Never Wake Read online

  “Boy?” He whirled around and faced the closed door. He put his hand out to open the door, but something told him not to. That same something told him to turn that little knob on the door so that Hoyt couldn’t come in. “Boy, I know you hear me.”

  “I’m not finished using it.” He tried to keep the fear out of his voice.

  “That’s all right.” Again, Hoyt’s voice was nice—too nice.

  The Boy shuddered, his eyes focused on the knob. Please don’t turn; please don’t turn.

  “Me and these folks got business to discuss, so you stay in this bathroom until I come and get you.”

  The Boy felt tears prick at the back of his eyes. He wasn’t stupid; he knew that Hoyt was doing something bad. He knew he was hurting people, and yet he couldn’t figure out why.

  “You hear me, boy?” Hoyt’s voice started to sound not so nice and The Boy thought he saw the door knob move, as if Hoyt was resting his big ape-like paw on the door. “You stay in here until I come get you.” Hoyt’s voice was rising, but not in anger. He seemed excited.

  The Boy pictured the ape again, this time hunched outside the door, salivating. “Okay,” he said, backing away from the door. He waited for a response, but there was only silence. He stared hard at the door. Please stop this. Please someone stop this. Grandma. Grandma, he cried out silently, but his grandma wasn’t there. No one was. And although he didn’t know what was going on on the other side of that door, he knew that Hoyt was making someone cry. He put his hands over his ears so that he wouldn’t have to hear any more and squeezed himself in the tight space between the toilet and the wall. Tears seeped down his cheeks and neck and were now pooling at the collar of his shirt. He slid down the wall and started to pray. He didn’t believe in God any more than he believed in Santa Claus, but sometimes, if you said things out loud, it helped to make the bad things go away. With his hands over his ears his whispered prayers seemed to come from way far off. He closed his eyes and rocked a little as he repeated his prayer over and over again. “Don’t scream, lady. Please don’t scream.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The first person she and Troy stepped over was an old woman wearing a flowered yellow dress and clutching a shiny white purse that matched her shoes.

  Emma found herself looking for the slow automatic rise and fall of her ample chest. After they had passed her, Emma couldn’t help but look back to make sure she hadn’t risen without them knowing. Her trembling had eased after Troy had taken her arm, but the fear was still there. Troy had tried to describe this, but she had done a poor job. The sound of their feet, her cane tapping on the sidewalk, Troy’s attempts to distract her with uncharacteristic inane conversation, even her own breathing—all of it felt loud and out of place. Emma felt out of place.

  “How you doin’?” Troy asked her for the third time.

  “Fine,” had become her standard answer, but it wasn’t true. She figured Troy knew that, based on the fact that she hadn’t released her arm since they had set out. What am I so afraid of? Troy’s right. There’s no one here to hurt me. Her ability to sense people’s feelings wasn’t infinite. She had to be close, but even the people they had to step over or walk around gave off no impression. She couldn’t sense much from Troy, either, just a carefulness that she wasn’t sure that she liked.

  “This was my route until I inherited a different one when another messenger moved to L.A. See that sidewalk right there? I once had this old man just walk right off that sidewalk, inches in front of my bike.”

  “Really?” was all Emma could manage.

  “Yeah, you wouldn’t believe the number of elderly people that rely on their hearing to get them around. A bike doesn’t make any noise.” She shrugged. “One of the guys broke his collarbone after running into a pedestrian. He never rode again—said he lost the joy of it. Parceled out his bike and everything. That’s how I got my current saddle. Best seat I’ve ever had.”

  “What happened to the pedestrian?”

  “He died. Cops tried real hard to pin something on the messenger, but the pedestrian was at fault. Nothing ever came of it.”

  “Aren’t you ever afraid?” Emma felt the muscles in her neck loosen; a mannequin in the window of a small boutique caught her eye. She decided she would keep the fact that she liked the shirt the mannequin was wearing to herself, just in case Troy was tempted to pull an IOU from her pocket.

  “Of being hurt? Not really.”

  “I’d be afraid for you.”

  “Nothing to be afraid of now, though.”

  “You almost sound disappointed.”

  Troy shrugged. “What’s a world without at least some fears?”

  “Safe?”

  “If I wanted safe, I’d have been satisfied with getting a degree in something I wasn’t interested in.”

  “Is that why you became a messenger? Because of the danger?”

  “Nah, I just love to ride. Being a messenger can be dangerous, and it’s also getting harder and harder to pay the bills. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have many. I figure if I can’t pay cash, I don’t need it. But people are using the Internet and fax for most things that don’t require signatures. I started when I was twenty-one and I can tell a big difference in the number of calls I get.”

  “Twenty-one? That means you’ve been riding for…?”

  Troy smiled. “I’m twenty-eight, Emma. If you wanted to know how old I am all you had to do was ask.”

  “I would have guessed twenty-five.”

  “Uh-huh. Keep blowing smoke up my boxers and I might pay for your half of dinner.”

  “You’re going to pay? No IOU?” Emma laughed at the exasperated look on Troy’s face. It reminded her of how she looked when they played spades and Emma had taken all of her play money. “Do you miss it? I mean, now that there’s nothing to deliver?”

  Troy looked around the empty streets and then at Emma.

  “Yeah, I miss it. I can ride, but it doesn’t have a purpose. I’m not trying to get anywhere. When I come back to you, that’s always worth something.”

  The timber of Troy’s voice made Emma blush.

  “I’m glad we found each other, Em.”

  Emma sensed what Troy didn’t say, which probably was something like, “I’m glad I saw your mirror. I’m glad you let me come up to see you in your apartment. I’m glad I didn’t kill myself.”

  “I’m glad too,” she said, and looked down for fear her eyes would tear up. Leaving the condo had been a good decision. Troy needed this from her.

  There was something else that Troy needed from her, but she refused to think about it. Maybe it would go away. Part of her hoped it wouldn’t.

  They walked in silence, and when gentle raindrops first hit the top of Emma’s head she tossed her head back and let them cool her heated face.

  Troy laughed. “At least you don’t have to worry about it being bird shit, huh?”

  “Ida used to say there’s always something positive in every shitty situation.” The Ida quote made her think of Dr. Edwards and the night she had been attacked. She pushed the thought away.

  They turned a corner and Emma could feel the slightest bit of fatigue starting to creep up around her knee. She would ignore it for now. She needed the exercise and she didn’t want this night to end. She could tell that Troy didn’t either.

  “I’m not sure I agree, but I bet your grandmother and I would have seen eye to eye on a lot of things.”

  “Yes. I couldn’t put my finger on it at first, but now I think I’ve got it.” She studied Troy with a serious look on her face. “It’s the cursing. You and she have that in common.”

  “I don’t curse that much.” Emma looked at Troy with her eyebrow raised.

  “Um-hmm. She used to say that, too.”

  Troy sighed. “All right, I’ll watch it from now on.”

  “I was just teasing. You don’t need to watch what you say around me.” She stopped speaking because Troy was grinning.

  “Okay,
I won’t.”

  Emma realized she had walked right into Troy’s trap. Emma watched as a drop of rain fell onto Troy’s cheek and disappeared beneath her jawline. Emma’s eyes were drawn to a pulse at Troy’s neck, and then she was drowning in the feeling of arousal. She felt an answering tug in her chest and her crotch. Stop it. She looked down at the sidewalk and felt heat creep up her neck and around her ears. She was eavesdropping again. She needed to learn to control that better if she planned to stay with Troy. Stay with Troy? Of course she would stay with Troy, unless Troy tired of her. What if she does? Then what will you do? You’ll do what you’ve done for the last two years; you’ll find a way to fend for yourself. The idea of going back to the way things were made Emma’s heart pound. Fear, she recognized.

  Troy looked concerned, but she didn’t ask any questions. “It looks like it might be about to come down hard out here. Do you want to…?” The end of Troy’s question was drowned out by an uncharacteristic clap of thunder.

  “Whoa!” they both shouted and jumped close together under what was fast becoming a torrential rain.

  Troy looked around. “Come on over here.”

  Emma walked as fast as she could in the direction Troy had pointed. Troy tried to shield Emma with her body, but both of them were soaked by the time they reached the front door of BurgerCity. Troy pulled the door open. “After you,” she said with a sweep of her hand.

  Emma could see the gleam of her teeth in the semidarkness. Emma entered the empty, well-lit restaurant. “How’d you know it would be open?”

  “I worked at one when I was in high school. Most of them are open 24/7 now.” Troy shook water from her hair like a wet dog. Emma burst out laughing. “What?” Troy grinned, and once again Emma felt another pleasing burst of joy coming from her.

  “Your hair. I only finished half of it. You look like a rooster. Here, let me.”

  Troy bent forward and Emma began undoing the rows that she had so painstakingly braided. Emma finished unbraiding the last one and ran her hands through Troy’s damp curls, smoothing them out until they coiled around her head like black silk. Emma’s smile faded as she realized that Troy was watching her face. Emma’s hands stopped moving as Troy’s hands went to her waist.

  “There you go,” she said and dropped her hands heavily to her side.

  Troy looked like she was going to say something, paused, and then asked, “Are you hungry?”

  The easy answer would have been to say yes or no. Her mistake was in looking into Troy’s eyes.

  “I asked if you were hungry.” Her voice lowered as she leaned closer. She took a deep breath and, with a finger under Emma’s chin, tilted her face up and kissed her. Troy’s lips were gentle on hers. One hand pulled her close, but all Emma would have had to do was take a step back and the contact would be broken.

  Troy broke off the kiss just as Emma was beginning to feel the first tumult of emotions coming for her. Troy pressed her forehead against Emma’s and took a deep breath.

  “You are so sweet, Emma Webster,” she said, her voice a whisper.

  Emma pushed back the need to lean in to steal another kiss.

  “I’m going to wine you, dine you, and tuck you into bed. Maybe tomorrow we can talk about the way you’re trying to seduce me.”

  Emma’s mouth dropped as Troy walked toward the cash registers. All kinds of smart comebacks came to her mind, but Troy had already disappeared behind the counter and into the kitchen.

  The moment had passed.

  She’d file them away for later; there would be other occasions. Troy took great pleasure in teasing her. Not that Emma didn’t enjoy it. And sometimes she gave as good as she got. Emma looked around the restaurant and slid into one of the booths.

  “Hey, Em, you should see this guy back here. He’s got a shit-load of girlie magazines, and I bet he was about to get himself off. Bet this fucker doesn’t even wash his hands after he does it,” Troy called out.

  Emma’s stomach writhed and she told herself it was just a reaction to the idea of eating fried food for the first time in years. Over the next few minutes the loud popping of grease was flavored with the occasional muffled curse word. Troy was trying to take her mind off the attraction between them, hence the profanity and the information about the poor guy in the back. Emma bit her lip. Her own feelings mirrored Troy’s right down to the small pulse of excitement. Come on, Emma, it’s not like you’ve never done it before. Done it? Great, now I’m acting like I’m a teenager. I might as well run into the bathroom and write “I’m about to get me some” on one of the stall walls. Emma’s right temple gave a warning throb. The idea of yelling out a heartfelt “fuck” seemed very appealing at that moment.

  “You asleep out there?”

  God, no, she thought before calling out, “I’m here.”

  “Okay.” Troy came out holding two red trays heaped high with food. “Dinner is served, m’lady.” She slid the tray in front of Emma with a flourish and sat across from her in the booth. Emma picked up her diet cola and almost choked on her first swallow as she got a good look at Troy’s food. The hamburger was so tall it leaned at an angle. There were more French fries outside of the package than in it, and the cup that held Troy’s shake was three times as big as Emma’s diet cola cup.

  “You’re not going to eat all that?”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  Emma looked down at her own platter and then at Troy’s. “It’s a lot of food.”

  “Come on, don’t tell me you’re worried about getting fat.”

  “Yeah, sort of.”

  Troy began the arduous task of picking up her burger. “Go ahead and eat. There’s only me, remember? And we see each other every day. I won’t even notice when you get fat. What’s that they say? ‘More of you to love,’ right?” Troy bit into her burger.

  “That’s very reassuring, but I don’t want to die of a heart attack from eating all this fried food,” Emma protested.

  The amount of food in Troy’s mouth made her smile look distorted. Emma had to wait for Troy to swallow before she could respond. “I couldn’t think of a better way to die, myself.”

  “Really?” Emma asked as she looked at Troy’s arms, her neck, and the tensing jaw line that was no longer chewing. Emma became very busy with her own colossal burger. She could feel Troy watching her and it was making her nervous. She hadn’t even managed to pick up the burger yet.

  “May I make a suggestion?”

  “Sure.” Emma hoped Troy didn’t notice how unsure the word “sure” had sounded.

  “The fries are nasty when they’re cold. By the time you pick that hamburger up, let alone eat it, it’ll be winter.”

  “Okay,” Emma said, and without looking at Troy she reached for a French fry.

  “Uh…”

  Emma paused with the fry midway to her mouth. Troy was looking at her with the same expression her mother had worn almost every time Emma wore something she didn’t approve of.

  “What?” Emma let her eyes fall to the right of Troy’s so she wouldn’t have to meet them.

  “You want me to show you how to do that?” Troy asked and reached across the table and took the French fry from Emma’s fingers before she could answer. Emma released the fry as if she had snatched it out of the hot grease with her bare hands. Emma heard the sound of Troy’s tray being pushed across the table and the sound of her rough work pants scraping against the leather seats as she moved to sit next to her.

  “You have to watch what I’m doing, Emma.”

  Emma shivered. Troy’s arousal was almost tangible. Emma took a deep shuddering breath and forced her drooping eyelids open. When she looked at Troy she noticed for the first time how incredibly long Troy’s lashes were.

  “Yes?” Troy asked and Emma nodded. “Good. Let me school you on this, then. First, you have to make sure the fries are real hot and just a little bit salty. You understand?”

  Emma’s “uh-huh” earned her a mesmerizing smile.

  “
You only want them slightly crispy. So you have to wait until they’re just a little bit past done.” She paused and tilted her head.

  Emma said “yes,” again as if she had been asked a question.

  “And then you want to take the top of your marionberry shake…and Emma?”

  “Hmm?”

  “It has to be marionberry.” She smiled, and Emma swallowed. “Are you paying attention? ’Cause this part is important.”

  Emma nodded again. Troy dipped the French fry halfway into her shake and pulled it out. Then, closing her eyes, she bit into it like it was manna from the gods. “And then, you enjoy,” she intoned, her eyes closed.

  Emma’s face heated. This had gone past playfulness and it scared her.

  “Your turn,” Troy said. Her teasing smile was back.

  Emma was already shaking her head. “No. I think—” She stopped speaking because Troy had already dipped the half-eaten fry into her shake and was offering it to her. As if pulled on a string, Emma leaned forward and took the rest of the fry from Troy’s fingers. Troy’s thumb lingered on Emma’s lips and Emma chewed with eyes closed as she used the moment to regain her senses. “Mmm, Troy?”

  “Hmm?” Troy’s voice sounded husky and more than a little aroused.

  “This is really disgusting,” Emma said as the oddities of flavors slapped her senses right back out of the gutter. Her eyes flew open in time to see that Troy was leaning in to kiss her.

  “Then something must be wrong with the shake. Here, let me try,” she said and began to nuzzle Emma’s lips.

  Emma felt her own breath hit Troy’s upper lip and bounce back to her. Come on, Emma. You haven’t forgotten how to do this. Oh, yes, I most assuredly have.

  Troy deepened the kiss and left her floundering to catch up. Emma felt like she needed to press her feet into the linoleum in order to keep from sliding out of the booth. Her hand went up, settled on Troy’s shoulder, and then moved lower over Troy’s heart. And then she felt it: wave after wave of wanting that took her breath away. The depth of the emotions and the strength of her own need made Emma’s stomach twist. A sharp, intense pain started between her eyes and made her feel even more nauseous. Not right now. Please, not right now.