Burning for You (Blackwater) Read Free

mouth into an expression that shouldn’t
even be legal.  It makes me feel dirty just thinking about where I want that
mouth to be right now.
    “Not really,” I say, not able to
hold back the tears.  Oh god, what the hell am I doing?  “Get.  My.  Purse.”  I
am trying to breathe but it’s not working out, and I begin flailing my arms and
waving them in my face, wanting to wipe the tears away but wanting to keep my
face uncovered in order to get as much air as possible.  The man delicately
moves me out of the way and goes through my driver’s side door to grab my purse
off the passenger seat.  He holds it open in front of me so I can grab my
inhaler and puff twice.  “Okay,” I say, steadying my breath.  “That’s better.” 
I look at him standing in front of me still holding my purse.  He looks pretty
silly with a purple leather knock off Prada purse, and I attempt to avoid
smiling, but I can’t help it.  “Thanks,” I tell him.
    “You’re welcome, Miss…?”
    “Holt,” I say.  “Leah Holt.  I’m so
sorry about your car.”
    He shrugs.  “I’m sorry about
yours.  Should we exchange information?”
    I nod and reach into my purse. 
Luckily, car insurance isn’t dependent upon employment so I still have that,
though I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to pay the bills on it.  Plus it’s a
Chicago company, and I wonder how terms will apply outside of the state of
Illinois.  I find a piece of paper and pen and write down my phone number and
insurance information on it and give it to him.  Then he does the same for me
on my notebook and hands it back with his information and phone number.  “Ash
Lavanne,” I read.  He even has a hot name.  Welcome home, Leah, I think to
myself.  “Nice to meet you, Ash.  I’m…sorry about your bumper.”
    “Nice to meet you too, Leah,” he
says.  The corners of his mouth are twitching slightly, threatening to make me
think naughty thoughts again.  “Sorry about your car and your asthma attack. 
Are you okay to drive?” 
    “I should be,” I say.  I notice I’m
still shaking a little bit but I feel a bit better and calmer.  I realize that
it’s probably just getting colder outside as the sun is setting and my jacket
is still in the car.  “I’m fine.”
    “Good,” he says.  “I’ll call my
lawyer and he’ll contact you immediately.”
    “Lawyer?” I gasp.  “Are you kidding
me?  My insurance should take care of it.  No need to take this to court or
anything.”  Oh god, where was my inhaler? 
    “I’m kidding,” he says, holding his
hands up.  “Horrible joke, I know.  Don’t have another attack.”  He grins to
reveal perfectly even teeth, then he turns and walks back to his car, letting
himself in.  I stand in shock and watch as he waves with one arm out the window
and drives away.  I decide to do the same so I don’t block any more traffic at
the “Worst Traffic Light in the World”.  Besides, it’s cold out and I have to
pee. 
    “Well Betsey,” I say out loud like
an idiot once I am back in my car.  “This is probably just the first shit storm
of today that I’ll have to go through, but I’m sorry you got the worst of it.” 
In response she comes to life with a twist of my key in the ignition.  “Thanks
for that,” I tell her, grateful she is still drivable.
    Carlton howls at me.  “Oh shut up,”
I say grumpily.  “We’re almost there and you’re totally fine.”
    And now off to deal with my mother.

Chapter 2
     
    The house I grew up in is a two
story Tudor on the corner of Amethyst and Sinistro.  From the front it looks like
an average sized house, though if you view it from the side it seems to stretch
on forever.  The mass of weeping willow trees in front shield the view of the
sides.  It’s a huge house that my dad bought on a police chief’s salary.  The
Holt family stretches back a long way in Blackwater and hasn’t always been blue
collar, so the term “old