Page 52 of Cloud Storm

“Then why doesn’t she come to see him?”

“Because she lives out of state,” he explains. “Would you do that for me? Please?”

For the man who gave me a job and put a roof over my head?

“I would do anything you ask,” I reply without hesitation, since Mr. Hatz is like a father to me. “What is the apartment number?”

“It’s the townhome 3-A, the one on the corner, the one I just sold.”

My mouth opens in a reflex act of shock, I can’t help it.

“You are really great, I always know that I can rely on you,” he says and before my head reconnects with my tongue, he kisses me on the cheek and runs out of here.

Surely I did something very bad in my past life and this is one of my punishments. To finish off my night Mr. Hatz leaves me the commendable task of going to see what the hell is wrong with Lancelot Hills.

Damn my luck.

From: California Girl

To: Arthur

Date: October 3, 2019 20:35

Subject: RE: RE: Our date

Where are you?

I’ve been here for an hour and a half and the only thing I can think about right now is twisting your throat so hard… I hate you, Arthur. I hate you for making me believe.

You’re leaving me alone in more ways than one.

I’m sitting at the table you reserved for us, the sun has just set on the horizon and you’ve missed it. I wish you had been here with me, holding my hand as you promised.

Come here, damn it.

California Girl

Today there is no kiss, at least not until you show up.

Chapter 13

I’m still at the very same spot, with the keys in my hand. I know that I just promised Mr. Hatz that I would go to His-Smug-Highness’ house, but I don’t want to, and in any case, I’m sure I know what’s going to happen. I will knock, a minute later he will open the door, look at me with his habitual frown or raise an eyebrow, silently wondering the reason for my interruption before he slams the door in my face.

Better yet, I can think of another idea. What if I put a firecracker through the letter box in his door? I’m sure that with the fright, His-Smug-Highness will jump up and shoot out of his house, which will prove that he’s well, while at the same teaching him a lesson.

A slap in the face.

He owes me big time.

And today I’m looking for someone to kill.

Do I have any volunteers?

Surely we’re going to have fun, you should be encouraged. Another option would be to remove one of the Suit’s layers, perhaps with the help of a corkscrew.

I laugh to myself while I walk along the sidewalk. His house faces the street, just like Roselynn’s.

Fortunately, the walk isn’t very long, because I’m dead tired and emotionally drained. My Friday night has by no means turned out as expected.

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