Page 49 of The Heartstrings of Harry
Driving away.
And all I could think was—
Harry.
HARRY
I pacedthe floor of my living room, muttering over and over to myself—“Fuck! I could have kissed him. He could have kissed me. We were so close. What the fuck is going on?”
I stopped and backed myself up to the sofa, bouncing onto it with a feeling of elation… dread… hope… panic.
That night I took the framed photo of Dean and placed it on my nightstand.
I masturbated, not taking my eyes away from his handsome face.
The next day I busied myself at the store. I let Gage take the counter while I replenished the stocks of two-by-fours and fence pickets out back. I drove the forklift back and forth, loading pallets of pavers and marble countertops and bags of river stones into the storeroom. I did everything I could to avoid making conversation with my customers and even my staff, my head a blur of thoughts and my heart a flurry of emotions.
I tried frantically to clear my mind.
I tried in vain to suppress my desires.
I tried like hell to pull myself out of the rabbit hole that led to Dean.
But all I could think was—
You’re a secret on the wind
You’re a stolen work of art
You’re the one I’ve always wanted
You’re the hammer of my heart
DEAN
From the stepsof the BnB, I watched the limo cross Main Street Bridge before pulling up in front of us, looking as out of place as a giraffe in a chicken coop. If I’d thought their arrival in town might go unnoticed, I was sadly mistaken.
“These are your friends?” Benji asked on one side of me.
“My manager. And…”Don’t say bodyguard.“Her boyfriend. Yes.”
On the other side of me, Bastian said to Benji, “Should we ask Connie to run over to your Mom’s and get the good china? I think we need the good china.”
“Oh my God, stop turning into my mother,” Benji replied. “Besides, I sent Connie to Eau Claire to pick up a bunch of refills of Great Nan’s medication. And thank God for that. I’m happy to have Connie change the sheets and dust the lamps, God knows she needs something to keep her busy. But the last guest she greeted at check-in ended up filing a restraining order against her. The last thing we need is for her to get on the wrong side of some bigwig from LA. Those people know how to sue!” He patted me on the shoulder and added, “No offence, Dean. I don’t think of you as an out-of-towner. You’re one of us. You always will be.”
The comment warmed my nervous heart. “Thanks, Benji.”
The driver exited the limo first, hurrying around to open the back passenger door, but Bogdan had already shouldered it open and squeezed his hulking frame out of the vehicle, before offering his hand to help Astrid out of the car.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, I don’t need your bloody hand,” came Astrid’s voice, her British accent sharply clipping each word. “I don’t need any help, I need a fucking cigarette! Had I known it would take three planes and a moth-eaten 1978 Limousine to get me from Beverly Hills to Bumfuck Alabama I might have thought twice about it. Just tell me where Dean is so I can convince him to return to civilization.”
Bogdan pointed up the stairs to me, but Astrid had already spotted me. “Oh, thank God, you’re still alive,” she exhaled.
“Yes, I’m alive. And you’re in Wisconsin, not Alabama.”
“You know what I mean,” Astrid said, snatching a cigarette out of the open pack that Bogdan offered her before he lit it.
A plume of relief billowed from her lungs as she climbed the steps to the BnB where I stood with Benji and Bastian. She looked the old building up and down and said to me, “Well, doesn’t this place look quaint. I hope you’ve booked me a massage at the day spa. After that journey, I’m going to need to decompress before I tell you about my brilliant new plan to solve this whole debacle.”
