Pen Pal(15)

“Because I do. But I could be wrong. It happens.”

We stare at each other for a moment, until he says softly, “I hope I’m not, though. I really want to make you come.”

I don’t understand how he manages to be completely inappropriate and also ridiculously appealing. Whatever this sorcery is, I need to get away from it before I do something stupid.

“I’m going home now. It’s been an interesting conversation, one I won’t forget for a long time.”

His gaze drops to my mouth. With obvious regret, he says, “I won’t forget it, either.”

He glances back up to meet my gaze. “But if you change your mind, I live right upstairs, over the bar. I’m home every night after six and I’m up until after midnight. If you come later than that, you might have to knock a little louder, because I sleep like the dead.”

“I’m not going to knock on your door, Aidan.”

“Okay.”

“Please stop saying that. You make the word sound nothing at all like what it means.”

His lips curve upward. His dark eyes dance with a mischievous light. He murmurs, “Whatever you say, boss,” and it sounds like he thinks he knows me better than I do.

Then he stands and gestures toward the door. “Have yourself a good evening.”

I dig in my back pocket for cash, which I set on the table. Aidan looks at me like I just stomped on his big toe.

“Don’t do that,” he says.

“Pay for my drinks?”

“Make it transactional.”

“I’m being fair.”

“You’re being emasculating.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah? You a man?”

I send him a sour look. “Not the last time I checked.”

“Then you don’t know what’s emasculating. Keep your money.”

With perfect timing, hipster boy arrives with our round of drinks. It feels like Aidan ordered them a century ago. Before he can set them down, I stand.

I tell Aidan, “If we were on a date, I’d let you pay for my drinks. But I fired you, and this isn’t a date, so I’m paying. It was nice to see you again.” I pause. “I’m searching for a more accurate word than nice, but nothing comes to mind.”

The hipster sets the drinks on the table and says, “Baffling. Bewildering. Disorienting. Strange.”

He looks back and forth between us, then turns around and leaves again.

Gazing at me with burning intensity, Aidan says, “Always liked that kid.”

“Goodbye, Aidan.”

“Good night, Kayla.”

I know the difference in our farewells is deliberate on his part, but with nothing else to say, I turn and walk out.





9





Dear Kayla,

Thank you for writing me back. As for all the questions you asked, none of them matter. I’m sorry if that sounds rude, but it’s the truth.

I’ll always tell you the truth. I can’t do otherwise.

Here’s a verse you might appreciate:





But already my desire and my will were being turned like a wheel, all at one speed, by the Love that moves the sun and the other stars.





What do you think?

Dante





10





I found the letter in the mailbox this time. No mystery appearances on the kitchen table, but still a big mystery about why it came in the first place.

Because I don’t know this guy.

Mr. Mysterious ignored my threat to turn his letters over to the detective, so he either thinks I’m bluffing or he doesn’t care.

I stand in the kitchen under the flickering light and read the letter again. The verse means nothing to me. Not that it should, because it originated from the mind of a lunatic.

I wish I could tell Michael about this. What a laugh we’d have. Right before he called the police.

I know that’s what I should do, but I’m absolutely exhausted. Maybe in the morning I’ll have the strength to pick up the phone and tell a nice police dispatcher that I have a crazy pen pal and could they please go over to the prison and tell him to stop writing me letters, but for now, all I want to do is sleep.

Sleep and forget about Aidan Leighrite and his sorcery.

I’ve still got adrenaline coursing through my veins from that chance meeting. The way he looked at me. The things he said.

“My plan is to get you naked and find out how you sound when you come.”

To my eternal disbelief, I actually considered his offer for a moment.

It was shock. It had to be. In my normal state of mind, I’d have smacked that guy right across the face, barged out of the bar, and filed a complaint about him with the Better Business Bureau. Who talks to a customer like that?

A former customer, but still.

Actually, did I ever technically hire him? We negotiated pricing, but I didn’t sign any kind of contract. It didn’t get that far. I threw him out of my house first.

Oh God, who cares? This is all too much for me.

I make sure all the doors are locked and the drapes are drawn. Then I go upstairs, put the letter with the others in my underwear drawer, and go to bed.

I fall asleep within minutes, but in the middle of the night, something wakes me.