Surviving Stirling

Chapter Eighteen

Whispers all around me rehashed the story attached to Stirling, tales told of the events which led to his arrest.

It was like he had a scarlet letter pinned to his chest, everyone in the room knew him, they knew what he did - or tried to do, they knew every excruciating detail. This moment felt so invasive I convinced myself they could even hear our thoughts.

A mix of shame and frustration palpitated through me, I hated being the center of attention but I could hear them all talking.

He must've sensed the nervous way in which I looked around. "Ignore them." His voice cut through the tension, full of demand and certainty.

"How can I ignore them?"

He pulled in a sharp intake of breath, "My point exactly, you can't." He moistened his lip with his tongue, a motion that immediately brought forth flashbacks of my dream. "Don't you see, I've walked in here and done nothing wrong. I've used manners, shown respect and courtesy yet they still treat me like this."

Much to Stirlings frustration, the waiter from earlier came back to our table, interrupting our conversation with a wine cart.

"These are some of the finest selections available from our vineyard, please indulge your senses with wine tasting. Anything you like just signal and I'll bring over the bottle."

Stirling slipped his hand inside the inner pocket of his jacket and as if acting on instinct the waiter dropped to the floor and shielded himself.

All around me, panic exploded throughout the room, people diving under the tables, screaming or running for the exit.

They thought he was reaching for a gun.

"I just wanted to hand over my credit card."

The waiter stood up, having the curtesy to look embarrassed, "that won't be necessary sir, your dining experience is on us."

I felt so uncomfortable, my heart felt tight from the rapid beating. My pulse crazily thumped in my neck. The humiliation was sour on my tongue.

"Can we please leave?" I begged.

"No." He answered, leaving no room for negotiation. "We're gonna take two steak meals with fries, medium rare."

"Of course Sir." He rushed away to comply with our orders.

Stirling lifted his head a little to look at me. I fucking hated it when he looked at me.

"You're uncomfortable, good." He swirled white wine around the glass and brought the rim up to his nose. It bugged me, how nonchalant he was about this whole ordeal. "This is how I live my life Anderson."

"But you brought this on yourself, I didn't. You tried to kill somebody."

His eyes rolled, "for the millionth time, I didn't try to kill him. If I wanted him dead—"

"Then he'd be dead, right?" I finished his sentence. "I'm sure that's a worse analogy. Saying it like that makes all of this premeditated. You didn't get in a fight with someone and accidentally take it too far. You were in control of what you were doing and knew the exact point to stop before you committed murder."

His strong blue eyes held my gaze completely unwavering, "I pleaded guilty, did you not know that?"

"Yeah but even still, everyone knows you did it so why continue to lie, what the hell happened between you and dean wilson?"

He relaxed back in his chair, "you had so many opportunities to ask me about it but you think now, in a room filled with people listening to our conversation, is the best time?"