[chapter eight]
Disclaimer: If you've heard of them, I don't own them. Everything else is mine, so no stealing, pretty please. ;-)
This story is gonna be darker, and deal with serious, sometimes disturbing
issues. Just so everyone knows. Okay? Okay.
**
~Faye's POV~
"Hi."
"Hi."
Well, this is going well.
"Come on in." Jimmie says with a warm smile. "I made coffee. Regular or decaf?"
"You made both?" I ask with a smile.
"Uh. Yeah." He says sheepishly. "I didn't know which you would want."
"Leaded would be great." I say, sitting down on the couch he gestured to as he hurries to the kitchen, returning moments later with two steaming mugs. "Thanks." I say softly as he hands it to me.
"So. Uh. How are you?" He asks after a moment of silence.
He wants me to talk about…about it.
I'm not going to.
Not today.
Someday, maybe. Not today.
"I'm good. I have an idea I wanted to talk to you about." I say, taking a deep breath.
"Shoot." He says, settling back onto the cushions and watching me.
Searching me. For evidence. I know it.
"I was thinking…I was thinking that maybe I could start writing regular columns for you. Maybe for your website…or the Lowe's employees? Just what you've been up to? Interesting things you do away from the track? Might be nice for your fans."
Might be nice for me.
To see you with a good reason.
Often.
And without Matt freaking out.
Maybe not freaking out.
He considers for a moment, his head cocked to one side. Slowly, he nods with a smile. "I like that idea. I don't really have anything very personal like that right now. Can I afford you?" He teases with a grin.
"I'll give you a cut rate." I grin in return, my heart soaring at his words.
Maybe this could work after all.
"Let's do it. Tell me what you'd like from me." He says easily and I take a sip of my coffee, pleased that he liked my idea.
"Okay, how about we start with…"
**
An hour later, I screech when I look down at my watch. "Omigod, Jimmie, I gotta go!" I say, standing up abruptly.
Matt's going to be home soon.
I have to go.
I have to be there when he gets home.
I have to tell him about this.
Somehow.
"Okay, okay. No worries. Stop by the shop this week, and we'll get started." He says, following me to the door. "Hey, listen, Faye…"
"Yeah?" I ask, turning to face him.
Jimmie regards me for a moment before he speaks, his voice icy and serious. "If he does it again, I'm calling the cops. No question about it."
I can only nod my head once before I fly out the front door.
And away from his gaze.