you are staying Emma’s Bed and ‘Not So Good’ Breakfast. Where’re you from?”
“Boston,” I quickly replied. I was becoming an expert in this ‘lying’ business. “I’m in college, studying psychology. It’s my last year.” At least that part was true.
“Boston, I’m impressed. Which college?”
“Not Harvard or anything exciting like that, you’ve probably never heard of it, Massachusetts School of Psychology.”
He nodded. “You’re right about that, I’m afraid I’ve never heard of it.”
He beamed another charming smile at me that nearly melted me into a puddle on my seat. I fiercely wanted to stop the blush that was rising to my cheek. This wasn’t how Hanna would react. To my relief, a screaming guitar rift assaulted my ears, and the boom of a bass drum, accented with crashing cymbals, told us that the band had started. It interrupted our conversation, just when my lies were getting thin. As the loud rock music vibrated through my body, I finally relaxed, feeling the effects of the alcohol loosen my tense muscles.
John bought us another round of drinks, and we both kicked back to indulge in the wall of sound that was all around us. He was getting into the rhythms of the guitar solo. I was exhausted. The bizarre events of the last few days were finally catching up to me.
The minutes turned into an hour and I told John I needed to go back to Emma’s. John was the perfect gentleman and insisted on walking with me the three blocks from the bar to my lodging. As we said goodnight, he lingered for a moment on the front porch. Was he going to kiss me? Hanna wanted him to. So did I. A lot.
“Thanks for walking me home but you really didn’t need to.”
“I know, but you can never be too safe, even in a small town like this. Well goodnight, Ms. Carrington. Hope you sleep well.”
Without offering me the kiss, he turned and walked into the warm summer night, leaving me slightly disappointed. I would have liked to feel those luscious lips on mine.
I slipped into my room without turning on the light. The mood of the evening was still prominent, hovering over me like a pleasant misty fog, and I wanted to absorb the feelings of my new found persona, Hanna. Drawing the floral print curtain aside with my hand, I glanced out the window to get one last peek at John walking down the narrow cement sidewalk. He was already gone. I sighed and as the curtain fell back in place, something caught my eye. A shadow. I froze. Someone was out there on the other side of the street under the heavy hanging branches of a large oak tree. Were we followed? Was someone watching hidden in the darkness? Had someone from New York, who was missing their two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars, found me here in peaceful Summerville? I blinked and saw nothing the second time. Was I just being paranoid? Was this how I would spend the rest of my life, looking over my shoulder every day? If only there was a way to erase this whole mess. A way to go back in time and leave that damn briefcase alone.
With only the moonlight of the Summerville night streaming in between the panels of the floral curtains, the blue roses were now muted to shades of gray in the darkness of the room. My eyes blurred and when I looked out the window again, there was nothing but shadows cast onto the sidewalks by the large oak trees. I was tired and probably just paranoid.
I dropped my purse on the nightstand. If some slasher was out there, he’d just have to wait until morning to slit my throat. I was too damn tired to care right now. I kicked off my shoes and flopped onto the bed exhausted, clothes and all. There wasn’t another ounce of energy in me to undress or be concerned with wrinkled clothes, and I preferred to drift off to sleep with thoughts of John filtering through my mind instead. I grabbed a bed pillow, tucked it between my knees and I was dead to the world in no
“Boston,” I quickly replied. I was becoming an expert in this ‘lying’ business. “I’m in college, studying psychology. It’s my last year.” At least that part was true.
“Boston, I’m impressed. Which college?”
“Not Harvard or anything exciting like that, you’ve probably never heard of it, Massachusetts School of Psychology.”
He nodded. “You’re right about that, I’m afraid I’ve never heard of it.”
He beamed another charming smile at me that nearly melted me into a puddle on my seat. I fiercely wanted to stop the blush that was rising to my cheek. This wasn’t how Hanna would react. To my relief, a screaming guitar rift assaulted my ears, and the boom of a bass drum, accented with crashing cymbals, told us that the band had started. It interrupted our conversation, just when my lies were getting thin. As the loud rock music vibrated through my body, I finally relaxed, feeling the effects of the alcohol loosen my tense muscles.
John bought us another round of drinks, and we both kicked back to indulge in the wall of sound that was all around us. He was getting into the rhythms of the guitar solo. I was exhausted. The bizarre events of the last few days were finally catching up to me.
The minutes turned into an hour and I told John I needed to go back to Emma’s. John was the perfect gentleman and insisted on walking with me the three blocks from the bar to my lodging. As we said goodnight, he lingered for a moment on the front porch. Was he going to kiss me? Hanna wanted him to. So did I. A lot.
“Thanks for walking me home but you really didn’t need to.”
“I know, but you can never be too safe, even in a small town like this. Well goodnight, Ms. Carrington. Hope you sleep well.”
Without offering me the kiss, he turned and walked into the warm summer night, leaving me slightly disappointed. I would have liked to feel those luscious lips on mine.
I slipped into my room without turning on the light. The mood of the evening was still prominent, hovering over me like a pleasant misty fog, and I wanted to absorb the feelings of my new found persona, Hanna. Drawing the floral print curtain aside with my hand, I glanced out the window to get one last peek at John walking down the narrow cement sidewalk. He was already gone. I sighed and as the curtain fell back in place, something caught my eye. A shadow. I froze. Someone was out there on the other side of the street under the heavy hanging branches of a large oak tree. Were we followed? Was someone watching hidden in the darkness? Had someone from New York, who was missing their two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars, found me here in peaceful Summerville? I blinked and saw nothing the second time. Was I just being paranoid? Was this how I would spend the rest of my life, looking over my shoulder every day? If only there was a way to erase this whole mess. A way to go back in time and leave that damn briefcase alone.
With only the moonlight of the Summerville night streaming in between the panels of the floral curtains, the blue roses were now muted to shades of gray in the darkness of the room. My eyes blurred and when I looked out the window again, there was nothing but shadows cast onto the sidewalks by the large oak trees. I was tired and probably just paranoid.
I dropped my purse on the nightstand. If some slasher was out there, he’d just have to wait until morning to slit my throat. I was too damn tired to care right now. I kicked off my shoes and flopped onto the bed exhausted, clothes and all. There wasn’t another ounce of energy in me to undress or be concerned with wrinkled clothes, and I preferred to drift off to sleep with thoughts of John filtering through my mind instead. I grabbed a bed pillow, tucked it between my knees and I was dead to the world in no
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