Page 84 of Devious Gambit

Rhys

Marjorie Dwight was spending Christmas day with her family in Indiana, leaving Christmas Eve. So, she suggested we get together for a pre-Christmas dinner. She offered to make the hot meal, while I provided the dessert.

“My, my, my,” she crowed when I walked into her kitchen armed with boysenberry cheesecake bought from that place Mr. Ed took me to. “Don’t you look pretty as a picture.”

“Huh?”

“Your hair,” she said, stroking my bangs with her palm, “it makes you look so sassy, sweetie. I love it.”

“Really? I’m taking a while to get used to it.” The truth was I could barely look at myself in the mirror. I completely forgot that I had a new do, until I glanced at my reflection when I took a shower the next morning after the spa day. My hair took on a new shine when they’d colored it a deep, rich chocolate brown, rather than dirty ol’ brown. It also turned a little wavy from having a few inches of dead weight hacked off it. Without a doubt, this type of hairdo was trouble. It brought me attention, most of it unwanted. I was a master at going about unseen and now this glossy hair and bangs was making me look like a try-hard beauty queen.

“You got the figure of a streamline model,” Marjorie added, “so this hair fits your proportion perfectly. All you need to do is buy some nice clothes to go with it.” She wiggled her wrinkled finger at my black skinny jeans with a rip in the knee and oversized yellow sweatshirt.

“I dress for comfort,” I argued.

“Any fool can see that.” She took an envelope off the fridge and handed it to me. “Here, Merry Christmas. You can open it now, it’s just a voucher at Lealands clothing store. They’ve got all the popular brands that kids your age like.”

“Thank you,” I said, giving her a tight bear hug. “I didn’t get you anything.”

“I don’t need anything.”

I paused for a moment, narrowing my eyes suspiciously at the old lady. “You’re not conspiring with Lise and Gretta to mold me into a different person.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” she smirked, shooting me a quick wink. “And you don’t need to become a different person. You just need to become more yourself.”

“Whatever that means.”

“Oh!” she barked, scaring me half to death. “I almost forgot. A FedEx box came for you yesterday. I didn’t want to leave it on your doorstep for fear that someone would steal it, then I plum forgot to give it to you.”

She bustled down the hall, returning moments later with a flat FedEx box, a little larger than A4 notepaper. I didn’t recognize the handwriting, but it definitely looked masculine and I immediately assumed it was sent from my father, until…

“All the way from Chicago,” Marjorie pointed at the return address on the back of the box. “They didn’t leave a name.”

“I’ll open it later,” I stated, brushing it aside, because I wasn’t sure I wanted to open it or throw it in the dumpster. I knew only one person on this entire planet who had anything to do with Chicago, and I deleted him out of my phone the day he screwed me over. I was hoping to delete him out of my thoughts as well, but that proved difficult, especially when nosy people kept asking about him. Not to mention his friends kept asking me if I’d heard from him. Obviously, they had a hearing problem, because I had to repeat several times, “I have nothing to do with him.”

The Christmas dinner was lovely, even though the FedEx box was cutting a hole in my skull. Sweeney wasn’t mentioned, which meant the whole fiasco didn’t exist. As long as the Deadwood Four kept their mouths shut and Sweeney’s body remained at the bottom of Lake Superior, then we’re okay. However, that didn’t stop the guilt and the nightmares of him remerging to hunt me down. In hindsight, I should’ve called an ambulance and pleaded self-defense, however, I wasn’t exactly in a leveled state of mind and other’s opinions influenced mine. At the end of the day, it was still my fault.

After dessert, I walked back to my place over the garage with my gift voucher and mysterious FedEx box that I’d shaken and smelt a few times, getting no clue of what’s inside.

I took a deep breath before opening the box to find a plump package wrapped in red Christmas paper dotted in fat Santa Clauses. There was a small card attached that made my heart skip a beat when I read it.

Merry Christmas Gallagher

- Jace xx

“Jace,” I read his name aloud. That man who both exhilarated and tore me in two, all in a matter of hours. Remember him? “I’ve been trying very hard not to.”

I ran my fingers over the gorgeous wrapping paper finding the item hidden underneath had sharp corners, like a book. However, it wasn’t thick enough for the type of books I read. Closing my eyes tightly, I pulled at the paper until I heard it rip. When I opened my eyes again, it was revealed to me what he’d sent. A picture frame. Curiosity beckoned me to look further.

When I took it out of the paper to examine the art, I quickly became overwhelmed not just by the images before me, but by the effort and thought behind it. I tossed the frame on my bed to take a breather and drink a glass of water, while wiping the tears from my cheeks.

“What are you doing to me?” I shouted, stepping into the bathroom for some toilet paper to blow my nose.

Once I’d pulled myself together I stepped back out to examine the frame again. With the initial shock over, I could look at the images in a detached and calm manner, hopefully.

It was a collage of several pics, most of them of me. They were the pics he took at several landmarks on the way to Stillwater. In the center of the collage was the selfie of us in front of the historic hotel. He’s gazing at my face with those baby blues, while I’m looking at the camera. I closed my eyes again and took deep breaths to ride the waves of emotion creating havoc in my stomach, chest, head, everywhere.

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was the only square in the collage without a photograph. In that square was an excerpt from Dante’s Vita Nuova.

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