Page 11 of Jane Deyre
If one of these scumbags comes up to me, he’ll be sporting a bullet hole between his eyes. I don’t plan on missing.
I glance at the clock on the dashboard and blow out an exasperated breath. Nine thirty. She’s been inside her house for over twenty minutes.
Where the hell is she? She said she’d be quick. Had little to collect.
The entire ride here, I mused about this weirdo girl.
She was feisty.
Unimpressed by me. Or this flashy car.
She recognized the theme song from my godmother’s Oscar-winning movie. Mouthed the lyrics.
No girl I’ve known has ever done this.
My life had been filled with socialites. Gorgeous women falling at my feet. Longing to be mine. Married to me for my fame and fortune.
Jane doesn’t know who I am. Nor did she give a damn.
Jane... I love saying her name. I say it aloud. It’s so simple. So strong. It takes my breath away.Jane.
I also have to say I found her oddly attractive. Her unusual features coming together in a rather mesmerizing way. And I kept wondering what her body looks like under that absurd oversized costume. I have the feeling she’s small boned and...
The sound of glass shattering catapults me out of my thoughts.
The front window of Jane’s house is smashed.
Scattered on the lawn (if you want to call it that) are shards of the pane. And a whiskey bottle.
I jump out of the car.
The key fob in one hand, the gun in the other.
I’m going in.
CHAPTER 6
Jane
It takes me no time to change out of the Smurfette getup and into jeans, a T-shirt, and sneakers. My All Star red Converse I found at Goodwill. Relieved to be out of the oppressive costume, I retrieve my duffel bag from under my single bed and scurry over to the small wood bureau where I fling open the drawers and dump the contents into the bag. I can’t be bothered with folding my few items of clothing up nicely. I want to get out of this craphole as quickly as possible. It’s so damn depressing, and I’m roasting again because there’s no air-conditioning. Wasting no time, I carefully remove my vision board from the wall above the dresser and set it on the floor next to my guitar. I cram the guitar into its black vinyl case, zip it up, and then throw my laptop into my backpack. The board, guitar, and Mac are my only major possessions. The board’s been with me since the age of thirteen. It’s been my light in a sea of darkness. The hope to my despair. I found the guitar on the street a year later. The computer I stole from the last nightmare family I lived with. The Reeds. With no remorse, given the hell they put me through. Especially their son.
Circling my eyes around the shoebox-size room, I do a quick once-over. They land on the Smurfette costume lying on the bed. Should I take it or not? Screw it. It’s staying. I’ll deal with the employment agency and figure out a way to pay for it. Now that I’m making decent wages.
Slinging my backpack over my shoulders along with my guitar, I grab the duffle in one hand and my vision board in the other and hurry out of the room. I can’t wait to say goodbye to this shithole.
I step back into the living room and freeze in my tracks. My jaw grows slack and my heart almost stops.
“Well, well, well... if it isn’t Jane Deyre! It’s you, isn’t it? Fancy meeting you here. It’s been a while.”
Facing me is the boy, the last person on earth I want to see again. John Reed. Except he’s no longer a boy. He’s a full-grown man.
All the pain he inflicted on me whirls in my head. The beatings, the black eyes, the broken bones. The...Stop, Jane. Don’t go there.Every muscle in my body clenches. Trembles. I thought I escaped him forever. He tracked me down?
My head is spinning with questions. How did he get in? Did I leave the front door open? Did he pick the lock? Find the key? I didn’t hear him break in so maybe he was already inside the house…waiting for me in the bathroom…taking a leak?
“W-what are you doing here?”
He leans against a wall and flashes a simpering smile. “Just doing my job. The landlord is evicting you for non-payment of rent.”