A Need So Insatiable

Chapter one

 Sophie

 A car door slams outside the basement window, followed by the low murmur of voices. My hand trembles, swerving away from the curvy edge of the rocking chair I’ve been working on for the past three hours.

Dropping the paintbrush on the workbench, I take deep breaths to slow the beat of my heart.

This is freakin’ ridiculous. Jumping at every sound like a frightened mouse.

Seconds later, a door slams again. I shuffle to the window and stand on tiptoe. It’s still there. The silver Sedan that’s been living across the street for the past few weeks. The taillights are on, but whoever’s inside doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave. They never seem to do anything, other than haunt my street.

Two sets of legs step into my line of vision, blocking my view. I switch my gaze to the couple pawing each other sixteen feet from the window, and roll my eyes. Mrs. Krüger, my next door neighbor, is at it again with a lover who’s half her age. She pulls her kimono tighter, emphasizing her larger-than-Russia boobs.

I wish I had bigger boobs . . . er, yeah.

I scoot to the right, bringing the Sedan back into view. This time, there’s a short, bald man wearing a trench coat beside it. His features aren’t very visible from where I stand. He tilts his head to the side, as if he’s speaking to someone inside the car, then turns to stare in the direction of my house. Who the hell are they, and what the hell do they want?

Taking a deep breath, I drop to my heels and wipe my clammy hands on my dungarees, listening for any sound from above. Thank God, Lilli seems to be sleeping still. I hope she didn’t have another nightmare after I left her room. The walls are so thick, it’s near impossible to hear what’s going on two storeys up.

The clock perched on the basement’s graying walls reads 6:13 a.m. My opera rehearsal begins in two hours, so I have enough time to drop Lilli off at school. I’d tried to go back to sleep after comforting her, but had eventually given up. Nothing beats the familiar, comforting scent of wood, sawdust and varnish, so I’d come down to work on my latest project: restoring a 1950’s Monet rocking chair I’d found in someone’s yard a week ago. Then, it’s off to eBay.

After cleaning the paintbrushes, I grab the pink, metal toolbox, neatly placing my tools back inside. My father had proudly presented it to me on my twelfth birthday, taking his time as he’d explained what each tool was used for. I smile, turning to collect the sandpaper, placing it back inside the side drawer of the workbench, and grab the vacuum to clean up the stone floor. When I’m done, I step out of my work dungarees, splattered in varnish and paint, and head upstairs to my room, rubbing my arms to fend off the chill. I guess I’ll have to buy more sweaters, since we keep the heaters off until absolutely necessary.

I halt in the hallway and glance at the framed photo next to my parents’ room, taken twenty years ago when we’d moved here in Vienna from Denver. The paint beside it peels from the wall, scattering on the faded, wooden floorboards.

Peachy. Just peachy.

I glance up to the high ceiling, typical for houses built around the eighteen hundreds. At least the square tiles hold. For now. I’d better get a job soon, or we might end up pitching a tent in the garden.

I make a detour to the window and peek around the curtain. The silver Sedan is still parked across the street, but Bald Guy is no longer there. I squint and see two silhouettes inside the car--one, short and fat, the other, taller and bulkier.

Dropping the curtain, I straighten the covers on my bed, rearranging the teal and orange pillows against the headboard. If only I could snuggle under the covers and stay there.