The Midnight Tour

Rushing in behind her, Clyde jerked the door shut. It slammed the daylight out.

Dana could hardly see the stairway through the murky gloom.

“Sorry,” Clyde said. “Do you need the light?”

“This is fine.”

“Could we talk for a minute?”

“I need to get upstairs.” She put a hand on the newel post and stepped onto the first stair.

“Nobody’ll be in here for another five minutes, at least. So don’t run off, all right?”

She climbed a few more stairs, anxious to get away from him.

Wait. Why not hear what he has to say?

Ask him a few questions.

Dana stopped and turned around. Clyde came toward her.

“Stay down there, okay? We can talk, but don’t try to come up.”

He halted. “Is this all right?”

“Fine. What do you want, Clyde?”

“I want us to be friends.”

“Friends. Right.”

Spreading his muscular arms, he said, “There’s still time.”

“Sure.”

“Do you already have another engagement planned for tonight?”

She realized that her heart was pounding fast.

“No, I don’t,” she said. “As a matter of fact, I didn’t have one last night, either. I just didn’t want to go out with you.”

“So you lied.”

“That’s right.”

“Shame on you.”

“I know. I hate lies. That’s why I’m leveling with you now. You and I are co-workers. I’d like for us to be friends, but I have no intention of going out with you.”

“Ah, the old ‘co-workers’ ploy.”

“It’s not a ploy.”

“Sure it is. It’s just a handy excuse. Why don’t you just come right out and say that you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Your dear friend Lynn has probably told you all sorts of terrible lies about me. She can’t stand that I dumped her. Oh, she was absolutely nuts about me. She couldn’t get enough of me. She was insatiable. We even did it right here inside Beast House. Countless times. In every room. Even in the attic. Even in the cellar.”

“Yeah, right.”

“She had to have me over and over again. I drove her crazy with lust. And with jealousy. She was so jealous, so possessive. I finally couldn’t stand it any longer. The accusations. Groundless accusations. She thought I was fucking Sharon. She even accused me of seducing Rhonda. Rhonda! Can you believe it? Can you imagine, for one moment, that I would be interested in having sex with that childish, stupid pig?”

“Knock it off now.”

“God only knows what sort of lies Lynn’s been telling you. And you probably believe her. Hell, why wouldn’t you? She’s your best friend. In your eyes, I’m sure she can do no wrong.”

“I wouldn’t go that fu.”

“I’m not a bad person. Even she didn’t think so. She thought I was great. That’s why she hates me so much now.”

“I think there’s at least one more reason she hates you.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re a fuckwad.”

While standing on the stairs, Dana’s eyes had adjusted to the dim light. She was able to see Clyde’s lips tighten into a thin, angry line.

She turned her back to him and climbed the stairs.

“You’ll change your tune,” he called.

She didn’t answer, just kept climbing.

“You don’t know what you’re missing.”

She said nothing.

“You get a taste of me, you won’t be able to get enough. None of them can. You’ll be begging for more.”

At the top of the stairs, she turned to the right and started walking down the hallway.

“Don’t let the beast get you!” Clyde yelled.

“Thanks for the warning,” Dana called. “Have a nice day.”

She heard him mutter a word. It had only one syllable. Though she couldn’t quite make it out, she was fairly sure that she knew what it was.

“What a charmer.” she whispered.

Then she smiled but couldn’t stop trembling.

Chapter Twenty-seven

SANDY’S STORY—July, 1992

“Looks like we’ll have the beach to ourselves,” Sandy said, seeing no cars parked at the end of the dirt road.

“I certainly hope so,” Blaze said. “I have my heart set.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

He turned his Silverado around, then stopped it. They both climbed out and unloaded the gear.

“You carry the cooler and easel, if you will. I’ll take the rest.”

“Right,” Sandy said. She always carried the cooler and easel. Blaze always carried his canvases, paint box, and a full backpack. And he always insisted that Sandy walk in front of him, even though he was the one choosing the destinations.

“It allows me time,” he had told her, “to reacquaint myself with your form and flow.”

Sandy had left her own clothes back at his house, and now wore the blue silk dress that she’d found waiting for her in the guest room. Low cut in front and back, its top was held up by thin, wispy straps. The fabric of the dress, nearly weightless, felt like cool fluid against her skin.

Though she never let Blaze know when she might be coming to his house, he was always ready with a fabulous new costume for her. And she always gladly changed into it right away, even if they would be going no farther than his upstairs studio.

The garments never failed to be beautiful, clingy and revealing. Some were barely decent.

Like this one.

Not only was it semi-transparent, but its skirt was at the mercy of the wind.

The wind flipped it up as she bent over to lift the cooler.

“Oh, lovely,” Blaze commented.

“Dirty old man,” she said.

“Old? Bite your tongue!”

She stood up straight, the easel resting on her right shoulder. The cooler, down by her side, pulled at her left arm.

She supposed it contained the usual picnic lunch of cheese, Italian salami, crackers, grapes, and two bottles of Champagne.