I kissed him back, and it was all there, all the love, understanding, care, him putting up with my hang ups. It all came flooding back. I loved this man.
“Please take care of yourself,” he whispered to my lips and let me go.
I sank back to the bench and watched him go. What else was I going to do? The first thing I had to do was get Dawson out of my mind. I hated doing it to him, but he had to get put on the back burner for a while.
Chapter 18
Okay. This time I had a real plan. Well, sort of.
The guy at the pawnshop told me that it was a Smith and Weston semi-automatic, nine millimeter, five shot revolver. I used Drew’s credit card and paid for it. It was small enough to fit in the back of my jean shorts so that he wouldn’t see it. I turned just before I got out of the store and picked up a ball bat.
“I’m going to need this too,” I told the clerk.
“I’m not gonna see you on the news later, am I?”
The older black male with gray hair asked.
“Maybe,” I replied tossing the bat in the air and catching it by the handle.
“Just take the bat,” he offered. I smiled some kind of crazy person smile. I was crazy. There was no doubt about it.
I left both of my new weapons in Drew’s car. I needed Marta out of the house before I did anything. I didn’t want to put her in the middle.
I slept in Drew’s bed as hard as it was. I talked to him on the phone like nothing was wrong and got up the following morning feeling like a super hero. Yeah, I know it was stupid, but I was going to get answers if it was the last thing that I did.
I walked out to the kitchen and said good morning to Marta.
“You can take off whenever you want. Drew is on his way. We’re going to go away for a few days,” I lied, pouring a cup of coffee. I didn’t know where Drew was, but if he wasn’t in a meeting, or in the air. He was listening to me. He was probably smiling, thinking that I was sending her away again because I wanted him to myself. I did. Him and Derik both.
Marta left shortly after, telling me to have a nice time, not suspecting anything. As soon as I knew that she was gone. I took a shower, pulled my hair back and walked out to Drew’s car to retrieve my weapons. I stuck the pistol in the back of my jeans, and carried the bat in like I was Rambo or something. I started in the kitchen, smashing the tiny camera hidden in the handle of one of the cabinets. I turned and smashed the one in the light switch next.
My cellphone rang. I smiled.
“You don’t need to call me you son of a bitch. You can hear every word I am saying. I smashed the last camera in the kitchen and started in the living room next.
My phone wouldn’t stop ringing. I was afraid to hear his voice. I was afraid that I would coward out. I didn’t want to do that. I started to smash a black vase. I always hated that vase. It looked like it had a crack going in a jagged line and the artist had messed up at the top, and it dipped in on one side. I’m sure it was on purpose. I stopped the bat in midair. I knew it had to be expensive, and something told me that it was Mr. Callaway’s money who had bought it and not Drew’s at all, besides, I liked the idea of the screen in front of him going black from the contact of my wooden bat. I decided to stick with smashing cameras.
By the time I had finished smashing the cameras in the living room and hallway to Drew’s office my cellphone had stopped ringing. I knew that he was in the air, or I thought anyway. I just didn’t know where he was coming from this time. Would he be there in an hour, two, ten? I didn’t know. I couldn’t remember where he told me that he was going.
I walked to the lavish painting hanging in the hallway and pulled the key, velcroed to the back from behind it. Yeah, I remembered where that was too. My heart started to beat faster as I unlocked his office door. I walked around and sat in his plush leather chair. I picked up the phone with trembling hands and dialed the number on my little sticky note. I had to hang up and redial three times before my shaky hands got it right.
“Can I talk to Mr. Callaway please?” I asked the lady who I was sure was his nurse.
“I’m sorry, but Mr. Callaway isn’t feeling well today.”
Shit…Now what?
“Who is it?” I heard Mr. Callaway grouchily say in the background.
“Tell him that it is Morgan,” I said quickly before she had a chance to ask or say goodbye.
“Morgan, how are you?” he asked after demanding to talk to me.
“I’ve been a lot better sir,” I lied. I had never been better, well, that’s a lie too. I was better in Maine where I had friends and a man who loved me for all the right reasons. I would have to revisit that later.
“Is there something that I can do for you?” he asked sincerely.
“I hope so. I want Derik to go away. I need for Derik to go away.”
“Derik Hastings,” he asked.
I don’t fucking know.
“The Derik that seems to always be around. Yes.”