Page 10 of Elusive

Chapter 4

Sutton

When it rains, it comes pouring down in hurricane-like sheets. All week, there’s been hints of a torrential fucking downpour headed my way… that I shouldn’t have ignored. Somehow, when I told Hailey — very nicely, and clearly, or so I thought — that we weren’t exclusive, and she should look for a guy looking for the same things she was, that’s… not what she heard.

I just worked all night, busted opened three knuckles on the jaw of some drunk bastard who tried sneaking in the back door after I tossed his ass out the front one, and stayed over to help Roman clean and restock. Which means, I haven’t eaten in almost fifteen hours and I’m tired as hell.

So, the fact that there’s another “hint” smacking me in the face right now — a fugly, flowery circle thing… a wreath, yeah, that’s what it’s called — hanging on my front door, pisses me right the fuck off.

She seemed normal, sweet even.

And reminding me it can always get worse, the door swings open and Hailey pops out at me like a deranged Jack-in-the-Box.

What’d I say? Hurri-fucking-cane.

“You’re home! Come in,” she graciously invites me… into my own apartment. How she got in… I don’t even want to think about; one psychosis at a time. “I’ve been a busy girl. I have so much to show you! Close your eyes,” she coaxes, taking my hand.

No way in hell am I closing my eyes with crazy in the vicinity.

“Hailey, really trying not to be a dick, but I thought we… uh… had an understanding. And, gotta say, didn’t think ‘breaking and entering is not okay’ needed pointing out. Took it as a given.”

“Geez, grumpy. I didn’t break in, I used my key.”

“That actually makes me feel worse. Gonna need you to give me that key of yours.”

“Sutton,” she purses her lips and juts out a hip, “you’re not acting very appreciative. I’ve been working really hard, and you haven’t even let me show you on what yet. Now cheer up, buttercup, and come see.”

I drudge my way through the apartment, the voices in my head screaming out their warnings over her item-by-item commentary. The living room has new curtains, a rug, and the picture I specifically remember returning to her back on the entertainment center. My bathroom. Dear Lord, my bathroom. It’s pink. Everything. Everywhere. Top- to-bottom pink. Shower curtain, towels, candles, bath rug… and who knew they even made those fuzzy toilet lid covers anymore?

As I’m mentally compiling the list of each and every place to include as a “no-go zone” on the restraining order, she leads me to my bedroom. It’s slathered in sunshine — feathery blankets that must’ve cost many a canary their life to make, and about twenty pillows so damn bright, I’m now wide awake from their high-beam, cover my bed. I take a look around, instantly regretting it, my head spinning. There’s countless vases of yellow flowers on every available surface, and wait for it… the pièce de résistance… a giant picture of her, and that damn dog, hanging on the wall directly across from my bed.

“Wh… what,” I cough and point, “is that, like an eight by… a lot?”

“Psshh, only the best for my man. It’s a twenty-by-twenty-four. You like it?”

“Like isn’t even close to the right word.”

“Yay!” She bounces in place. “I can’t wait for you to meet Mister Muffinbutt in person. You’re going to love him.”

“I assume you mean the dog?” Could just as easily be one of her imaginary friends.

“Yes, silly. Okay, I’ve got to run a few errands and pick up our new coffee table. You can go to sleep now.”

“Yeah, before I do that though, we need to talk.” I sit on the bed and pat the spot next to me. “Have a seat.” She hesitates, a suspicious bend to her brows, so I tack on, “I won’t bite.”

That did it — instant smile and a bound up on the mattress, right beside me.

“Hailey, what posses-” no, don’t call her possessed, “prompted you to do all this, um… redecorating?” I speak calmly, in spite of the panic whirling inside me. “And having a key made? What happened to our last talk, the one about cooling off, seeing other people?”

“I love you.” Crazy chick say what? She leans in for a kiss, but I dodge it faster than “Hailey Patches O’Houlihan” can peg me with that wrench. “And,” her tone bitters, probably because I avoided her black widow kiss of death, “I decided to show you how much, convince you that we don’t need to break up. We need to go the other way, take this to the next level.”

“Hailey, I’m gonna need you to pump the brakes, girl. Pump. The. Brakes.” Sweat trickles down my temples and my throat may be swelling shut. What decent guy, which I consider myself to be, wants to stomp all over a sweet girl’s feelings? Not me, but come on… you gotta be shittin’ me!

“I don’t know what you mean.” She looks down, haughtily picking non-existent lint from her clothes.

“Don’t do that,” I sigh, gently taking her chin between my thumb and forefinger, turning her face to me. “It’s only us here, no need for a big production. Just, tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours. I’m a decent listener, and would like to think, easy to talk to. I don’t want to hurt you, or end on bad terms.”

She peers up at me, those baby blues clinging to the insecurity about to topple out in the form of tears, and her bottom lip quivers. “I don’t want things to end at all. Everything was fine until… her. And now, now I’m trying to get us back to where we were. I can’t stop thinking about it, worrying. I feel like I’m going insane!” That feeling’s certainly valid. She runs shaky fingers through her hair, her next words loud and screeched. “She’s slept in this bed! And Lord knows what happened in it the last time.” More than sleeping, but it wasn’t in this bed. “I did some snooping too. Sorry, that isn’t like me, but I had to! You told me the two of you barely had anything, that you knew her from around. But your job? Her father owns Lit, Sutton! You work for her dad!That’s not barely, or around. That’s… that’s…” she’s too flustered to articulate, having suddenly developed a stutter, “that’s like your future father-in-law grooming you to take over the family business!”

---