Hi guys! Here is chapter 9. Not much to say, except a huge thanks for those of you who reviewed. It's a bit crazy, I never thought that reviews mattered, but now that I am the writer, I can attest to the fact that they do actually matter alot! So thanks! Oh, also. The rating for thing will probably change after this chapter. I think we are headed into M territory, folks. So stay tuned for that. Anyway, happy reading!
Filip found himself sitting alone in his living room, the morning sun shining through the front window. God, he was exhausted. He couldn't quite remember the last time he had slept well. He had made the excuse that he wanted to get some more ammo from his place, but really, he just wanted some quiet. He was not, in fact, digging through giant boxes of ammunition, but instead he was sitting on his couch, his cell phone in one hand, and the printed out picture of his family in the other. He knew that there were about a thousand things he should be doing, but here he was.
They were going on lockdown. The clubhouse would be full of people and his goal for the day was to ensure that his wife was one of those people. What that would look like, he didn't know. But he had to see her safe, no matter what. It had, very recently, become pretty clear to him that, despite his best efforts, he still wasn't over her. Putting his feelings for her aside would have been one thing, if he knew that she was safe and happy, but as he was one hundred percent sure that she was neither, he had to do something.
He let out a deep breath. He was nervous, which was not, unfortunately, an unfamiliar feeling for him when it came to Fiona. Here he was, a grown man, sitting nervously at home mentally preparing himself to call a girl. Christ, he felt like he was fourteen all over again.
"Fuck it," he said out loud, picking up the bottle of whiskey on his coffee table and taking a swig as he dialed the number. It rang nine times before she picked up.
"Hello, Joan," came her voice on the other end.
"Fi," he said. "I take it that you are not alone."
"That's right. California is lovely. It's very hot here," she said.
"Listen Fi, I need you to come meet me. I have to talk to you, and it has to be alone. Do you think that you can get away from your guard?"
"That sounds fine. What time is it over there anyway? Traveling has obviously dulled my senses; I can't even remember the time difference."
"Can you make it by noon? There is a rest stop out off of I-9 about 3 miles past that bar. Think you can find it okay?"
"Aye, well thank you for calling. Take care of yourself, I will see you soon."
He wondered how she would manage to get away. He wondered how she would react to his request. He wondered if she would hit him. He wondered how she would look, smell, and yes, taste. He wondered if he would be able to keep himself in check. He wondered when…fuck! He wondered when he became such a pussy.
He got up and began compulsively straightening the books on his bookshelf. His small house was unnaturally quiet. It wasn't much-a couple of bedrooms, bathroom, kitchen, living room-but it was his and he liked it just fine. Most people wouldn't guess, but he was almost obsessively neat. He finished straightening, and then proceeded to frantically dust, vacuum, and, as an added bonus, alphabetize his DVD collection. He was desperate for anything that would keep his mind occupied.
It worked. He knew that he should leave to go meet Fiona. She was a fan of promptness, and she would be at least a little annoyed if he was late. He figured he was going to annoy her more than enough as it was, he didn't want to add fuel to the fire. But he did, however, take two minutes to brush his teeth before he left. Just in case.