Dirty Letters(18)

Julian had sent over several photos along with an e-mailed report of his initial findings from Vermont.

Greetings from Montpelier!

Attached are all the photos I’ve taken since arriving up here.

Here is what I know so far. As you can see, your friend is quite the looker. That’s the good news. The rest is a little fucking bizarro, if you ask me, so hang on for the ride.

First off, she walks a pig on a leash. Yes, I said . . . PIG. A freaking pig. Not sure what that’s all about. Other than when she ventures out to do that, she mostly seems to just go from the house to the post office, then home again. So it’s been pretty easy to keep tabs on her.

Here’s the really odd part. There’s this old dude who picked her up once, and they went out together. I followed them to a pet store and back. That was it. Not sure if he’s her grandfather or a sugar daddy or what. I think he’s a Peeping Tom, though, because I saw him using these binoculars outside her house. A real perv. Strange shit, man. If you want me to look into him more, let me know.

The story gets even weirder. The next day, the same guy shows up at her house driving an old RV. She gets in, stays inside for a few minutes, then runs back inside her house. No clue what that was all about.

That’s pretty much all I’ve got for now. Couldn’t put this all together into something that makes sense if you paid me double or my life depended on it. Not sure how much more information you need.

Anyway, off topic, I sort of found a little side piece at a bar here last night. Name’s Vanessa. I’m thinking of sticking around in town for a bit if you want me to continue the job. That old dude is up to something. I just know it.

Let me know!

Julian



As strange as Luca’s lifestyle may have seemed to him, everything made perfect sense to me. I knew that guy was her eccentric therapist whom she often ventured out with, because she’d mentioned him in her first letter. And of course, I’d already known about Hortencia. So, oddly, none of this alarmed me at all.

I wrote back, telling Julian to hang out there until I let him know otherwise. I didn’t think he was going to find anything more of value, but he clearly had nothing else better to do—besides “Vanessa”—at the moment, so I figured I’d keep him there a little longer.



“Mr. Archer?”

Shit. Apparently my cap and sunglasses did nothing to hide my identity as I attempted to venture incognito to the post office.

“Yes.”

“Can I have your autograph?”

“Sure,” I said, quickly scribbling my signature onto a piece of some girl’s mail.

“I’m a huge fan,” she squeaked. “You have no idea. ‘Luca’ is like my favorite song ever.”

Ugh. She had to remind me.

“Thanks,” I said before rushing away.

That was going to be another thing I’d have to contend with. How exactly was I supposed to explain to Luca that I’d written my most successful song—more like a rant—in honor of her while I was drunk and pissed one night? Who knew that thing was going to fly up the charts the way it did? I’d certainly never imagined when I wrote it that Luca and I would end up reconnecting.

I sighed. I supposed the song was the least of my problems right now.

Throwing my hood over my head, I picked up the pace so no one else would recognize me. After all, I had Luca’s letter in my hands and couldn’t get back to my car fast enough.

Ripping the envelope open, I eagerly began to read it.

Dear Griffin,

I’ve officially burned out three Furbys. It’s a good thing you got me so many, even if your eBay account was sacrificed in the process. I’m sorry about that, but it did make me laugh out loud for some reason when you told me it got shut down. Seriously, thank you for that surprise gift. I don’t think I smiled or laughed in years like I did when I opened it. And yes, I’m serious when I said I burned three of them out already. (Whoops.) I thought of you every second, by the way. ;-) I considered sending you a video to prove how much I appreciate your gift, but I thought that might freak you out. Would you want something like that from me? A video? That, of course, would require us to exchange numbers/e-mails. And that also could lead to—GASP—talking on the phone. And talking on the phone could lead to—GASP—seeing each other. And seeing each other could lead to . . . well, you get the point. I know you said you like the dynamic we have going right now and the mystery of it all. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE what we have. But I don’t know . . . don’t you sometimes want more?



I had to stop reading the letter for a moment.

Shit.

Fuck.

Shit.

A feeling of dread filled me. Not to mention, I was hard as a rock. Strange combo. I knew where this was going, and it was messing me up inside. I took a deep breath in and continued.

I’m sorry if I’m crossing a line in even bringing this up. But it’s been weighing heavily on me lately. I really would love for what we have to be about more than just the letters. I’m crazy about you. There, I said it. Feel free to pretend I didn’t. I’ll just take your lack of acknowledgment as a hint to not bring any of this up again. (Who’s the one installing the security cameras now, huh?) Okay, now that I have gotten all that off my chest, I’ll answer your questions. You wanted to know if I am a screamer or a moaner. Both, actually—but mostly when I am pleasuring myself, because that’s when I am most comfortable and not worrying about what others think. I also live in a very secluded spot, so no one except Hortencia is going to hear me scream. That works out if you want some privacy, but it’s not exactly convenient if you’re being ax murdered or attacked by a grizzly bear.