No Turning Back (6 page)

Leaving my hair to air dry, I grabbed two cups of coffee and went next door to Sheila's. I kicked at the door since my hands were full. She was probably asleep after a late night working. I kicked again and waited. Finally, I heard the locks turning and Sheila called through the door.

"That had better be you, Kathleen, and you'd better have coffee." The door opened and I grinned at her, holding out a steaming cup. She'd wrapped herself in a short, silky robe with large red and black flowers printed on it. She took the coffee and backed up, letting me into her apartment. Taking a sip, she groaned in appreciation before artfully collapsing onto her couch. I sat in the nearby armchair, curling my legs up underneath me.

It was grossly unfair how she could look so perfect even when she'd just climbed out of her bed. Her hair was smooth as it splayed over her shoulders and, even though she wore no makeup, her complexion was flawless and her eyelashes dark and lush. If she wasn't so nice, I'd have to hate her on principal alone.

"So," I began, "guess what happened to me yesterday." Tigger, her cat, jumped up on my lap and I began to pet him. He purred contentedly. I knew I'd be covered in marmalade colored fur when I left, but I couldn't resist. Tigger was one of the friendliest cats I'd ever known.

She cracked an eye open. "You met a guy?" she asked hopefully. Sheila was always on my case to get out more, go on dates.

"Well," I said, "you could say that. Except he had a knife." Both her eyes opened now and I told her the story of the crazy guy in the courthouse.

Her mouth was agape when I finished. "Oh my God, Kathleen!" she exclaimed. "You could've been killed!" I shrugged off her concern.

"I don't think he would've killed me. He just wanted to make sure everyone thought he was crazy."

She didn't look convinced but I changed the subject before she could pursue it. "How was your night?" I asked. "Have you seen Mark?" Her expression turned grim.

"We were supposed to get together last night," she said, taking another sip of coffee. "But I had to cancel. That guy requested me again so I had to go." I nodded sympathetically.

"How did Mark take it?"

"Not very well," she admitted. "He's supposed to come over tonight. I thought I'd make him dinner or something. Men like that, right?" I didn't know why she was asking me. My experience with men was vastly inferior to hers. The question must have been rhetorical because she didn't wait for me to answer.

"Anyway, I'll be glad to have a night off. I think this guy is getting a little weird. He was very...strange last night."

"Strange how?" I asked.

She shook her head. "It's hard to explain. Moody, maybe?" She didn't elaborate and I didn't question her further. We talked about her job only sparingly. I think she knew it made me uncomfortable, though I tried to hide that from her out of respect for her feelings.

"What are you going to make for Mark?" I asked, changing the subject.

"No idea," she said with a grin. "Maybe I'll get something from a restaurant and just put it on my plates so he'll think I cooked it." I laughed. That sounded like something Sheila would do.

"What are your plans for today?" she asked me.

"I have to work tonight so probably just hang out, clean, do laundry. Nothing terribly exciting." It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her about Blane last night, but something held me back. Talking about it would make it seem too real and part of me just wanted to forget about it. I didn’t want to imagine something where there was nothing. I wasn't exactly his type.

We chatted for a while longer until we'd finished our coffee, then I pushed the orange lump that was Tigger onto the floor and went back to my apartment. Deciding to make good on what I was supposed to be doing today, I scrubbed my apartment and hauled my laundry down to the basement.

Before long, it was time to get ready for work. I showered and changed into my work uniform – black pants and a dark blue, boat-neck shirt with sleeves that came down just past my elbows. It was comfortable and easy to work in. It had the added advantage of bringing out my eyes since the shirt was almost the exact same color. I left my hair down and loose. It would get in the way a bit, but it never hurt to look as good as possible when you were working for tips.

I threw on my jacket and caught a familiar whiff in the air. Pressing my nose to my sleeve, I realized it smelled faintly of Blane's cologne. I wasn't sure if this pleased me or not, but I did take another sniff before heading out the door.

The sun was going down when I emerged from my apartment. I could hear faint strains of music and the light was on in Sheila's apartment. I smiled. I hoped she and Mark could work it out.

I held my breath as I turned the key in my ignition and released it when the engine turned over easily. The Drop was downtown and it only took me about twenty minutes to drive there.

My shift started at six and I was relieving the day bartender, Abby. She was tall with blonde hair and had been working at The Drop for a couple of years.

"Hey, Abby," I greeted her. She was just finishing slicing some limes for the garnish tray when I arrived.

"Hey, Kathleen," she replied. Stuffing my purse under the bar, I tied a black waist apron around me and started checking the liquor levels in the bottles for tonight.

She filled me in on the status of the different customers scattered around the bar before grabbing her purse and leaving. Saturday nights we had two bartenders and four cocktail waitresses. The Drop was owned by Romeo Licavoli and he liked both a male and female bartender on busy nights. So tonight my partner was Scott.

Scott attended Butler University downtown and was majoring in International Business. He was a friendly guy who flirted nonstop, which is probably why Romeo always put him on busy nights. Women loved Scott. He and I worked well together, and while he was constantly flirting with the customers and waitresses, he'd never tried to put the moves on me. Scott treated me more like a little sister and I was glad about that. Mostly.

The pace was steady for a while, then around ten it really picked up. There must have been a concert going on tonight. There always seemed to be something going on downtown and afterward people wanted to prolong their evening so stopped in for a drink.

My hair was getting in my way now and I took a quick moment to tie it back. I was busy pouring a Tom Collins when one of the waitresses, Tish, walked up with an order.

"You've got to check out the guy at my table," she said to me. Tish was another one forever trying to set me up, but I thought picking up a guy in a bar wasn't the best idea. Still, I humored her.

"Which table?" I asked, putting the Tom Collins on a tray and grabbing a highball glass for a gin and tonic.

"Eighteen," she answered. "He's with some girl, but check him out anyway." I finished the gin and tonic, squeezing a lime into it before setting it on the tray as well. Order complete, Tish took the tray and I looked toward table eighteen. My jaw dropped in surprise.

Blane was sitting at the table, a leggy brunette wearing a scrap of a dress at his side. Another couple sat across from them. As if he felt my gaze on him, Blane turned toward me and our eyes met. I saw surprise in his before I turned away.

Orders were waiting to be filled and I was glad to be busy. It's not like I cared that he was here with another woman. What did I expect? That was his lifestyle. Last night had been a mere blip on his radar. Unlike what it had been for me. I shoved that thought away and busied myself putting more martini glasses in the freezer under the bar.

I tried not to look back at table eighteen as I worked but I couldn't seem to help glancing that way. They looked like they were having a good time, laughing and talking. The brunette was so close to him you couldn't have fit a piece of paper between them. She kept touching his arm, her breast brushing against him. I was feeling something too similar to jealousy for me to be wholly comfortable with it.

"You all right?" I heard Scott ask, and I turned to see him watching me with concern.

"Yeah," I answered. "Why?"

He motioned to the drink I was pouring and I looked down to see that I'd filled it to overflowing.

"Crap," I said, mopping up the mess with a towel. After that, I determinedly did not look at Blane again as I worked. A bachelorette party had just come in and they kept me busy for some time as they ordered innuendo-laden drinks for the bride-to-be - Sex on the Beach, an Orgasm and Blow Job shots. I smiled at their teasing, vicariously enjoying their fun.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone sit down at an empty stool at the bar. I turned to take their order and froze. It was Blane.

"So you work here, too," he said, and it was more a statement than a question.

"A few nights a week," I answered stiffly, unsure how to act with him after last night. It wasn't like I had dinner on a regular basis with men like him, not to mention the fact that he was my boss. "Can I get you something? Dewars and water?" He smiled slightly and I was absurdly pleased that I'd remembered what he drank.

"Yes," he said, "and something called an Appletini, please." Ah. That must be for the brunette. She looked like an Appletini kind of girl. I put more juice than booze in her drink before mixing his. Setting them down on the bar, I took a deep breath.

"Thank you for getting my car fixed," I said, trying to sound grateful. Manners were manners and he'd done me a huge favor. It wasn't his fault that a tiny part of me wished I was the brunette waiting at the table for him to return.

He was wearing a sports jacket and tie tonight and he'd loosened the tie. The color of the jacket was a deep gray and seemed to bring out the gray in his eyes.

"No problem," he said, his smile widening. I felt my breath catch slightly. It should really be a sin to look that good. He tossed some money down on the bar and I watched him retreat to his table, drinks in hand.

I looked down at the money. He'd left a fifty dollar bill on the bar. My eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed. Trying to pay me off again. But tonight, I didn't care. Money was money. I scooped it up, ran his tab through the register and pocketed the hefty tip.

I didn't see when they left and I tried not to think about what they were probably doing at this very moment as I scrubbed down the bar and took glasses back to the dishwasher. What I really needed to do was just forget Blane Kirk. Period. An infatuation with my boss was really the last thing I needed.

It was late when I finally got home and my feet ached. I smelled like booze and couldn't wait to take a shower. It had been a good night though. I'd pulled in nearly a hundred and fifty dollars in tips. Of course, nearly a third of that had been from Blane, but I ignored that fact.

Sheila's light was still on and I smiled. That boded well for her and Mark. I flipped on the lights in my apartment as I kicked off my shoes. Ten minutes and a steaming shower later and I was feeling almost human again.

Pulling on a t-shirt and underwear, I crawled under my blankets and let out a contented sigh. I was asleep before I could even dwell on anything related to Blane.

I was jerked awake a short while later and I sat up with a start. I was disoriented and didn't know what had woken me. Then I heard it - loud voices coming from Sheila's apartment. Shouting and arguing, it sounded like. I lay back down. I felt bad for her. I guessed it hadn't gone so well with Mark after all.

The arguing went on for a while and then it got quiet. I turned over to go back to sleep but couldn't. I squirmed around for a bit, but finally admitted that I should just get up and go check on Sheila. If Mark and she had gotten in a big fight, chances were she would be pretty upset.

I got up and pulled on my knit shorts. The temperature had dropped but I was only going next door. I dragged a brush through my hair and grimaced at the dark circles under my eyes. I glanced at the clock. Three thirty.

The night was cold and silent when I stepped outside and I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself. A light was still burning in Sheila's apartment so I knew she was awake. I wondered if maybe they'd talked it out. If so, I would be interrupting rather than helping. I stood outside my door, unable to decide what to do. The concrete under my bare feet was like ice and helped me make my decision. I would just knock once and if no one answered, I'd take that as confirmation that I was interrupting make up sex.

I crossed over to her door quickly, my feet freezing, and rapped lightly on it. To my surprise, it opened. The door hadn't been closed all the way. That struck me as strange. Sheila knew as well as I did that this part of town wasn't one where you left your door unlocked, especially in the dead of night. Cautiously, I stepped inside.

"Sheila?" I called out. The apartment was eerily quiet and I felt the hairs stand up on my arms. There were dirty dishes on the kitchen counter and two empty wine glasses. I let out a squeak and nearly jumped a foot when I felt something brush my legs. I looked down. It was Tigger. He meowed and brushed against me again. I tried to breathe normally as my heart pounded in my chest.

"Sheila?" I tried again. No answer. I peeked into the bathroom but it was empty. The bedroom door was closed and I walked toward it. I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach as I turned the handle and swung the door open. What I saw made my blood run cold. My knees turned to jelly and I slid down the wall to collapse on the floor.

Chapter Three

Blood was everywhere. I could smell it and it made me want to retch. I could see a leg on the bed but I couldn't move. My hands were shaking and I couldn't hear properly for the blood rushing in my ears. The only thing that propelled me to my feet was the fact that Sheila might still be alive.

I stumbled further into the room, carefully avoiding the bloody streaks on the floor. Moving slowly to the bed, I could see her clearly now and I wished I hadn't. It was obvious she was no longer alive, her eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling. She was naked and her throat had been violently slashed. Her once white sheets were now bathed in crimson. Red smeared her stomach and thighs as well.