The Sound of Their Presence

Chapter Forty: Oh

Cheyenne's POV

    "Where is Jillian?" I ask in Shane's room.

    "I don't know! She is your roomate, not mine."

    "And she is your aunt."

    "According to Lilith, she is my kidknapper."

    "And what has your panties in a twist, oh rightoues one?" I finally ask, exasperated.

    "According to Lilith, my aunt is your accomplice."

    "You are supposed to be my accomplice, too."

    "And you are a murderer." God, somebody was PMSing today! 

    "You are more of a murderer than me. What does it feeli like to coat your hands in another;s blood, Shane? What is it like to rake a blade across another's throat?"

    "Point taken," his face remains taut with anger and vexation.

    "Can we cut the crap?"

    "What crap?" I just glare at him at this, so he continues, "Whatever."

    "What the h*ll is bothering you, Shane?! You have kind of been acting like a-"

    "I want to go kill the Russian!"

    "What?"

    "The one from the nightclub last night? Don't you remember him? The one you won't tell me about what he was asking you about!"

    "That's what you are angry about? Seriously?" I can't begin to describe the awe I feel. Shane was jelous of some stranger that I had turned down?

    "Yes! You just refuse to tell me anything!"

    "Fine. You really wnat to know what the guy asked me? You really want to know?"

    "YES!"

    "Jeez! He just was trying to get me to sleep with him! Are you happy?"

    "Not really!"

    "Shane, I said no," I try desperately to calm him down.

    "You know, I figured something out last night."

    "Ok, you want to tell me what?"

    "Tell you what?" he asks, thouroughly puzzled.

     "What you learned last night! Oh my God! Are you PMSing agian?!?!"

    "Well, for one, it is physically impossible for me to PMS-"

     "Just tell me what you learned last night," I sigh, rolling my eyes, as if for the olympics.

    "I love to perform!"

    "You mind clarifying that a bit further?" I ask, an eyebrow arched higher than I thought was possible for me.

    "On stage!"

    "Umm, still not quite there yet, Shane."

    "Ok. I love singing on stage in front of a crowd of people called an audience and hearing them clap and beating creepy Russian guys that are trying to sleep with you in sing offs and having the audience cheer and clap and shreik 'encore' in foreign languages and you-"

    "Dude! Take a breath! Come again now?"

    "I love singing for audiences. It is even more fun than killing things," he smiles cynically. "And," he continues, "I love . . ."

    "Could you spit it out already?" I press, almost laughing, now that words are not being rushed lously at me.

    "I- I  . . . Iove . . you. I love you, Cheyenne."