Page 4 of Ghost

“Looks like you're out of a job because you’ll be missing both legs and most of your fingers by the time I'm done with you. Won't be able to run shit then.”

“What the fuck, man? What the hell did I do to you?” he asks, finally letting me see the fear in his eyes. He's figured out what the outcome of tonight will be. Men like him know what death looks like, and it's not the first or the last time I’ll carry that title. I just want him to know his sins. He deserves the last moment of his worthless fucking life to know it's in revenge for every single one of his victims.

“Just got one question for you, you worthless, embarrassing piece of shit. How many times did you ignore the word NO?”

His eyes widen, and with that, it's time to have some fun.

Chapter Four

Tizzy

I roll my eyes as yet another drunken man stumbles up a little too close to my cookies for my likin’. Problem is, I've had to deal with one too many drunk men in my life, and I know yellin’ ain't going to do diddly squat. So instead, I deflect, play the game a wee bit, and make him realize he's acting like a pig. I’ll make him scurry away but make him think it was his idea. Looking down, I see the tan mark of a wedding ring on his hand and hold in a sigh. That poor, poor girl.

“Hey Baby, why don't you and I…” I cut him off with a squeal.

“Oh goodness, thank the heavens you're here. I thought I’d never see you again, but I knew you were just as in love as I was. It was meant to be, truly, it was.” I fawn over him, rubbing his arm and trying not to smile at his surprised, glazed look.

“Wait, we’ve met before?” he hiccups out. Here it is. This is where I get him.

“What?!?! You mean you really don't remember me? Bu- But…. I’m carrying your baby,” I wail, then start fake-crying hysterically. His eyes and jaw nearly fall out of his head beforehe turns straight around and runs, and I mean faster than a jackrabbit, for the door. I chuckle, making my way back up to the counter and smiling at JJ, the bartender, who’s shaking his head and trying not to laugh.

“You know it's fucked up the way you traumatize these guys while they’re under the influence with all your antics,” he says the words, but I can see the twinkle in his eyes. He knows just as much as I do these men deserve every bit of what I dish out and gets a kick out of my ‘antics.’

“First, language. Second, it's for their own good. Maybe one day they’ll wise up, stop with all this tomfoolery, and act like decent gentlemen,” I huff.

“You know you're in a hole-in-the-wall bar, right?” he says with a raised eyebrow.

“The time and location don't dictate when you should be a decent human being. Especially a married one,” I tell him as he stares at me, stunned. Then he clears his throat and ducks his head before replying.

“You are way too good for a place like this, Tonya.” I want to giggle at the fake name. A Tonya Tucker song blasted through the radio when I pulled in through this town. I took it as a sign. Still, I need to set this man straight.

“Ain't nobody too good or bad for one place or another. You belong where your journey takes you at that moment. Let life lead the way, and you won't never be in the wrong place.” I wink at him as he laughs softly.

“You’re truly one of a kind, and somehow, I honestly believe there’s no place in this world you wouldn't fit. You make everyroom your bitc-.” I raise a brow at him. “You make everyone feel at home.”

I smile as he finishes my drinks and places them on my tray. This is my last table, and then I can get back to the motel and sleep for a few hours. I leave, followed by his laughter, placing the drinks on my table and smiling as I finish my shift.

My feet are hounding at me as I make my way down the sidewalk toward the motel after clocking out for the night. Still, I wouldn't trade my red-sole high heels for clouds on my feet. Ain't no one catching me without three things: my face, my hair, and my high heels, and those are words I live by. I sigh and let my eyes drift to the shadows as my hips sway exaggeratedly from side to side. Completely immodest, sure. But I wouldn't call myself a hussy. Still, I want him to have a good show.

My little Ghost, who seems insistent on following behind me, really thought I wouldn't catch on he was tailing me. This isn’t my first rodeo.

Oh! The rodeo! That could be my next adventure! I was always amazing on the back of a horse, and I would bet my big toe that hunk of a man knows how to ride.

Is that a growl I hear from the darkness? Trying to hide the smirk, I make it to my motel room door and slip inside, locking it behind me.

I know that won't keep him out if he really wants to get in. Still, I also suspect he’s a fella who doesn't like the easy road… and might threaten to spank my rooty tooty little booty, like I've heard Grease threaten Lyra a time or two. Come to think of it, maybe I should unlock it… Nah, I like the game a bit too much.

This little cat-and-mouse game of chase we have going has been the most fun, exhilarating, and freeing experience of my life. I’m out on my own and still have a companion along for the ride, even if our ways are a bit unconventional. And believe me, he’s loving this game just as much. I have no delusions that if that man hadn't wanted to chase after this ol’ girl, he could have grabbed me quicker than I could get off of hell’s half acre, but he sat back and let me go. Then he followed.

Still, in the back of my head, I can't quiet all those dawg-gone demons. The ones telling me it's only a matter of time before he gets bored. Or the worst ones trying to tell me he’s only in it for one thing. I can't help but keep those thoughts circling in the back of my head. A downside to having a big personality, one you perfected as a shield or weapon, is the attention that comes with it. I just want to be me. Loud, proud, and happy. I want to be free to smile, laugh, squeal, and dance without it having to be about getting a man's attention. Well, that was before I found the one man I want to give all my attention to.

I just still worry history might repeat itself, and I’ll lower my shield, let him in, and then he’ll ruin it. He’ll tell me to shh, to not be so loud, to tame my hair—he’ll try to tameme. I tried that for my mama when she couldn't handle all my “extra.” I did it for one man I trusted too much and got burned. Even as these thoughts run through my head, there is another voice telling me I don't really believe him to be that way. He’s different. I know he is, and maybe if he hangs on a little longer, he’ll prove it undeniably.

However, tonight is not that night. We both need a bit more time before I give in to his lure, so it's time to move on from this town. I know he thinks he’s stealthy and that he’s going to sneak up on me when I least expect it, but he doesn't know my past andthe skills I've had to develop after years and years of constant change. Of having to look over my shoulder for trouble that always seemed way too close for comfort. You develop a feeling after years of torment—this feeling that's deep in your stomach telling you it's time to leave, to get out. There's something close, and it's about to get me. This time, I’m using those skills despite my past. I'm using them on my terms and with nothing but the most entertaining and exhilarating intentions.

Ghost, the ultimate predator, is closing in. He’s getting ready to pounce. Grabbing my small suitcase and quietly making my way to the bathroom, I turn and look at the small room one more time, and then an idea comes to me. I quickly write a note, adding a clue about my next destination. If he wants to find me, the note will tell almost exactly where I am… if he looks close enough. We’ll see just how determined he is.

Placing the note on the made bed, I give one last quick check of the room before dashing for the bathroom. I turn the shower on, leave the light on, and then the next minute, I’m out the bathroom window poised with trees all around that luckily keep me hidden. A man like him, with his training, I know, will soon be around to check this exit. I know I need to be quick, so without further ado, I turn and take off, trying to hold it in, but knowing my laughter is following behind me through the woods, weaving in and out through the trees like the wind. I’m not worried. I know I’ll be long gone quicker’n a cat on a hot tin roof.

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