Read Online One Night Stand by Clara Bayard - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Clara Bayard
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suspicious.
Any one of my coworkers could be criminals. Any of them could be watching to see if I'd caught on. And all of the customers I worked so hard to please might be in on it too. Or someone could be an undercover cop. What if we were under surveillance? There was a car with tinted windows I saw down the block almost every day. Who knew what that was about. I couldn't trust anyone or anything to be what I thought I knew. My boring but taxing job had turned into a nightmare and the only person I could talk to about it was the last person I could talk to about it.
Mitchell was out for one of his very long lunches, so I took my break in the quiet privacy of his office. I couldn't have eaten anything, so I spent the time surfing the internet, trying to forget. I checked the local paper's website and read a few articles that I forgot as soon as I finished them, just needing something to occupy my mind. But as I clicked on a breaking news story all the color drained from my face and bad turned to worse.
The headline read "Body Found in Burned-Out Car, Foul Play Suspected."
There was a brief story about the people who discovered the body, something about the family planning a service, the police asking for any information from the public. But underneath, there was a small grainy photo of the victim. It was Darius. Sweet, dumb Darius who hadn't shown up for work in days. And now I knew why.
I fumbled for my phone and it took a few tries to press on the contact I wanted. It rang on the other end for a while before anyone picked up.
"Hello?" There was a ton of noise in the background, but his voice sounded out clear through the line.
"Sam? He's dead. Oh god, he's dead."
"Carly? Is that you? What did you say?"
"Help me," I choked out.
"Are you at work? I'll be right there."
"No," I said too loudly. "You can't come here."
"Shit. Okay. There's a coffee shop on Walnut Street. At third. Do you know the place?"
"Yes."
"Good. I can be there in five minutes."
"Okay."
"Don't hang up the phone. Just get up and walk over there right now with me on the line so I know you're okay."
"All right." My mind was blown; all I could do was follow his instructions. I went out to my desk, picked up my bag and walked through the front door, ignoring the questioning voices around me.
By the time I got to the coffee shop, my cell phone still held tight in my hand, Sam was already there. He was talking to the girl behind the counter and motioned me over.
"It's mostly for meetings or study groups, but nothing's scheduled today," the girl said.
I stared at Sam blankly. He put his arm around me and took the phone from my hand tenderly.
"Thank you," he told the barista.
"No problem. Let me know if you need anything."
"We will," he replied politely before leading me away. We went around the corner and through a door to a small room with a few tables and chairs dotted around.
"Are you okay?"
I shook my head. "I don't think so."
"What happened?"
"I-I saw a news story. The guy who was supposed to make that delivery I told you about? The one I took? He's dead, and not from natural causes."
"Holy shit.
"Yeah. It's not just a weird coincidence, is it?"
"Not a chance," he said grimly.
Sam hugged me and I sobbed against his chest, finding the comfort and warmth I so desperately needed in his arms. A tiny part of me was still mad at him, but it didn't seem to really matter anymore.
"I'm sorry about your friend."
"Thank you." I wiped my eyes and stared him over. "Why are you dressed like that?"
Sam looked down at the basketball shorts and tank top he wore. "Oh. I was in the gym."
"Oh."
"Carly, look. I'm sorry about last night. It was the last thing I expected to happen, but I handled it badly."
"I'm sorry too," I said miserably.
"I should have told you what I do. But it didn't come up the first night and I just…most of the time when I meet a woman and tell her what I do she's either afraid of it and runs away or excited by it and
Any one of my coworkers could be criminals. Any of them could be watching to see if I'd caught on. And all of the customers I worked so hard to please might be in on it too. Or someone could be an undercover cop. What if we were under surveillance? There was a car with tinted windows I saw down the block almost every day. Who knew what that was about. I couldn't trust anyone or anything to be what I thought I knew. My boring but taxing job had turned into a nightmare and the only person I could talk to about it was the last person I could talk to about it.
Mitchell was out for one of his very long lunches, so I took my break in the quiet privacy of his office. I couldn't have eaten anything, so I spent the time surfing the internet, trying to forget. I checked the local paper's website and read a few articles that I forgot as soon as I finished them, just needing something to occupy my mind. But as I clicked on a breaking news story all the color drained from my face and bad turned to worse.
The headline read "Body Found in Burned-Out Car, Foul Play Suspected."
There was a brief story about the people who discovered the body, something about the family planning a service, the police asking for any information from the public. But underneath, there was a small grainy photo of the victim. It was Darius. Sweet, dumb Darius who hadn't shown up for work in days. And now I knew why.
I fumbled for my phone and it took a few tries to press on the contact I wanted. It rang on the other end for a while before anyone picked up.
"Hello?" There was a ton of noise in the background, but his voice sounded out clear through the line.
"Sam? He's dead. Oh god, he's dead."
"Carly? Is that you? What did you say?"
"Help me," I choked out.
"Are you at work? I'll be right there."
"No," I said too loudly. "You can't come here."
"Shit. Okay. There's a coffee shop on Walnut Street. At third. Do you know the place?"
"Yes."
"Good. I can be there in five minutes."
"Okay."
"Don't hang up the phone. Just get up and walk over there right now with me on the line so I know you're okay."
"All right." My mind was blown; all I could do was follow his instructions. I went out to my desk, picked up my bag and walked through the front door, ignoring the questioning voices around me.
By the time I got to the coffee shop, my cell phone still held tight in my hand, Sam was already there. He was talking to the girl behind the counter and motioned me over.
"It's mostly for meetings or study groups, but nothing's scheduled today," the girl said.
I stared at Sam blankly. He put his arm around me and took the phone from my hand tenderly.
"Thank you," he told the barista.
"No problem. Let me know if you need anything."
"We will," he replied politely before leading me away. We went around the corner and through a door to a small room with a few tables and chairs dotted around.
"Are you okay?"
I shook my head. "I don't think so."
"What happened?"
"I-I saw a news story. The guy who was supposed to make that delivery I told you about? The one I took? He's dead, and not from natural causes."
"Holy shit.
"Yeah. It's not just a weird coincidence, is it?"
"Not a chance," he said grimly.
Sam hugged me and I sobbed against his chest, finding the comfort and warmth I so desperately needed in his arms. A tiny part of me was still mad at him, but it didn't seem to really matter anymore.
"I'm sorry about your friend."
"Thank you." I wiped my eyes and stared him over. "Why are you dressed like that?"
Sam looked down at the basketball shorts and tank top he wore. "Oh. I was in the gym."
"Oh."
"Carly, look. I'm sorry about last night. It was the last thing I expected to happen, but I handled it badly."
"I'm sorry too," I said miserably.
"I should have told you what I do. But it didn't come up the first night and I just…most of the time when I meet a woman and tell her what I do she's either afraid of it and runs away or excited by it and
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