The Lebrus Stone (19 page)

"Yes, why wouldn't he?" She adjusted her hat, smiling impishly beneath it.

"Because he hates me."

She chuckled. "I doubt that"

"He does. He despises me like I despise…guacamole."

She smiled, but not enough to disagree with me.

"I'm not going anywhere with him. I'm, I'm not feeling up to it."

She frowned. "I can see why," She sounded vaguely upset and apprehensive.

"You do?"

I was hoping she hadn't overheard Cray and me that night. I guess half the population must have since I was so loud.

"Yes you must be…" Her eyes wandered then came back to meet mine. "Overwhelmed…"

Her eyes held mine with an unspoken sympathy. I didn't want it. Not from Syd. She wasn't supposed to sense how messed up I really was compared to these people she related to as family. I didn't want to be a disappointment. Yet I knew I would be. In her eyes, I had wanted to be wholesome, complete, worthy of a mother's love that she gave to me.

"Isobel wouldn't make demands that weren't justifiable." Her head bowed to signify her lack of repose to the situation.

I didn't want to bring her trouble, but this was an order I couldn't listen to. It was too…risky, unpredictable. My head and my heart didn't feel ready for the bumpy long ride that would take place in his costly Jag.

"Still, you should go." She flung the door open and pushed me gently, but fixedly outside.

Cray saw me before I could run back inside. Syd had vanished just as fast as she had appeared, leaving me exposed and crawling within myself.

He threw his cigarette to the side and climbed the stairs. My heart thumped in my abdomen. I felt winded, but strangely in a good way.

What if he really did want to spend time with me?

The thought made me swoon. This could be it, his charm factor coming into play, a play for me and my attention, even though he had it from the very beginning. I had always been there, on the front line, waiting since the day I met him, since I caught sight of his masculine, unblemished beauty.

If only I didn't feel so embarrassed by my behavior. If only we'd met under different circumstances. Then maybe, just maybe I wouldn't seem so high maintenance and like someone who needed to be under arrest.

"Are you ready or not?" He groaned. "I haven't got all day."

My wild and ignorant fantasies of being swept off my feet dissipated.

I didn't respond. I tried to look clueless, which wasn't far from the truth. I should have ran when I had the chance.

He made his way up the stairs while I apprehended the moment he would reach the eye level epitome of my inner seizures, and stopped at a reasonable distance. He didn't say a word after that, just surveyed me in a kind of Detective Columbo, one-eyed investigation mode.

"I can't come with you, to wherever you were going, before you were…going without me." I sounded so dumb I wanted to purge myself.

The look he gave me didn't emote that he was saddened by the news, or even that he was listening. Yet it was somewhere between perplexed and frustrated, to a certain extent, vexed with a lurid outrage, though he shadowed over the emotions well for a guy who seemed to have no empathy for human beings.

"That so?" he asked, lighting another cigarette.

"Yes. I'm feeling unwell. I might just head back to my room."

"It might do some good," he said blandly, not hastening to add why and to whom.

"I doubt it."

He blew a mass of smoke into my face. I coughed and spluttered, waving of my hands.

"Has no one ever taught you manners?" I asked, losing my patience.

There was a tenuous grin on his face. If I hadn't have been monitoring him so closely, it would have happened without my knowing.

He didn't reply or apologize, and I didn't expect him to have that kind of decency.

"Fine, suit yourself." I said. "I'm going inside."

"Not so fast." He blew out more smoke, away from me this time. "I'm to take you out some place, so that's what I intend to do." He searched his pockets.

"And do you always do what you're told? I thought my kind weren't worth your time."

He frowned and swore at his cigarette that had fallen to the ground. After crushing it with the heel of his shoe, he looked up at me like I was keeping him held hostage and my explanation was the only ransom.

"As I'm told?" he repeated, seeming fazed by my apparent misinformation.

"By Isobel." I folded my arms and shook my head at the audacity of such a conceited jerk. He was going to pretend it was his own egotistical idea. Maybe even throw in a bouquet of artificial flowers.

"Maybe I've decided I want to take you," he said.

It could have been in my misled mind, a romantic response. That's if he hadn't appeared to be seething with physical pain to say it. And it shouldn't have hurt as much as it did to know that he cringed at the thought of wanting to be alone with me. I shouldn't have cared one bit.

"Maybe I don't want to go anywhere with you. Have you ever thought about that?" My reply was a little over sensitive and over the mark of letting him know how much I wanted to bury him with my fists.

Judging by his thwarted expression, the question before now had never crossed his audacious mind. Probably because he knew better than to believe I was unaffected by him, susceptible to falling head over heels in lust for a guy who probably lapped the attention from a legion of admirers. I wasn't proud to be becoming one of them.

He looked away for what seemed like a long time. My gut clenched with a combustible anger.

"Fine," he said.

A breeze blew back his open striped shirt. The sun shining over the high rooftop, created slight purple and red streaks through his rich black hair as he tipped his head toward the stairs.

When he lifted it to look at me, his eyes held nothing. No unusual colors. They became weightless, unclosed, yet still imprisoning me in their curiosity that deepened with each second he watched me, examined, contemplating his next move or perhaps mine.

My heart ceased to beat during that moment, and I could actually see him for once, recognizably familiar, present like a revenant of the past, an apparition of a forgotten realm I was returning to, where it was bringing me closer to a place I never found previously intact.

"I'll come with you." The words rushed out of my mouth. Though, for some reason, I didn't regret it.

A darkness cast over his eyes as he listened to me project my feelings in terms of friendship and potential companionship. I also didn't fail to describe a platonic relationship in a way that didn't make me sound over optimistic about it changing to something more.

By the time I'd finished, he looked adrift. His brooding eyes lost focus and he winced.

"Have you finished?" was his irksome reply

"Yes. Shall we go?"

"Go where?" He suddenly looked all the more agitated.

"Out somewhere, like you suggested." I smiled coyly, which he dismissed as something I regularly accomplished.

"A moment ago you didn't want to
go
," he ground out.

"I've changed my mind," I said, enjoying the way it aggravated him to have to agree with me. I could learn more along the way.

"I don't want to force you," he replied, attempting to sound considerate. But it was chivalry that was going to need a lot of practice.

"You're not."

He reflected, probably routing for another excuse. "Great," he finally muttered, turning to descend the stairs.

I ignored the mock condescending remark and followed him with my new uplifted mood.

He was right in one way. It could be good for me.

~ * ~

"Fasten your seatbelt," Cray said once we were in his car. The passenger door wasn't opened for me. Even his care for my safety was more like a fire drill.

He switched on the radio and listened to something that could burst eardrums. Since Isobel had insisted he take me out somewhere, and since there was no way to speak during such an invasion to peace, I relaxed and pressed down my window to breathe in the fresh scent of the late spring afternoon air.

I needed a day out to take my mind off all the bizarre conversation with Elandra, even if it meant a day with the unresponsive, and at times rude, Cray.

I mean, what the hell was I supposed to do about what she declared? Mention it to Isobel? She would definitely think I was on drugs. This day out had to help me figure it out, at least help me figure out one puzzle frequently on my mind: the guy driving like he was sleeping with his eyes half closed. And considering he made it clear he wanted nothing to do with me at our last conversation, I wondered why he was willing to take me somewhere just because Isobel might have insisted. But I figured I should just go along with it. I needed this, no matter who my companion was.

As usual, the streets were empty and the lanes were scarce of traffic. Blacksville probably never had to envisage jams or congestion during the peak time of day.

The volume of heavy guitars was decreased to listenable.

It was a pity it didn't last more than fifteen seconds.

I purposely studied Cray's face to see what I was up against in what could be the next three to four hours, if I was to be that lucky, or perhaps unlucky if my company was to be noted for his arrogance. Especially if the person happened to be me, a step-down from the people he actually liked to be around.

His mood swings were so frequent it was important to keep a close check. I needed to make sure they hadn't alternated into a frenzied attack on the steering wheel. Especially since the speed he drove in lacked what I would call passable for a driving license.

The last time I skimmed a driving manual, I was pretty sure motor vehicles weren't legally driven with one hand. Yet, Cray only applied one very loose grip, on occasion even his fingers to maneuver, turn, dip and bend onto every road.

"You need to quit driving so recklessly," I told him, feeling concern for the lives of others, however minimally they scattered.

He turned up the radio. I bravely turned it down, then tugged on my seatbelt, making sure it was clicked into place.

He did a one-hand swerve onto a ruddy dirt path. The car bumped over a few humps and swiveled onto short cut grass where acres of it surrounded us, then skidded to a stop somewhere in the middle. Cray quickly reversed and pulled the brakes, sending me jolting forward. I didn't bother waiting for an apology. I didn't get the chance.

He stepped out of the car and leaned back on the door to light up a cigarette. A chimney pipe smoked less.

But that was an unfair comparison, since chimneys didn't act so annoying.

At least the music had stopped. The improvement was prolific. But it was so unearthly quiet, I had to tap my foot. It was a lot like a clock ticking, except not much time had elapsed from when I started. My butt began to ache from the wait.

Cray puffed out smoke as if there was no tomorrow and he was here alone in the wilderness, gathering up his thoughts.

I bit my lip and contemplated getting out of the car, too. But then he straightened and checked his tires, tapping them with the tip of his shoe while inhaling from the stub of his cigarette. By then, my patience at being ignored had grown thinner than a sucked Popsicle.

I stepped out of the car and my foot landed in something squidgy. I tried not to care, but my foot kept sticking to the ground as I made my way to the trunk. Cray's head was inside. He emerged with a picnic basket covered with a yellow cotton flannel.

"Take this?" he muttered, the stub of his cigarette still pressed between his lips.

He wasn't looking at me, and there was no please attached. But I wasn't expecting miracles, so I took it like a kitten being tempted by a sky rocket.

"Are we seriously going to have a picnic?" I asked, noting how well put together and filled the basket was. Guiltily I corrected what might have been a mistake about his intentions.

"I mean, it's fine and all, even kind of you to have gone to so much trouble, and…" I took a peek in the basket. Blueberry muffins. Impressive.

The trunk slammed shut, shaking the bumper and maybe deflating the back wheels. I almost dropped the basket.

Cray stomped around to his car door. At first, I thought he was going to get in and drive away without me. It made me break out into a sweat. But he just bleeped on his alarm and walked north from where I was standing. Dumbstruck.

Was I supposed to follow him? I didn't understand and doubted anyone would have in my predicament.

What a jackass.

My stomach growled and begged to be overfed with the sugary treats so in my reach. If the load in my arms hadn't been a struggle to carry, the scents would have been pure bliss.

We walked along an open field and down two slopes to a bridge and more open fields. After that it was time for me to have a break. I dropped the basket with the loudest thump I could muster on the softest ground, entirely for his benefit, then took my sandals off to inspect the blisters on my feet.