*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2256805-Trickster
Printer Friendly Page Tell A Friend
No ratings.
Rated: GC · Draft · Thriller/Suspense · #2256805
Trickster - A sneaky little shit who practices the art of creeping. ~Urban Dictionary

Trickster

By Tiffany Dowell

Trickster - A sneaky little shit who practices the art of creeping. ~Urban Dictionary













































Prologue



Angelina Bradford froze, still as stone, coffee pot in one motionless hand, staring down at her husband Michael's forgotten cell phone.

Oh, God, you son of a bitch you son of a bitch...

"Just emailed the divorce attorney."

"Good boy. I've got a warm welcome home for you tonight."

"Leaving now, the ice cunt will be up in 20 minutes."

Her long, black hair fell into her face, blinding her to the text for a moment, shaking her from the shock. The two, long red fingernails framing soft pink flesh at the bottom of his screen shredded her marriage like a viscous animal.

Ice cunt?!

She sobbed, eyes closed tightly as she turned - and her arm came back like a whip. The coffee pot shattered against the wall, and a shard of glass ricocheted into her cheek. She reeled back and fell into a heap on the white marble floor, and she lay there weeping as the morning light wrapped around her like an embrace and her life came tumbling down around her.





























1

Small Town, New Start, and Sam Collins



Exhausted from the first steps of a what was supposed to be a new start, Angelina Bradford stood in the driveway surveying the damage.

She had expected things to be less than perfect. After all, moving to a small town like Allegan, Michigan from a big city like Chicago is a pretty big change of scenery. There are always challenges, a different culture with different kinds of people, and she had to admit, in a town like this, it wasn't expected that she wouldn't stand out. There were always going to be things to be done. But this was a bit too much after the long trip she had just made. She had driven almost 4 hours, alone, with too much time to think. Somehow, in all the thinking, which mostly revolved around Michael and the reasons this change of scenery had come about, not once had it occurred to her that this place would need repairs, and fixing up, and these things that were, as they say, man's work.

Shards of glass glittered in the sun, little bits of reflected fire dancing inside them. Apparently it was too damn hot this June for the local teens to hold their common sense along with their alcohol. They had broken into her pool house, sending a rock from the badly tended landscaping through the glass door, and dropping their empty beer bottles wherever the hell they chose on their way inside. Apparently, that wasn't all they'd left behind, either. She wasn't a seedy hotel housekeeper and she sure as fuck wasn't cleaning that up. At least someone had gotten some action lately.

Her best friend had commented that her ex-husband had taken her libido along with him when he left for her, effectively killing the part of her capable of trust. Truth be told, it wasn't all Michael's fault. She had been wrapped up in her work, and she hadn't had much of a libido to give him, even before she found out about her. Michael had been her safe bet, a good boy from a good home with a good job that allowed her to pursue freelance modeling as a possible career, despite the risks inherent in the industry Better than the jobless man-child, the drunk or addict; an "if these are my options I could do worse" move on her part, but he had never stirred much in her beyond fondness and security. Not an excuse for his actions, no, and now, that safe bet of security was her ironic failure, but at least she could admit both sides. Everything she had thought she'd known about her life, everything she had thought about in terms of her future, had slipped away from her as quickly as her wedding band the day she signed the divorce papers.

Now, staring at the little plastic sheaths floating on the waters surface, their insides as dirty as Michael's well kept little secret (and well kept the little whore was, traveling always at his side, the little gifts for her slipping out of their savings account while she wondered when he would catch a break, or when she would) she wondered just how many housekeepers had cleaned up just how many of his drunken messes. Let the bitch have him, and maybe, when the bimbo was sure they had a future together, he would drop her out of that white picket fence dream as he had done with Angel.

She turned toward the house, the bright warmth of the morning filling her senses, and focused her mind on the present. This wandering into what was now her past wasn't going to do her any good. She'd have to get someone to deal with the pool house. She didn't know jack shit about home repair. Besides, she had enough to keep her busy.

Her schedule was well fleshed out, and she wanted to throw herself into her work and forget it all. She was flying into South Carolina to do a test shoot with a potential client in two weeks. An up and coming romance author was looking for a southern bell cover girl. Her partner was rugged and tanned, well toned in all the right places, and non-committal. She shook her head at the thought. She'd made it a rule to never sleep with other models, due to their lack of loyalty and flaming egotism. Remind you of someone you know? But this guy fit the bill for what the client wanted, and had built a small ranch in his spare time, so he was providing the location and the well bred mustangs. Everything they would need was arranged, crew was selected, and a strenuous schedule stretched out before her after that. The book was ready for print, and the author was ranting about getting it out of the way so she could move on to her next work. Southern bell Angelina certainly was not, but six years of practiced conformity to other people's ideas of who she appeared to be were on her side. The only thing she wasn't sure if she could handle was looking that intimate with a man she barely knew. It took a certain level of comfort, and it wasn't always there. The divorce didn't help.

She slid into her Chevy Camaro and backed out of the driveway, then made her way to the local diner to see who she could get to fix her pool house. That's where everyone hangs out in towns like this, right? It's what she'd seen on television. She didn't know where people tended to congregate in towns like this, but figured it was as good a start as any, and coffee sounded wonderful. Maybe she'd grab a bite to eat while she was there.

~

Walking up to the counter, she was acutely aware of the eyes on her back. This was a small town after all, and anyone from the big city was an instant cause of gossip. Why would someone like her move way the hell out here? What was she running from? What mess was she mixed up in? Was it drugs? Some bad guy she'd run into doing bad things in a bad place? All these big city women were trouble, either their nose so far up the corporate asshole that the smell of the American family makes their more common senses reel, or so trashy and loose that the clean air out here makes their skin crawl. Anyways, it had to be something, but no one wanted to be the rude prick to try to find out. They turned back to their coffee and their assumptions as she turned around to face them, her eyes surveying the room with a slight inward tip to her brow, her hip resting on the counter. She was not some mouse, and she wasn't afraid of judgment. She'd built a career around being judged.

Turning her head, she got the nearest waitress' attention.

"Who do I talk to about home repairs?"

Julia Schaeffer looked Angel over with a smile. "You just moved into the old Wolfe place, right?"

"Some little assholes broke into my pool house. They shattered the door and left some presents floating around. I don't know anything about fixing it, and I was hoping to hire someone. There's a lot of work that needs done up there. I don't really know what kind of shape the house is in, but the yard could use a little work, and now I've got glass everywhere."

"Did you talk to Luke?"

"Who's Luke? Would he be interested in the work? I'd prefer to hire one person, someone with the time and skills for just about everything, and I don't want to deal with too many people working on too many things at once. My work keeps me busy as it is."

Julia laughed and shook her head, her long blond hair flipping back and forth. She was young, maybe late twenties, thin, and just over bony. Angelina immediately liked the woman. She appeared to be in her mid twenties, with a girl next door, friendly kind of face. "Lukas Sieber is the guy you talk to when someone breaks the law around here. He's the local sheriff, and if someone broke into your place, you might want to head over there after you find your repair man."

"It's just teenagers being irresponsible. I don't know how long the house was empty, and it's pretty common for places that are up for sale. I don't want to cause trouble for anyone, and I have enough to deal with right now. Besides, how would Mr. Sieber even know where to start? It's not really the same thing as a home invasion, when someone's living there. I just want to fix the pool house, and find someone who can do the work. Renovation and repair aren't exactly things I have any experience in."

"Alright. If it was me I'd talk to Luke though. Wouldn't want them coming back. Talk to Collie. You can probably find him working at the Sawyer ranch. Just tell Jack Sawyer you're looking for Sam Collins. It's the big place out on the lake."

As Angel turned around, a man turned to face her.

"Julia's half right. You should talk to Luke if someone broke into your place. But I'd stay away from Sam Collins if I were you. You seem like a nice lady, and I think its shit that this is how your welcome into town turned out. Sam's a drifter who came passing through, and Jack had a space to rent for him. They hit it off alright, but Sam spends way too much time out at that ranch. He don't talk to no one, and no one really knows him well, except maybe Jack, 'cause he helps him with the ranch. He don't have family around here. Julie can't really tell you if you can trust him or not, any more than anyone can, except maybe the sheriff, as he keeps up on who comes in and who goes out. Just saying', talk to Luke first."

"Thank you for your help. I'll talk to Luke first, but I don't want to cause trouble, and I'm pretty sure I can handle myself."

"Suit yourself." The man shrugged. "I hope we didn't make a bad impression. For the most part people around here don't see new people, and they know , and always have. Not much happens around here and we like that fine, but it means there's not much interesting to talk about. Hey, there's a band playing at the Iron Bridge tonight if you like that kind of thing. Nothing fancy, but its a way to get to know some people. By the way, I'm Aiden Reid."

"Angelina Bradford. It sounds like a good time, but I've still got a lot of unpacking to do."

"Well I can show you a good time." His smile turned from friendly to something else, yet not menacing, and Angelina backed away with a quick smile. She was used to disengaging men that came on to her while putting them at ease and not offending them.

"I'm sure you could,... (or think you could)... but like I said I got a lot of work to do. And I'm afraid I'd make a sorry date."

His eyes sparkled with mischief and his face lit with a good-natured smile. "Look, I'm sorry. You're a good looking lady," he said sheepishly. "I didn't mean to be forward, and maybe I spoke out of turn." His face turned serious. "Really though, no strings attached. You don't have to feel unwelcome around here. If you really want to stay home alone on your first night in town, that's up to you. Just thought I'd be the nice guy and make the first move of friendship."

Friendship, sure. Angelina raised her brow and cocked her head to the side with a half smile. "How do you know it's my first night in town?" The poor guy hadn't meant any harm.

Aiden laughed, leaning back against the counter in a easy, self confident stance. "You got a lot to learn about small towns, sweetheart. Besides, if you'd been here before, I'd remember. You're hard to miss."

"Call me Angel. And I think I'll take you up on your offer after all. NO strings attached."

"Good. See you at 8, Angel."

She turned on her heel, a small smile on her lips, and caught a sparkle in Julie's eyes as she walked out the door to her car. It might be fun, and mixing with the locals a bit was simply socially expected. She had told herself she would get out more, have a life outside of her job. If she was going to start a new life here, the people were going to be a part of that, and it was better than slipping back into bitterness again like she had earlier. She had worked too much in the city, making room for little else, and the divorce had helped her see how one-dimensional her life had become. She was trying.

~

Sitting in the car at the Sawyer ranch, Angel sighed. She'd driven from Chicago to her place that morning, and she was beginning to regret not grabbing lunch at the diner. The sun was high in a cloudless sky, and it was hot out. She didn't see anyone in the yard. She stepped out of the car, her foot crunching on the gravel in the driveway, and almost tripped shutting the car door. The stiletto pumps she was wearing weren't made for country back roads, but she hadn't thought of it. Another adjustment she would have to consider. Stepping away from the car, she began making her way up to the house. The knock on the door elicited no response, and she stepped back, leaning her rear against the railing, trying to decide whether to give up and go home, or make her way to the back of the house.

"Nice view." His low, musing voice startled her, and she turned, eyes narrowing as she stood, her head coming up defensively as he laughed at her softly.

Was every guy in town going to hit on her by the time the day was through?

"So defensive. You looking for Jack?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, not used to being called out so directly. "Actually, no. Are you Sam Collins?"

His eyes widened slightly in surprise, very brief, but it was there. Recovering, his jaw clenched slightly in irritation.

Great, so much for friendly locals.

"Yeah, why? Can I help you with something?" His eyes narrowed.

Now who's defensive? She smiled down at him, feeling like she had gained the upper hand.

"I hope so. Some kids broke into my pool house and shattered the door. I don't know how to fix it, and there's glass everywhere I can pay you for your services if you have the time. And there's more work than just the pool house. The grounds could use a little help. I haven't really gotten a chance to go through and look at everything, but I'm sure there's a lot more that needs to be done."

He smiled. "Sure. I'm just surprised that you came looking for me. Most people don't like that I don't socialize much, so I'd have figured my name wouldn't have come up. Not that I mind, just, I'm wondering who sent you out here. Then again, you're new in town, which means you get the social stigma too."

He was attractive. That, she registered right away. He was tall, with medium length curly black hair shining in the sunlight. His skin was slightly bronzed, and he was strong, but not in a blatant way. His eyes were a coveted icy blue, piercing, like he could read her like a book, and maybe a little dangerous. His tight jeans left little to the imagination. Yet there was something about him, something that made her relax a bit, like they knew each other already. He was affecting her, and she wasn't sure if she liked it. She brought her gaze back up.

"Humph." He was smiling at her, a knowing. cocky look in his eyes, and she almost reddened with embarrassment. Her arms returned to her chest.

"Can't start tonight, but I'll be over tomorrow morning. You said pool house. Wolfe place, right?" His gaze looked judgmental.

She sighed with relief. He'd broken the ice. If ice is what you could call it. At least she was making progress.

"That's fine. I have plans tonight anyways. Aiden decided I should mix with the locals, so I guess its bar night..." She shrugged. Why does that sound like an excuse? Jesus, am I that out of touch?! Angel brushed the thought aside. The waitress at the coffee shop in town, by the way, she gave me your name."

"Julia." A look of distaste passed over his face, and she wondered what their relationship was. "Try to have some fun. You look like you need it, Princess."

What the fuck was that about? Princess?! Well, Sam, fuck you, too!

~

Am I over dressed? Angelina stared at herself in the mirror. She hadn't been on a date in several years. It was just a bar. No strings attached.

© Copyright 2021 Tiffany Dowell (dovetail at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Log in to Leave Feedback
Username:
Password: <Show>
Not a Member?
Signup right now, for free!
All accounts include:
*Bullet* FREE Email @Writing.Com!
*Bullet* FREE Portfolio Services!
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2256805-Trickster