TURN BACK THE TIME, BABE. BOOK 8. CHALLENGING THE DOORS OF TIME

GETTING INSIDE THE GROOVE

WISHFUL-THINKER 10'S POV

The harassement didn't decrease around me. Freddie had come back from Munich and I had stayed in London so the press was wondering if there were problems in paradise when we hardly started our relationship off. But everything remained as confusing as always for the reporters because I was still living at Stafford Terrace. So that meant we were still together and stronger after all the scandal around us. I would rather stay there than move myself to the "exile flat" as Eli and I used to call it.

I missed so much my "younger sister" and thought about her pregnancy and disease quite often. This forced hiatus between our two timelines was two things together. It was a torture because I needed to know everything was okay and I couldn't right now. And it was a relief that we were forced to ignore ourselves because perhaps I knew something about our strong friendship would never restored.

I had nearly erased Cheryl's printed letters in her card after touching it so much. Keeping myself away from her, avoiding her presence, as Amandine suggested was not good for me. That only could mean surrendering and accepting what she was going to do with me. And Arlene Atkins wouldn't ever do that.

My defense was a big attack, as usual. I should use the best I could my military training as well as my skill to x-ray psychologically every person. Prenter was our next enemy but I had to wage the first battle with the cheeky journalist. Fighting against her was spoiling the Irish's plans.

I was not healed yet from Nina's scratches and was willing and able to bruise my skin again. And it was once more a pretty risky plan.

If I were in XXI century, most likely I wouldn't have chosen a Whatsapp to meet up with her either, it wasn't elegant at all. So I was forced to phone her and hear her voice. A voice that was struggling to show a neutral tone, as well as I did my share playing my part.

She wanted to meet up in her place and after pondering it over, I thought it was a sensible choice. We couldn't do it at Stafford Terrace and there would be certain risk at any other public place. I didn't need some pictures of the journalist who was trying to destroy me and myself to join in to the festival of morbid articles.

- Come around with your full stomach. It's not a romantic dinner by the candlelights but I am the best cocktail maker. My intention is not getting you drunk. There are so many things we gotta talk about.

It was a relief knowing that she wasn't thinking of a playful courtship with some dinner I didn't want to have. My intention entering that beast cage was an initial contact. Being able to guess if not everything, at least some of her aims.

I looked over at myself before going out, as I always did. My classy and elegant style was always a good choice in any kind of meeting. Whether it was formal or informal. I didn't know what kind of meeting was going to take place. But it was sure it wouldn't be an easy thing. I gave myself the OK in front of the mirror and headed to the unknown territory once again.

Cheryl lived in a cozy townhouse placed in a neverending row of them at Shoreditch, the area where Eli rented her first flat at the beginning of the mission. I drove there myself because that made me feel safer and calmed down my natural nerves that sooner or later were shown. I whipped into a parking space just some feet away her door and looked back at myself in the rear mirror. My eyes were glowing as always before diving myself into a swimming pool not quite sure if there was enough water down there. The danger was part of my life since very early on and I thought I just needed that boost of adrenaline. I needed to feel I was commanding everything and doing a masterly job.

My high heels resounded joyfully as I strode the sidewalk and got closer to Cheryl Burgess's doorway, my enemy. The challenge.

- Oh, my Gosh...