

number on my cell, keeping one arm around her. It was just three digits but my hands were shaking so

much I wasn’t sure how I managed it. I spoke hurriedly, giving the pertinent information only as my

father had taught me once a very long time ago. “Two armed men. 1611 Pine Crest. Send multiple

units and an ambulance. Suspects in the house. ”

She scrambled out of my grasp. I grabbed the cuff of her shorts and pulled her back down. “Are

you crazy? They will kill you if you go in there.”

“I don’t care if they kill me. I have to help him.” There was no way I was letting her go in there.

I put my body on top of hers, trying to keep her still, but she was thrashing and squirming so hard I

had a tough time of it despite being so much bigger than her.

“Stop moving.”

“Let me go. I told you I don’t care. Go home.”

I rested my full weight on her. I knew I was hurting her, but I’d rather she was hurt than dead. I

said the only thing I could think of to get her to stop fighting me. “Do you care if they kill me?” She

blinked her eyes rapidly, confusion spreading across her face. “Do you? Because if you go in there,

I’m going with you and we’ll both die.”

“Go home,” she cried.

“If you want to go in, then we both go. It’s your choice—we both die tonight or neither of us

does. Which is it?”

She was hyperventilating so I moved off her, but still kept my arm around her waist. “Neither,”

she choked. I moved off her, but kept my arms secured around her waist in case she tried to run again.

“We have to get to my house.”

She shook her head. I started dragging her, but she was so much stronger than I’d ever given her

credit for.

That was when we heard the shot. It wasn’t loud, just a pop really, followed by the dull thud of

something—or more likely someone—hitting the floor.

This time she did scream, and I couldn’t stop her. I picked her up, slinging her over my shoulder

like a sack of potatoes, trying to run toward the safety of the street. This was Texas and the majority

of my neighbors had guns. Even eighty-year-old Mrs Pershall had a Remington in her front closet. All

I had to do was yell and they’d all come to our rescue.

We never made it that far. As I rounded the corner, my head connected with a sharp object and I

fell with her in my arms. The crunch of footsteps on the dried leaves was the only sound my aching

head could decipher. I shook my head, trying to clear the confusion as I saw the shadows of two

looming figures above us. “Look at you, little girl grown up,” I heard one of the men say through the

ringing in my ears. Then a foot connected with my head and warm blood covered my face.

“Is this your boyfriend? See this, Eddie? Your girlfriend’s fooling around on you.”

“You killed him.” I was shocked by how calm she sounded.

They were both surrounding her. I stood up shakily and swung my arm at one of them. I was

incoherent, though, and he easily blocked my punch. A sudden, searing, sharp pain attacked my right

leg, causing me to fall back. I tried to get up again, but my body wasn’t cooperating. Sylvie let out a

blood-curdling scream. It didn’t sound fearful, though. It was strong like a battle cry.

“I won’t let you hurt him,” she was saying. I opened my eyes in time to see her clawing at one of

them. I told her to stop. I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard the distant sounds of police sirens. We

were safe. We would be fine. She would be fine. I fought against the pounding pain in my head and

lifted it.

Sylvie’s small frame looked almost possessed, slapping and hitting one of them while the other

one tried to push her off. The small pop and her sudden silence in mid-speech caused my heart to

stagger with such anguish that I forgot all about the bump on my head or my injured leg. The litany of

her shrieks followed by the abrupt quiet would haunt me forever. I watched helplessly as she fell to

the ground.

“No!” I screamed over and over again. “No, no, no!”

“Why did you do that? We were supposed to take her,” one of them said to the other, shoving

him.

“It’s better this way. She’s dead,” the older one said. It was a cold, clinical statement.

“No, she’s not,” the younger replied. A surge of hope sprang through me. The shorter man stared

at Sylvie then fell to his knees in front of her. I heard her whimper in pain and it brought me

momentary relief to know she wasn’t dead. He lifted her head and bent down to her, whispering in

her ear.

“Put her out of her misery,” the older one said, holding his gun out.

“Don’t do it,” I screamed, but it was the shorter man who stopped him by seizing his arm.

“We have to go.” I didn’t know who was speaking. They both turned toward me, anonymous

cloaked figures, meaning only harm… Cowardly bastards. I couldn’t see it, but I sure as hell heard

the click of the cocked pistol, followed by the short popping blasts of gunfire. The stiffness in the air

crackled and whirled, leaving a metallic aftertaste in its path as bullets propelled past me. I thought I

was dead. Maybe it would have been better if I was.

The sirens grew stronger and car doors slammed. Our assassins rushed off into the woods,

scurrying like insects. I stared at my girl, willing my body to move toward her. I couldn’t walk, but I

managed to crawl. I dug my fingers as deep as they would go into the hard-packed earth, breaking a

few nails as I clawed my way to her. The silver glint of the St Michael’s medallion acted as a beacon