Hot Shot (Chapter 33)

Chapter 33-Jennifer



She was falling. The gut wrenching motion sent her arms flailing. She felt the pain in her shoulder as she hit the floor and the claustrophobic panic as she tangled with her sheets and blankets.

Her father’s words rang in her head. ‘Always have a plan. Think through as many scenarios as you can and what you would do. Come out swinging and ask questions later.’

Her fingers curled around the bat she had hidden under her bed. She pulled the covers aside and leapt to her feet swinging the bat for all she was worth. It whooshed through the air and she swung it back the other way.

“Hey careful with that thing,” a male voice yelped.

Her grip tightened on the bat as she narrowed her eyes.

“Toby, Toby Wenckowski is that you?” she asked. “What the heck were you thinking? Are you a complete idiot?”

He stretched out his arms and took a step toward her.

“Aren’t you going to give your old buddy a hug?”

“Get out of my room!” She walked toward him with the bat raised thankful she had gone to bed in a t-shirt and sweats instead of just her t-shirt. “You think that I would even give the time of day to the guy who just tossed me out of my bed and jerked my best friend around?”

“Ancient history, Gopher,” he smiled as she felt herself cringe.

“If you ever call me Gopher again I will slit you from crotch to eyeball with a dull dear antler.”

She felt the anger bubble in her head when she looked at this sorry excuse for a human being. His dirty blonde hair had been in a buzz cut since he was in the ROTC in high school. He was short for a police officer only about five and a half feet tall but he had kept himself lean. His face was unremarkable but somehow he thought he was God’s gift to women.

She pushed him out of her bedroom door and shut it in his stuttering face. She missed her cell phone because right now she wanted to call her father and give him a piece of her mind for putting Toby on her guard detail. The man was an idiot. He somehow thought all women were fair game and conveniently forgot about his poor mouse of a wife at home.

This house had been impounded in a drug sting. What once had been the personal residence of a local drug king pin was now one of the safe houses the police used. The master bedroom was huge but decorated in surprisingly moderate taste; a beautiful cherry bedroom suit with high back head board, two night stands, a chest of drawers and a dresser with tri-fold mirrors. A sitting room led into the master bathroom with tiled multi-headed shower and garden Jacuzzi bathtub. The sitting room had a tread mill and a lounging chair.

She looked around the room and made a mental list of things she would need to survive being sequestered; movies, books, yarn and a crochet hook to start with. Her brother, Toby’s wife was due to have her third baby in a few months and would need some receiving blankets. Her lawyer had also suggested writing out all she could remember of her time with her con-artist ex-boyfriend, Peter. It had seemed too painful to start a few weeks ago but maybe now she could muscle through it.

Wallowing in self pity as she had been for the past two days now seemed counterproductive. She was a Warren she would rise above this. There were things she couldn’t do anything about and she wouldn’t waste anymore energy on those things.

A good run on the treadmill and a shower were the next order of business. A laundry basket sitting on the dresser caught her eye. Toby must have brought it in when he came to wake her up. It was filled with some of her clothes, neatly folded, from home. Jennifer wondered if her mother had thought to put any movies in the bottom of the basket. She removed the clothes and set them on the bed.

Her hand trembled as she reached into the basket once again and touched the mail tube. It was addressed to her New York address and as she turned it she saw suet smudged on one side. She knew what was in it but how had it gotten to Ohio. She pulled the stopper out of the end and gently removed the rolled up picture. Blake’s face peeked out from behind his bicep. Tears sprung to her eyes and her knees gave out so she sat on the edge of the bed. Her mother had somehow gotten the door-sized poster she had made of Blake back from New York and stashed in the clothes basket.

“I’m going to kill her,” Jennifer said out loud. “Then I’m going to kiss her.”

She dashed the tears from her eyes and slowly rolled the picture to its full length on her bed. That’s when she saw the paper taped to the bottom of the picture. She gently pulled it off as she read.



Jen,

Don’t be mad at your mom, I coerced her into helping me. It is going to kill me not to be able to communicate with you somehow. I ache for our late night phone calls and the sound of your voice but since I can’t talk to you I will find ways to let you know I miss you and think of you. So write to me. Write to me every day. Tell me what you are thinking and feeling, your hopes and dreams. Tell me how you love me and why you love me.

You are the air I breathe and food for my soul. I will always love you. 

Blake

PS. Hang this on your bedroom door and dream of me.



He loved her beyond reason. She had to find some tape. She rummaged through the drawers in her bedroom and when she couldn’t find any. She went out into the kitchen to look.

She was flinging open the kitchen drawers.

“What are you looking for maybe I can help,” Toby said from the door way of the kitchen.

“Tape, I need some tape.” She held it up in triumph as she pulled it out of the drawer. She walked over grabbed a kitchen chair and began dragging it to her bedroom.

“I can carry that for you,” Toby volunteered.

“I’ve got it.”

She shut the door on his face when he tried to follow her into the bedroom.

“I can help,” he said through the door.

“Not a chance,” she retorted.

She pushed the chair to the door then picked the picture off the bed. Tape in one hand picture in the other she climbed up on the chair. Once the picture was secure on the top she looked down into Blake’s one eye and smiled. Thank heavens for guilty pleasures and inappropriate moms. She climbed down moved the chair and finished taping the picture to the door. She stepped back to survey her work and felt her heart swell. She stepped forward and rested her cheek against the picture of his chest.

“I love you, Blake Hudson,” she whispered.

“Where you talking to me,” the voice came through the door.

“Not a chance, Toby, not a chance.”

‘I’m going to be an orphan,’ she thought, ‘cause I’m going to kill my dad for putting that idiot on my guard detail.’