Page 24 of Obsession

Chapter 17

When Shit Hits the Fans

Samuel Foster

Iwalk through the house trying to settle my mind. Tim’s visit has left me shaken, no doubt about it. It pisses me the fuck off, because after all the shit of the last few days, seeing Arielle this morning had finally given me a sense of hope.

Arielle...

God, just the sight of her face made my world feel like it was good again. Tim didn’t have a leg to stand on with his accusations. I’m betting that he’s looked through some sketchy details and drawn his own conclusions. The fact of the matter is that he’s not far off the mark. And that scares the shit out of me. If he’s figured it out so quickly, it’s only a matter of time before I’m dealing with scrutiny from the cops as well as the Bufords of the world.

Fuck it!

What am I going to do now? Part of me wants to get the hell out of town. Pack my bags, collect Austin and Arielle, and leave on the next plane out of this place. How the hell can I do that now? I saw how spooked she was when I introduced the idea the first time. I realize that was totally out of left field – even for me. But I know the only reason she’s willing to consider a future with me is that I promised to take the pressure off of her. How can I blame her? I’ve never had a serious relationship, but I’m pretty sure I would have bailed if I was facing demands like this.

Right now, things between us are as fragile as frost on a windowpane. Just a hint of heat is going to melt the tenuous connection we share. Yet, as delicate as it is, I can’t remember when anything had such a strong hold on my heart. I won’t do anything to jeopardize it…even if it means risking my freedom.

I finally head to the kitchen and reach for a bottle of bourbon; if nothing else, it’ll take the edge off my frayed nerves. I’ve just poured a shot and I’m about to take a mouthful when my phone rings. I glance at the screen as the first sip tingles across my lips. I don’t recognize the number...maybe it’s Arielle calling from work.

“Hey,” I say, trying not to sound too eager.

“Hey, cocksucker,” a gravelly voice grinds out from the other side, and I have to stop myself from choking.

Jesus...it’s fucking Buford.

“What do you want?” I ask, thanking years of being on the stage for giving me the ability to hold my voice steady.

“Oh, I think you know exactly what I want, motherfucker,” he responds, the words slithering through the line like a snake. “I think you know what I want, and I think you know that you’d better give it back to me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say.Christ, Samuel, is that all you’ve got?

There’s a mirthless chuckle on the other end. “Let’s not play that fucking game, Colt. I want my diamond back. And I want it tonight.”

My mind is racing. How the hell do I tell him that’s not going to happen? The kid I gave it to has either figured out what it’s worth and flogged it, or he’s spent the week playing marbles with the thing.

“I don’t—” I begin, but Buford cuts me off.

“Stop wasting my time, you slimy piece of shit,” he snarls. “I want my fucking diamond back. And if I don’t have that shining stone in my fucking hands by midnight, I’m going to have something else in my hands...something with sweet little tits and pretty red hair.”

My sharp intake of air is so loud it’s impossible to disguise. Buford hears me and gives a lurid chuckle.

“Oh yeah, Colt…I think you’re getting the picture now, am I right?” he sneers. I’m too shaken to reply. “So bring me my diamond, motherfucker. Or me –andmy men – are gonna find out whether your little piece of ass is arealredhead. You get my drift?”

The call may have ended, but I don’t look down to confirm it. Glass smashes into shards around my feet as I drop the tumbler and race for the door. There’s no way I’m going to find that fucking diamond tonight. No way in hell.

I sprint out to my car without bothering to lock up the house behind me.

I have to get to Arielle. I have to get to her now!

End