AMELIA
Molly’s looking up at me like she’s trying to work out if this is some kind of prank. “You’re shitting me,” she says at last. “You have got
to be shitting me.”
It’s two hours later and I’m sitting on the couch next to her, a glass of white wine in my hand. She’s got a beer. She’s this tall olive-skinned statuesque beauty, yet she only drinks beer. Go figure.
I blame her upbringing. She didn’t have much of one. In care pretty much since birth, if beer’s her worse vice, I reckon she’s doing all right.
She belches and crushes the can before tossing it over to her trashcan. It misses and hits the wall next to it, then falls to the floor. “You’ve got to be shitting me,” she says, opening another can.
“Nope,” I say, shaking my head. “I swear to God.”
“Fuck,” she replies, draining half the can and then belching again.
“Double fuck.”
“Lovely language, my fair lady.”
“Hey, you farted in my face last night so don’t get all high and mighty with me.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
“You told me how the movie was going to end. I deserved revenge.”
She snarls in mock rage and then shrugs. “Touche.” She shifts her position on the sofa. “So the reason you are so late your pizza’s gone as cold as my empty emotionless heart is because of a man.
“A man who looked like John Wick burst into the shelter and handed you a dog with a bullet wound which you promptly fixed up like you’re some kind of super vet.
“Then you had to wait for the real vet to turn up only she got stuck behind a police roadblock because there was a shootout right outside the shelter and the sheriff was blocking the road to protect the corpses of two dead men who’d also been shot. That about right?”
“I never said he looked like John Wick.”
“You said black suit and beard.”
“I said stubble.”
“All right, stubble. But still Keanu in full fucking up the baddies mode.” She screws up her face and then grins at me. “I can’t even remember how the movie ended.”
“You watched it with me literally a week ago.”
“I was pissed. I remember little beyond wanting to slap Alfie Allen for the poor quality of his Russian accent.”
I shrug. “Everyone wants to slap Alfie Allen.”
“I’m surprised Keanu didn’t just bitch slap him to death. That’s what I would have done.” She shakes her head. “Hey, stop distracting me. You’re wandering from the point. You fixed a dog with a bullet wound. Do you know how cool that is?”
“I made him stable, that’s all. I don’t even know if he’ll survive the night.”
“So where is he now?”
“At Moira’s. I’m going over in the morning to see how he’s doing.”
“And what about our mystery man? Where’s he?”
“No idea.”
“And how hot was he exactly?”
“I never said he was hot.”
“I can tell by the way you talk about him.”
“Like what?”
“Like he’s the one. Like Amelia Dooley finally found the love of her life aged eighteen and she can’t help swooning over the very thought of him.
Want to borrow my wand to get some relief? It’s upstairs if you need it.” “I don’t need mechanical help with my orgasms, thank you.”
“You saying you don’t use that vibe I got you for Christmas? Just an ornament, is it? I got you that especially because you’d never owned one
before, remember? Or is it still gathering dust in your drawer?”
“I don’t need toys.”
“Course you don’t. You’re all about the cock.” She giggles and drains the rest of her can. “I notice you’re not talking about Mr. Hotty.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“What was he like?”
“I don’t know. He didn’t say much.”
“What color eyes did he have?”
“Blue.”
She points at me. “Told you. You have a crush on him. You’re getting wet just thinking about him, aren’t you? Seriously, borrow my wand. It’s amazing. Industrial strength vibrations and plugs in the wall. The first time
I came with it, I swear I squirted.”
“Molly, could you try to be a tiny bit less gross?”
“The point is, you only notice eye color when it’s someone you like.”
“Bullshit.”
“It’s true.”
“No, it’s not.”
She turns her head away. “What color are my eyes?”
“Brown?”
“Nope, green,” she says, turning back my way. “See.”
“I know. I was ripping the piss.”
“Try ripping the piss while opening your legs. You become a sprinkler.”
“I don’t know why you’re my best friend, I really don’t.”
“Because I serve the cheapest wine and the finest quality pizza. Tell me more about Mr. Hotty.”
I shake my head. “There’s nothing more to tell. He said he’d come get his dog from my place.”
I finish my wine, yawning loudly as I get to my feet. “I’m going home,”
I say. “Take care, you massive slut.”
“You too, you frigid old cow.”
“Young cow,” I reply. “Shouldn’t even be drinking yet.”
“Breaking the law,” she sings after me as I head out the front door.
“Breaking the law, bow, bow, bowww!”
I close the door on the tuneless melody and walk the few short streets to my place. The roads are quiet. Like Gordon’s Cove always is.
Louie drives past just as I reach the end of my street and he winds his window down. “Shouldn’t be walking home alone, Milly,” he shouts.
I hate being called Milly. It’s the pet name my father used. Only Molly gets away with it because of how long we’ve known each other.
She used to say we needed to meet a Mandy to make the set. “I’m almost home, sheriff. I reckon I’ll be all right.”
Well, be careful. Could still be some of those assholes out there somewhere. I’ve left Ted watching the scene and I’m checking to see if there’s any more of them in town. Not safe to be alone tonight.”
“I reckon I’m safe with the sheriff on patrol,” I call back. “Hey, where were you earlier?”
“When?”
“About ten. I tried to call the office but there was no answer.”
He sounds sheepish. “We might have been in the middle of a pool tournament.”
“Wow,” I say. “My tax dollars hard at work there. Entire sheriff’s department at Larry’s getting drunk.”
“Since when do you earn enough to pay tax?”
“Maybe take your cellphone to the bar with you next time.”
“Hey, don’t make it sound like I do nothing. I’ve been supervising two dead bodies and a burned-out car and they looked like mafia guys and oh
shit, there goes my mouth running off again.”
“Mafia? They were the mafia?”
“Look, don’t go spreading the M-word around. People are on edge enough as it is. I better get going. You hear anything about anything, you call me, all right?”
“You just make sure you answer when I do.”
He drives off and I head to my place. I hurry. The mafia. Was Leo one of them? I look behind me. I can’t get over the feeling I’m being watched. There’s just the empty street.
I get to my door and fumble with the key. I’m certain someone is nearby, but there’s no one there when I look.
I get inside and double-lock the door. I head for bed, leaving lights on downstairs. It still feels weird doing that, like Gran is going to shout up at me for wasting her electricity.
She’s been dead a year, but it’s still hard to picture the house without her rattling around it, making endless cups of tea, and probing me about my non-existent love life.
She left me the house and enough inheritance to pay the bills for a while. In return, I keep the shelter going. She founded it. She wants it to last forever.
I had no say in Cam taking over. That happened just before she died. I can’t help but think he maybe manipulated her into it.
I get into my bedroom, but I still can’t shake the feeling I’m being watched. I end up going into all the rooms of the house, pulling open closets, and checking them.
When a car goes past outside, I look out through the curtains but it’s only Louie doing his rounds. I give him a thumb’s up and he nods back.
Once I’m in bed, I close my eyes and at once I feel like I’m back in the shelter. Only this time I’m not fast enough. Leo Rossi comes in, huge, angry, covered in blood. He’s demanding I fix his dog, but I can’t.
I can’t get the bleeding to stop. The dog dies on the tabletop and he’s yelling at me. It’s all your fault, Amelia. All your fault. Your fault. You owe me. I will collect.
I open my eyes when I hear a message on my cellphone. It’s from Moira.
All fine. You did a good job. Rex should pull through.
I don’t reply. She’s probably asleep by now. At least I can relax a little. Rex survived. I look over at my jeans sticking out of the laundry basket. I get up and reach into the pocket, pull out the casino chip. I hold it in bed like a totem.
Am I going to cash it in or hide it like he said? Ten thousand would solve a lot of my problems. That’s for sure. Might help redress the balance for the number of men that have taken from me over the years, too. Should I cash it in?
I don’t know.
That’s the honest answer. It’s a lot of money, but something about it doesn’t smell right. Why would a complete stranger just give me something worth that much? It makes little sense.
I settle down to sleep and the next thing I know I’m sitting bolt upright. It’s still dark outside. I glance at the time. 4. 14. Why am I awake? This time I’m certain someone is watching me.
I’m torn between getting out of bed to look and staying where I am. I pull the covers up as if the magical properties of the blanket will protect me from whoever might be in the house.
I could call the sheriff, but what would I say? Sorry to bother you so late, Louie. Only I woke up, and I’m fairly sure I’m not alone in the house. Why? Just because of reasons.
Yeah, he’d be right over in seconds. Wouldn’t just tell me not to watch horror movies like last time I told him I had intruders, and it was me forgetting to lock the back door so a raccoon got in. Laughed at me for two days over that one.
I stay where I am, listening hard. There’s no noise from anywhere. It seems far too quiet. I hear a soft creak from somewhere downstairs. There is someone here.
I reach into the bedside drawer. My grandma’s old gun is still there. She didn’t keep it loaded, but whoever is in the house doesn’t know that.
I take hold of it. The metal feels cold in my hand. I tiptoe out of the bedroom and stand at the top of the stairs, listening. No noise. Am I just being paranoid?
No, the lights are off down there and I left them on. There’s someone in my house. I know there is.
“If anyone’s there, I’ve got a gun,” I call out, getting ready to make a run for my phone to call the sheriff.
There’s a moment’s silence and then a creak of a floorboard in the lounge. “I’ve got a gun,” I say again. “I’ll shoot you.”
“Good to know,” a man’s voice growls back up at me. I leap out of my skin at the sound and my heart does cartwheels around my chest. That’s Leo’s voice. Coming from downstairs.
A shadowy figure steps out of the lounge and appears at the bottom of the stairs. It’s him.
“Don’t move,” I say, pointing the gun at him. “I’ll shoot you, I swear.”
He reaches to his right and flicks on the light.
“I said don’t move,” I say, squinting in the brightness. “How did you get in here?”
“Back door was open,” he says. “You should be more careful. There are dangerous men out there looking for that chip. You still got it?”
“Get out!” I wave the gun at him. “Get out of my house.”
He marches up the stairs toward me, glancing at the gun as he gets to the landing. “I swear to God I will pull this trigger if you don’t leave now.”
“You can’t shoot. “His eyes are burning with intensity. “Safety’s on.”
I glance down at the gun and in the time I take to do that, he’s snatched it from me. I scramble back into the bedroom.
“Tip for the future,” he says, filling the doorway with his sheer bulk. “Don’t threaten to shoot. Just shoot. Saves time.”
“Please,” I beg him as he blocks my escape route, gun pointing right at me. There’s no way out. I know I’m going to die. I just know it. “Please don’t hurt me.”