Scarlet Stone, page 4
“Herbs. Mushrooms.”
The soft hum of a motor sounds, followed by deeper grinding sounds. Straining my neck, I catch a glimpse of him shoving carrots into a juicer. After a minute or so, he turns it off and glances back over his shoulder.
“Finish tea?”
My nose scrunches. “Not yet.”
“Finish.”
I imagined bacon and eggs, maybe fresh squeezed orange juice, tea with sugar. But this? This is torture. My stomach will not approve of this liquid waste. However, for reasons I can’t understand, I finish the tea with one big gulp.
Don’t gag!
“Good.” He hands me a tall glass of carrot juice.
I’ve never had plain carrot juice, but anything—an-y-thing—is better than that tea.
“Slowly.”
I cease my gulping.
“Chew it.”
I frown. What does that mean? Chew the juice?
Yimin takes a sip of his drink and swishes it a bit then swallows. “Chewing. Assimilating. Digestion starts in your mouth.”
“Are you a doctor?”
He shakes his head. I chew my juice.
“What do you do?” I ask.
“I live.”
“I live” is not an answer, until I think about it. Maybe it’s the perfect answer.
“I guess it’s better than the alternative.” I shrug.
Yimin eyes me, and he then nods slowly. “Mr. Moore should not have let you stay with Mr. Reed. He carries a negative energy. It’s not good for you.”
I laugh. Negative energy from Theodore Reed? Why ever would anyone think that? “No need to worry about it. I don’t think his negative energy will kill me.”
It’s impossible to escape Yimin’s gaze. His look makes me feel like he knows more about me than I do. Is Theo’s negative energy going to kill me? Or just his bare hands wrapped around my neck?
“Do you think he’s dangerous?”
Yimin nods.
Well, shit! I didn’t expect that. In spite of the Nellie and Harold incident, I trusted Nolan to not put me in danger. Clearly my circumstance in life has affected my judgment and all instinct for self-preservation.
“Do you know why he’s dangerous?”
“He doesn’t value life.”
I perk an eyebrow. “His own or anyone’s?”
Yimin nods. I assume that means all of the above.
“Why do you say that?”
“A feeling.”
After a few seconds of attempting to get my own “feeling” about Yimin’s intuition, I narrow my eyes and lean forward. “How well do you know Nolan? Have you met his parents?”
“I know them very well. Nolan is special. He has a heightened awareness.”
“Yes. He told me. Do you believe it?”
Yimin slides my carrot juice closer to me. I take the hint and chew another swig.
“I do,” he replies.
My conscience shakes off the uneasy feeling and the whole weird vibe that lingers around us. “Tell me about his parents.”
“The Moores have been through a lot.”
“You don’t say.” I bite my lips together. That thought wasn’t meant for actual words.
Yimin’s brow draws tight, slaying the curiosity beast inside of me. I stand. I’ve overstepped a boundary, and now I feel uncomfortable.
“Thank you for the tea and juice.” Really just the juice. “I have a few jobs to do.”
“Again, tomorrow.”
“Oh, well …” My objection is weak because I don’t have any other plans for tomorrow or any day after that.
“Here.” He moves past me to the kitchen and retrieves a mason jar from the cupboard, and then he pours the rest of the carrot juice into it. “Drink today.”
“All of it?” My eyes widen a fraction at the filled liter jar.
“Yes.”
“Uh … okay, thank you.” I take the juice. Changing my diet is on my life-changing to-do list. I didn’t see it starting with a juice cleanse—especially since I’m so hungry.
“Tomorrow.” Yimin calls as a dusting of sand from the wooden walkway clings to my feet while I make my way to the beach.
“Tomorrow.”
*
A few beachgoers in bikinis and floppy hats have staked their claim with umbrellas in the sand as the sun spreads along the Atlantic. Cupping a hand over my eyes, I squint to see what’s moving along the water’s surface maybe twenty meters from the waves breaking into fizzing foam along the uneven shoreline.
At first I think it’s a dolphin or shark, but as the figure nears the shallow waters, it morphs into a human figure, like I’m witnessing a modern-day evolution.
It’s not. As the creature stands erect, fighting the last few waves, I notice he’s wearing trunks. He’s been human for a while. I gawk at his tight, black briefs that hide nothing. Who the hell swims that far out in the ocean in the early morning during prime shark-feeding time?
Long hair slicked back.
Tattoos.
Thor’s body.
Bloody hell! It’s Theodore Reed. Yimin was right—he has no regard for life.
A young woman runs up to him, boobs bouncing with each step. I sprint toward the house, hoping she distracts him long enough for me to grab my handbag and get out of sight before he makes it the rest of the way up the beach.
I run up the deck stairs to my balcony two at a time, shimmy into a pair of denim shorts, grab my handbag, and hustle down to the kitchen to deposit the carrot juice in the fridge.
Unbelievable. I laugh, quite possibly harder than I’ve laughed in a long time. There is a chain and padlock on the fridge doors.
My name is Scarlet Stone and the reasoning behind most everything I do is—because I can. My grandfather died in prison, but not before he robbed five of the highest security banks in Germany and the UK, only to prove they were not truly ‘secure.’ My father is the great Oscar Stone who could steal the crown from the Queen—while she was wearing it—without anyone knowing for days. If Theodore Reed thinks his hardware shop padlock is going to keep me out of the fridge, he’s sorely mistaken.
Forty-five seconds.
The first twenty I spend digging through my handbag. Picking the lock swallows the last twenty-five. I’m not as fast as I used to be when my father drilled me over and over. I wasn’t a traditional thief, much to his displeasure. I chose the gray-hat hacker lifestyle. Now I’m a woman in need of refrigeration for her carrot juice.
“Shit!” I grimace when my face is shoved against the fridge, wet flesh pressed to my back.
“You just don’t get it. One rule. You can’t follow one rule.”
“Am I interrupting?” Nolan’s voice fills the air like a whisper from God.
My lungs search for breath as Theo releases me. I whip around. Nolan’s amused smile greets me, but it’s the death look from Theo that holds my attention.
“She’s a thief. You invited a fucking thief to live in my house.”
Clearly, the humor is lost on both of them. I am a thief. Was a thief.
“Really?” I cough out a laugh. “A banana? Are you going to call the police to whisk me off to jail because I took one of your bananas?”
“And an apple.” He gives me his signature slit-eyed glare.
I wet my lips and nod, taking a quick glance down at the rest of Theodore. Dear god, he’s a wall of muscle and ink. “One bite. And you retrieved it by finger-raping my mouth. So technically, I don’t owe you an apple.”
Nolan’s eyebrows lift and his lips twist into a cheeky grin like he’s watching a comedy sketch.
I sigh, taking a moment to channel some inner peace. Theo and his overprotectiveness of his food doesn’t matter. “But in the spirit of housemates, I’ll replace both the banana and apple. In fact, I was getting ready to go to the supermarket, but I needed to put my carrot juice in the fridge.”
“Theo, man … why is there a padlock on the refrigerator?”
“Where’s your juice?” Theo ignores Nolan, keeping his attention solely on me. Lucky me.
I tip my chin up. “In the shared fridge.”
“How did you get in there?”
“Nice Speedo.” I wink at Theo as I brush by him. Nolan’s presence gives me a jolt of confidence that I have no doubt I will regret upon my return. “So an apple and a banana? Anything else I can get for you while I’m out, Mr. Reed?”
Theo mutters something before sulking off to his room.
“I see you two are getting along well.”
“Sorry?” It takes great strength to keep my control. “I’m paying double the rent as Mr. I Am The Law. He is completely bonkers.” I resist the “then again, so are your parents” remark. “I’ve been locked in my room. Twice. And there’s a padlock on the fridge. But yeah, we’re getting along wonderfully. Thanks for asking.”
“Carrot juice? I take it you saw Yimin this morning.”
“I … did.”
Nolan doesn’t give anything away in his expression, much like he didn’t yesterday with his parents. “That’s good. You need a ride?”
“I do.”
“You can set up grocery delivery here. Did you know that?” Nolan holds open the door.
“Really?” Perfect. I was considering a bike, but now I have no reason to go anywhere my legs can’t take me, which leaves me more time here with Theo. I might have to rethink my mode of transportation.
CHAPTER SIX
My name is Scarlet Stone and one day I will harness the power to read minds.
Over seven billion people live on Earth, over seven different continents separated by the seven seas under a rainbow of seven colors. There’s a belief, most likely a myth, that the average person has 70,000 thoughts a day in a seven day week. Six shouldn’t be my number. It should be seven. What if I need an extra month? Will I be broke and homeless?
It’s possible my thoughts exceed 70,000 a day. If I read a book, do those thoughts count as my own? Maybe I’m obsessing over seven today because this is my seventh day on Tybee Island. I haven’t left the house or beach behind it—except to have tea and juice every morning with Yimin—since Nolan took me to the supermarket where I set up weekly delivery.
“There’s fresh-pressed juice in the fridge, more than I’ll drink today. Help yourself.”
Theo ignores me as he has since I made the Speedo comment. I think Nolan must have said something to him because I haven’t been put on the naughty step since the banana incident. I also haven’t heard him breathe a word in my direction.
It still astounds me that there was ever a banana or apple incident at all. Any other person in their right mind would have bailed way before now. The man physically attacked me. I’m adventurous and daring. I like risk, but I’ve never considered myself crazy—until now.
Eyeing the white towel around his waist, I wonder if he’s wearing anything beneath it. The view inside the house is almost as breathtaking as the one outside. I should feel some sort of guilt for having that thought, but Daniel still consumes half of my 70,000 daily thoughts, so I think it’s fine to have one or two about Theodore Reed. The enigma standing at the hob, breaking eggs into a pan, feeds my curiosity more than anything or anyone ever has. That’s saying a lot given my background.
Seventy thousand thoughts.
I’d give my right boob to have a five-second glimpse into his mind.
My name is Scarlet Stone and one day I will harness the power to read minds.
“Chicken or the egg?” I put my book facedown on the table and pop a blackberry into my mouth as the smell of sizzling oil and eggs fills the air. “I suppose it depends on if you believe in evolution or creation. I can see both sides. I’m inclined to say chicken. I like the idea of there being something after this life—Heaven, reincarnation. I don’t know. Something.” Listen to me rabbit on. I’m fitting in quite well here.
The muscles along his back make subtle shifts as he scrambles the eggs. How can a man who says nothing be so damn distracting?
“I bet you’re a Buddhist,” I continue. “I’m working on finding peace in the midst of silence, listening to what the universe is trying to say to me. It’s hard, you know? I think we’re social creatures by nature. The average person uses five thousand words in their speech and over double that when writing. Seems like a waste of brain capacity if we’re meant to spend so much of our life in meditation, trying to silence the voices in our head.”
Theo riffles through the cupboard of spices.
“Are you looking for the salt?”
He whips his head around. Salt? So that’s what it takes to get his attention. Duly noted.
“The one with the blue lid. Use that. You had non-iodized table salt. Not good. Sea salt is the way to go.” Within my library of inspirational books, I have a few on proper nutrition as well. Knowledge is addictive.
“Why are you here?” Theo’s voice is rough with each uneven word, like he hasn’t spoken in days.
“Why are any of us here?”
His eyes narrow.
My lips twist to keep from smiling. My curiosity exceeds the average human’s. I’ve been told as much for years. Amongst my desire to figure out what my purpose has been in life, or continues to be, I can’t control my need to solve the mystery of Theodore Reed.
“Sorry. I’ve been immersing myself in these inspirational books and daily meditation. My brain is stuck in a philosophical state. You want to know why I’m here, in this house, with you. Correct?”
Theo’s word frugality is quite commendable. I begin to feel a little envious of that trait as the weight of his stare bears down with each passing second.
“I’m a thief. Was a thief.”
I didn’t think his stony face could harden anymore, but it does.
I roll my eyes. “Not apples and bananas, so enough with the look. My dad was a thief and so was his dad. We’ve all officially retired—my grandfather to the grave, my dad to a prison cell.”
Theo returns his attention to the frying pan.
“I decided to spend my retirement here since this is where I was born. Well … in Savannah.”
He sits across from me. I can’t believe it. It’s the first time he’s stayed in the kitchen to eat. He usually takes his food to the private balcony outside of his bedroom that overlooks the beach. When he’s out there, I give him twenty minutes before going out to my private balcony, adjacent to his. As soon as I sit in my sun lounger, he goes back inside.
“You’re a strong swimmer.”
His chin stays tucked to his chest as he shovels in his eggs.
“It wouldn’t kill you to answer me.”
He looks up, fork paused a few inches from his mouth. “Was there a question in all your incessant talking?”
“I said you’re a strong swimmer.”
“That’s not a question.”
“Fine. It’s a compliment. You should say ‘thank you’ or ‘thank you, ma’am,’ isn’t that correct?”
The corner of his mouth twitches, not a smile, more like he’s ready to bare his fangs again. “Yes. Ma’am is used out of respect.”
“But you don’t respect me?”
“No.”
“Because I stole your fruit?”
“Yes.”
Unbelievable.
“Well, I wouldn’t have a problem calling you ‘sir’ even though you finger-raped my mouth.”
“I didn’t finger-rape your mouth. If you’d like me to show you what it feels like to have your mouth finger-raped, then I’d be much obliged, but I’d rather stick a sock in it and cover it with duct tape.”
Wow! Why am I still here? Crazy is not a strong enough word—for either of us.
He glances over his shoulder when there’s a knock at the door.
“That’s for me.” I smile while standing from my chair, shuffling across the partially-tiled floor in my flip-flops.
“Ms. Stone?”
I nod with a huge grin.
“Where would you like them?”
“Uh …” I look back at Theo, but he’s resumed eating his breakfast again like I don’t exist. “If you wouldn’t mind taking them to the front room for now, I’ll put them where I want them later. Thank you.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The deliveryman carries in the first plant—one of seventeen that I ordered.
Theo gives him a quick glance, but he doesn’t say a word until the fifth plant is ushered past him to the front room.
“What the fuck is going on?”
“Oh, um …” The deliveryman looks back at me as I continue to hold open the door.
Theo follows his gaze.
“Did you order all of these?” Theo pins me with his usual scowl.
“Yes, sir.” I wink. “He has twelve more to bring inside.”
The deliveryman jumps when Theo’s fork clanks against his plate two seconds before his chair screeches along the floor as he unfolds all, seemingly, ten feet of himself.
I don’t blink. Not even as the law approaches me. He can’t murder me with a witness in the room. What if his towel fell from his waist? Something tells me he wouldn’t move. Why the hell did that thought go through my mind? If he takes one more step, I’ll be nothing more than something he flicks off the bottom of his giant foot.
“Listen, woman, this isn’t your house. You will not fill it with a bunch of fucking flowers.”
After I’m convinced his towel is secure, my eyes retrace their path back to his. The name Kathryn is tattooed in elegant script along his bicep, under a gray gravestone with a single red rose across it. I’m going to assume Kathryn died.
“Scarlet.”
“What?” His face contorts with irritation.
“My name … it’s Scarlet, not woman. We’ve lived together for a week and you’ve never asked my name. Our opportunities for a proper introduction have been squashed by your …”
His eyes widen a fraction. “My?”
I shrug. “Your barmy attitude, like you’ve lost the plot.”
“Lost the plot?”
My attempt to hide my exasperation is rubbish. A deep sigh breezes past my lips. “Yes, like … you’ve been acting ridiculously.”
He gets in my face, really in my face. “Every word that comes out of your mouth drives me fucking crazy, but not as fucking crazy as the way you say everything.”
