Kissing Skulls *Revised*

Chapter 4

            In the olden days, it might have been some kind of storage closet or tool room.  Now it was the proverbial lair of Dustyn Grayson with nothing but a piece of corkboard lining the bare concrete walls and a simple pair of black curtains choking the light from the only window.

            “Have a seat,” he said, moving so that he stood behind one of the few solid pieces of furniture in the entire room; an old desk that looked like it had been ripped right from the study of Sherlock Holmes.

            Right in front of it, was a shabby-looking armchair that had definitely seen better days.  He gestured to it with a wave of his pale hand, but I wasn’t budging.

            Instead, I wiggled so that I was more firmly nudged within the doorway and leaned against the metal frame.

            “I think I’ll stay right here, thank you,” I said in the snarkiest voice I could manage—which wasn’t saying a lot. 

             I sounded more like a cartoon bunny with an attitude. 

            In truth I wasn’t even trying to be difficult on purpose.  I was just in that much pain.  Even walking the five steps necessary to bring me to that chair seemed laughable.  I didn’t think I could find the strength to bend my achy body into position to sit down, let alone get back up again.

            But rather than argue, or attempt to boss me around in his usual pig-headed way, Dustyn just shrugged and proceeded to perch himself on the edge of his much less comfortable chair. 

            Only Dustyn Grayson would choose a hard-backed metal chair for a desk companion. 

            “If you want everyone else to hear what I’m about to tell you, then that’s your problem.”

            He challenged me with those icy silver eyes, and I felt the prickling sensation of the hairs rising on the back of my neck.  But it had nothing to do with him—or so I told myself.

            It was freezing in the room after all.

            “Fine,” I said, matching his tone.  I shuffled so that I was more firmly in the room and wrestled the door closed behind me.

            Then it was just me and him facing off like jackals.

            “Better?” I said in a mocking croak, but the motion seemed to backfire because even a deaf person could have heard how exhausted I was. 

            It was a minor weakness that Dustyn didn’t’ miss.  I watched his perfect head perk up as those eyes flicked over my body once, like a shark realizing that it had just smelled blood and was looking for the source of it.

            “Well, let’s get this over with,” I blurted, eager to commence with my torture. 

            The sooner I could go home and lick my bloody wounds in peace, the better. 

            “Lay it on me.”   I allowed some real hostility to color my voice and perched my one good hand on my hip.

            “What did I do now?  Did I single-handedly cause global warming this time?  Or world hunger?”

            When he didn’t answer I felt a nervous laugh build up in my stomach.  Helpless, I could only glare as it trickled out of my mouth in broken giggles; ha, hee, hee, ha, ha.