ND/Oakland garden (C)
From Create Your Own Story
You pull on your trousers and shoes and grab your gun. The garden is empty. Over the sound of the falling rain you hear a car start up and race away. Whoever it was out there, there's no way you're going to get them now.
The earth outside the windows is wet and muddy and a pair of heavy boot-prints is visible, pressed into the mud. Beside them lie a couple of cigarettes, too cheap and dog-ended to belong to Blondie. There was definitely someone here, and long enough to smoke a couple of cigarettes. Long enough to see everything going on in the room.
You go back through the French windows, dripping water onto the hard wooden floor. Blondie doesn't complain. 'Who was it?' She's still naked, but somehow the sight doesn't do anything for you.
'Don't know,' you say, dressing quickly. 'Whoever it was, they were gone by the time I got there.'
'But there was someone out there?' she asks.
'Yes. And they were out there long enough to see everything going on in here.' If you expect her to blush you are very much mistaken. She doesn't give any reaction beyond furrowing her brow. 'Who would want to do that?' she asks.
'How about your husband?' you say, putting on your jacket. 'If you're right and he wants to get a divorce, maybe he's doing the same as you and getting proof.'
She smiles humorlessly. 'Trust me,' she says, 'he's got plenty of that already. He wouldn't have to snoop around.'
You shrug. 'I'm out of ideas. Could be anyone. Could be Harry Truman for all I care.'
She looks sharply at you, only now noticing that you're dressed. 'You're not leaving are you?'
Boy is this dame a piece of work! 'Yes,' you say, 'I'm leaving.'
Your tone stops her from arguing the point. 'Your clothes are all wet,' she observes.
'Yeah, they are.'
She comes closer to you and looks at you with suddenly earnest eyes. For a moment you catch a glimpse of the girl beneath the veneer. Small and unloved and hoping for something better. 'You could stay while they dry off,' she says, her voice soft.
You shake your head. 'Maybe next time, Blondie.' She stands on her toes and kisses you gently. When she pulls away the cool, hard smile has returned. 'Till the next time, brown-eyes.'
You leave her at the door, dressed in her robe and drive back to your apartment in silence.
