Still more of Gia's Story Start. Post 5

Josie woke around ten the next morning. “Crud,” she mumbled sitting up and rubbing the stiffness out of her neck. “Note to self: Don’t fall asleep reading files on the couch.” Papers were sprawled out all over her coffee table, her floor, and her lap. There was so damned much material! It was gruesome how much forethought and research had been done on this kid, and even worse -- all by Andrew. Still, she didn’t know why she was doing all this. She picked up the pictured and squinted at it, “What does he need you for so badly?” Photos never answer, but still it was nice to talk to someone. For three days she had been reading, eating, drinking coffee, and reading again all about this little lady. Delia, was her name. Cute, strong, sarcastic, funny, a bit chubby granted but still a very pretty little thing. Low self-esteem, dark dressed, tough stuff, thoughtful, intelligent, hated math . . .
She shook her head back to reality. Memorizing all those facts had gotten to her Young Miss Delia Fallon was about all she could think of. “The lack of sleep can’t be helping.” Rubbing her eyes she fumbled her way to the kitchen and smacked the coffee pot into life, letting the succulent smell coat her in waves. Josie always took her morning break next to enjoy her brew, she needed it with a job like this. Images of the laughing girl kept slipping into her mind though, never letting her relax all the way. Her eyes flashed open, Why can’t I get you out of my head? You’re just another target. Why does my head consider you special?
Giving up on becoming any more tranquil, Josie ran all the facts she had acquired on this girl and compared them to all of her old targets. Irregularities, irregularities, where were the irregularities? There had to be one, otherwise she would be able to drink her black coffee in peace. Finally she fell upon age. Delia was seventeen, only seventeen. “Oh,” she said long and quietly. Well that made sense, it was natural to think seventeen was too young to get mixed up with a creep like Andrew. Any reasonable person would think so.
Then why was her heart pounding and her faced flushed with embarrassment?
A deep sigh filled her chest and then collapsed it. She knew very well why. Nathaniel and her had been talking of second generations and babies just before he died. Of their hopefully soon-to-be-children. Nate had always been an anxious to be a family man. Josie found it adorable, so she went along. Get married, have kids, be in love. That had been the plan, so she involuntarily had begun to think of what she hoped their kids to be like. Strong. Sweet. A bit sarcastic. Cute. Thoughtful. Funny.
Nearly everything Delia was.
Josie had wanted a daughter like that dear little Delia.
Josie cursed passionately as tears formed in her eyes, “Why does it have to be like this? Why does she have to be like this?” Without thinking her hand graced over her middle. Since she was young Josephine had known she didn’t believe in God, but she had prayed up and down to be by some miracle pregnant with Nate’s child when he died. But she had never been a lucky woman and was left hollow and alone.
Her lips were wet the way they always were when she was on the verge of crying and her throat hurt from keeping back the sob, but she made her way back over to the pile of information. She had to find something, anything to keep her from think of that Delia in connection with the child she never had. There was practically no way she could get this assignment done otherwise. For the rest of the day she searched frantically, not stopping to eat but once when she thought otherwise she might go cross eyed from concentrating so much. Something had to break that bridge between the two girls, it could be minor but something.
A knock at the door sent her heart into overtime and two feet into the air. “Just a knock, Josie, calm down,” she told herself.
The second she threw the door open she regretted not checking the peephole first. His head cocked and his frowned, “Dear me Josie, are you crying?”
Josie wiped her face quickly and was surprised to find wet cheeks. “I suppose I am.” She looked at Andrew blankly, in control of her emotions again. “Didn’t notice,” she said honestly.
He nodded simply and entered her house without a word of invitation. Overconfident ass. Nonetheless, she made no comment and closed the door after him. “What brings you here?”
His glance around the house showed no disapproval or interest, which was probably a good thing. “I came to see how your little project was going. You never answered you cell so don’t blame me for not trying to warn you of my visit.” A glare formed on his eyes and Josie’s stomach churned.
“I figured this assignment deserved my full attention, I must have tuned everything else out.” This was absolutely nothing short of the truth, she had been so focused that the house could have burned to the ground around her and she wouldn’t have noticed.
The glare mixed with scrutiny. Josie stole a glance at her cell. Three missed calls. Shit! Suddenly he relaxed, even smiled. “The impossible has happened! I have gotten through to Josephine!” Andrew’s chuckle was light and playful. “I see you speak the truth, so I suppose I can overlook this mistake. It is for a noble cause.”
She breathed again. He laughed. “How far are you into the reading.”
“Done,” she said leaning against the wall and rubbing her eyes. “Just going through it all a second time. Caution and knowledge seem to be the name of the game here.”
“Really? Done?” His brows had jumped. Andrew didn’t get surprised easy so it made her grin eerily with satisfaction.
“Read every line.”
“Good,” he said turning and walking to the table. “Though I must say you organization could use some improvement.” A mug of coffee had left a few rings on a number of sheets, the pot from this morning lay empty on the floor close by. She shrugged. Andrew picked up one of the pictures of Delia and held it gently by the edges and smiled in a way that Josie had never seen before. Was it caring? Not his usual work relationship kind of ‘caring’ but a full, profound and – dare she think it – almost tender type of caring. It made her sick, for the girl.
“There is one thing I’m unsure of,” she piped boldly.
“Oh?” He wouldn’t take his eyes off the photo. A sudden powerful urge to snatch the girl’s face from his grasp and hold the snapshot close came over her, but she refrained.
“WHY I am doing this. The girl’s not rich or powerful, nor is her family. Other motives seemed obsolete, but I find myself going over them again. Usually I can see some sort of reasoning behind these folders but . . . not with her.”
For the longest time he said nothing, his odd smile gone. “Is the why really that important?”
“I’m not like that monster that killed Nathaniel, if I do something I need to have a solid reason.”
“She’s perfect,” he said calmly, “that’s why.” Andrew laid the photograph back in the pile and turned away. “I need her for something very important. That’s all the reason you’re going to get.”
“Not much of a reason,” she mumbled. Now she was the one who couldn’t stop looking at her.
“If you want Nathaniel’s killer you’ll stop pressing. It’s a confidential matter, for my concern and mine alone.” Back to strict.
Josie had expected an answer like that, but still found it annoying. “I’ll do what you want but you better deliver. I don’t like this.”
That’s when she had said too much. Andrew’s eyes stared at her in the way that made her want to scream in the silence. I’m doomed. “You don’t like this,” he questioned.
“Forget I said anything,” Josie said turning away.
“Your job isn’t to enjoy, it’s to do. But now I’m curious, why do you have such objections?”
“Why do you care?”
“Because you care about her. Delia. And you never care about targets.”
“It’s nothing.” Just back off, please.
“I’ve told you time and time again how important this is, I need to be sure your feelings will not get in the way.”
“They won’t,” she pushed past him back over to the table and pretended to look at the papers again.
“Did you have children, Josephine?” She stopped dead and gasped. “Josie?” Her mouth felt numb. “I believe my inference was correct.” The smugness in his voice made her disgusted.
“I’ve never had kids,” she hissed. Don’t cry, not in front of him.
“Then you wanted them,” he continued. She stayed quiet as his eyes traced her up and down. “I could see you having a little girl like Delia, spunky and grinning.” He’d found her out. Josie felt like she was cracking from the outside out. “It’s a shame you don’t have kids,” he said softer, “you might have been good at it.”
Andrew turned suddenly and headed to the door. Josie frowned after him, that’s all she was going to get from him? A halfway gentle comment after his annoying prying? What was she suppose to make of that? “You’ve confused me, Andrew,” she called after him.
“I do that,” he replied opening the door.
She wanted to force the explanation for his ways out of him: about Delia, about his caring, about his job, about his meddling about children. But she couldn’t, not without getting punished and letting sobs escape again.
However, she got a bit more than she was expecting.
“Josephine,” he said low before walking out, “you need to hear something.”
She turned her head slightly.
“It’s not too late.” Josie frowned at him over her shoulder. “It’s never too late to get back what you thought you could never you could have.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just don’t give up, Josephine. I’ve been in your boat, lost of everything. Don’t give up. Find another way, I did.”
“Oh really,” she said using sarcasm to cover up the weeping, “what’s that?”
He almost didn’t answer, then he almost did. Andrew was being completely honest and Josie could tell. That man let his emotions flow out to his workers very rarely, but he letting it all hang out.
Andrew closed the door behind him.
He hadn’t answered.
But Josie knew.
Delia.
Delia was his second chance.
Delia was to be his. His. He had fallen for her.
Delia was doomed.
Josie collapsed in terror. “I have to save her.” But Nate. She had to avenge him.
“Shit,” she gulped past the tears. She cursed everything around her. She couldn’t make that decision, she couldn’t. Josie sat crying for hours desperate.

More of Gia's Story Start. Post 4

That unappreciative whelp. I give her what she wants and she decides to toy with me? She has no right to question my trust, she is nothing. Just another worker. But she wasn’t really, was she?
No.
She would be the one to bring him his Delia.
But why did it have to be Josie? The woman who was a pain in every last way, shape, and form. Delia would appreciate a woman with spunk and her own mind, in so few words. I watched my new client’s car speed away, bunch of scared rich idiots, they would soon be paying me out the ears. Not my problem if their company crashed due to foolishness.
“Mr. Andrew?” My receptionist Angela Lawrence was lovely, small built, big chested, and oblivious with a high voice. Especially when she was flirting, like now. A deep sigh escaped from me.
“What Angela?”
“I believe that was your last appointment for the day.” She was working for me to distract outsiders and to keep things looking normal. Not to actually keep track of my job, I could do that myself, something she had not realized and so continued to point out the obvious.
“Ang, how many times have I told you, I know my schedule. There is literally no reason to remind me of such petty things as meetings and the like.”
She did that dreadful little laugh, “Probably a few times more than you have, it is my job to look after you!” He shuddered. She was so awful. “But I mainly just said it to lead into asking you something.”
“You may leave early.” Please be what she’s thinking, not what she is most likely to be suggesting. Please . . .
Her hand ran up his arm. Shit. “No, I was more thinking about staying after a bit later.”
He groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Angela when we had sex last time, it was not the beginning of a fling, I just did it spontaneously. Don’t count on doing it often. You’re not sleeping your way to a raise either.”
She blinked stunned at my bluntness. No one was quite as blunt as he was.
Well, Delia was close . . .
“Excuse me,” she said breathlessly.
“Oh Hell Angela, it wasn’t even that good. Chances are it won’t happen again. Ever. Just go home and find someone else to sleep with. I have things to get done.” I began to walk away as she stood running my reply through her head.
“Not good,” she roared after me. Took her long enough. “What do you mean it wasn’t good? I am great, amazing in fact! You’re going to regret this you jerk, I’m the best thing that will ever happen to you!”
“Wrong,” I said low getting into my overly expensive car. Angela stood fuming. I pulled up next to her and rolled down the window. “I appreciate what you’ve done for my business, Ang, I do, but the sex was just a one time thing. You are more than welcome to continue working for me, however I recommend that you forget out little overtime action ever occurred. I leave it up to you.”
“What if I expose you? What if I tell every last person in your contacts that you and I slept together? What if I did that?”
“Well then you would be spreading an irrelevant truth all over to a mass of people who are completely dependent on me. No one will care, Ang. They will continue to work for me and give me money and do anything I please. You can’t comprehend just how much influence I have in this world or how much I influence it. Do yourself a favor and don’t tell anyone, the consequences towards you will be unpleasant, to say the least.”
Judging by the drained looked that crossed her face my point had gone through. It would be regrettable to kill Angela, to have and train yet another new secretary, but nothing I couldn’t do easily. Just a bit of a bother.
“Perhaps I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said putting on a pair of shades against the blinding setting sun. My car speed off and I never bothered to look back to see if she was heading to her car to leave for the day or going back in to clean off her desk. Such a little thing didn’t matter, nothing mattered anymore. Nothing but her. Delia. My clock read 4:18, it was Friday, she would most likely be at work by now. Shame, I had been hoping to get that meeting done soon enough to drive by her job in time to see her walk from home through the door. “Disappointing,” I said sadly. “I could definitely have used a glimpse of my little dove today.” The thought of going into her place of employment wormed it’s into my mind for the millionth time, but I could not. She couldn’t have any suspicions that I had been watching her once Josie brought her to me. We would start a relationship with no predetermined thoughts of one another, at least that’s what she would think. I already knew I was hopelessly in love with her.
The penthouse seemed strangely empty today, and the loneliness filled every corner of my home as an uninvited guest the way it only did when Delia had been on my mind all day long. Once again I took the picture from my pocket and stared, her loveliness still astounded me the way it had when I had first seen her. “My little beauty,” I whispered as a smiled turned up my lips just the slightest bit. Curls framed a face centered around deep, sly brown eyes and naturally full lips just calling out to mine. Those lips made me ache. Delia had a grin to be reckoned with, it was dastardly and playful, but she herself was neither cruel nor sinister. Her heart was gentle and soft while the side she exposed to most was tough and rigged. Too much heartache and distress had befallen her to allow her to open up to very many people, it had made her timid and untrusting. All of this suit me just fine. It meant I could trust her to be trustworthy and hopefully it meant she would understand my distance when it needed to be put into place. We were alike in that way, neither of us could really tell anyone the whole truth.
It must have been hours until I stopped looking at her picture and went to work then shortly to bed. More and more I found she was the only thing that could keep my mind occupied as well as happy. “Good night my Delia,” I whispered through the window as I took one last glance at the cityscape around me, “I will see you soon.”

Dalton's Story Start --UBER LONG you are not obligated to read it all if you don't want, just tell me how far you got. Please and thank you

I woke up to find my pillow on fire . . . This was the start of the worst day ever. "Holly son of a crow!" I threw the cushion across the room only to have my curtains begin to flame and melt. "Help! Mom!" She came bolting in with Hugh right behind her.
"What the hell is going on," Hugh asked still shirtless and groggy.
"FIRE!" Mom jumped up and down pointing, as if that would help.
"Ah," the man said bored. "Right, I got it." He began to walk lazily out of my room.
"Hurry up," my mother hissed passionatley. I couldn't force my mouth and mind to connect. The man came in a moment later with a bright red fire extinguisher and sprayed to his heart's content.
"No big deal, now it's my day off so I'm back to bed."
"Bull snap you are," she grabbed his arm and yanked him back. "My daughter's room sets on fire and you think you get to just walk off. That'snot what you were hired for."
"I was afraid of that," he mummbled.
Mom turned back to me, still shaking and heart throbbing. "Oh sweetheart," she came and wrappedher arms around me unitl I could breath again. "You okay, Ang?" I nodded. "Maybe we should ger you looked at. I'll go call the doctor."
Most people go to the hospital, but I wasn't most people. Whenever some freak thing happened to me the doctors came to me, well doctor really. I'd had the same doc since I was born and had never seen another nurse besides the one who helped deliver me. My life was full of constants like that. Hugh had been my personal body gaurd since before I was born, my 'special' shots had been given since I was born, we had lived in the same town all my life, and perhasp most importantly I hadn't had a father since the second Mom's body had hinted I was there. I hated constants.
"No, I don't need Doc. I'm fine." She eyed me cautiously. I rolled my eyes, "It's Saturday, you couldn't drag to Doc to day."
She smiled and I faked one back, "If you say so, Ang." She pecked my forehead, "Now hop up, I'm going to get Peter in here."
Hugh and I both groaned, "Not Peter."
"Someone set your room on fire! I'm getting him in here no matter what you say."
Ugh, Peter. Another constant. He had been my personal cop/investigator since I was three and had found a package for me next to the door on Christmas morning before Mom got up. Sadly, Hugh was up and snatched the gift up before I could see who it was from. He and Ma told me the package might have beenfrom someone bad and Icouldn't have it or its contents. That was also the day Mom hired the P.I. to figure out who sent it, at least that's what I had been told.
"Now Martha-" Hugh had his reasoning voice on.
"NO! My daughter has been attacked and no matter how annoying Peter is he's a damn good detective."
"Shoot," I muttered knowing defeat.
"No kdding," Hugh sighed. "Fine, but I'm not dealing with his questionaire on my day off."
"Well, then you're not off," Mom said leaving the room.
Hugh glared as she wandered down the hall, but I knew the two of them had hidden feelings for each other and watched his eyes fall to her butt. Hugh had a thing for Mom and a HUGE thingfor her butt.
Rolling my eyes again I threw off my covers and got out of bed, the dark patch on the matress from the flames my my heart pump again. No doubt I would be jumpy today.
Hugh came up and put a hand on my shoulder, "Are you sure you're okay Angie, you're pale."
I glanced at the mirror, my usually tan carmel skin was drained. I looked like crud. "Just a little shaken Hugh no burns or anything."
He cocked an eyebrow at me, "Why would you be burned?"
I flushed, "It was my pillow in fire so I kinda threw it across the room. Bad idea. Sorry."
Starting at his head I watched his body tense and shudder, even the sweat on his abs seemed to freeze. "What?"
"The fire," I stammered. "It started on pillow."
Never have I seen Hugh's tough physique collapse so suddenly. A twich ran through him and his wide shoulders went from strong back to cirled terror. "Your pillow?"
I nodded. "Hugh, what's going on?"
Instantly he wnet back to himseelf with a mixture of determination and anger. "Come on."
He pulled me to the living room. I knew better than to ask for an explanation again, being kept in the dark was normal now. He whispered something to Mom who blanched then turned green all in one second. "What do we do," she whispered to him. I could hear Peter calling from the phone line. My heart went skyrocketing.
"Take Angela to the other room, I'll talk to Peter." It was bad. Hugh would never, never willing speak to Peter.
"Mom what's -"
"Don't speak right now, Ang. Please just don't." Her voice was clogged with sobs, eyes full of tears. As soon as we were in the hall she gripped me close to her chast and pressed her lips to my head. "Just let me hold on to you." I obeyed and held her back. Her sobs broke out.
For an hour Mom and Hugh took turns watching me and talking with Peter over the phone. Both were bent on not having me hearing anything worth hearing just ‘it’s fine’ or ‘don’t worry’. Obviously there was reason to worry and it was anything BUT fine. Peter came by and went directly to my room, I hated having his prying eyes scope out my area.
“I don’t see anything, so it was probably them,” he said after a while. “Sneaky bastards. Where were you, Hugh?”
“Don’t you pin this on me,” Hugh snarled taking an angry step towards the other man.
“I’m not pinning this on you, it’s just a question.”
“I was asleep, last night was for reports so I had only been asleep for about half an hour before I heard Ang screaming.”
“And you Martha?”
“Asleep in my room.”
“Well, like I said they’re sneaky buggers. No surprise you didn’t hear ‘em.”
“I can’t believe this,” Mom whispered.
Hugh put his arm around her, “We’ll keep her safe, Martha, I promise.”
“Still think you should have gone with the alarm system,” Peter mumbled. Hugh shot his a defensive look, HE was the alarm system.
“Ya know, just for extra precaution.” Nice save, sorta. “What do you remember, Ang?”
Hugh and Mom spun around to see me, shoot, I had been found out.
“What are you doing here,” Mom said anxiously.
“It is my room . . .”
“Go into the living room,” she ordered.
Then I did something brave. Maybe a little stupid, but brave. “No.”
Her head whipped back around. “Do as I say Angela, now.”
“No, there’s no way you’re blindfolding me from this.”
“What do you mean ‘blindfolding’? I’m trying to keep you safe.”
“All you’re doing is making me vulnerable, if I don’t know what’s going on it’s the same as walking down the freeway blindfolded. You can’t keep me out this time.”
She looked stunned, when it came to matters like this I usually did as asked, but someone had tried to kill me and I would hold strong. “Angela, to the living room. Now.”
“No. Someone tries to set my room on fire and you try to keep all the information from me? No. I won’t let you.”
“Your Mom is right,” Hugh said, “better stay out of this.” With his calm and cool outlook I suddenly wanted to smack him.
I let out a harsh laugh, “Stay out of it? I was one someone tried to murder here, not any of you. I have a right to know anything you know.”
“No you don’t!” My mother never snapped at me until now, “You’re just a child.”
“I’m nearly seventeen! Let me know.”
“Out,” she barked.
I looked at her like a sick dog, Mom wasn’t like this. Mom was sweet and gentle and reasonable and I wanted her back. “No.”
She flashed a look at Hugh, before I knew it I was on his shoulder and being hauled away. “No! Hugh you jerk, put me down!” He dumped me into the next room and locked the door behind him. “Let me out,” I shook the door furiously to no avail. “This is ridiculous! I should know!”
“I’ll be right outside if you need anything, you’re safe.” I have never hated Hugh’s calm voice so damned much.
Cursing the others I paced the room back and forth. “How could they,” I growled staring at the window. Frosty and cold, just like me right about now. A small bird flitted to my window, too bright and jumpy for the bleak weather. I cocked my head at it and it did the same. “You lucky little devil,” I whispered, “free as can be. If you want to answers you need only fly in and listen. Wish I could do that.”
The bright little thing suddenly seemed to frown, if birds can frown, and tapping gently on the glass. “What’s wrong?” She bobbed at me and started to attack the lock. My hand graced the ledge of the window, but sanity stopped me. “Just a bird, it can’t be asking me to let it in.” Despite my efforts I couldn’t pull my eyes from her sweet, penetrating, soft eyes. “I must be crazy,” I whispered yanking the sill from the frozen wood below. Her colorful feathers flew past my head and settled on the couch shaking her leg. Then I noticed it: a small roll of paper on its leg. Amazingly she stayed calm and quiet as I removed the string
“Can you stay quiet when stunned? What does that mean,” I asked her. I was talking to a bird. Great. She simply looked at me questioningly. “I suppose I can, now that you’ve warned me,” I replied awkwardly.
A tremble went through her, then she spurted up and expanded. Less than a moment later a woman was sitting on the back of my couch. Stunned was an understatement.
The woman leapt up and rushed over to me clamping her hand over my mouth, “I know you’re probably a little scared right now, but please PLEASE stay quiet for me.”
I wormed my way from her grip. “I said I would.” Staring her up and down I tried to take in what I had seen. “Were you just a bird?”
She gave me a kind smile, “Yeah, honey. I’m afraid I don’t time to explain it all right now, but you can trust me. I won’t hurt you.”
“Alright,” I said unsteady.
“May I invite a friend in to keep watch? The last thing we need is your mother waltzing in.” I nodded. “Come on in Frankie,” she called out the window. In a flash a black panther was standing in front of me. I gawked. “Don’t frighten the girl,” the bird woman snapped.
Sure enough he shifted into a grinning man. “Sorry,” he said turning to me.
“No prob,” I gulped.
“You poor dear,” the woman cooed. “It’s already been a long day, look my name is Jemma and this is Frankie. Your father sent us.”
“My father?” They nodded. “I don’t have a father.”
“Uh . . .” Frankie trailed off.
“Well I have a father of course, I just have never met him. Sorry I’m just a little confused right now.”
He smiled, “Understandable.”
“Go listen at the door, Frankie. We can’t have Martha knowing we’re here.”
“You know my mom?”
“Yes, back when she was with your father. Now, back to business. I know you’ve had things hidden from you your whole life, I know you’ve been lied to as well and we’ve dealt with it as long as we could but no longer. You need to know who you are.”
I blinked at her. “I’m lost.”
She sighed but smiled. “Silly Martha, trying to hide you from what you were born to be. It’s a very long story and I promise I’ll tell you everything soon. For now all you need to know is that you are in terrible danger and your dad is the only one who can really protect you now. He’s coming but he sent us ahead first so things weren’t coming at you too fast. Read this,” she said handing me a letter.
“Who is it from,” I asked.
“You Daddy,” she said brightly.
“I’ve never even seen him.” The thought of him still curled my stomach in curiosity.
“He adores you, never have I seen a man who wants something more. Every day he wishes he could see you and soon you’ll be reunited.”
“Really?”
“Really,” her tenderness was sincere, and I believed her.
“Better hurry it up, Jem.”
“I’m getting there. Now, do you think you could try to help us?”
“I can try.”
“Good, all you have to do is try not to talk about this to your Mom, she’d blow a gasket.”
“Scary stuff there,” Frankie teased.
“Trust me, I know,” I muttered. He flashed a playful smile.
“Do that for us and things should be go smoothly.”
“Hopefully,” Frankie added, Jemma glared. He strode over. “Look kiddo, you’ve been given the sweet talk all your life, I think you deserve the truth.”
I nodded, “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
“Well then you should know that your Dad and Mom getting together may cause sparks and we’re not sure if he can convince her to let you come with us.”
“With you?”
“To keep you safe,” Jemma interjected.
“Maybe you can help things along when he gets here. Ya know, try to tell her it’s the best option, that you’d be safe with him, blah blah blah.”
All this was too much, but I was tired of looking from a distance as everyone took control of my life. “I’ll do everything I can.”
He ruffled my hair, “I knew you’d be a good kid, one to count on.” Jemma gave me a reassuring hand on my arm.
“Get your hand off her,” came a fierce growl from the entrance. Hugh.
Both of my guests looked over worried. “Oops,” Frankie said awkwardly, “Should have stayed by the door.” Hugh began to lunge for him and he darted quickly away.
Jemma grabbed me tightly. “Keep the letter hidden,” she whispered in my ear, “And good luck sweetheart.”
Frankie grunted as Hugh landed a fist into his gut, but came back with a smack to get him off. “Later kiddo,” he called before changing back into the predator cat and leaping towards the window, Jemma’s radiant feathers close by. Even after seeing the spectacle once it was still astonishing and left me a bit breathless.

Clay's Story Starter

NOTE: I wasn't that into this story starter, I'm afraid, so I just did something. The story was originaly about a college guy and his four year old sister he hardly knows and bonding while being locked outof their house. Then on a whim I decided the boy aka Parker was something of a delinquent in his teen years. Of course, any delinquent would try to break into his own house. So he tried. In this process he sees and old friend and long story short I was planning on having the classic friend-comes-home-from-college-and-falls-for-old-friend story. Yeah I know, stupid cheesey, and over done which is exactly why I quit in the middle of a conversation. The writing also kinda sucked too because of my un-enthusiasm so there's another good reason. Anyways, here's my story that rots my soul because I wrote something so stupid and uncreative adn over all LAME! It pains me to post this on my birthday... Will try to make up for it later.

“Eat my peanuts butter!” she yelled.

Parker sighed, “No. That’s not peat butter.”

“Eat my peanuts butter.”

“No matter how much you yell I am not eating that.”

“Eat it or I’ll tell Mommy you were mean to me.”

He eyed the goopy mess the little girl held out to him, for a three year old she had a lot of determination. “Look, sis, there is about a 96 percent chance that whatever you made that out of could kill a person. Peanut butter is not purple and green.”

“Mine is. Now eat it! Eat my peanuts butter!”

Where was she? Mom was supposed to be here half an hour ago. Of course she was always late. “And it’s not ‘peanuts’ butter. Just peanut. Peanut butter. No s.”

“NUH-UH! MY PEANUTS BUTTER!”

The young man groaned, he didn’t do well with children, that’s why his parents had other children after he went to college. “How did you come out of the same parents as me,” he asked the little girl without really expecting an answer.

“Because mommy couldn’t keep it in her pants. EAT!”

Parker reeled back, “What did you just say?”

Her angry face fell into one of perpetual fear. “Don’t tell Mommy and Daddy I said that.”

A laugh coated his exhausted voice, “Tell you what, if don’t make me eat you PEANUT butter, I won’t tell Ma what you said.”

She squinted at him suspiciously. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Pinky promise,” she insisted. Their pinkies latched, his strong one to her sticky little one. “Good,” she said giddy all at once. “Will you play Shoots and Ladders with me?”

Childish mood swings, classic. “Is it inside?”

“Oh yeah,” she pouted, “I’m tired of sitting on the porch, I want to go inside.”

“Me too,” he leaned against the front door and stared at the cars going by in front of his old house. “Are you sure Mom said two thirty?”

Lindsey pulled up her shirt sleeve and revealed a number etched in ink. “Two thirty,” she recited. She was right.

“Damn,” he whispered closing his eyes. The worst part was that it could be another hour until they got into the old house. Bart, their father, was a respected and hard working plumber who would most likely be home late while Beatrice, their mother, was a flying-by-the-seat-of-her-pants woman who had no job title because she couldn’t keep one. Oh yeah, Parker had great roots.

Suddenly he felt something on his chest. His eyes darted open to see little Lind’s head resting on him with the rest of her body curled up close to him. As much as Parker was not a man who was comfortable around kids, he couldn’t bring himself to shoo his own little sister. “You okay,” he asked gently.

Her big green eyes looked up at him, “I’m getting cold. Daddy said winter was coming on quick and he would be fixing a lot of frozen pipes soon but Mommy said he was being silly.”

“What do you think?”
                “I think Daddy was right.”

“Usually is if the argument is between those two.” Lindsey nodded in a way that made Parker grin.

“She should be here soon. If not I’ll break in.”

The small girl giggled. “You’re going to break in?”
                “It used to be my house too,” he said leaning up to take off his coast and wrap it around her little shoulders. “I’m going to go check the windows, stay here and be look out for me, will ya?”

Her eyes lit up, “Be look out? Like a spy?”

“Yeah,” he said with a chuckle, “like a spy. I’ll be right back.”

“Yes sir!”

Shaking his head Parker turned the corner; maybe having a little sister wouldn’t be too awful if he only saw her so often. The white second story house stood before him , how his parents had managed to afford and keep this house all these years would always be a mystery to him. What was not a mystery was how to break into it. When he was a teen he had often forgotten his key or lost it, being the delinquent he had been. Leather jacket and all. The lattice was still in place and the window to his old room was the easiest one to pry open, that is, if his tool was still stashed nearby. “Worth a shot,” he figured and began to scale the wall precariously. Only one or two of the boards broke, the Morning Glories and their vines probably helped, but nonetheless he made it to the second floor just as easy as he had four years ago.

“Please be here,” he coaxed the house searching for his old knife to wedge the window open. “If I did for nothing . . .” Alas, nothing was poking out to him. The hole was still though—

“OUCH! Son of a beach. What the hell was that,” he hissed looking at his bleeding finger.

“Your parents have been having rodent problems for a while, evidently biting rodents,” came a voice from below. A sweet, familiar, lovely voice. Parker smiled and looked down, sure enough Melanie was looking up at him with a bright smile.

“How long have you been there?”

“I was coming over to see you as soon as I saw you in the yard, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop you. Watching you make a fool of yourself is one of my favorite past times.”

“This little town must have been unbearable without me then, it’s so dull already.”

She rolled her eyes and made a flat face. “You have no idea.”

“Hey, do know if those little rats have my knife in there or do I need to break a window?”
                She shrugged, “I’ve haven’t ever climbed your wall so I suppose I wouldn’t know. Maybe it’s still there though.”

Melanie and Parker had been best friends in high school, she had much more of a goody-goody than he ever was but he had needed someone to trust and she had needed to blow off some steam. He had missed her in the city, even if he hadn’t realized it yet.. “Well I’m not risking rabies again for ‘maybe’ I’m afraid.”

“Don’t blame you,” she said.

“Unless you’re enjoying the view, I suppose I could stay up here a little longer,” he said with a grin.

Mel’s eyes darted to the ground and she went bright red, “Oh, shut up.”

“Sorry, couldn’t help it. Coming down so watch it.” He scaled down a bit, then jumped just to rattle his old friend a bit. Her little gasp and flinch was worth a little pain in his knees. “Scaring you is one of my favorite past times.”

“Oh I’m sure you’ve found someone in the city to terrorize.”

“No one as much fun as you.”