"Are those gunshots?" James asked in the most wretched voice. I could tell just by his tone that he was already certain of the answer, had likely guessed it with the first shot.
"Yes," I breathed. "In my backyard, I think. I'm scared, James. I need you to tell me that you love me back. Please. Just in case."
"No," he whispered. "I'll be right there. Are all of your doors locked up? Just stay hidden, and stay down. You're going to be fine, and I will be there so soon … "
I closed my eyes, just wanting to listen to his voice until the danger had passed. As though it would just magically pass after that many gunshots …
I was doing so well, just planning to stay right where I was, when I heard another sound that changed everything.
A rough shout sounded in the back. It was the shortest noise, and it should have been indistinguishable from all of the other sounds, but somehow I knew with absolute certainty just who it had been. I fought to breathe, because I suddenly felt like I was drowning. That shout had changed everything. I went in an instant from being a scared little cowering mouse to being so desperately terrified for someone other than myself that I began to stand on trembling limbs.
Another gunshot sounded, and then another. A rough shout that tore my heart into jagged little pieces was stopped short somewhere amidst those two loud bangs.
I began to move resolutely through the house. I didn't forget that I still held the phone. I'd gone from being in shock and into a desperate kind of clarity.
"I love you, James," I told him again. "So much. I'm so sorry." I hung up the phone, feeling it drop from my hand before I'd reached my back door. I took one deep breath before unlocking the door and sliding it open. Resolutely, I stepped outside.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Mr. Tragic
STEPHAN - MINUTES EARLIER
I was getting a lot done in a short amount of time when it came to packing up my house, right until the time that I ran into a box of photos. Javier and I studied the first stack of pictures and laughed. It was a large stack of snapshots from a company Christmas party from maybe three years ago. They'd been taken on a super cheap camera, so they were grainy with a lot of red eye, but they brought back good memories, and we sat down on my bed and went through them all carefully.
Javier giggled, flipping a picture to me. I laughed so hard that I had to sit down. Murphy had his shirt off in the photo, and was trying to do splits, with absolutely no success. That was funny, but the highlight in the photo was by far the look on Damien's face in the background. It was a mixture of admiration/horror/confusion. I must have been taking the picture, because Bianca was off to the side, doubled over laughing, and I wasn't next to her.
Javier flicked me another picturing, still smiling widely.
This one was a close-up of a still laughing Bianca. Her eyes were twinkling as she looked directly into the camera. It was a great picture of her, though she wouldn't notice or care how beautiful she'd looked in a bright green dress that night, her pale hair hanging smooth around her shoulders. I made a note to get a copy of it for James, who would love a picture of her laughing like that as much as I did. I sometimes thought that our fast friendship had been kind of like joining a club, one made up of men that thought that Bianca Karlsson was the most perfect woman on the planet.
Javier flipped me another picture, giggling harder than ever. I joined him with one glance at the image.
This one was of Murphy lying on his back on the ground. He held his arms up straight in front of him. His suit jacket and tie were crumpled all over the floor around him. I remembered that they'd gotten that way during his impromptu strip tease.
Marnie stood next to him in the photo, caught mid-curtsy motion. Javier flicked me another picture.
Murphy was making a valiant effort at bench-pressing the tiny woman.
Javier flicked me another picture.
The same tiny woman had collapsed onto him, and they were both laughing at his failure. We laughed even harder at the memory.
"I'm going to miss that job," I said wistfully.
"Well, we don't have to miss the people, which were what made it great. What do you want to bet that Damien and Murphy will be regulars at our bar?"
I smiled at him. "You're so right. We'll probably have to kick them out at closing time every night." The thought filled me with warmth. Our lives were changing, yes, but they were only getting better.
Javier was playing more than helping me pack, and I couldn't have cared less. I didn't mind doing it myself, and would have preferred his company, help or no.