The Weird Travels of Aimee Schmidt: The Curse of the Gifted (34 page)

“I know, Dad,” she began, but stopped to wipe the corner of her eye. The words stuck in her throat. Finally she could feel the air slide down her throat and she spurted the words out before it closed again. “Dad, I love you.”

“Love you, too, sweetheart.”

Back at the house she tried to sneak in so Zonker wouldn’t bark and wake up Dylan, but he was already up and sitting on the edge of the couch cushion putting on a shoe. He glanced up and beamed. His beautiful eyes twinkled when he saw her, and Aimee's black mood lifted. Her heart fluttered
instantly.
God, he’s gorgeous!
she thought.

“Hey, how come you didn’t wake me up so I could go with you?”

“You were sleeping so soundly. You looked too peaceful to bother just to run me up there and back for only fifteen minutes.” Aimee scooted in between the coffee table and Dylan, then reached over to snatch his other shoe. He took it from her and set it down on the couch, then before she could blink he swung his arms around her waist and tugged her backwards into his lap. He tightened his arms like tentacles on an octopus and rested his chin on Aimee's shoulder. “Dylan, I can’t breathe!” She giggled while he cruised his lips softly down the side of her neck.

“Mmmm,” he said, “you taste delicious!”

“Geez, Dylan, what’s with you?” Aimee laughed nervously and pretended to struggle against his clutch.

“Nothing. I just had the most awesome dream with you in it,” he professed, “and I wish it could come true…”

“Don’t tell me,” Aimee interrupted with a serious tone.

“Why not? It was freakin’ amazing.”

“Cuz, don’t you know? If you tell a dream it won’t come true.”

“Oh yeah? Says who?”

“I don’t know. I guess it’s just an ol' wives' tale.” She pried his arms apart, flipped around, and straddled across his lap, and then attached her body to his. Her lips stopped an inch from his. “I was thinking on the way back from the hospital that we…” Her voice trailed off.

“We…we
what
?”

“Well, we
are
here all alone with nothing or no one else to bother us for a couple of hours until
Chels comes over. I guess I was thinking maybe we could pick up where we left off earlier this morning when we were interrupted.” The heat between their welded bodies kept Aimee from trembling. She felt all jittery inside, bones turned to mush, just like when she had to get up in front of a crowded room to speak. But this time she wasn’t stopping. Aimee wasn’t waiting for his permission. She sailed her lips to his cheek and and began to lightly kiss it, then continued slowly towards his ear. She took the tip of her tongue and gently ran it along his lobe, tracing the contours of his ear, before bringing her lips back to his cheekbone and giving him a tender kiss. His body tensed and Aimee felt his heart pound. Suddenly his hands cruised down her back to her hips. He inched his fingers slightly under her shirt.

“God, Aimee,” he moaned softly. Aimee continued grazing her lips along his temple up to his forehead, intentionally pausing every few seconds to savor his soft flesh until she reached the other side of his face. Then she eased back to stare into his dreamy eyes. They were dark with desire. Their lips instantly crashed together and their hands moved wildly across each other’s body. They melted together onto the couch. Aimee's mending rib never once entered her mind. Dylan kicked off his shoe with his other foot, his lips never leaving hers for a second. Just as he slid his hand under her shirt to
the top of her bra, it happened again. This time it was
his
phone that rang. Both breathlessly shot up
into sitting.

“Dammit!” he cursed, then yanked his cell phone from his jeans' front pocket and dropped it onto the coffee table.

“Ignore it!” ordered Aimee.

Before pressing his lips back to hers, he glanced over at his phone on the table, and then sud
denly untethered his body.
“Crap…crap…CRAAAP!”
he snarled. He leaned across Aimee and reached
for his phone. It had stopped ringing, but a message lit up the screen.

“What?!” she exclaimed and grabbed his shirt with two fists trying her best to pull his body back to hers. But his arm continued towards the phone.

“Sorry, but I better answer this. It’s Paul. He never calls unless it is
really
important. I hope
nothing’s wrong with Mom.”

Aimee squirmed up onto the sofa pillow and sighed, then raked her loose hair back out of her face. She tugged her shirt down. Dylan scooted to the end of the couch to make his call.

“Paul,” Dylan began when his stepfather answered, “what’s wrong? Is Mom okay?” There was tension in his voice while he quizzed Paul.

Silence.

“Oh, good. I got worried for a second. So, what’s up? You back already?”

Silence.

“Yes, sir. Aimee and I went to eat first, then to the prom. We went over to Trent’s after we left there, then back to the house where I switched cars. Why?”

Silence.

Aimee sat up, drew her legs against her chest and rested her chin on her knees. Dylan’s jaw suddenly turned rigid and his eyes narrowed into little slits. He rubbed his eyebrows nervously with his fingers, then leaned forward with his arms propped on his legs. Aimee keyed into Dylan's side of the conversation.

“No, sir. I didn’t see that.”

Silence.

“But I’m not sure how it happened…or even where…”

Silence.

“Yes, sir. I’ll be there in a bit.” Dylan ended the call and threw the phone onto the recliner. “Motherfu…” he started to hiss, but stopped before all of the word slipped out. He glanced over at Aimee. Fire spewed from his usually cool, brown eyes.

Aimee touched his arm. “What’s wrong?”

“Some asshole left a
message
to us on the back of Paul’s SUV. He’s really pissed. I need to get
home.”

“Omigod, Dylan, what did it say?” The anxiety in Dylan’s voice told Aimee it couldn’t be good.

“On the hatch, scratched into the paint, it said ‘
DT+AS die motherfuckers’
."

Her mouth dropped open matching her round, wide eyes. “Omigod! Dylan, I didn’t…I mean, we didn’t see that last night. Who would have done that?”

“I’m not sure, but I have a feeling who it
might
be,” he answered gruffly, then he grabbed both
of his shoes from under the coffee table. It took two seconds for him to pull them on and tie the laces.

Dylan jumped up from the couch, whipped up his phone and stuffed it into his jeans’ pocket. He spun around and yanked up Aimee off the couch into his arms. His tone changed a bit as he held her, but his body still felt angry.

“I’m sorry, babe, but I’m afraid I’m gonna have to take a rain check. You just remember where we left off so we can pick up there later.” He held her tight and kissed her passionately. The fury he had stored was still felt in his kiss. Suddenly he released Aimee and flew to the front door. Zonker raced out of her bedroom just in time to watch him from the front window tear out of the house, jump in his FJ, and peel out into the street. Aimee stood on the porch until she couldn’t see his SUV anymore, then stepped back inside. She didn’t even have time to tell him she loved him, or make him
promise he wouldn’t do anything stupid.
God, what else can possibly happen today
, she wondered.

Aimee stepped into the entry, shut the door, and glanced into the hall mirror. Her heart froze in her chest and the air in her throat stuck with a scream waiting to escape. The woman from her journey this morning stood behind her. Her hand slowly reached for Aimee's shoulder, but when Aimee spun around she was gone.

“Come back!” Aimee screeched. “I know who you are. Come back.
Pleeease
come back!”

Aimee started to cry. Her legs gave out, and she braced her body against the wall while she slid down until her bottom hit the cold, wooden floor. She retreated into a fetal position. The tears poured from her eyes until she couldn’t cry any more. She remained balled up listening to the silence of the house. The only thing Aimee could hear was her heart’s thumping. Zonker stretched out next to her with his ears perked forward and his beady, black eyes watching her.

She lost track of time. Ten minutes. An hour. She didn’t know how long she stayed in the front entry, but the sun set and the house bathed them in darkness. Aimee could no longer see her faithful companion, only feel his wiry beard nestled against her hand. A car pulled into the driveway, and the reflection of headlights poured through the little window on the front door. Two seconds later a car door slammed and footsteps hit the porch. Zonker jumped up and sniffed at the door’s threshold. His little stump began wagging. A second later the doorbell rang and Zonker’s yapping commenced.

No longer shaky, Aimee raised up and switched on the hall light, stole a quick peek in the mirror, and half-heartedly combed her fingers through her tousled hair. She didn’t need a lecture from Chelsea tonight about her disheveled appearance.

“Hush, Z,” scolded Aimee, then she turned on the porch light before swinging open the door.

“Hey, girlfriend!” greeted Chels as she bounced into the entry. In one hand she had a cardboard box with a cheesy aroma seeping out of the cracks. In the other hand she had a carrier with two mega chocolate milkshakes. “Comfort food,” she said, then she sauntered in and continued on to Aimee's bedroom. As soon as she hit the doorway of the bedroom, Chels kicked off her flip flops, one landing under the bed, and plopped the pizza box down on the middle of the white quilt. Aimee winced, but didn’t dare open her mouth. She grabbed a blanket from the end of the bed, picked up the box and slid it under. Chelsea instantly ripped the box open and snapped her fingers at Aimee, then pointed to the carrier of milkshakes she left on the desk. She patted the bed and motioned for Aimee to sit. Like a trained dog, Aimee obeyed.

“What?” asked Aimee. Chelsea's acts of kindness were almost always to be matched with a good deed in return.

“I want…” she started, but stopped. “Wow! Omigod…that’s totally hot!” She grabbed her milkshake from the nightstand and sucked a big gulp. Finally she swallowed her food and began again, “I was saying, I want you to give me all of the juicy details about your night after we left Trent’s. But first, tell me how Mr. S is doing. He’s okay, isn’t he? I mean, like, he’ll be fine once this hotshot doctor gets through with him?” She took another bite of her pizza and munched while she intently stared at Aimee waiting for an answer.

“Well, Dad is Dad…tough as shoe leather,” answered Aimee. She paused, then sighed lightly as she reached for a napkin. She took a bite and savored the soft, gooey cheese a few seconds, swallowed, and then continued, “He’s doing fine. Stable at least. We’ll know more tomorrow. The cardiologist is gonna do a procedure on him. Hopefully he won’t need bypass surgery.” Aimee stopped and sighed again, then took another bite and continued chewing slowly while her mind wandered back to this morning when she first saw her dad with wires and tubes running all over his body. She shook her head and put down her pizza. “Anyway, I’m just thankful Dr. Morris was with him when it happened.”

Chelsea said, “Geez, pretty freaky, huh? I mean, I would have flipped out if it was my dad. What with losing your mom…” She stopped suddenly, the last word hung in midair. She immediately glanced up. Her eyes met Aimee's. “Aimee, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

Aimee's eyes blurred. “That’s okay, Chels,” she interrupted before Chels could finish. “I’m not gonna lose my dad, too.” Aimee wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Chelsea handed her a napkin.

“Okay, enough about depressing stuff. I didn’t come over here to make you feel worse. Let’s talk about someone else…” She took another bite of pizza and continued yakking in between chewing. “…like you and Dylan,” she added then looked up at Aimee, swallowed and grinned while she studied Aimee's face.

“What about me and Dylan?”

“You know what I want to hear. Sooo, how was the rest of your night after Matt and I left the party?”

“Good, until I got the call this morning from Dr. Morris.”

“Well, what did you do?” Aimee could tell she wasn’t going to let it go. She wanted all of the juicy details.

“Dylan and I went back to his house after we left Trent’s.” Aimee stopped and took a bite of pizza, then washed it down with a swig of her chocolate shake.

“And?” Chelsea waited impatiently for Aimee to continue. In a fraction of a second her voice switched tones. “For Christ’s sake, Aimee. I’m your best friend. You can tell me what you did,” she pleaded with her bottom lip puffed out in a pout.

“Chelsea, you know I tell you everything. It’s just…well, once again there’s nothing to tell.”

“No way!”
she exclaimed, then dropped the crusted end of her piece of pizza into the box and
wiped her fingers with her napkin. “I can’t believe you did nothing when you went back to Dylan’s. I
mean, he is
soooo
friggin’ gorgeous I don’t know how you could keep your hands off of him.”

“Well, it’s not like I haven’t tried. It’s just…well…complicated.”

Chelsea stared confused at Aimee. “Complicated? How can it be so complicated? The dude has the hots for you. It’s like you have some kind of friggin’ magical spell over him. Everyone’s talking about it.”

“What!?”
Aimee exclaimed. “What the
heck
are you talking about?”

Chels closed the box and picked it up, then got off the bed. “Well…,” she started, but paused. After setting the box down on the desk and tossing Zonker a piece of the crust, she climbed back onto the bed and leaned up against the headboard, pulled her long legs up and wrapped her arms around them before continuing. She cleared her throat and prepared to disclose some spicy gossip. “...you know Dylan’s stepsister, Kara?”