Mirror Lake

Seven

Jillian watched Charlie Vandal take a long drag of his cigarette. His eyes looked tired, and his thick chestnut hair was a mess. The fog was beginning to lighten, as the sun made its appearance, and neither of them had slept.

"You can use my shower if you want," Jillian offered, grinding her cigarette butt into the ashtray.
Charlie stretched, his back arched, and slipped her a sly smirk.
"You gonna join me?" he teased. His voice sounded gravely; Jillian wasn't sure if he was doing it intentionally or not. She laughed, but it came out sounding nervous. The image in her mind burned pink on her cheeks.
"I'll take that awkward silence as a no," Charlie chuckled, and pushed himself up, before grinning and whistling his way inside the apartment.

Jillian watched him go, biting the corner of her lip gently, but then frowned. Her emerald eyes scanned the trees around her. Fallen logs came to life, as squirrels chased each other across the rotting wood. There was still no sign of Casper. Jillian contemplated putting up signs, but no one would bother looking for a cat out in these woods. They would probably assume that a mountain lion or coyote had found him, although it had been years since a big cat had roamed Mirror Lake.

"Can you tell me where I can go to get some breakfast?"

Jillian jumped, startled by the strange voice that had broken the natural silence, and looked up.
A man stood in front of her, a man she'd never met, with a leather jacket, and designer jeans. He definitely wasn't from Mirror Lake that she knew of, and especially not in the same area as her apartment.

"You new here?" she asked.
The man raised his eyebrows and smiled, teasing her.
"Well, yeah, or I might know my way around already," he said.

Duh.

"Oh, well there's a diner in town," she paused, "it doesn't really have a name, but it's right next to Aleah's Boutique. You'll see it as soon as you get off the road from here."

He reached up with one arm, and ran his fingers over his shaved head.
"Sounds simple enough, I'm really bad with directions."
He took a step towards her and reached out to shake her hand.
"Jake Wilde." He said. His blue eyes seemed to look right through her. For some reason Jillian felt incredibly naked, talking to this man. It was almost exciting.

Jillian shook his hand, which was smooth and firm, not calloused like Charlie's, or her father's.
"Jillian Foster." She said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Jake glanced at her apartment, and then back at her.
"You live here?" he asked, casually surveying the brand-new door and welcome mat that said "FUCK OFF".

"Yeah," Jillian responded. "Where do you live?"

He laughed and cleared his throat, shifting his weight and tucking his hands into his jacket.
"Not here, but I am staying here while my grandfather is out of town. He went on some kind of retreat for old people."

Jillian nodded slowly, trying to pinpoint who he reminder her of.
"Who's your grandfather?" she asked, hoping that might answer her question.

Jake motioned over his shoulder.
"Frank Gregory. You know him?"
She nodded.

That must be why he looks familiar.

"Yeah, I know him. I didn't know he had any family," she paused. "Not that lived nearby, anyway."

"Yeah, I actually came from Las Vegas," he told her. "Needed a break, and so did he, I guess. This seemed like the perfect solution."

"Hey,"

Jillian turned to see Charlie in her doorway. His hair was wet, combed back straight, and he was buckling his belt. His jeans rode low on his hips, and Jillian stared at the soft fur-like hair that led from his belly button down to-