Page 31 of The Blackmail of Denise Randall

As we walk past Charlee and her friends, I loudly purr over my shoulder to him, “So glad that waitress came by so we could get our check. I can’t wait to get you alone. Get your handcuffs ready.”

I don’t look back, because I don’t need to. I can feel her eyes burning a hole in the back of my head. Better yet, I can practically feel the anger rolling off of her. I smirk to myself.

Yet now I’m having to deal with my actions. The same way I could feel the anger rolling off Charlee, I can feel the heated tension in the car between Keaton and I. An act or not, that kiss was hot. In fact, I’m not sure how much of it was acting. Should I acknowledge what was said? That I didn’t mean it. Surely, he knows I don’t expect him to follow through with those handcuffs.

As we drive down the road leading to Keaton’s house, two things cross my mind. One, how does a single guy in his twenties live in such a nice neighborhood? I mean, shouldn’t he be living in a plain, one-bedroom apartment? Two, Charlee really got to me, but why? This is a forced relationship between myself and Keaton. The idea of anyone behaving the way she did after she was the one who cheated is what gets me. She’s like Isabelle. She’s a bully and I won’t be bullied again.

This time, Keaton opens the car door for me and the front door to a single-story brick house. As I walk past him into his large, open living room, he whispers, “See? I can be a gentleman.”

I pause and whisper into his ear, “Hopefully not for the rest of the night though.”

I quickly walk away, not knowing where that came from. I’m shocked at myself for being so bold. What am I doing? I can’t seem to stop myself. Who is this girl I’ve become? This isn’t me. Praying he’ll let that comment go and chalk it up to me trying to be cute, I wander around the living room and kitchen.

He saunters toward me with his hands in his pant pockets. “Ready to go to the bedroom?” My eyes about pop out of my head, and I practically gulp like a cartoon character. He gives me a lopsided smile and leans against the kitchen counter. “Isn’t that what you came here for?”

My palms feel clammy, and I’m speechless. I completely regret what I said ten minutes ago. He gives a low chuckle and shakes his head. “If you don’t want to deliver Charlee’s stuff, that’s fine.”

What?Oh! That’s right. That’s the reason we’re here. Of course. “Yes! The bedroom. That’s where she left her stuff. And that’s why you said go to the bedroom…” I feel my cheeks heat, so I stop talking. “Lead the way.”

He smiles as he watches me fidget. He takes my chin between his fingers. “Calm down before you give yourself a stroke.”

An awkward silence forms as we start walking in the direction of the bedrooms. We enter a large gray bedroom with white vaulted ceilings. I notice all the furniture is masculine, so clearly, he and Charlee didn’t purchase or furnish this house together.

“Which items are hers?”

He steps around me to retrieve a cardboard box next to his closet. Keaton holds the box out to me, and our eyes meet. I feel my body getting hot, so I force myself to look down into the box. It’s packed with random items that don’t go with the rest of the bedroom décor. The awkwardness from earlier is still lingering, so I decide the bedroom is probably not the best place for me right now. I scramble out of there carrying the box. I almost trip twice, but the important thing is I didn’t fall on my face.

I take it into the living room and drop it onto the coffee table. I begin to pick through it. I hold up a pretty blue blouse. Oh look, and it’s a designer brand too. Expensive. I noticed a pair of scissors on the kitchen counter when I walked in and go grab them. I take the scissors and begin shredding the blouse. Keaton sits there and stares with a blank expression.

“You’re going to cut up all her clothes?”

“Yup,” I pop the ‘p’ and pick up another item. I continue to destroy every single article of clothing in the box.

“But why? You don’t even know her. Because she was rude? Hurt your feelings, maybe?”

I drop my hands into my lap. “Do you still like her? What do you care?”

Keaton runs his hand down his face and then leans forward with his elbow on his knee and his chin on his fist. “The fact that I have to explain this shows you haven’t matured yet. That or you’re really vindictive.”

“Maybe both,” I snip.

“Maybe.”

When I’ve finished and am satisfied with my work, I pick up the box and hold my head up high.

“Ready,” I call out, as I walk toward his front door.

Silently, he follows me and rushes to open the door for me. Then he hurries to open the car door. When he’s behind the wheel, I tell him to take me to her house.

“I’ve gotta tell you, I’m kind of scared. You’ve destroyed her property. Now what’re you planning to do?”

In the sweetest voice I can manage, I say, “I’m going to return her belongings.”

He nods as he continues to drive. He mumbles under his breath, “The execution of this is what I’m afraid of.”

You should be. I don’t say anything, but instead, smile sweetly.

We pull into the driveway of a nice duplex. As I unbuckle my seatbelt, Keaton tries to insist maybe he should just leave the box by the door. I ignore him as I open my car door and shut it while he’s still speaking. Positioning the box to balance somewhat on my hips, I manage to ring the doorbell. The door opens, and I immediately drop the box. I stare in disbelief.

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