Read Online Triage: A Thriller (Shell Series) by Phillip Thomas Duck - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Phillip Thomas Duck
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whispered. “Put those away before I scratch your eyes out.”
I studied her face to see if she were serious, then nodded, placed the cards back in my pocket.
“I gave the hotel credit authorization for all charges,” I said. “Hope that doesn’t make you feel bought and paid for, as well. I want you to stay here and enjoy yourself. Don’t spare yourself any luxury.”
Hate bloomed in her eyes. “I’ll order the most expensive thing for all of my meals. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner,” she said. “And use the spa services morning, noon, and night.”
I cracked an odd smile. “ Three times a day?”
“What?”
“Nothing,” I said.
“I don’t want to hate you, Shell. I really don’t.”
“It’s okay if you do. I understand.”
We locked eyes. Hers were not gray, but brown. The most prevalent eye color in the world. Eyes are the key to the soul. I saw love. I saw hurt, too. Saw all of that in her eyes. In their reflections. Her eyes were a mirror to my own emotions. The love and hurt that I saw was in me. All over my face. If I were a better man, the love and hurt would have been for the naked woman with the hearts-and-vines tattoo. If I were a better man I’d have worked harder to get closure with Nevada. With Taj.
With Veronica and Ericka.
It was too late for that.
“I want you to stay, Shell. Stay here with me.”
“I know you do.”
“I love you, Shell. I love you so much.”
“I know you do.”
“Please don’t hurt me like this,” she said. “Please don’t do this to us.”
“I’m not emotionless. This hurts me as well. But there is no us,” I said.
A frown creased her forehead. She said, “You could have fooled me, Shell,” spitting the words out like spoiled food. “How could you say there is no us? This past month we’ve been practically inseparable. I’ve neglected everything in my world for you. Came down here to Miami like some schoolgirl on spring break. I’ve shirked all of my responsibilities. Took time off from work I shouldn’t have.” She paused, thinking that’d have an affect on me. When it didn’t she added, “You’ve neglected everything in your world for me.”
I nodded. “One day I’ll make peace with that and not regret it as much as I do right now.”
She backed away from me and plopped down on the bed, her eyes void, like someone who’d just been given a death sentence and didn’t know how to cope with the fatal news. I crossed the room to her. She didn’t respond to my nearness in any discernible way. Lifeless, the best way I can describe her. I bent down and gripped her face as tenderly as I ever had. She didn’t look at me as I kissed her forehead. I stood upright, brushed myself off, and turned to leave. I was at the door, my hand on the knob, when her voice drifted over to me. I hesitated just a moment.
“Will I ever see you again, Shell?”
It wasn’t a question.
I didn’t answer.
I left.
MIAMI INTERNATIONAL TO NEWARK, Delta Airlines, a five hour and eight minute trip. Forty-five minute layover in Atlanta, most of which I spent at a newsstand, avoiding any newspapers or paperback novels that spoke of death, or its distant cousin, love. My original flight had left at 12:17 P.M. I’d arrive back in New Jersey at 5:27 P.M. according to the itinerary. The timing ended up close to spot-on. I found myself deboarding at 5:33 P.M., with very little recollection of the flight, the layover, or the people whose paths I’d crossed in my travels. By 5:46 P.M., I was curbside at NewarkLibertyInternationalAirport, black shoulder bag in hand, looking for the driver I’d hired to pick me up. Back in Jersey, intent on facing down a ghost. No idea how I would prosper in that task.
“Sir?”
My driver, cardboard placard in hand with my name scrawled on it.
I gripped him by the shoulder but didn’t squeeze. He smiled.
“That is all, sir?” he asked, nodding at my black shoulder bag. His diction was precise, very little inflection
I studied her face to see if she were serious, then nodded, placed the cards back in my pocket.
“I gave the hotel credit authorization for all charges,” I said. “Hope that doesn’t make you feel bought and paid for, as well. I want you to stay here and enjoy yourself. Don’t spare yourself any luxury.”
Hate bloomed in her eyes. “I’ll order the most expensive thing for all of my meals. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner,” she said. “And use the spa services morning, noon, and night.”
I cracked an odd smile. “ Three times a day?”
“What?”
“Nothing,” I said.
“I don’t want to hate you, Shell. I really don’t.”
“It’s okay if you do. I understand.”
We locked eyes. Hers were not gray, but brown. The most prevalent eye color in the world. Eyes are the key to the soul. I saw love. I saw hurt, too. Saw all of that in her eyes. In their reflections. Her eyes were a mirror to my own emotions. The love and hurt that I saw was in me. All over my face. If I were a better man, the love and hurt would have been for the naked woman with the hearts-and-vines tattoo. If I were a better man I’d have worked harder to get closure with Nevada. With Taj.
With Veronica and Ericka.
It was too late for that.
“I want you to stay, Shell. Stay here with me.”
“I know you do.”
“I love you, Shell. I love you so much.”
“I know you do.”
“Please don’t hurt me like this,” she said. “Please don’t do this to us.”
“I’m not emotionless. This hurts me as well. But there is no us,” I said.
A frown creased her forehead. She said, “You could have fooled me, Shell,” spitting the words out like spoiled food. “How could you say there is no us? This past month we’ve been practically inseparable. I’ve neglected everything in my world for you. Came down here to Miami like some schoolgirl on spring break. I’ve shirked all of my responsibilities. Took time off from work I shouldn’t have.” She paused, thinking that’d have an affect on me. When it didn’t she added, “You’ve neglected everything in your world for me.”
I nodded. “One day I’ll make peace with that and not regret it as much as I do right now.”
She backed away from me and plopped down on the bed, her eyes void, like someone who’d just been given a death sentence and didn’t know how to cope with the fatal news. I crossed the room to her. She didn’t respond to my nearness in any discernible way. Lifeless, the best way I can describe her. I bent down and gripped her face as tenderly as I ever had. She didn’t look at me as I kissed her forehead. I stood upright, brushed myself off, and turned to leave. I was at the door, my hand on the knob, when her voice drifted over to me. I hesitated just a moment.
“Will I ever see you again, Shell?”
It wasn’t a question.
I didn’t answer.
I left.
MIAMI INTERNATIONAL TO NEWARK, Delta Airlines, a five hour and eight minute trip. Forty-five minute layover in Atlanta, most of which I spent at a newsstand, avoiding any newspapers or paperback novels that spoke of death, or its distant cousin, love. My original flight had left at 12:17 P.M. I’d arrive back in New Jersey at 5:27 P.M. according to the itinerary. The timing ended up close to spot-on. I found myself deboarding at 5:33 P.M., with very little recollection of the flight, the layover, or the people whose paths I’d crossed in my travels. By 5:46 P.M., I was curbside at NewarkLibertyInternationalAirport, black shoulder bag in hand, looking for the driver I’d hired to pick me up. Back in Jersey, intent on facing down a ghost. No idea how I would prosper in that task.
“Sir?”
My driver, cardboard placard in hand with my name scrawled on it.
I gripped him by the shoulder but didn’t squeeze. He smiled.
“That is all, sir?” he asked, nodding at my black shoulder bag. His diction was precise, very little inflection
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