The Reader
Written by Misty

 

Chapter 1

 "Come to my room," were the words he'd spoken over the phone. A click was the next thing she'd heard. The man wasn't into greetings or goodbyes. Just another character flaw of his, she supposed, trying not to feel offended yet again. Denise placed her hand on her stomach. Something rippled in there. Gas? No. Butterflies. That was it. Butterflies. They showed up every time she was near him or bound to be near him; hardly ever when he wasn't around. And it wasn't his celebrity status that made her nervous either, it was just him. Silent most of the time but when he spoke she thought of his words as dead life being exhumed, his mouth as casket that was creaking open after so many years. Scary. But it was a job. A low-paying job. A job nonetheless. It paid most of the bills, kept a leaky roof over her head, let her enjoy a super size meal every once in while. Basically, it let her keep her nose above water --- half a nostril at least. That creepy demeanor of his was just something she'd have to put up with, she decided this months ago. Put up with, yes. Get used to? Unlikely.

 

As usual, the same emotionless face greeted her at the door. Denise offered a smile, small, but a smile just the same. In turn, he offered her his back; let her shut the door. As usual. There were several piles of letters on the table, a few packages and thick manilla envelopes, too. She took a seat, ripped open one of the bigger envelopes, tweezed out a mini booklet, and began to read:

 

"Dear Kane, I'm a huge fan. I read somewhere that you like to read during your spare time, ..." Here Denise had lifted an imaginary brow and let out a not so imaginary cough. "... so I thought I'd put pen to paper and write something from the heart just for you, big guy. Enjoy. Sincerely, Lee. P.S. You look sexy with your hair the way it is but are you ever going to grow it back?"

 

Denise rolled her eyes his way then rolled them back down to the booklet in hand. Her guess had been correct: it hadn't fazed him one bit.

**********

Hourglass

By Lee Bruntz

Part 1

Birds lingered in trees and chirped their songs of secret meanings. The sun's rays beamed through a heap of cottony clouds. A mild breeze wafted, it sent ripples over the inky water of the lake. "My nephew's coming over today," said the woman, keeping her gaze on a hummingbird which was dipping its beak into the morning glory's clusters. "My youngest sister's son. I mentioned him before, I believe."

Silence.

"He lives in Trinity --- the wooded part," she continued, her voice as composed as her features. It's a rare treat for us, this visit. His profession keeps him away most of the year. He's a --- "

"I have to go, Evelyn. Kyle needs me at the store," the younger woman said. Setting her glass on the stone table, she rose then gave her friend a quick peck on her cheek. "See you next week."

 

"The sun will shine on you someday, sweetheart," Evelyn whispered, holding out her hand to the fluttering bird. Within seconds it forsook its feast of nectar and perched itself on her finger. "When the monarchs come, death will follow," she said to herself, stroking the tiny creatures breast, its iridescent plumage seeming to glisten by her touch.

 

A set of wood ducks drifted in the water, preening themselves, sharing their oasis with the life beneath, untroubled by humankind beyond.

 

"You mention the word 'man' and she flies away startled like that hummer did just now as I approached," the man observed, taking a seat beside his wife. "She was all chatter seconds ago," he added, then sipped the remainder of his guest's refreshment, grimacing when his taste buds reminded him they were not partial to cherry lemonade. "It has got to be all in here," he pointed a pair of shears at his temple, "I'm almost sure of it."

 

Evelyn nodded.

 

He let out a sigh, slumped his shoulders, and pattered out a dull tune on the table with his fingers. "Has Chauncey been around?"

 

"I haven't see him yet." Evelyn reached for his hand, not surprised at the coldness that met her there. The day could be blazing or warm and he would still feel like the snow which fell during wintertime. "Roll me onto the deck," she told him. "I have to change my clothes."

 

"It's all malarkey you know," he put the implement on the bench and stood,"that butterfly business. No truth to it." Bushy brows came together. "You did this just to spite me, didn't you?"

 

"Did what, Richard?" She turned her head toward him, affected all of a sudden by her husband's tone.

 

"Went and got a manual instead of an electric," he remarked in a huff, referring to the wheelchair he was trying to steer off the grass and onto the brick pathway. "I'm not quite the vigorous fellow I used to be." Surveying the apparatus, he saw that he'd pulled the brake levers down rather than leaving them up. "Oh."

 

"I didn't bother with them seeing as how the table kept me at bay," she admitted, smiling coyly. "Sorry, dear."

 

"I forgive you," he said, then started up the path, rushing when they neared that part of the garden he'd modified in error. "Just as I know you'll forgive --- "

 

"Richard, you didn't!"

 

"They needed pruning, dear," he shrugged and spoke as if he were made with every bit of sweetness contained in a Swiss confection, "for the coming season."

 

"Pruning, yes. But you left stalks, Richard." Evelyn shook her head. "My beautiful delphiniums." Bringing her onto the deck, he knelt in front of her and clasped her hands in his. Mischief twinkled in his eyes. Evelyn lifted a brow. "I'm in not condition to do that, she said, her kind disposition returning. "I just couldn't."

 

But her eyes told him otherwise.

 

That demure stare of hers made his heart throb fuller in his chest and he sighed. "I would lilke nothing more, darling, believe me. But that's not what I had in mind. You are out of sugar or milk or something." Before she could speak out her confusion, Richard placed his finger on her lips. "I know. Pauline brought our groceries already. But there's something lacking in the pantry your considerate nephew will rush to ..."

 

" ... the store for," Evelyn finished, understanding his drift. "But this time my sweet," she cupped  his chin and grinned a pleasant grin, his idea sparking one of her own,"we'll keep giving them doses of each other."

"Dandy!" Getting to his feet, he moved behind her and swaggered to a silent beat while he rolled her up the ramp and into their bedroom. "Cupid, get a load of us!"

 

The day crawled toward evening and closing time seemed a decade away. There was life on the other side of the entrance. It walked by. Sometimes it stuck its head in, looked around, and joined the other life in walking by. At times there was too much life inside that it could almost suffocate, turn a happy minute into a bad hour. But as long as it bought something, whether for a dime or a dollar, she was willing to put up with life, however tactless.

 

"You could get two of these for a buck at the dollar store in Mayson," said the man, inserting the box of Chinese pesticide chalk into his shirt's pocket.

 

Telling him to take the thirty mile trip down there was something her dad would've done but she had her own way of dealing with the undesirables who came in acting as if they were doing them a favor just by being there --- she hid her displeasure behind a plastic smile. "One-oh-six, please."

 

He made a face and flicked two dollars on the counter. Pauline handed him his change and offered a plastic, "Thank you very much." His leaving was enough "you're welcome" for her.

 

Every nook had been dusted earlier in the day, out of boredom she decided to give every nool a second dusting and was about to retrieve a rag from the back when --

**********

 

There was a knock at the door. Salvation, Denise thought to herself as she went to answer. There was cheese and then there was cheese Nine times out of ten that was exactly what she read to him: a cheesy mess. She took a guess at what the remaining words to the unfinished sentence would be (... and was about to retrieve a rag from the back when a tall man with bulging muscles and the most beautiful blue eyes walked in ...). And of course he'd look exactly like her boss, Kane, except he'd have beautiful cinnamon curls. And he would fall in love at the sight of her. And she'd fall into that same love hole, they'd think sappy thoughts about each other constantly, bicker, make up, and fall back into that mushy, cheesy love hole mess. THE END. The sequel would probably see them having babies. Yuck! And what the heck was Chinese pesticide chalk?

 

But it was a job, she reminded herself. A low-paying job. A job nonetheless. It kept a leaky roof over her head, paid most of the bills ...

 

"Paul, how are you?" Denise greeted Kane's father.

 

"Fine. Came to talk strategy with my son," he said, waiting at the door.

 

Denise realized he was hinting. Strategy talk was a private business, she'd learned early on. Time for her to skedaddle. "Do you want me to come back later?"she asked her boss, crossing her fingers behind her, hoping he'd say no.

 

"I'll let you know," he answered, looking straight in front of him.

 

"All right." She smiled at Paul on her way out. When she got to the elevators, she jabbed the down arrow with mad force. "I'll let you know?" Damn. That meant she had to stay in the hotel and wait for him to make up his mind. She couldn't go sightseeing like she'd planned. Wonderful. The ping sounded, the doors opened and out came Undertaker, Kane's brother. Or half brother. Something like that. Denise greeted, he greeted back then moseyed away. All three Bearer men seemed to be cut from the same cloth. It was her belief that if any of them knew the formula for the A-bomb and were being held at laserpoint --- by little purple creatures with square heads who descended from Planet Squarenon --- they'd remain tombs and wouldn't flinch at a pinch. Why so serious?

 

Even when she read to Kane something humorous, something that gave reason to raise the lip a little, it tripped her out how numb he remained. Was there any life force in him? What was he made of? Blood or mechanical powder? Maybe both. "Enough about you, let's talk about me," Denise said out loud, taking out her key upon reaching her room.

 

"Invite me in, Dee-nice" came the playful voice from behind. "Or take me out."

 

"I'll take you out," she said over her shoulder, "put you out of your misery if that's what you  mean." She turned and shot a finger gun at her cousin. "Right between those buck teeth of yours."

 

"Be nice, Dee-nice. Remember, I got you this job. I can make it disappear."

 

"Right, Danny. You go right on up to Kane's room and tell him you want me gone," she said, collapsing on the bed and rubbing her eyes. "Before you do, let me know how you want your remains disposed of? Will it be cremains or regular burial? Should your mom use you as mulch for her dirt garden or would you rather be food for the maggots?"

 

"What's up with you, tonight? You sound, oh I don't know, a little BITCHY." She sat up. Yawned. Stretched. "Is it that time of month?" Danny grimaced and leaned away as if she were changing her sanitary napkin in front of him.

 

"Leave my menstrual cycle out of this." She grabbed the remote and flicked the TV on. "I've never used it as an excuse, I don't intend to start now," she said, changing the channels, frustrated thtat there wasn't much to watch. "I can't go out. I'm on duty, sort of."

 

Danny frowned. "Bummer."

 

"Hey, go get me some ice-cream, yeah? I've been wanting some since we got into town. The money's in your wallet," she said, flashing him an angelic smile. "Chocolate chip."

 

He returned her smile with sarcasm. "I'll get it for you. But are you sure you want chocolate chip?"

 

"Uh-huh. Why not?"

 

"Well, you know those chips? They're not really chocolate. I heard the're more like pellets. Rat pellets."

 

Denise laughed and threw a pillow at him. "Oh, stop it!"

 

"No seriously," he went on, "they take these rats straight out of the gutter and make them go in huge metallic vats."

 

She threw another pillow at him. "You're disgusting. Hurry up, will you? I might be needed soon."

 

He bowed at the threshold. "As you wish, Princess Bitch-a-rooni."

 

Chapter 2

 

Why did bad new always have to reach her over the phone? It was how she learned her iguana had bought the farm. After that, Friendship Camp had lost all of its appeal. She made quite a few enemies that summer. When her grandma died, she'd been told by her Uncle Stevie to: "Pass the news to your mommy, kid." Becky Thomas had blasted on about Nick Sutters and toward the end of the conversation she let her know:"Oh, by the way, you didn't get picked for cheerleading squad. Talk to ya later, Deny. Bye-ya."

 

And now ...

 

"You're breaking up with me?" Denise shouted into the mouthpiece. "YOU'RE breaking up with ME?"

 

"Look, I'm not gonna get into it with you over the phone. I just called to ---"

 

"It's that hooker from twenty-two, isn't it? She shoved her tits in your face and you lost all motor function, right?" Denis shut the cell phone off then threw it across the room as an afterthought. "You're a bastard, Michael," she said to the walls. "A real bastard." A nagging idea crossed her mind: You should stay single. The words "yeah, right" followed.

 

After a long, whiney cry, after she cursed him to hell and wished deadly vd on him, she showered, dressed then went down to the lobby to wait for her cousin. She sat near the entrary on a soft couch watching people pass by tugging luggage, sometimes children, behind them. Fragrances flitted in the air, some pleasant others gamey. Cologne battled with leather. Flower scent was conquered by smokey stench in one instant. Familiar faces popped up then disappeared, Kane and his girlfriend among them. The woman had looked cheery, he'd looked like his usual self; no happiness. Together they always looked more like acquaintances walking side by side than lovers.

 

Denise wondered about him. Was he the type of man who couldn't show a lover's affection in public? Or did he just choose not to? Was holding hands, exchanging loving pleasantries, an alien feeling for him? How was he with Heather in private? To Denise he seemed this dead undead thing. Then again, Heather looked happy the times Denise had seen her next to Kane; a lifeless thing could hardly bring about such an emotion in someone else. For two weeks she'd had leisure time (more than usual, that is) thanks to Heather's presence. A lifeless thing wouldn't want anyone around for that amount of time. Would it? And who would want to be around a  lifeless thing for that long? Perhaps he wasn't so lifeless after all. Just partially alive. Denise watched another couple walk by, holding hands. It did something to her heart. "Oh, Michael. Why?"

 

"I never did like that guy," Danny said, pouring tabasco on his fries. "Fuckin' prick."

 

Then why'd you introduce him to me?

 

Danny smiled meekly? "Out of courtesy?" And looked away as he said in a low voice, "It wasn't like I encouraged yu to date the son of a bitch."

 

Denise sqinted, beer in the air. Her radar ears had caught every word. "Your ecxact words were, and I quote: "This guy's gonna be a loaded rock star someday, Dee-nice. You'd be a guano moron not to go out with him." She took a sip. "You were right about one thing, Danno, he was loaded. Loaded with shit."

 

"And that's exactly what I'm gonna kick out of him," he said, his tone serious. "You'll be avenged, Dee-nice. Yes you will."

 

At this she had to laugh. Although he had enough weight on him to plow somebody down, she wasn't too convinced about his spryness. Dodging punches for a good thirty seconds was all Michael would have to do to wind her cousin down. Danny wasn't much of a runner either. Micheal would have another advantage here. In order for Danny to kick your ass you basically had to stay put, he wasn't going to chase you. Denise munched on a complementary tortilla chip, a red one. "You're quiet there, Tim. We must be boring you with all this breakup babble."

 

"Not really," said Tim, and nodded his head to contradict his words.

 

Everyone laughed.

 

"So, you've been here a whole month, how do you like being a WWE roadie ---"

 

Danny made a face and tossed his ponytail to the side. "I've told you times before, woman, we're crewmen not roadies," he said, now adding dressing to his fries. "Get it straight or I'll beat you clean."

 

She rolled her eyes. "You guys are roadies, bub. The sea of butt crack and beer gut I observed the last time you brought me by confirmed it," she said, turning her attention back to Tim. "As I was saying . . . Do you like it?"

 

"It's hard work. But it's work. I like it, I guess," he answered with a shrug, then took a bite from his burrito. "Dan says you got an easy job. Do you really just ... read to him?"

 

It would definitely be a brow-creaser on a resume. Was it easy? No, not really. Her audience of one equaled that of a thousand. Whenever she felt he was paying more attention than usual, her throat had a tendency to go dry or she'd utter the words too fast making her sound idiotic in her own ears and leaving her to speculate about the sound they made in his. Early on she tried psyching herself out by pretending she was alone in her room reciting to ghosts. She'd walk up to his room with the firm intention of putting this aid to use but once inside she'd find herself overcome with fear. It wasn't just reading, it was surving Kane for an hour or two. It was stepping on a dead wire, praying it would never come to life and shock her dry. Scary. Now, she went in with a prayer and left the rest up to fate. "Yeah, I just read," she said, dipping a green tortilla chip in a plastic mortar of salsa roja.

 

"What, is he illiterate or something?" Tim asked, his eyes showing interest.

 

Denise shook her head. "You can just chalk it up to it being whims of the rich," she said. "That's the way I see it, anyway."

 

"Her room and travel expenses are paid for by management, can you believe that?" Danny said to Tim. "We sleep six to a room sometimes and she's got a double to herself now and then."

 

Tim quirked his brows. "I want your job."

 

"It's not all peaches and roses, guys," she said, tearing away a portion of her cousin's hamburger. "I don't think you'd last five minutes alone with the man."

 

"Is he that bad?" asked Tim. He burped.

 

"That's another reason I know you guys are roadies," she said, pointing a finger at Tim. "He doesn't scream at me or anything. It's mostly his silence ... he's intimidating without trying to be intimidating."

 

"He's huge," Tim said, and flicked the end crust of his burrito onto the plate. "I didn't realize how big he was until I saw --- What's that dude's name, the one with the ZZ Top beard?"

 

"Cosmo," Danny answered.

 

"Yeah. Until I saw Cosmo next to him. Cosmo's what, six-four, six-five?"

 

Danny nodded. "About that."

 

"He made Cosmo look --- he dwarfed him kinda," Tim said, amazed. "His brother's huge too."

 

"There's another one who pledged a vow of silence," Denise said. "I think between the two of them, they've only opened their mouths about a hundred times to speak, since birth. The dad's the same way."

 

"Mark's an all right guy," said Danny. "He's just not into the socializing thing, much."

 

Mark? To everyone he was Undertaker. Denise grinned. "I forgot, he's your buddy."

 

"We've imbibed a few brewskies together," Danny said, ogling a waitress, "but we're not bosom like you're insinuating, woman."

 

"If he's not into the "socializing thing" like you said, what's he doing drinking with you?" Denise asked, becoming the bratty cousin she knew he didn't care much for. "I think he's just stuck up and chooses his friends like kids in junior high do."

 

"Be nice Dee-nice, you got this job because of him ---"

 

"I thought it was 'cause of you?" She smiled wide and crinkled her nose. "Ooh! You a liar, Danno! You a big liar!"

 

Danny gave Tim one of those 'Women, what are you gonna do with 'em?' looks.

 

Tim laughed.

Chapter 3

               “Dearest Kane, My name is Trixie and I’d love to suck

your - ” 

               Denise’s face turned red. At once she placed the

letter in the sack she mentally labeled: For His Eyes

Only. An unspoken understanding had arisen between

them in the beginning, she wasn’t going to read

something as risque and he wasn’t going to make her.

At least he never did. Not daring to glance his way,

she opened another piece of mail and read the first

few lines in silence. Deciding they were proper, she

then read aloud. “Hi there Kane, I’ve been a fan of

yours for years. You’ve inspired me in so many ways

and I can’t begin to thank you enough. Whenever I get

depressed, I remember there’s a you in this world and

it makes me smile . . .” 

               As she read, Denise thought about Michael. The sappy

words hadn’t brought him to mind, he was already

there. “ . . . I love everything about you, Kane . .

.” Wasn’t he happy with her? Only a week before he’d

dumped her, he’d admitted how much he needed her, how

much he’d loved her. He’d lied, obviously. “ . . .

You’re so big and strong. I dream about you all day .

. .” She hadn’t seen the signs. Was she blind? “ . . .

I have a poster of you pinned to my ceiling . . .” How

long had he been cheating on her? “ . . . I imagine

you’re on top of me . . .” Were there others? “ . . .

and you’re pumping away . . .” He used her. “ . . .

you release all over me . . .” That asshole had used

her. Something slipped out between the leaves - a

photo. Denise kept it in her grasp.

               She finished reading the letter with a frown on her

face, a faraway look in her eyes. Denise was deep in

thought. Silence dragged on and on. Time ticked away.

Then something dragged her out of her reverie, perhaps

silence itself, and she found herself staring at a

naked woman with bloated breasts and legs splayed,

inserting a sex toy into her private area, her

features frozen sensually like Marilyn Monroe’s. As if

she were holding something contagious in her hand, she

let go of the picture. The cooler had been running on

HIGH all this time still she felt the heat of her

blood rising and rising, spreading across her cheeks. 

               She’d just read her boss an X-rated letter. Moments

before, she’d been so righteous. What did he think of

her now? Denise swallowed hard and cautiously shifted

her gaze toward him. She had to do it, that way she’d

be able to gauge, by his expression, whether she

should leave and keep leaving or stay and start a

fresh letter. He reclined in a chair by the window,

his legs crossed at the ankles, arms folded at his

chest; his usual pose. She expected to see an emotion

entirely different from the one his face always

assumed: anger perhaps insult, something resembling

shock maybe. But she never expected to see that look

on that man - the look of amusement. His eyes clearly

revealed that emotion. Denise was taken aback when his

lips did the oddest thing, they twitched then curved

into a lopsided grin. 

               There seemed to be no need to apologize to the man,

he hadn’t taken offense. In fact, he didn’t even stop

her. Her pornographic recital, she would venture to

say, had pleased him. As dead as he seemed to her, he

was still a man, of course he wasn’t going to stop

her. Though she hadn’t acted out the letter for him,

she bowed her head in shame as if she had. Denise had

to explain why she’d done it, she couldn’t let him

think she was flighty. “I recently broke up with my

boyfriend - ”

               “Read,” he said, then looked out the window, resuming

his lifeless posture.

        There was no doubt in her mind that she

resembled a tomato in color before, but now she was

sure she glowed a heated red. This was a work thing

not an emotional thing, the man didn’t need

explanations he needed someone to read and for the

next hour and a half, with shaky voice, she did just

that. 

               Months later . . . 

               There were steel structures scattered about, waiting

to be loaded into the semis but no one seemed eager to

get to it. They were talking again, pretending to work

when the supervisor was around, yakking away when he

wasn’t. Their motto was: “It’ll get done . . .

eventually,” and they swore by it. Presently, some

lazed on the concrete as if they were at the beach,

tanning. Others leant against the carcass of a ring,

enjoying doing nothing. Life as a WWE  roadie wasn’t

luxurious but it sure did have its leisure points,

thought Denise. Her cousin, the King of Lazy, appeared

to be taking a snooze on the stack of black wall which

was used as a ringside barrier during events. She

laughed at the thought of Danny someday leaving on it

drool for one of the wrestlers to unknowingly wipe

away with his singlet.  

               “Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” she whispered in his ear,

“wake the hell up.” Denise yanked gently on his blond

tresses. 

               “Is that you, Pamela?” he said, in a pretend sleepy

daze. “Is Carmen with you? Have you two come to finish

the job?”

               “Eww! Gross!” She smacked him in the ass with his own

cap. “Fantasize about Oprah sometime, would ya?”

               Danny laughed and sat upright, his eyes bulging at

the sight of Denise. “Shit woman, cover those things

up,” he demanded, reaching for his jacket and holding

it out to her. “I swear Dee-nice, your attire is

bordering on sleazoid these days.” 

               She swatted his offering away and shrugged into her

jean jacket. Lately, if she showed a trace of breast

or wore something that stuck a little too close to her

skin, Danny became an overprotective psycho

cousin/older brother. Since his attitude annoyed her

beyond words she thought it only fair to her nerves to

annoy him right back. “Tube tops make my boobs look

bigger,” she said, opening the jacket for his viewing

displeasure. “And hip huggers make me look shapely.”

Denise ran her hands seductively along her waist.

               Meanwhile, Danny held his hands to his eyes as if to

block out the sun. “Shit, I have a feeling I’m gonna

dream about you tonight.” 

               “Me too!”

               “Me three!”

               “Me four!”

“You shitheads get back to work,” said Danny to the

other men. They in turn flipped him the bird then went

back to doing what they were doing before they stopped

doing it - nothing. “See what kind of attention you

get when you wear something like this?”

               And so it began, the corny dress code lecture. Denise

wanted to laugh but felt anger course through her

instead. “I’m not wearing sequence and heels. I’m

dressed casual. It’s summer for Pete’s sake,

everyone’s wearing this.” She mimicked his hand

gesture. “ Those wrestler girls wear less. Don’t,

Danny. Just don’t. You’re not Gary Faber.” 

               “Uncle Gary would flip his lid - Never mind. You’re

an adult,” he said, resigning the debate. He reached

into his pocket and took out lint. “Go buy me a coke

or two. And buy one for yourself.” He knew he’d get a

laugh out of her with that one. “Here take this.”

Danny gave her his pass. “Just in case.”

               Denise spotted Tim by the vending machines,

scribbling on a small notepad. “Hey, what’s up?” He

jumped a little and quickly put the pad in his pocket.

It seemed strange to her but she let it go right then.

“Taking a breakie?” 

               “Yeah. You?”

               “Just came to get Danno some cold fuel,” she said,

inserting quarters into the coke machine. 

               Tim leant against the snack machine, turned his cap

around. “So . . . are you gonna go out with me?” 

               Denise creased her brow. She’d told him no the dozen

or so times he’d asked her out, what made him think

she’d say something different tonight? Tim was a good

looking guy, he seemed nice, cordial even. But there

was something about him that just wasn’t right. She

couldn’t put her finger on it but instinct always told

her to say, “No.”

               He sighed a frustrated sigh. “You’re not over that

Michael guy yet, are you?”

               Michael haunted her dreams and just recently she’d

found out he had been haunting her bank account as

well. She was on the verge of getting over him but

needed a slight shove for it to be done. But Tim, with

his boyish features and drab persistence, was not the

one to do it. “I guess not,” she said, placing the

coke cans in her tote bag.

               “Maybe you just need - ” He stopped at mid sentence

and looked up over her. Denise turned her head and a

swarm of butterflies flew into that familiar spot in

her stomach. Kane stood a few feet behind her, duffel

bag in hand. It was two in the morning, she didn’t

think any of the wrestlers would be around, they never

were. She was wrong tonight. “I’ll catch you later,

Denise,” Tim said, before walking off. 

               Leaving her like he did, drew another minus on her

perception of him. 

               Since he wasn’t into the socializing thing, Denise

thought it best to ignore Kane, give him a rude turn

of the back like he’d done to her countless times.

Besides, maybe he was just passing by, not waiting for

her to acknowledge him. Maybe. But if that were so,

then why was he still behind her? And why the heck was

she just standing there? When she tried to move on,

his voice kept her in place.

               “There’s something I need you to read to me,” he

said.

               Her job, the leisure one, was no more. She read to

him every day, followed him across the country and

read to him for hours. It put a nick in her

sightseeing adventures and kept her away from Danny

most of the time. But it was her job, what she was

paid meagerly for. “Sure. What time?”

               “As soon as we get to the hotel.”

               Earlier in the day she’d read a stack of mail, she

couldn’t understand why he’d want her around at this

hour. Frankly, she didn’t feel like doing it. Her eyes

needed rest. “I’m waiting for my cousin to finish up

here. He’s my ride.”

“I’ll take you.”

Those butterflies danced a wicked dance in her belly

when he said that. Whether she wanted to or not, he

was going to take her.