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- 02/05/2017
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
The Dame - 4. Chapter 4
Damian is slick, isn't he?
Once Dorothy wrapped up the niceties we hurried our way back to the car where I pulled it around the corner and up the lane past the bungalow which lay shrouded in foliage. Although there were no other cars nearby I parked down a ways with a clear view of the road in front of the place. It went without saying Dorothy wasn't going to leave until she'd had a look.
I got to the front door first and knocked. When Damian opened it, his eyes landed on me in amazement. Clearly I wasn’t who he expected. "Seth, how the hell'd you find me?!"
His smile and relaxed manner irritated me more than I could say. I'd always liked Damian but from a distance; now up close I wanted to punch his lights out. And the reason for my current animosity took a step out from behind me.
"Damian, so glad to see you're not dead...yet."
Dorothy's voice held nothing of the trill and boldness she used when she spoke to me; it was deep and flinty. Noticing this soothed some of my ruffled feathers, at least she wasn't fawning all over him.
Damian's grimace only made the satisfaction better.
"Dee, well, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes! How'd you two hook up?"
He looked back and forth between the two of us trying to figure out our angle. I could see the gears turning and the lies about to start.
"What the hell is going on, Damian? And don't try to give us one of your stories," I barked.
Damian put on his most angelic face, “I don’t know what you mean, Seth. I'm just taking a little vacation. Staying with some nice folks in the country.”
My head was starting to pound like a rainstorm on a tin roof. “Damian, you need to give Dorothy back her money.”
Oddly, it was his turn to look innocent. “She told you I took her for a ride? Really, Dee? Have you let Seth in on your little secret? I know how badly you want to keep that one from getting out. Or maybe that was all Danny.”
“Which you took advantage of. What did you say to him?” she sounded hurt and maybe a little jealous.
I turned to look back but couldn't read her expression, the angry stare was all for Damian.
“Who the hell is Danny?!”
Ignoring my question, Damian smirked, “I get it, Seth. You’ve always been one to play the knight in shining armor and she’s the perfect match for you. Did Danny set this up? Well, you can tell him not to worry because I’ve got it pretty good now. I don’t need him anymore.
"You didn't have to come all this way. I never took money from her, Seth. I never took anything from her. Ain’t that right, sweetheart? "
Damian spread his hands wide as if that was the end of that story. When Dorothy refused to answer him, I decided to go for the gut.
"Mama's worried, Milton."
He knew what game I was at and tried not to let it get to him. "Tell Mama I'll call soon."
He smiled that smile of his, all white gleaming teeth and dimples to spare, the smile that got him damn near anything he asked for. I wanted to turn back around and see its effect on Dorothy but most of me was fairly certain I wouldn't like the answer so I didn’t.
Damian continued, "I'd ask you in but...I'm on my way out. Have a nice drive back."
Without any excuse to stay I grabbed Dorothy by the arm and steered her back to the car. Damian waved goodbye and winked, "Looking fine, Dee!"
Back at the car, her response was explosive. "That bastard!" She slammed her fist against the roof.
"Yeah, you really told him, huh?" I wasn't even trying to hide the sarcasm.
"What? You expected me to hit him?"
"Might have made your point."
"Seems like you have a point to make."
"Who me? I'm just the shining knight," I found my hands fisted at my sides and no where to put them.
Lips thinned to a rigid line, she got in the car with a slam of the door.
After a minute of catching my breath, I took a seat in the car; my gut was giving me the stink eye and I couldn't keep it to myself much longer. I also knew Dorothy wasn’t about to leave. We sat in silence for the next several minutes before I opened my trap.
"You do this much?"
"What would that be, Mr Graham?", she sighed.
"Run down old boyfriends, spy on houses in the suburbs, pretend to be my wife. You pick."
Dorothy paused for a moment caught in the crossfire of my irritation, her anger seemed to have dissipated. "Was it so difficult to pretend to be my husband?" Her pretty mouth pouted more for show, I presumed, than anything else.
"That's not what I - " She interrupted me before I could finish my retort.
"And I never said Damian was my boyfriend."
"Yeah, you never said. So who the hell is Danny?" Let's see where that got me.
Apparently my interrogation skills needed polishing. She fell silent, staring at the bungalow. Abruptly she turned to me, "Are you jealous, Mr. Graham?"
I smiled ready to laugh off her accusation when a brand new, black Buick Skylark pulled up to the bungalow. Out the front door popped Damian sauntering like he hadn't a care in the world. He round the hood and hopped into the passenger side of the car. The sun glinting off the windshield prevented us from clearly seeing the driver but it must have been a warm hello Damian delivered as it took a few minutes before the car executed a U-turn and drove off.
Damian is slick, isn't he?
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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