Stone In Love

Chapter 7

Sunday morning dawned gray and depressing, although the depression might have come from me. As I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, I felt a strange sense of loss about Colin. Despite my reservations about him, he seemed like someone who would be fun to hang out with minus the ties of a relationship. Of course, that wasn't going to happen now that I'd shown my true colors. No man in his right mind would pursue someone like me. I was damaged goods with not much to offer but a decent lay.

The headache that had plagued me most of the night was gone, and I went about my morning with no side effects from my rage. Sipping from my coffee cup, I responded to a text from Cassie, giving her the stale details of the Saint Thomas shoot and leaving out the juicy ones. She was not privy to my personal life. Afterwards, I made a protein rich breakfast consisting of my last hard boiled egg and my favorite sprouted bread loaded with peanut butter and honey.

Fortunately, Sunday was grocery day, so I slipped into my comfy jeans and Vans, grabbed my bags, and knocked on Mr. Pearlman's door. "It's grocery day, Mr. Pearlman. Do you need anything besides the usual?"

I waited in the hall while Mr. Pearlman shuffled to the door. I knew he was shuffling because my acute hearing made sure of it. When he answered, he gave me a long, judgmental once over. If I didn't know him better, I would have felt creeped-out.

"How are you feeling today, Reese?"

I figured he was referring to the blow-out I'd had with Colin. And he probably assumed it was Colin misbehaving when it was actually me. "I'm fine. I need to get going if I'm going to beat the rain."

He hesitated long enough to let me know he didn't believe I was fine. "You can pick me up a loaf of bread. I just took my last one out of the freezer."

I acknowledged him with a resigned head shake. Mr. Pearlman had an unhealthy attachment to the worst kind of white bread, but I didn't counsel him on his eating habits. At his age, he was entitled to eat whatever he wanted. "Okay. I'll be back within the hour."

"Here, take these. I owe you for last week." He pressed two twenties into my hand, and I stared at them like they were counterfeit. But I was just remembering the pair of twenties Vincent gave me for cab fare and how he refused the change and those smoky gray eyes. Damn. First Colin, now Vincent. These Valentino boys had infiltrated my brain. I walked toward the stairs, absently shoving the money into my pocket as Mr. Pearlman stood at his open door. I knew he was watching me, but I didn't turn around. I was fine, really.

The sky consisted of a solid gray cloud, the kind that hung like an ominous wall of granite threatening to flatten you. I made the two block trek at a jog, which was not my regular pace, so I had to focus, and I arrived at Jin's in half the time it normally took me. The place was nearly empty, making my job easier as I traveled down each aisle filling my bags with the usual items. I got through check-out in record time and stepped back outside just as the first raindrops darkened the sidewalk.

Jogging was not an option since my arms were occupied with two full grocery bags, and I had to ignore the itch as rain pelted my face. Half a block in, the cloud burst open, and the deluge plastered my hair to my cheeks and forced droplets of water down the back of my shirt. I did my best to protect the groceries, securing the bags under my armpits and holding them by the base instead of the handles.

Every person who had been enjoying a Sunday stroll was now indoors, and I figured some were watching from their windows, laughing at the poor sot carrying her groceries home in the pouring rain. This was probably the reason I felt like I was being followed, and my legs automatically sped up in response to my paranoia as my mind flashed back to turquoise Chuck Taylor.

Squinting through my soggy hair, I was distracted by a passing car that quickly pulled up to the curb in front of me. It wasn't just any car, mind you. It was a black Bentley - a Flying Spur, if I wasn't mistaken. I knew this because I had been chauffeured in one to a political event with my parents. As I prepared to blow by, the driver's side door opened and Vincent Valentino hopped out, popping open an umbrella and hurrying over to cover me and my soaked groceries.