(5) I am what I am

The first time the nightmare hit, Bonnie burst into my room holding a baseball bat. I was sitting in the middle of the bed, the covers wrapped around me, by the time she figured out there wasn’t some assailant here who’d broken in to attack me. 

“You just took a year off my life, I swear,” she said. “Nightmare?”

I just nodded, trying to calm my shaking. She sat down beside me and attempted to put her arm around me but I pulled away. Right then I didn’t want to be touched. She got that, just patting my blanket-covered shoulder.

“Want to tell me what it was about? Sometimes that helps to keep it from coming back again.”

I knew she wouldn’t leave it alone until I told her something. She’s that kind of woman, very caring and concerned. So I came up with a story about some dude in a mask coming after me with a chainsaw.

She shook her head, amused. “Honey, you have to stop watching my horror flicks before going to bed. That’s right out of a hack-and-slash one I have.”

I knew that, which is why I made it the supposed focus of my nightmare. No way was I going to tell her the real one. I gave her a sheepish look and admitted that was probably the truth. After she decided that I was calmed down enough to go back to sleep, she picked up the bat and left, wishing me pleasanter dreams before closing the door behind her.

I was too wired to go back to sleep. A glance at the clock on my bedside table told me it was just after midnight, not too late to go out and walk off the fear that the nightmare had left behind. After dressing quickly, I ran a wet comb through my hair to tame it, put on a touch of make-up, and slipped out of the apartment.

The night was chilly but the air was bracing, clearing my head of the last bits of the nightmare by the time I saw the club a few blocks from the apartment. The only way I knew that’s what it was, was the bouncer sitting on a stool in the doorway checking a couple’s ID. I was still wide awake so I decided to see what was what. He let me in with no problems although he did look me over with a knowing eye. I guessed that anyone who came there unescorted was looking to hook up and he probably thought he should have first dibs.

It was a noisy place, the jukebox blaring while people tried to talk loudly enough to be heard over the music. It took me a while to find someplace to settle, not that I didn’t have offers. This joint was a real meat market I decided after the third guy in a row made an offer I was quite willing to refuse. I finally found a seat at the end of the bar and ordered a glass of ice water with a slice of lemon. The bartender gave me a funny look but fixed it for me, charging me a dollar. Creep.

I rested an elbow on the bar as I sipped my water and let the music and the strobing lights take over my senses.

Guardian Angels – An Interesting Life (26)

"Hal?" Paddy rapped on his door. "May I come in?"

Hal opened it, looking at Paddy with a bit of surprise. "Sure." He stepped aside to let him enter.

"I have something I need to tell you," Paddy said. "Something… personal."

Dave, who was sprawled on one of the sofas, asked, "Do you want me to leave?"

Paddy smiled slightly. "That's up to Hal, but somehow I suspect he'll tell you later anyway."

"Of course I will," Hal agreed. When Dave sat up, Hal took a seat beside him on the sofa, looking up at Paddy. "So?"

Settling down on the edge of the other sofa, the envelope he was holding tightly clenched in one hand, Paddy said, "I just came back from an assignment. I was…well, Dom and I were, protecting two men who were trying to stop a blackmailer by the name of Margolin." He chuckled self-consciously. "I had fun actually, playing detective. But that's neither here nor there at the moment."

"Are these men someone you think I know?" Hal asked.

"No. But the blackmail victim was." Paddy looked down at the envelope then with apparent reluctance, handed it to Hal. "These are copies I made—unbeknownst to either the victim or the men we were protecting—of the photos the…the bastard was using for blackmail."

Hal opened it cautiously, taking out one of the pictures. He hissed in a breath of dismay. "I had no idea… How the hell did this Margolin get these?"

Dave took the photo. "Interesting shot," he muttered. "I take it you didn't know about this, Hal?"

"No. Damn." He took out the next one and sighed. "I know where these were taken, but who the hell…? And why?"

"Since they're all taken from the same angle, I'd say someone had a hidden camera set up in the bedroom," Paddy said. "His?"

Hal nodded. "We were lovers, obviously. Not for long, and not after he began his first run for the legislature. We…well, I decided it wouldn't help his career if anyone found out, so I ended it." He smiled ruefully. "Frank didn't take it all that badly when it came right down to it and we remained friends until the end. He met a nice woman, married her, and that was that."

"I take it he's bi?"

Hal snorted. "Under the circumstance, I think that's a given." He looked at another picture and shook his head. "I wonder if he's responsible for these. If so, why didn't he destroy them?"

Dave hugged Hal tightly. "Perhaps because he wanted to remember the man he truly cared about. Can you tell when they were taken?"

"Um-hum. A couple of days before I broke it off with him." He tapped the spot on the photo that showed the bedside table. "I gave him that book that night, since we'd been talking about totalitarianism." He chuckled. "No, we didn't spend all our time in bed."

"I know that," Dave said. "You saved him—and yourself in the process." He planted a kiss on Hal's lips, obviously not caring that Paddy was in the room. "You saved me as well," he said softly, then laughed. "Now if you could do something about Paddy."

Paddy snorted. "Not happening."

Hal cocked an eyebrow. "Someday. For now, though, thank you for giving these to me. I'm presuming you gave the originals to Frank."

"I didn't. Vic and Evan will."

"Then you don't know how Frank, well…reacted?"

"No. I'm sorry. Still, since he must have kept them until Margolin, or whoever, got their hands on them and used them to blackmail him, I would hazard a guess they meant something special to him. Therefore, he'll to be glad to get them back for more than just the idea that they couldn't continue to be a threat to him."

"I hope so," Hal murmured.

Paddy stood, ruffling his wings. "I should get out of here and report in to Samuel."

"You haven't done that already?"

"No. I thought this was a bit more important." 

"Thank you! However, I'm not certain Samuel will agree."

Paddy smirked as he walked to the door. "He'll deal."

(4) I am what I am

I knew why I’d begun having nightmares again. It had been five years since I’d last gone through this. Five years since I’d left my old life behind me, the summer after my junior year of high school.

I’d saved ever dime I could from my job at the coffee shop, stashing it away where no one could find it until I had enough to feel safe in leaving. A month after I had, I was broke and looking for a job two states away from where I’d started out. And that wasn’t Wyoming despite what I’d told Bonnie. The where doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things, just that I wasn’t there any longer.

So, as I told the therapist on, umm, my second visit I think, I landed in a medium sized city somewhere in the middle of the country, broke and hungry. I got lucky and picked up a job clerking in a small dress shop. The lady who owned it was a bitch to work for at times but she liked me well enough to keep me on for the next year plus. Then things got rough for her and she had to let someone go. Since I was the last one hired that was me.

I figured that was some sort of omen, packed up and left the city. This time I picked a place to settle down before all my money was gone. I got a job at a tourist shop, found a tiny apartment, and figured maybe this would be the end of my moving around. For almost three years it was. I even managed to make a couple of friends while fending off the advances of several men who found me ‘attractive’, ‘pretty’, ‘nice’ and all the other adjectives guys on the make apply to the one their after.

Things changed the night I had a bit too much to drink at the birthday bash of one of my friends. I ended up fighting off some creep who wasn’t willing to take no for an answer. He’d given me a ride home, or that’s what he said he was going to do. Instead he took me to the local lover’s lane and proceeded to try and tear my clothes off me when I told him I wasn’t interested. He almost succeeded but I managed to grab his half-empty beer bottle and hit him hard enough with it to knock him out.

The next morning I packed up, waited until the bank opened to get out my savings and left town. Of course what I told the therapist was that I got bored with the job and the city and decided to see what was further down the road. I didn’t figure that my almost getting raped was any of his business. That had nothing to do with my nightmares.

Further down the road was five hundred miles from where I’d been. Same song, third chorus, I got a job in a book store, another small apartment, and a new group of friends. That lasted until the day someone walked into the store that I prayed I’d never, ever see again. At least I thought it was them and I freaked. I turned in my resignation, much to my boss’s consternation, and left. Whether it really was them I wasn’t for certain sure, after I thought about it, but there was no way I was going to chance it.

So I packed my stuff, again, and caught the next bus out of town, going as far as my money would take me. Which was to the diner and Bonnie.

(3) I am what I am

“So where are you from originally,” Bonnie asked as she showed me what needed doing before opening.

“Out west, Wyoming actually.”

“You don’t look like a cowgirl,” she replied with a laugh. “More like some high fashion model with those cheekbones and as thin as you are. Like Twiggy.”

I smiled my thanks for her compliment, not sure who this Twiggy was, but added that the thin came from eating fast food and not much of it. I wasn’t looking for sympathy, just giving her the truth. She patted my arm in commiseration, telling me we’d soon remedy that.

My first day was more tiring than I’d expected. I really had worked in a coffee shop, for a short spell, but compared to waitressing that had been a cushy job. By quitting time I was dead on my feet and ready to crash even if it was only three in the afternoon. So after eating—lunch was on the house as long as I didn’t go hog wild—I gathered up my jacket and bag and headed back to the motel. The same clerk was on duty, with the same leer on his face as I walked past him to get to my room. I was half tempted to tell him to go fuck himself but I knew he’d only tell me he’d rather fuck me. That would not have been an option even if he’d been young, cute and polite.

Again, I fell asleep almost as soon as I got to my room, only this time I managed to get out of my clothes first. I woke to the same flickering lights on my wall as the previous night. I felt refreshed and restless, in need of something to eat and some fresh air. I had money from tips, enough I thought to get a cheap meal, and then hopefully, with what I’d make tomorrow, enough for another night at the motel.

And so things went for the next few days until I realized that I had a week until payday and before that two days off which meant no tips. I guess my worry showed on my face the day that sank in, because Bonnie stopped me as I was about to leave to ask what was wrong. I didn’t want to tell her but she was one persistent lady. She got it out of me and then proceeded to tell me she had a second bedroom at her place and would be more than willing to let me stay there for a nominal rent. I hesitated as I thought of the possible ramifications of sharing her place as compared to trying to convince the sleazy desk clerk at the motel to let me put off paying for my room until I got my first check. That choice was really a no-brainer and that evening I got my things and moved in.

A week later the nightmares started.

(2) I am what I am

I took down the ‘Help Wanted’ sign as I left the diner, dropping it on the counter by the door, and Bonnie high-fived me with a laugh.

Standing outside I looked both ways down the street, gripping my battered suitcase as I wondered where the closest motel would be that I could afford. Finally figuring that it was either/or I turned left. I guess my luck was still holding because three blocks later I found one. It wasn’t fancy but it was cheap. I gave the man at the desk my last few dollars to cover two nights and he passed me the room key. “If you need…anything,” he said and the leer on his face told me exactly what he meant. I shook my head and turned away, heading down the hallway to the end where my room was located.

Once inside I tossed my suitcase on the tiny desk and lay down on the bed, staring up at the water spots on the ceiling above me.

“So now what, Blair,” I said to myself. “You’ve made it this far.”

Luckily I didn’t answer myself, at least not out loud. But I did think about the question. I’d been moving around for the last five years, never staying long in one place for long. Why was I on the move? For the same reason I’m talking to a therapist now. The nightmares and what caused them. But the nightmares came later and to talk about them now would be jumping ahead of my story. The day I hit town and Bonnie gave me the job I was just running from the cause.

I fell asleep before I could come to any decision on what came next.

It was dark when I woke up, the flickering light from the motel sign making weird shadows on the wall. I realized I’d gone to sleep in my clothes and really, really needed to shower and decide what to do next. Not long term, just for the next few hours. Stripping, I tossed my skirt and top on the only chair in the room and went into the bathroom. As I waited for the water to warm up I studied myself in the mirror. My blonde hair had a definite bed-head look, as short as it was. It had been longer and dark blonde a couple of weeks ago but, in a moment of insanity brought on when I’d thought I’d seen someone I recognized, I’d cut it into a shaggy do and added light blonde streaks. Actually it wasn’t a bad look and worked with my slender build.

Half an hour later I was dressed again in fresh clothes, a long skirt and high-necked blouse. After adding a light touch of make-up and running the comb through my hair one last time I left my room, going out the back door of the motel to avoid the lecherous desk clerk.