Page 101 of Positively Pricked
I tried again. "My charger, you seriously haven't seen it?"
Slowly, she turned around and smiled in a way that made me almost nervous. "I don't know," she said. "Haveyouseen my bottle of merlot?"
This again?
"Oh come on," I said. "That was weeks ago. And I replaced it."
"It wasn't just one bottle. It was two."
"Right," I said through gritted teeth. "And I replaced both of them."
"You couldn'treallyreplace them," she said. "They had sentimental value."
"Oh for God's sake," I said. "It was a generic wine, not a love letter."
Paisley's smile twisted into a smirk. Mimicking my tone, she said, "It was a phone charger, not a space ship." She turned back to the window and said, "See how that works?"
Yes.In a roundabout way, I did. And it was one of the reasons it had taken me so long to pack. In a fit of paranoia, I'd gone through the whole house, especially my bedroom, gathering up everything of special importance to me – family photos, old letters, and the few pieces of decent jewelry that I owned.
I'd stuffed all of these things into an extra suitcase with the intention of taking everything with me, rather than leaving it here in the house, where Paisley could do who-knows-what with it.
If the missing phone charger was any indicator, my paranoia had been totally justified. Trying to look on the bright side, I reminded myself that the charger – unlike those other things – was entirely replaceable.
"Fine," I told her. "Keep the charger. I don't care."
"I don't care either," she said, even as a knock sounded at the front door. "And just so you know," she added, "the door's not for me, soI'mnot getting it."
"Good," I told her, "because I'm leaving anyway."
I grabbed my stuff and hustled to the door. When I flung it open, the limo driver gave me an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, but Mister Bennington's instructions were very explicit." He pointed to his watch. "And itisseven o'clock."
Technically, it was six fifty-eight, but it wasn't worth quibbling over. So instead, I assured him that I was ready and that there was no need to apologize. After all,Ididn't want to be late either.
Soon, we were off, heading toward the airport as I tried not to imagine what kind of trouble surely awaited me – first in New York, and then back home, whenever I returned. After all, I'd be out of town at least a week, which left Paisley plenty of time to wreak havoc on the home front.
I had no doubt, she'd do just that.
I might've spent the rest of the night dwelling on this, if I weren't soon distracted by something even more disturbing. It was the sight of my boss getting practically slobbered on – andnotfrom his dogs.
