Overture (Rain Dance, Book 1) (Rain Dance Series) (50 page)

     
"Well,
since you've already been tracking me…it's a moot point."

     
He shook his
head. "I mean an actual tracking device. I can't really count on your
phone - unless I give you a new one that's already been set up properly."

     
"I rarely
go out except to come here. Today's outing was one of the rare exceptions. I
know I suggested it, but…what's the point?" It's not like it'd prevent
someone from actually killing me.

     
"It would
put my mind at ease…some."

     
I sighed. I
guess I wasn't entirely uncomfortable with the idea. It wasn't as though I had
anything to hide. Also, phone app aside, I was grateful that he was asking for
my permission. Glancing up, I found him watching me with patient, waiting eyes.
"If it makes you feel better, then fine," I agreed. Truthfully, I
might end up feeling a little safer, too. Immediately, Ethan relaxed upon
hearing my words. I stood up and walked over towards him. His arms opened
automatically and he took me onto his lap. "So how exactly are you going
to track me?"

     
"You'll
find out soon enough."

     
When he started
placing soft kisses all along the side of my face and down my neck, I found
myself smiling so hard that my cheeks began to hurt. I tried to hide it within
the crook of his neck. I felt loved. It was a very strange, unbelievably warm
feeling. But part of me felt a bit undeserving. Perhaps that was why it felt so
odd.

     
We sat there
for another ten minutes until he had to get back to work. I let him know that I
planned on working until late and would see him again the next day. Then I had
to remind him that I was a grown woman who could get myself home just fine.

     
When I returned
to my workspace, I eagerly began taking out my new supplies. The biggest pain
that came with painting the ceiling was the fact that I had to wait at least an
hour for the paint to dry completely before I could add another layer, which
meant that it would take a trillion times longer to get things done. Okay,
maybe not
quite
that long, but still - a pretty long time. Add in the
fact that this was going to be a major trial-and-error-as-I-go kind of
project…Yes, I was in for a very long journey.

     
I put on my
apron, pulled my hair back, played some music, and carefully carried all the
supplies I would need to the top of the scaffold. Now that I had two pillows, I
could lay comfortably on my back and reach the top while I worked. My arms
would definitely begin to strain after a while, but luckily I was used to
holding them up from all the dancing I did.

     
As time passed,
I began to see that trial-and-error didn't even begin to cover it. In the first
few hours I'd learned that some colors had much better transparency than
others. I was surprised to find that white had some of the least, but I guess
that was a fail on my part. Even so, I was alright with that fact as it would
come in handy when trying to give the clouds some depth. Then, I was happy to
learn that by using water I could almost control just how transparent certain
colors would be. This trick was useful when trying to figure out how I would
paint multiple blue layers for the underwater effect.

     
What I
wasn't
happy to learn was that most of the paint would end up drying into a very dull
smudge of color. Not only was I going to have to add texture to practically the
entire surface, but I was going to have to be downright meticulous with every
single inch. I wanted to die right then and there.

     
If I completed
it and it turned out perfectly…would it be worth fifty thousand dollars? Probably
not. I didn't know how anything could ever be worth
that
much. But I
reminded myself of how fortunate I was and kept going.

     
I had to start
out in very small sections. I couldn't simply do a base and then paint over it
like I had on the walls. I wouldn't be able to outline with chalk, either.
Crayon was an option, but that would be hard to wash off, not to mention it
might ruin the paint. A marker would look downright ugly…Perhaps pencil would
work - if it could manage to show up at all.

     
After some
experimenting, I found that the pencil did, in fact, show up, though just
barely. I would have to trace one cherub at a time, working on all the parts
separately. Since I only needed the water to be transparent, I decided to go
ahead and paint like I normally would when it came to the little childish
faces. Then I remembered the little issue of having to wait before I could
apply different layers. So…I would also have to work on every color separately.
Heaven help me.

     
Hours passed
before I checked the clock again, in desperate need of a break. It was almost
seven. I was glad that I had bought a bunch of snacks, as I probably wouldn't
be going home at all tonight - not at the rate things were going. It wasn't
until I was about to call Dale for some food when I remembered that I hadn't
charged my phone yet. I replaced it with my iPod, letting it recharge on the
dock.

     
Wait a
minute…Were guests even allowed at this time?
Both Samantha and Patricia
had already left. Zach, too, probably. Did another security guard come to take
his place? I think I remembered reading that the building closed at eleven in
the rules and regulations sheet. But since no one was allowed back here, could
I still get kicked out? Would anyone even know if I decided to stay here
overnight? Ethan would if he bothered using my phone to track me.

     
I pulled out
various bags of candies, chocolates, chips, dried fruits, peanuts, and some
beef jerky. Then I whined in despair at the knowledge that my face would end up
swollen for the next few days if I gave in to temptation. Normally I wouldn't
care, but now that I had a gorgeous being of a man, I wanted to look as healthy
as possible.
Woe is me.
I never would've thought a man could keep me
from enjoying the pleasures of life. Then again, said man was the only one
capable of giving me the greatest pleasure that life had to offer.

     
I ended up
eating only two chocolates, a few Starbursts, and the entire bag of dried
fruits. As soon as I was done, I switched back to my iPod so I could continue
listening to music. Then it was back to work.

     
The sugar
definitely helped get me back into the mood of painting. I had energy again.
But overtime, it slowly diminished until I could no longer hold my arms up. My
head felt fuzzy and my back ached. I needed to lay down on something soft. I
climbed off the scaffold and checked the time again. It was eleven twenty-four.
Quietly, I opened the door and peeked my head out. It was silent, just as it
always was. But it was also dark. The air was entirely different. It was
electric. I slipped out and headed to the bathroom, using the wall as a guide.
I felt a thrill as shivers raced up my spine. Here I was, alone, all the way up
at the top, in the most hidden corners of a very large building. Ethan's
building.

     
I took my time
washing my face, neck, and arms. The walk back was a little creepier, which
made it all the more fun. Ethan was right when he'd said I had a thing for
spookiness. Then again, I felt safe here, so of course that made all the
difference.

     
As soon as I
returned, I began inspecting the ceiling. I'd made fairly good progress for the
first day. If I could just manage to keep it up, then I was sure that the
finished picture would be beautiful. I was done for tonight, though. Exhaling
loudly, I looked around, wondering what to do next. I didn't want to head down
- not since it was already past the time that I should have been out. That
would be like turning myself in. So would I attempt to sleep here?
Or should
I try the break room?
The break room
did
have a sofa, which would
put my back at ease again. I didn't mind the idea of sleeping in here, though.
I also felt safer when surrounded by the angels.

     
I sighed.
What
to do?

     
My aching body
chose for me.
Break room it is.

     
Setting my
phone onto the small coffee table, I nestled into the sofa facing the window
wall. It was where Ethan usually sat, and I felt comfortable knowing that he
had been there not too long ago. I had with me both pillows, the blanket, the
fluffy lavender rabbit, and a bagful of snacks. I munched on them slowly until
I felt at ease enough to try and go to sleep.

I
was dreaming. Running through a building with familiar marble flooring.
The
Luxadigm?
The lights were dim, offering just enough to help me find my way
around.
Don't stop running. Keep going.
I ran through a giant set of
double doors and came to a magnificently large, rectangular space. It was lined
with columns, the paneled walls covered with intricate detailing. Just like a
ballroom. In the center of the space was a big empty chair. No…It was more like
a throne. It was ominous to me, though I wasn't sure why. Noticing a small
movement from behind it, I suddenly realized that someone was standing there,
about to reveal themselves.

     
I ran.
Up. I
need to get higher.
There were no stairs and no elevators, but I knew I was
somehow managing to make my way up the floors.

     
The higher up I
went, the dimmer the lights became. Some areas had no light at all.
Don't go
there. Stay away from the dark places.
I was supposed to be safer the
higher I went, right? So why was I only becoming even more fearful?

     
Eventually, I came to a stop. There were only two paths
in front of me - both were dark. That was when I heard the footsteps. I was
being chased.
Sixty-six. Get to that floor. Now.
Left being my favorite
side, I decided to go down that path. It ran in a long, straight line that
seemed to go on forever. But in the far distance I could see a small light, and
just underneath it was a door. I ran even faster.

     
I wasn't alone
anymore. They had caught up to me - the men in the black suits. Only they
weren't chasing me…they seemed to be running
with
me. Of course. They
were
my
men. They kept a close distance behind me, as though they were
trying to prevent whatever
was
chasing me from catching up completely.

     
Finally, I
neared the door. I didn't hesitate, as soon as it was within reach I had it
open and was already inside.

     
It was an
office. I was alone, locked in. But I was safe. Leaning back against the door,
I breathed out evenly. When I felt something in my hand, I raised it, only to
find that I was holding a gun.
What am I protecting myself from?

     
"Angel."

     
I jumped and
looked around, surprised to hear Ethan's voice. He stood across the room from
me.
How? How had he gotten in?
That seemed to be the most important
question.
How the fuck did he manage to sneak in without anyone noticing?
I didn't understand why I was so confused - or so angry, but I was. But more
than that…I was afraid.
Game over. He found me.

     
I woke up with
a start to the sound of my phone ringing, the fear from the dream still
lingering inside of me. With shaky hands, I reached for it, already knowing who
it was.
How is his timing so perfect?

     
"
Kitten
."

     
One word and I
felt safe again. This was the
real
Ethan. "…Spooky."

     
"What?"

     
"Um…"
I didn't know what to say. I just wanted to be in his arms. Or in my bed.
Anywhere that didn't involve large buildings and multiple floors.
That's
what you get for sleeping in this place.

     
"What are
you doing?"

     
"Well, I
was
sleeping," I answered in a small voice.

     
"Hm."
He paused before speaking again. "I meant to call you last night, but
I…may or may not have fallen asleep while watching TV."

     
"
Last
night
?" I looked around at my pitch black surrounding, confused. Had I
entered
The Twilight Zone
? "What time is it?"

     
"Almost
five in the morning," he answered before continuing with his story,
"Naturally, I ended up waking a little sooner than planned. I only wanted
to make sure that you were safe at home. So imagine my surprise when I see that
it says you're still in the building. After our little conversation, I know you
wouldn't forget your phone. So tell me, Kitten…what are you doing sleeping in
my building?"

     
"Um."
I took a few seconds to put my thoughts together. "…I'm an artist, you
know. We don't always stick to schedules. I'm beginning the climax of my
masterpiece. It's a very grueling stage. Twists and turns. Very
trial-and-error. If I stuck to normal working hours, I would never get it done.
I just thought it would be safer to stay here than to chance getting caught
while trying to leave past the closing time."

     
"And it
didn't occur to you that it might be unsafe
there
? That anyone could
slip by, knock you over the head, tie you up, and have their wicked way with
you?"

     
"The
things that go through your mind, Mr. Desmond." I shook my head and then
remembered something. "Hey, does someone take Zach's spot when he
leaves?"

     
"Yes. The
elevator is guarded until two, when all security leaves and the entire building
goes into automatic lockdown. No one's allowed in or out - no one but me, of
course."

     
"When does
it open?"

     
"Six."

     
"...I'm
not going to jail, am I?"

     
"I suppose
I could let you off the hook just this once."

     
"Good,
because I'd be very disappointed if I couldn't finish my job."

     
"As would
I. Are you ready to go home, then?"

     
"No. I'm
not going home yet, not until I get some more work done."

     
"I won't
allow you to overwork yourself."

     
I chuckled.
"I'd hardly call it overworking. Anyway, you can't interfere with the
process. I'm in the zone right now. Although…if you'd like to help, you could
maybe…I don't know, possibly bring me some breakfast?"

     
"Did you
eat dinner?" His voice was grim.

     
"…I ate
lots of magic."

     
"Christ.
Anything else you need? Clothes?"

     
"You don't
have to go out of your way-"

     
"Is that a
bump I feel? I think it is."

     
"Fine,
fine. And since you're offering, a bar of soap would be nice. I wouldn't mind
washing up some."
Since the liquid soap dispensers here are basically
useless.

     
"With bar
soap? And where were you planning on finding water?"

     
"The sink,
of course."
Duh.

     
"…Are you
serious?"

     
"It's the
way of the artist.
Vivre une vie de hobo
."

     
"I'm
fairly certain your version of hobo does not exist in French. In your case, it would
probably be
bohème
."

     
"Such a knowledgeable
man," I grinned.

     
"You can
use the shower in my office. I'll be there in a few. Are you in the break
room?"

     
He had a shower
in his office? "Yes."

     
"Stay
there."

     
"Understood, sir."

     
The sun had
just started to come out by the time he arrived. It was cold in the building
and I'd had to bundle up in my blanket of fluff. He looked me over once, the
edge of his mouth curving upwards.

     
"Hey,
Spook," I greeted him.

     
He raised an
eyebrow. "
Spook
?"

     
I nodded.
"That's you now."

     
"...Why?"

     
Yawning, I
shook my head.

     
He tilted his
head to the side and then held out his hand. "Come. Douglas will bring the
food and clothes in a little while. Let's get you in the shower."

     
Ah, so it's
poor Douglas who has to go out of his way for me again.
With a sigh, I
kicked off my cocoon of warmth.

     
I was surprised
by just how nice the bathroom in Ethan's office was. The shower itself was
larger than my own back at the apartment - it was possibly even larger than
Dale's, which was part of the master bathroom. Its door was made entirely of
thin, clear glass, which left me feeling slightly exposed. Instead of a normal
valve handle, it contained a wall console with multiple buttons that made
little sense to me. Ethan had to show me how to get the warm water going. It
felt unbelievably good -
so
good that I ended up just standing there for
a few minutes, completely forgetting why I was there in the first place. But eventually
I began washing myself with Ethan's shampoo and body wash. I smiled with glee.
It was as though I would be wearing his scent on me, an idea which I liked very
much.

     
I was finishing
the last bits of rinsing out my hair when Ethan entered with a large bag. The
heat of the water had caused most of the glass to be covered in a mist of
steam, but he kept his eyes on me, hot and heavy, with a slight smirk as he set
the bag onto the counter. I stared back at him and turned the water off before
ringing out my hair. Seconds later, he opened the glass door and held a large
towel open for me. His gaze left me wanting. That this man could look at me
like that at all still amazed me. I bit my lip, wishing I could put him in my
mouth here and now.

     
"Come on.
Before the food gets cold." His voice was strained, as though he knew what
I was thinking. Smiling widely, I did as he said.

     
I was very
happy with the clothes Douglas had brought. The mint-colored top was long and
flowy and just my style, as was the off-white sweater to wear over it. And I
was extremely impressed by how well the jeans fit. I'd had enough trouble
finding myself a pair that could fit without being too tight or too long.

     
Rather than eat
breakfast at the conference table, we sat where we had during my interview. I
would've been just peachy with an Egg McMuffin, but I was happy to eat whatever
there was. I couldn't help but laugh when I saw what Ethan had chosen. Waffles
with whipped cream and real strawberries, perfectly crisp bacon, and orange
juice. I had to admit, it was much better than my own microwave version.

      
Before
anyone could see me leave his office, I decided to let him start his day of
meetings and phone calls and email checking and all that other jazz. Neither of
us really wanted to say goodbye, but we did. Not before having a tiny make out
session on the sofa, of course.