Blind Fold Page 6

  He didn’t want to stare and lowered his eyes to the table. His meal had been too greasy for digestion, and he’d only half picked at it. The sweet tea would send a diabetic into hyperglycemia and he’d barely touched that as well. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and slowly he raised his eyes.

  Both men were staring at him. He held the gaze, as if he were daring either to make a move towards him. The Apex of the two, wanted to make and he watched his hands, checking for signs of reaching for weapon. The doorbell jangled again, this time announcing he arrival of the Sheriff, who walked in full of guff and gruff.

  “Mabel, you saw me pull up and know a man is hungry for some of your good eats,” the Sheriff called out. “Zeke, Mann, how are you two.”

  The few seconds the Sheriff distracted the two men was enough for the stranger to slip out the back entrance and make tracks for the shrubbery. His vehicle was parked on the other side of the small incline. He taken his cup with him along with the plastic utensils he’d used for the meal.

  Before where he’d been uncertain, now he had a lead. Those two would lead him to the main man. The head of the technicians and he would get some answers, or either revenge. At this point in his life, he didn’t care which, since the lack of activity had made him itchy. Those two had been activated and pulled into his game. One of them had helped Tempest and taken her home. One of them were connected to the main man. One of them, or both of them would lead him to where he needed to go next. Suddenly he felt like smiling.

  Meanwhile, in the diner, neither Zeke nor Nathaniel Mann saw a reason to smile. Nate walked over to the table noticing immediately the cup and utensils were gone. He recognized it immediately because he was coming to collect both items to have the Sheriff run them for prints.

  “You don’t need to run prints on him Nate,” Zeke said.

  “How do you know?”

  “The idiot left pink glitter all over the table,” Zeke said, pulling out his phone. “I think we’ve been put into play. Let me make a call and alert the crew.”

  “You do that. I’m going to head out back and see which way he went, maybe get an eye on his vehicle,” Mann said.

  “No need. He wouldn’t have driven it in this close. He came back here to figure out how Tempest got from here to home and to see what he was missing,” Zeke said. “He found me and you. We’re going to need to be vigilant.”

  “I don’t need vigilance, especially, if I find him first.”

  Chapter Six - Crease

  The movie wasn’t entirely horrible, but based on the expression on One Way’s face, which usually showed no expression at all, indicated he didn’t think the movie was half good either. The entrance of the talking raccoon elicited a reaction, but it was subtle. His primary focus was trying to keep from staring at the woman.

  Instead of showing off her well-toned legs, in a pair of boodie gripping shorts, like she wore earlier, she now modeled was appeared to be a long broom skirt, which covered everything. To add insult to his sorely lacking gazes upon the womanly form, the woman had the unmitigated audacity to sit on his couch, covered up with a throw. He didn’t even know he had a throw in the house, but leave it to her snooping, meddling ass, she probably found it when she was rearranging the linen closet. What was truly getting on his final nerve was that she sat there, with only her head poking out as if she were the sole survivor left to defend the last wigwam. He found himself growling.

  “What’s up? You hate the movie?”

  “No Cool Guy, I mean, it’s a talking tree that has one line,” One Way scoffed.

  “Yeah, it’s not a new concept,” Cool Guy said, “the trees in Middle Earth also talked. It was a long-winded whisper that rang through the trees, but they spoke to each other before responding to Pippen. Or was it Merry?”

  “Good grief, you’ve read Tolkien, I need some air,” One Way said, getting to his feet.

  “I had the entire collection, and a few others, but they were in the trunk of the car,” Cool Guy confessed. “I guess, once we get settled, I can start a new book collection, but Tolkien is my fav.”

  One Way didn’t respond. He walked past them, certain he wasn’t going to miss too much if he took a breather. One the patio, he stared into the darkness of the night, certain, nothing stared back at him. The slightest movement in the wood line would make the motion sensitive lights activate. He wasn’t a survivalist per se, but he did like the idea of surviving if anything were to come his way.

  “One Way, come on! You’re about to miss the best part,” Cool Guy yelled.

  “Roger that, moving,” he called back, thinking of Gabriel, who taught him such lingo. He smiled wondering what his mentor would think if he saw him now. When he finally managed to get his mind off the woman, he found he somewhat enjoyed the movie.

  He ruefully also didn’t want to admit, he enjoyed the company and the simplicity of watching a movie, eating popcorn and sharing the space with two other people. Maybe the family thing wouldn’t be so bad, if this is where he was in his life. He wasn’t and dismissed the idea again.

  ****

  The morning arrived with One Way feeling fresher than he had in months, sitting at the kitchen table when the woman arrived to make herself a cup of coffee. He held up his hand for her to stop. The kid appeared a moment later.

  “Let’s head out,” One Way blurted out, not thinking what that would mean to either of the people who’d spent the past week in his home.

  “Oh, okay, let me get my stuff,” Cool Guy said dropping his head.

  “No, not head out like that,” One Way answered shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I’m going to take you guys to breakfast, then maybe head over to the flea market to spend the day. I was thinking we could hit a few antique shops, piddle the day away.”

  They both stood in the middle of the floor staring at him.

  “You don’t want to get out of the house for a bit? You’ve been cooped up in here for nearly a week,” he said to the woman’s stunned face. It took her a second to react and when she did, joy spread over the entirety of her face.

  “Oh hell yeah, I want to get out of here,” she said, running to the bedroom and grabbing her purse. It wasn’t the purse she had the night he’d brought them home, but a different one with a designer logo.

  She come back to the kitchen to find money on the counter in two separate stacks. The smaller stack, she assumed was for her son. The woman looked at the money then at the man who’d placed it there. Her defenses immediately went up at spotting the stack of bills.

  “What’s that for?”

  “Cooking. Cleaning. Doing my laundry,” he said. “You’ve earned it along with my thank you and gratitude.”

  Cool Guy asked next, “what’s mine for?”

  “Allowance and not being a pain in my butt,” One Way said. “Cool Guy, set the alarm. Woman, head for the truck.”

  To his pleasant surprise, no argument came from the woman nor the boy. Loaded up in the Four Runner, they backed out of the garage once One Way raised the door, and instead of heading down the mountain, he drove up and through a pass connecting to Highway 321. After a good ten minutes, he pulled into Janice’s Diner. A small family owned and operated establishment housed in a modern take on a log cabin. It was nothing fancy, but the woman and boy were happy to be there. They took a seat against the wall, One Way facing the door.

  “This is awesome,” Cool Guy said, picking up a sticky menu. “I think I want some pancakes and an omelet.”

  “I’m not sure where you put all that food you eat,” One Way said, watching his face. He’d seen the kid eat as if his right leg were hollow and he was filling it up with food to snack on later. The kid ignored the comment to watch the waitress arrive at the table.

  “Hey there ya’ll, what can I get you to drink?” The waitress inquired as she walked over wearing a pair of shorts too tight to disguise anything her body possessed.

  “Coffee regular, milk for the boy, and cup of hot water for the mister,” the woman told her.

  He asked the woman, “A cup of hot water?”

  “Yes, I have your tea in my purse,” she said, reaching in and taking out a small pouch which held four tea bags.

  “Thoughtful,” he said, nearly smiling, but it came across as a snarl.

  “Mom, he’s trying to smile at you. He’s not snarling.”

  “Oh, is that what that is...a smile. Don’t do that again, it looks like you have gas and it’s resting under your left ventricle,” she told him, sliding the tea bag across the table.

  One Way chuckled a bit, sighing deeply, needing to break the news of what he’d learned from Blue Neary. They could sense the tension in him. Cool Guy spoke up, “well, if you’re going to dump us, at least allow us to eat a good meal first.”

  “I’m not dumping you,” One Way said, as the waitress returned with the drink order.

  “Do ya’ll know what you want to eat yet?”

  Cool Guy ordered first, “Pancakes, and the ham and cheese omelet for me.”

  The woman ordered the breakfast platter with extra crisp bacon while One Way order veggie omelet and grits, with no meat. The waitress bounced off as the pair of eyes at the table focused on him but he focused on the waitress, who walked on her tippy toes each time she took a step. All he could think about was the pain in her calves at the end of the night.

  “Well...don’t keep us guessing,” the woman goaded. “Tell us the bad news.”

  He saw no reason to sugar coat a shit sandwich, and plainly said, “I spoke to the guy in Louisville you were hoping to see about the housing situation.”

  “And no house,” the woman said, her body almost deflating.

  “No homes are available at all, I mean, there are homes, but he doesn’t have any r
entals, let alone a smaller home that he and his crew flipped,” he explained. “His wife, is a real estate agent, and he buys fixer-uppers and sells them for a profit. Bleu, that’s what he’s called, explained there’s a housing boom. He doesn’t have anything in Tennessee, Kentucky or Ohio.”

  The boy looked defeated. The woman’s face showed resolve. She asked, “then what’s next? You taking us to Knoxville to a shelter?”

  “Hold your horses Woman,” he told her. “You’re with me for a reason. I don’t know what it is, or how I’m supposed to help you, or if you’re possibly here to help me, but I’m not rushing the situation. I plan to wait until a Higher Power tells me what is next.”

  “A Higher Power?”

  “Yes, the celibacy and all is to help me focus my energy and listen to the will of the universe,” he explained. “I’ve learned the hard way, that forcing my hand into a jar to pull out the honey comb, usually ends with me, and my hand stuck in the honey pot. This time, I want the universe to speak to me. In the interim, I have another option to check tomorrow.”

  “And if that doesn’t pan out?”

  “Then I go to my boss, which I don’t want to do because members of my team went to him for help and the outcome, in my opinion, is less than favorable,” he told them.

  “Today. What is today about...the breakfast, the flea market...all of that stuff?”

  The food arrived to the table. Pillows of steam rose from the food indicating the chill in the room, juxtaposed against the heat of the meals. He saw no need to be any more dishonest than he needed to be and the celibacy thing wasn’t a total lie. The last time he’d had a woman was nearly six or more months. His scheduled had not allowed any dalliance and frankly, he didn’t have the energy.

  “I’m used to living alone,” One Way stated. “Now I’m not. My normal routine has been upended and being locked in the house with you guys is messing with my calm. I figured if it was getting to me, it had to be getting to you. So, we get a day out to explore, talk, get to know each other since we’re kind of stuck together for a while.”

  The woman admitted to feeling a little twinge of cabin fever. “May I ask what all is at this flea market we’re heading to...I mean, do they have a specialty or is it just the norm of people pulling up and opening their trunks to unload stuff nobody wants, not even them.”

  “No, this one has antiques, and a few vendors who sell weapons that I like to buy from, as well as people who make country wares, jams, jellies, relishes,” One Way said. “Sometimes, during this time of year, there can be a carnival and rides.”

  “That sounds like...terrible,” Cool Guy said. “Who wants to eat that stuff and get on a ride.”

  “The carnival may be there, it may not be, but inside there is a used book store,” he said, looking at the kid, whose face lit up. “You can probably blow $20 to start a new book collection.”

  Cool Guy’s face took an immediate turn. “Twenty bucks may not be a lot to you Mister, but for me and my Mom, it can be the difference between eating and going to bed hungry.”

  “I hear you, but spend the twenty on you today,” he said. “There are other chores around the place that have to get done that I’ve been avoiding. Help me out, and I’ll pay you.”

  “Seriously? I can blow twenty bucks on some books and maybe a new tee shirt, and some hot red shoe laces for those Air Force Ones?” the boy added.

  “Yeah, if twenty bucks will get you all of that, I want to see it,” he said, dropping the tea bag into the water, which had turned lukewarm. The energy between them all had also shifted. If it were a thing that women were able to do, to turn up the attracted to you, come get some of this button, Woman must have turned it down. It felt more as if she’d turned off the sexual side of herself altogether.

  On one callous crusted hand, gratitude coursed through him, thankful she didn’t have him on a short leash, ready to bark each she passed by. Unfortunately, the other hand rested in his crotch and he ached to rub one out while she watched. The last thing he wanted to eat was a veggie omelet. He wanted some pie. A hearty, helping of fur pie.

  “Damn you Bleu Neary,” he said aloud and the woman looked up at him in question, “ignore me.”

  That was all he could offer, because the one thing that kept floating through his mind based on the subliminal hints Bleu Neary placed was the idea of a mouthful of fur pie. One Way also sadly realized it had been more than six months, but nearly a year. A whole year of no fucking fur pie. He suddenly felt like Rick Blaine, wondering why, of all the greasy spoons up and down the Smokey Mountains, why did she have to waltz her sexy ass into the one he frequented.

  “Order my steps Oh Lord, I pray,” he said aloud once more. His appetite for food had waned. His desire for the woman had not. She even chewed sexy, all nice and slow, masticating the crisp bacon.

  One Way also comprehended, and he knew it in his heart, that he had every intention of keeping them both. A crease marred the even honey toned skin as he stared past the woman and out of the window. It had been a long week and she too had begun to learns his tells.

  She saw the demons in him. She knew he was bad, the kind of bad there was no returning from once you took one good hit. The woman understood so much better than he could explain. They were staying because the man needed time to get used to them being around. Once that happened, she expected him to ask her to share his bed.

  “When the time comes, I shall be ready,” she said aloud, making him jump from his deep thoughts and squint his almond shaped eyes at her.

  “Reading my mind?”

  “Reading your eyes.”

  “And can you see my soul?”

  “I can see you,” she said, picking up the second strip of bacon, and eating as if she hadn’t just given him the biggest, hardest and most uncomfortable boner in his life.

  “Hmmph, I sure as hell hope not.”

  ****

  He knew, just as the wind whispered its way through the trees that the woman wasn’t going to last another five minutes and remain quiet. It simply wasn’t in her nature to do such a mundane thing as keep her opinions to herself. Why should she, when something in that head of hers convinced her, beyond a shadow of a doubt that what she was thinking was absolutely the truth and other people needed to know.

  One Way walked along beside her, stopping at booths to sniff soaps and scents. The woman remarked on how she could make the same soaps for half the cost if she had the supplies. The boy, excited once they reached the bookstore, which in fact was no more than an old office which was large enough to house four walls and two floor racks of books. In his mind it wasn’t much, but for the fantasy reader of young adult books, the small store was a bit of heaven.

  “He will be in here all day,” she said to One Way. “We can go, have a three-course meal and come back, and that child will be in the same spot.”

  He said nothing, as he continued to walk. The owner of the store made eye contact with him as One Way observed at the boy, then back at the owner. The man behind the counter nodded, and would keep an eye on the kid. One Way himself, wanted a sugary sweet cup of lemonade and moved with a slow stroll out the side door.

  “This is a really nice day,” the woman said. “it feels nice to get out of the house, not that it’s a bad house. It’s a nice home. Of course, it could use a few homey touches, but I guess that’s for the woman in your life to do. You know nest. Make things pretty. It does smell better; I will say that.”

  One Way stopped and stared into the distance at a set a trees. A light wind blew by them both, causing the leaves to rustle as the gust of air went about it’s business. The woman talked too much and said nothing when she spoke. If it continued, he fancied himself cutting out her tongue just for a moment of solace.

  “Woman,” he said in a lowered tone, making her move closer to hear him. “Look at those trees.”

  “Trees. I see the trees,” she repeated, squinting as if she were expecting a pack of rabid squirrels to come barreling down on them in a squadron formatted attack.

  “Yes, but what you do not see is the wind,” One Way said.

  “Wind is invisible.”

  “But, you do acknowledge that it is there,” he said.

  “Yeah, the wind can be powerfully destructive as well,” she added.