Read Online The Tease (The Darling Killer Trilogy) by Nikki M. Pill - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Nikki M. Pill
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right and shrug up and down together. I thought of her wink, of the smile that crinkled her nose, her red hair in tangled waves around her face, and stumbled. I put the thought away resolutely and changed the song… but the image kept coming back
Lisa lying in an awkward sprawl on the floor he likes cold women he can’t stop thinking about it wonders if he loves them in his way he likes cold women cold floor cold skin
so I switched to some of the hardest techniques I know. I layered a smooth chest circle over tight hip locks while slowly bending my knees until my butt was an inch off my heels, then rose back up without losing the hips. I went into the splits from standing as slowly as I could with my arms reaching for the ceiling without bunching at my shoulders. I spun faster. I hit the moves harder but made them smaller, more precise. I had it. I got it.
And then my phone rang in the other room.
I swore and ran to catch it. It could be Monica. It could be the police.
It was Jeff.
He never called on weekends. I was tempted to hit “ignore” and keep dancing, but thought
O god what if my photo is in the news and he saw it
and snatched up the phone.
“Hi Jeff,” I said, struggling to get enough air without actually gasping.
“Hiya,” he said. “I thought I’d get your voice mail. How are you doing?”
I’m nervous that the police called you, and I’m also a little traumatized.
“I’m good, thanks,” I said. “You?”
“Good.” He paused. “Did you just run up a flight of stairs?”
“I was exercising,” I said, lamely. He wouldn’t sound so normal if he saw me in the news… right? “What’s up?”
“I’m doing some insurance catch-up, and I’m missing your notes from one of the Wednesday intakes.”
“I emailed that to you,” I reminded him. “I wasn’t sure about the diagnosis, so I sent you a write-up instead of putting it right into the system. I don’t know if this guy needs the Bipolar label following him for his entire life.”
“That’s right, I’m sorry,” he said. He paused briefly. “Ah. Got it. I’ll review it and get back to you.”
“Great,” I said.
“So how are you doing with Max?”
I almost dropped the phone. “Um… with…
Max
?”
“You seemed a little shaken yesterday, and that’s a lot to process. How are you feeling?”
Of course.
Jeff wouldn’t bug me about work on the weekends, but he would make up an excuse to check on me.
I thought of Max leaning forward in his seat, his tousled hair in his eyes, looking so intently at me. “It’s fine,” I said. “I guess I’m lucky, that something – ended the attraction, and I didn’t have to struggle with it for a long time.”
“That’s a start,” he said. “Let’s meet Tuesday afternoon and see what’s coming up for you.”
“Sounds good,” I said.
“Don’t study too hard,” he reminded me.
We got off the phone, and I fought the urge to run straight to check the news websites. I headed back into the studio, kicked off my heels, and did a deep stretching cooldown. My mind whirled the entire time. What did Max think? Did I see him in the lobby after the show, but not process it? Was he devouring the news right now? Was the body violated? Would they fingerprint the door money? Did he even have a record? He had some job in insurance claims, so I didn’t think he’d need fingerprints for a license like high finance or law enforcement types did.
Finally I walked to my computer to check the local news sites. A boldface new email from Tish appeared in my inbox. I opened it. She had sent it to the troupe distribution list.
Hi Ladies, she wrote.
Rehearsal for Monday is cancelled. We’re also going to take Friday off from performing as a time of mourning. I’ll let you know when I hear about the funeral arrangements.
Take care of yourselves and each other.
Tish
Nicely done
, I thought. I dashed a quick “Got it” note to her and checked the news sites.
Several mentioned the
Lisa lying in an awkward sprawl on the floor he likes cold women he can’t stop thinking about it wonders if he loves them in his way he likes cold women cold floor cold skin
so I switched to some of the hardest techniques I know. I layered a smooth chest circle over tight hip locks while slowly bending my knees until my butt was an inch off my heels, then rose back up without losing the hips. I went into the splits from standing as slowly as I could with my arms reaching for the ceiling without bunching at my shoulders. I spun faster. I hit the moves harder but made them smaller, more precise. I had it. I got it.
And then my phone rang in the other room.
I swore and ran to catch it. It could be Monica. It could be the police.
It was Jeff.
He never called on weekends. I was tempted to hit “ignore” and keep dancing, but thought
O god what if my photo is in the news and he saw it
and snatched up the phone.
“Hi Jeff,” I said, struggling to get enough air without actually gasping.
“Hiya,” he said. “I thought I’d get your voice mail. How are you doing?”
I’m nervous that the police called you, and I’m also a little traumatized.
“I’m good, thanks,” I said. “You?”
“Good.” He paused. “Did you just run up a flight of stairs?”
“I was exercising,” I said, lamely. He wouldn’t sound so normal if he saw me in the news… right? “What’s up?”
“I’m doing some insurance catch-up, and I’m missing your notes from one of the Wednesday intakes.”
“I emailed that to you,” I reminded him. “I wasn’t sure about the diagnosis, so I sent you a write-up instead of putting it right into the system. I don’t know if this guy needs the Bipolar label following him for his entire life.”
“That’s right, I’m sorry,” he said. He paused briefly. “Ah. Got it. I’ll review it and get back to you.”
“Great,” I said.
“So how are you doing with Max?”
I almost dropped the phone. “Um… with…
Max
?”
“You seemed a little shaken yesterday, and that’s a lot to process. How are you feeling?”
Of course.
Jeff wouldn’t bug me about work on the weekends, but he would make up an excuse to check on me.
I thought of Max leaning forward in his seat, his tousled hair in his eyes, looking so intently at me. “It’s fine,” I said. “I guess I’m lucky, that something – ended the attraction, and I didn’t have to struggle with it for a long time.”
“That’s a start,” he said. “Let’s meet Tuesday afternoon and see what’s coming up for you.”
“Sounds good,” I said.
“Don’t study too hard,” he reminded me.
We got off the phone, and I fought the urge to run straight to check the news websites. I headed back into the studio, kicked off my heels, and did a deep stretching cooldown. My mind whirled the entire time. What did Max think? Did I see him in the lobby after the show, but not process it? Was he devouring the news right now? Was the body violated? Would they fingerprint the door money? Did he even have a record? He had some job in insurance claims, so I didn’t think he’d need fingerprints for a license like high finance or law enforcement types did.
Finally I walked to my computer to check the local news sites. A boldface new email from Tish appeared in my inbox. I opened it. She had sent it to the troupe distribution list.
Hi Ladies, she wrote.
Rehearsal for Monday is cancelled. We’re also going to take Friday off from performing as a time of mourning. I’ll let you know when I hear about the funeral arrangements.
Take care of yourselves and each other.
Tish
Nicely done
, I thought. I dashed a quick “Got it” note to her and checked the news sites.
Several mentioned the
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