Diaries of an Urban Panther (5 page)

BOOK: Diaries of an Urban Panther
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Chapter Four

 

O
nce I finally talked myself out of the house for the first time, lunch at Cafe Brazil was normal for a lunch with Jessa. She talked, I listened. I got the whole sordid story behind Ben’s midnight visit on Sunday. Her narration was as good as the real thing. It took her twenty minutes to rehash the whole ordeal but at the end of it, then she slid the tickets to the opera across the table.

“Who are you going to take?” she asked with a devilish look, no doubt hoping for some gossip in my answer.

“Well, if you
really
don’t want to go?” I offered one last time.

She made a sour face and shook her head. She unfolded her napkin and laid it daintily in her lap.

“I thought I’d ask Devin,” I shrugged.

“That dweeb from your book club?”

I sighed, “He’s a doctor. Doesn’t that earn him
any
points with you?”

“He’s a dweeb, plus I think he’s gay,” she whispered the last part before taking a bite of her chicken salad.

I’d argue, but he actually was gay; Devin and I had discussed on several occasions how hard it was to find a decent guy in Dallas. Many a night, we commiserated over a bottle of wine. Too bad, because the guy was pretty perfect: tall, fairly handsome, and English. Let’s face it, the accent counted for a lot.

“He’s the only person in my life right now who will appreciate these tickets,” I said as I safely tucked them into my bag.

“Well, while you are at the opera, I’ll be at a charity event downtown. Some international children’s organization is hosting a fashion show. Lots of big wigs to rub elbows with.”

And by rub elbows with, Jessa meant flirt. Her father consorted with presidents and kings and now, his daughter flirted with them. She had met the president, two princes, and every eligible bachelor on the eastern seaboard before she joined me halfway across the country. Now the princes had spurs.

“Sounds like a lot of fun,” I said with fake enthusiasm.

“So I need to go shopping tonight to find something suitable.”

“Of course.”

Jessa never really
needed
to find something suitable to wear. The girl had more clothes in her house than St. Mark’s Square had pigeons. And more mirrors than Versailles. The entire second floor of my townhouse would fit in her closet. She’d probably faint if she saw the two racks of clothes sustaining my wardrobe.

My phone began to vibrate but I didn’t recognize the number. The local area code danced across my screen but I couldn’t remember any appointments or interviews I had made. But I had been slightly distracted the past few days.

“Hold on a sec?” I asked Jessa and I turned away from her to answer the call. “Hello?”

“Violet? It’s Garrett.”

I nearly dropped the phone. “How did you get this number?” I asked in a harsh whisper.

“I find people. It’s what I do.”

“Right. Well, what do you want?” I asked as I looked around, half expecting him to be lurking behind a fichus somewhere. I always felt like someone was watching me, pointing fingers, and whispering about the poor little girl who got attacked by a dog because of her own drunken stupidity.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“I’m at lunch. I am allowed to eat, right?”

He was silent for a moment. “How ya doing?”

“Peachy.”

“No unusual symptoms? Unusual hungers?” he probed.

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“You sure?” he asked again.

I paused. “Come to think of it. I do have the strange sensation of someone sticking his nose way too deep into my business. Oh wait, that’s you.”

He sighed into the phone. “That’s not a nice thing to say to the person who saved your life.”

Right. Stalker or not, he was the reason I wasn’t a midnight snack. “I’m fine. I’m eating and sleeping and all healed up.”

“That’s better,” he said, his voice sounding pleased.

“Can I go now, officer?”

“Goodbye, Violet.”

I snapped my phone closed, half hoping Jessa had been listening in. Might be nice to have someone to talk to about being attacked in the back alley of my house, about being kidnapped for three days.

But as I turned back to her and saw her innocent eyes watching me, I still knew that someone couldn’t be her. I just couldn’t burden her with this.

Besides, I was fine. I was out, and making plans. She hadn’t asked why I hadn’t answered my cell in three days and I simply wasn’t ready to say the words out loud yet.

“So Friday at the Ghostbar? Meet at my place?” she asked as she took another stab at her salad.

“Sounds great.”

D
evin, white coat and all, walked around the main desk of his office to give me a small kiss on the cheek. He smiled down at me and I heard a few of the mothers in the waiting room sigh. He was a catch at 6’3” with chestnut brown hair (always perfectly combed) and shiny brown shoes.

“Sorry to bother you at work, but it’s important,” I started as he guided me around the desk with his arm around my waist and back into his office.

“No worries. What can I do for you?” he smiled.

It had struck me after my lunch with Jessa that Devin was a doctor, wore a white coat and a stethoscope and everything. He could examine me to see if anything was wrong, if anything about me had changed. Answer some of these questions still racing around in their vicious game of duck-duck-goose.

“I need a physical,” I said bluntly.

“I’m a pediatrician, Violet,” he said confused.

“So, you’re still a doctor. I just need a quick listen to my heart, take my temperature, just a quick once-over. There’s opera tickets in it for you,” I flashed the tickets from inside my purse, like a guy with hot watches in his coat.

“No,” he said wide-eyed. “You got tickets for
Carmen
!” he said reaching for them.

I snatched my purse away from his fingers and smiled. “In a roundabout way, yeah and I’m inviting you.”

He just looked at me with a raised eyebrow but I knew he couldn’t resist free tickets to the opera. “So a physical? Is it for work?”

“No, I’m just a hypochondriac and I need proof I’m not going to wither up and die before I’m 30.”

Devin laughed and I chuckled with him. It was a good lie. Something a normal girl in my situation might worry about: late twenties and no prospects. Plus I love to make Devin laugh. When he smiled, the whole room lit up and you seemed to forget all your problems because he had enough joy for two and would gladly share.

“I’ve about ten minutes between appointments. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

Devin guided me into a little exam room with little pink elephants on the walls and pink paper over the examination table. He patted the table and I sat down on the crinkly tissue. He went to wash his hands as I dangled my feet off the edge of the table.

“Have you been having any symptoms?” he asked as he rolled the stool over to me as I unbuttoned the top two buttons on my shirt.

“Not really.”

Devin put the stethoscope in his ears and made sure to warm the metal medallion before putting it on my chest. That’s why I loved Devin, so considerate.

He closed his eyes as he listened for a moment. “That’s a strong ticker you’ve got there. Like an athlete’s.”

“That’s weird,” I said as he moved the stethoscope to my back and he listened to my lungs. I flinched as he ran the medallion over the shadowy marks. I don’t know if the tingle they still had to the touch was physical or mental. “Because the only time I run is to catch the ice cream man.”

Devin laughed as he put the scope back around his neck.

“So are you really here for a checkup?” he asked as he felt my neck with his warm hands.

“Actually, I just wanted a man to touch me before I die.”

Devin stopped what he was doing to recover from laughter as he stood and gestured for me to lay back on the pink paper.

“I thought the same thing until last week.”

“What happened last week?” I asked as he thumped around on my stomach.

“Peter.”

“Peter?” I leaned up on my elbows to look at him with a raise eyebrow.

“I met someone,” he said little boy excitement in his voice. “His name is Peter and he’s a lawyer.”

“Wow, congrats.”

“We’ve only been out a couple of times, but Violet, the man is perfect.”

Uh-oh. The P word again. It was haunting me. I lay back down and stared at the Care Bear poster pinned up on the ceiling. Devin thumped around a few more times on my abdomen.

“I hope everything works out,” I said, trying to mask the sadness in my voice. Devin had been my fellow lonely hopeless romantic. Who was I supposed to commiserate with now?

Devin offered a hand and pulled me to a sitting position. With the triangular hammer, he began hitting around on my knees.

“Any news on the man front for you?” he asked as he made my legs flinch and kick.

“Nothing worth noting.”

“Don’t worry, luv. Someday someone will come and rescue you.”

I had to force myself not to laugh so he could finish the exam. “And that’s why I love you, Devin. Always the optimist.”

“Glad I could be of service,” he said, slightly confused at my response. “Well, I think you’re fine. Seem to be in good health, but there is one concern.”

“What?” I asked, growing very concerned very fast.

“You’ve got a fever,” he said rolling over to get the thermometer.

He quickly stuck the plastic-wrapped stick under my tongue. We both waited for the gray probe to beep. When he removed it from under my tongue, the furrow in his brow only got deeper.

“What?” I asked trying to get the plastic taste out of my mouth.

“100. Perfect Score,” he said showing me the read out.

I read it and my eye brows jumped. “Go me.”

“Mild grade fevers can come with allergies, general tiredness, but you say you haven’t had any symptoms?” he asked as he put everything back in its place.

“Not yet.” I shrugged. It wasn’t a lie.

“I
t’s right here, Miss Jordan.” Stan’s voice cracked as he pointed to the lowest shelf in the aisle. “Here’s the supernatural section.”

“It’s a bit small,” I said disappointed in the public library’s book selection.

“Oh, well,” he said licking his lips and wringing his hands. “If you search the catalog and you find a book, we can always do an interlibrary loan to get anything you want, Miss Jordan.”

I smiled down at the teenage kid. “Thanks, Stan. I’ll start here.”

He scurried away and left me with a shelf of books.

This portion of the library was just the place to do a little old-fashioned research about werewolves. Not for me, of course. For the script that jerk of an ex-boyfriend couldn’t construct to save his flat ass.

I’d spent half the night locked up in my office looking on the Internet. It had some wicked stuff about werewolves, scary wicked stuff about demon worship, and satanic possession, and then there was the entire Furries community, which was slightly scarier than anything previously mentioned.

I settled in at a table in the 133 section with the whole shelf before me, opened to pages with snarling wolves and detailed diagrams about the metaphysical transformation of a human body into a wolf. Muscle by muscle. This was insane. Great for a movie though.

I started to jot down notes and then realized that, though I appreciated the tactical sensation of flipping pages, books had the same problem as the Internet only with a bibliography. Everyone contradicted everyone else. Some said the shift could be controlled. Some said it couldn’t. Some said the person was still a person but in animal form. Some said the blood lust of the wolf took over and there was no person, just beast. Some ancient cultures said that it was a gift from the Earth Spirits to be that close with nature. Some said it was a curse from the heavens to descend into madness for three nights a month.

There was one notable exception in which a group of monks claimed that God had given them the strength of the wolf to fight his adversaries on Earth.

The only thing they did have in common was the moon. Whether it was what forced the change or just gave strength to the beast, the full moon was a part of it.

And the next full moon was only days away.

I couldn’t help but look at the pictures and my heart beat a little faster.

No. The fever was just fall allergies and the ten pounds I’d lost was the severe lack of food in my fridge. The healing, well, I had started taking multivitamins recently. And I wasn’t allergic to silver. Was wearing silver studs right now.

Take that, Stalker boy.

I slammed the book shut and leapt up in triumph. As I turned to go get a few more books from the section, I ran straight into the broad chest of Charles Garrett.

BOOK: Diaries of an Urban Panther
6.86Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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