Boston, where it’s never hot or even warm, just sometimes unseasonably temperate. That would be so nice. Back on campus at BU. Back in Richard’s big old mansion with my own suite of rooms. I dreaded telling him what happened. He was already over-protective, worse than my father. Of course, Daddy was old, a little out of it, so maybe Richard thought it was his duty, at least until I got married to some nice, over-protective investment banker like himself.
And then there was Rock, over-protective in his own way, indifferent in every other way.
Drop it, Rory.
I closed my eyes but couldn’t get back to sleep. The night was silent. Everyone had finally gone to bed and my sonorous neighbor must have rolled on his side. I was thirsty. There was a vending machine downstairs with cold cans of oversweet Mexican sodas. Rock had given me a wad of money at the drugstore and told me to keep the change. I put on my clothes and sandals, grabbed some coins and slipped outside on quiet little cat feet. Rock would never know.
I padded to the stairs, then headed to the vending machine near the office. It was a long walk and it got longer. Only a thin sliver of moon was out and the street level was dark with shadows. The unbroken line of parked trucks made it narrow and a little creepy. I began to wonder if this was a good idea, but thirst made me press on.
I reached the machine, put in my coins and selected a can of orange Fanta. It rolled out with a clank that sounded loud in the silent night. As I started back to my room, a pair of headlights pulled into the parking lot. A police car drove past and stopped in front of the office. The nearness of the police was reassuring. I headed down the walk, which was just as dark as before but now not quite so creepy.
I was almost at the stairs when I heard footsteps, coming down fast. Suddenly nervous again, I flattened myself against the wall, concealed in the shadows. A moment later, a tall figure appeared at the base of the stairs, looking left and right. Looking for something. What?
F or me. I suddenly realized it was Rock and stepped out from the wall. “I’m right here.”
He spun around, startled. I had a brief, sneaky thrill at having ambushed him.
Then I heard the icy anger in his voice. “I told you not to go outside!”
“I didn’t go far, just to get a drink.”
“It was stupid. This place is not safe. What if someone grabbed you?”
“I’d yell for the police.”
“This isn’t a joke.”
“I’m not joking. The police are here.”
The ice left his voice. “What?”
“A police car just drove up. They went to the—”
“Hush!” he suddenly whispered, putting his hand to my mouth.
I heard a pair of voices, speaking in low tones but growing louder. Rock stepped back into the shadows, pulling me with him, an arm around my waist, his hand over my mouth. I began to see how easy it would have been to seize and silence me. You’d think I would have learned something from this morning. Mr. Paranoid had a point, except no one had grabbed me but him.
Two policemen rounded a corner about fifty yards away. They cut across the parking lot, heading toward our section of the motel. A minute later and I saw them at the far end of the walk, coming directly toward us. Wasn’t there anyone that Rock trusted? What did we have to fear from a pair of Mexican cops? I didn’t know why they’d shown up but they clearly weren’t here to rob or rape. What’s more, they’d see us when they got near and assume he’d attacked me. This was not going to end well.
They were coming closer, still talking. Rock’s grip on me tightened. “Shhh,” he whispered in my ear. I realized I’d been rescued by a madman. What was he going to do when the police saw us and drew their guns? Not give up quietly, I knew that much. Even outnumbered and unarmed, Rock was dangerous. I began to wonder if he was drawn to danger, even sought it, excited by the prospect of violence. Was this the same
And then there was Rock, over-protective in his own way, indifferent in every other way.
Drop it, Rory.
I closed my eyes but couldn’t get back to sleep. The night was silent. Everyone had finally gone to bed and my sonorous neighbor must have rolled on his side. I was thirsty. There was a vending machine downstairs with cold cans of oversweet Mexican sodas. Rock had given me a wad of money at the drugstore and told me to keep the change. I put on my clothes and sandals, grabbed some coins and slipped outside on quiet little cat feet. Rock would never know.
I padded to the stairs, then headed to the vending machine near the office. It was a long walk and it got longer. Only a thin sliver of moon was out and the street level was dark with shadows. The unbroken line of parked trucks made it narrow and a little creepy. I began to wonder if this was a good idea, but thirst made me press on.
I reached the machine, put in my coins and selected a can of orange Fanta. It rolled out with a clank that sounded loud in the silent night. As I started back to my room, a pair of headlights pulled into the parking lot. A police car drove past and stopped in front of the office. The nearness of the police was reassuring. I headed down the walk, which was just as dark as before but now not quite so creepy.
I was almost at the stairs when I heard footsteps, coming down fast. Suddenly nervous again, I flattened myself against the wall, concealed in the shadows. A moment later, a tall figure appeared at the base of the stairs, looking left and right. Looking for something. What?
F or me. I suddenly realized it was Rock and stepped out from the wall. “I’m right here.”
He spun around, startled. I had a brief, sneaky thrill at having ambushed him.
Then I heard the icy anger in his voice. “I told you not to go outside!”
“I didn’t go far, just to get a drink.”
“It was stupid. This place is not safe. What if someone grabbed you?”
“I’d yell for the police.”
“This isn’t a joke.”
“I’m not joking. The police are here.”
The ice left his voice. “What?”
“A police car just drove up. They went to the—”
“Hush!” he suddenly whispered, putting his hand to my mouth.
I heard a pair of voices, speaking in low tones but growing louder. Rock stepped back into the shadows, pulling me with him, an arm around my waist, his hand over my mouth. I began to see how easy it would have been to seize and silence me. You’d think I would have learned something from this morning. Mr. Paranoid had a point, except no one had grabbed me but him.
Two policemen rounded a corner about fifty yards away. They cut across the parking lot, heading toward our section of the motel. A minute later and I saw them at the far end of the walk, coming directly toward us. Wasn’t there anyone that Rock trusted? What did we have to fear from a pair of Mexican cops? I didn’t know why they’d shown up but they clearly weren’t here to rob or rape. What’s more, they’d see us when they got near and assume he’d attacked me. This was not going to end well.
They were coming closer, still talking. Rock’s grip on me tightened. “Shhh,” he whispered in my ear. I realized I’d been rescued by a madman. What was he going to do when the police saw us and drew their guns? Not give up quietly, I knew that much. Even outnumbered and unarmed, Rock was dangerous. I began to wonder if he was drawn to danger, even sought it, excited by the prospect of violence. Was this the same
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