Before Marianna knew it, Alna had shoved her backward, Alna’s back filling her vision. She didn’t have to be a genius to see the rigid tension underneath the light brown jacket and in response, Marianna felt her heart pick up its tempo. She looked around desperately, looking for someone to help, an easy escape route––heck, she’d even take a weapon.
There was nothing, though. While this street was far from deserted, there seemed to be a surprising lack of people driving by, and Marianna doubted anyone who was nearby would be too keen on helping them.
She hoped this would be nothing more than a mugging. If the man had anything worse in mind–– God, no.
“What are you ladies doing out here by yourselves?” the man asked, sounding smug. His voice made her skin crawl. Marianna tried to step around Alna so that they could at the very least face this man side by side.
Alna sensed this, though, moving so that she was blocking Marianna.
“Just going for a walk,” Alna answered. If Marianna hadn’t known Alna as well as she, she might have thought Alna was completely unaffected by the situation. But she did know Alna and while her girlfriend was good at hiding her, Marianna could hear the slightest hint of a tremor in her voice.
She stepped forward, placing a hand between Alna’s shoulder blades while taking in their surroundings.
They could run, but the man looked to be fit, despite his ripped and dirty clothing that showed either homelessness or poverty. In fact, if Marianna was reading the signs right, he looked like a man who had only recently fallen to hard times. The watch on his wrist, while not expensive, looked new.
“Really,” the man said, advancing a step closer while still brandishing his rusty kitchen knife. Alna didn’t move; Marianna had to fight the urge to step back.
“I was unaware that it was a crime,” Alna said, her voice calm. She became even more tense under Marianna’s hand.
The man gave them a grin that reminded her uneasily of Harlow Ashworth’s manic smile when she had captured them. This man meant business and was not above harming them to achieve his ends.
Gesturing at them with the knife, the man said, “Why don’t you give your money, and we’ll call it even.”
The intense dislike Alna held for this man practically dripped from her voice as she replied, “You used to have a respectable job, didn’t you?” Even as she said this, Alna was reaching for the wallet in her back pocket.
Marianna didn’t know whether to cheer Alna on or shake her arm to tell her to shut up before she said something to set him off.
When the man stiffened, the smile disappearing, Marianna almost wanted to smack Alna. Her blood was rushing in her ears. Still, she couldn’t see any quick escape route that would prevent the man from pursuing them. She tried to keep her breathing slow and even, unwilling to show how afraid she was.
“What the fuck do you know?” the man asked. He advanced a step and Marianna took an aborted step back, stopping herself at the last moment.
Alna wouldn’t try to fight him, would she? Marianna wondered, remembering the pocket knife Alna had brought along. Surely, she knew better than that. Getting out of this without a fight was their best option.
Thankfully, though, Alna pulled out a twenty and five-dollar bill, offering it to the man with a hand that trembled ever so slightly.
“Nothing,” Alna said, voice flat. “Here.”
Instead of taking the money, the man stared at Alna with a raised eyebrow.
“You’re telling that’s all your daddy gave you?” He lifted the knife higher, snatching the money as he did so. “We both know you’ve got more than that, girlie. Give it up.”
Marianna pulled out her wallet, desperate to get this over with. In her haste to get her money out, her change fell out, quarters and nickels scattering haphazardly across the sidewalk and falling onto the road.
It was then that a distinctly male voice shouted, “Hey!”
On instinct, Marianna’s head jerked toward the sound. She watched in confusion as Parker Wyatt barrelled toward them––no, toward the mugger.
As Mr. Wyatt grabbed the man’s wrist, jerking it behind him, Alna’s hand came back, catching Marianna in the stomach as she pushed her backward.
The knife clattered to the ground.
“Are you bothering these two ladies?” Mr. Wyatt said right next to the man’s ear, who suddenly looked terrified.
It occurred to Marianna that they should take this opportunity to make their escape. Alna was clearly thinking the same thing because she started to edge away, pushing Marianna along as she did so.
“Fuck off,” the would-be mugger said with bravado Marianna could tell was fake. Alna was now walking backward, still keeping Marianna behind her, watching the men carefully.
“Nice,” Mr. Wyatt said sarcastically. He released the man, shoving him away none too gently. Marianna couldn’t help but notice he pushed the man in a different direction from her and Alna.
“Why don’t you head home?” Mr. Wyatt suggested. There was an underlying threat in his voice. His brown eyes were cold. “Call it a day.”
The man stumbled a bit. For a moment, Marianna dared to hope that he would leave without incident. But then he whipped around, eyes wild as he threw a fist at Mr. Wyatt’s face. Alna whipped around, shoving Marianna’s shoulder to get her moving.
They didn’t quite break into a run, but they hastily left the scene of crime––even as a grunt of pain sounded behind them.
As the sounds of fighting continued, Alna continued rushing Marianna ahead of her. She almost tripped on a dog collar at one point, torn in two. Marianna decided she didn’t want to know.
They had just reached a street corner when the sound of running came from behind them and Mr. Wyatt yelled, “Hey!”
Marianna could sense Alna’s tension even before she had turned around. Seeing as Mr. Wyatt had caught up to them with no effort at all, trying to bolt wouldn’t have been the best idea, anyway.
Despite having been in a fight (however briefly), Mr. Wyatt barely seemed affected. Sure, his chest expanded and contracted underneath his simple brown shirt, but he didn’t seem to be breathing too heavily. Mr. Wyatt was quite a big man with thick biceps that showed he spent some time bodybuilding, accompanied by a barrel chest. Even his hands, Marianna noted, looked rather strong––large with tendons that seemed to strain against the skin.
A glance over Mr. Wyatt’s shoulder revealed the would-be mugger slinking away, a hand cupped over his nose, while the other one gripped his knife.
“Yes?” Alna asked. Marianna picked up an edge of strain in her voice.
Surprisingly (or not), Mr. Wyatt appeared concerned. His eyes darted to Alna, then Marianna, brows drawing together. He held up his hands, the universal gesture of surrender.
Out of the corner of her eye, Marianna saw a movement and looked toward it out of instinct. Across the road, a cream coloured curtain twitched open and a thin face peered out. Marianna couldn’t see enough to make out the woman’s features, but when the woman realized she had been spotted, she jerked back. The curtain fell back into place.
Marianna felt a surge of bitterness flow through her veins. So at least one person besides Mr. Wyatt had been aware of her and Alna being attacked and had done nothing.
Nice neighbourhood, she thought. Really.
Presently, Mr. Wyatt asked, “Are you two all right?”
“Yes, thank you,” Alna said without inflection. Marianna took this as an opportunity to move so that she was standing beside Alna, earning a sharp look.
Ignoring Alna for the moment, Marianna studied Mr. Wyatt. Even though he had just beaten a man, he didn’t inspire any fear in her at the moment. This probably had to do with his relaxed posture, as Mr. Wyatt’s arms rested by his sides, fingers brushing his faded jeans.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
She offered her hand, giving Mr. Wyatt a shaky yet sincere smile.
Mr. Wyatt’s hand closed around hers, warm and sweaty. The tension radiating from Alna made the air feel thick.
“Thanks for what you did back there.” She glanced at Alna, who glared at her for a moment before her face went blank. Her eyes (their natural colour hidden by brown contacts) were narrowed. “I’m not sure what we would have done if you hadn’t shown up.”
That was the truth, at least. Alna could be as displeased as she wanted, but this was an opportunity they couldn’t pass up. They hadn’t intended to interview Mr. Wyatt today, but as long as he didn’t look like he was going to become violent toward them, this was the perfect opportunity to do so.
Stepping back, Marianna nudged Alna in the side. If Mr. Wyatt hadn’t been watching them, she would have given her a pointed look.
“That was nice of you,” Alna said, her voice shy. There was the persona. “Too many people wouldn’t have bothered helping.”
“Yeah,” Mr. Wyatt said, looking toward the same house that had caught Marianna’s attention. “I can see that.”
The curtain was once again pulled back, and now Marianna realized the woman watching them was in her elder years, the wrinkles clear.
Mr. Wyatt started speaking again, bringing Marianna’s attention back to him. Alna was still tense behind her. She could almost feel it.
“Are you ladies heading somewhere?”
“Oh,” Marianna said before Alna could cut her off. “No, we were just on a walk.” She gave him her most bashful smile, which wasn’t that hard to fake. “We didn’t realize where we were heading.”
She hated the dumb blonde act, but sometimes it was effective.
“I’ll say,” Mr. Wyatt agreed. He gave them a sudden, friendly grin that showed off white teeth.
Marianna couldn’t resist the urge to shift back a bit. She looked back at Alna, whose hand rested in the pocket where her knife was. Despite the cold, calculating look in her eyes, she was still playing the part of the traumatized, somewhat shy girl.
“Do you need me to call you a cab or something?” Mr. Wyatt continued, running a hand through his inky black hair. “I wouldn’t feel too great if you got attacked again before you get home.”
This had become a dangerous conversation; Marianna didn’t need Alna to tell her that. Yes, being able to interview Mr. Wyatt was ideal, but given the traffic in the city, and their location, it could take at least a half an hour for the cab to reach them. That was a bit too long to spend in the presence of a potential killer––in a dangerous neighbourhood, no less. No matter how many good vibes Marianna was getting from him.
It was Alna who spoke this time.
“No, we’re okay. But thank you.”
Mr. Wyatt didn’t look convinced. He observed them with a frown. “You sure? It’s really no problem.”
The thing was, Marianna believed him. Mr. Wyatt seemed so sincere that the idea of him being a murderer almost seemed impossible. Almost. Killers didn’t exactly have neon signs hanging above their heads, declaring them as such. They had learned that the hard way.
She looked back at Alna, taking in the thoughtful look on her face. Was she going to take Mr. Wyatt up on his offer? Perhaps she wasn’t the only one who thought Mr. Wyatt wasn’t likely to hurt them. The thought made Marianna feel better. At least she wasn’t completely unobservant compared to Alna.
Alna spoke again. “Actually, yes. If you don’t mind walking us until we’re at least out of the neighbourhood.” Alna lowered her brown eyes, a bashful expression appearing underneath the makeup that gave her a more flushed appearance, completely opposite of her normal parlour.
It must have been killing her to do such an act. Marianna tried to hold back a grin. The situation was more amusing than it should have been.
At Alna’s agreement, Mr. Wyatt looked rather relieved, his expression becoming more relaxed. Marianna cast another look at Alna, wondering if that was a bad thing. Alna looked unperturbed, however, so Marianna relaxed a bit more.
“Great,” said Mr. Wyatt. And then, seeming to remember something, he added, “Wait a sec.”
Turning around, Mr. Wyatt jogged about ten paces and crouched down, while Marianna watched in confusion. When something silver caught the bright sunlight, flashing it into her eyes, Marianna realized he was picking up the change that had fallen from Marianna’s wallet in her haste to get her money out. He even picked up Alna’s bills. When he stood in front of them once more, he offered the money to her and Alna.
“Thank you,” Marianna stuttered, unable to hide the surprise in her voice. She took the money from Mr. Wyatt, the coins warm from being in his hand, and handed the bills to Alna, who looked a bit taken aback herself. She mumbled her thanks, putting the money away.
After assuring them it was no problem, Mr. Wyatt gestured with his left arm, indicating they could get moving.
Marianna couldn’t help but glance at Mr. Wyatt’s forearms as they walked along––although Alna walked between them, making it a bit more difficult. There was no missing the scent of drugs hanging around Mr. Wyatt like a cloud. Marianna almost swore she could see a mixture of green, or whatever colour drugs would be.
Were there needle marks on Mr. Wyatt’s arm? Marianna couldn’t tell.
The sound of two people arguing caught Marianna’s attention and she glanced over in time to see the people duck inside their house.
Seriously? People could stand outside and watch two girls get mugged, but they couldn’t call the police?
Perhaps Marianna had more faith in people than they deserved.
“So, uh,” Alna began, sounding nervous. Marianna envied her acting skills sometimes. “You read books or anything?”
Alna appeared, for intents and purposes, to be studying the ground rather intently.
Mr. Wyatt said, “Not really. Never found I had much time.”
“Oh.” Alna sounded embarrassed. In fact, now that she thought about it, Alna sounded like her. Was she imitating Marianna? She wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
They reached a crosswalk. Mr. Wyatt waited for Alna, letting her lead them.
Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. Marianna jumped in, unwilling to let Alna do all the work.
“What about the news?”
Mr. Wyatt didn’t answer immediately. He reached up, swatting at a fly that had taken to flying around his head. When he lifted his arm, Marianna could see dark sweat stains on the side of his shirt. This observation only made Marianna aware of how hot she was. She swiped a hand across her face, grateful she hadn’t had to wear as much makeup as Alna. It surely would have all come off by now.
“Sometimes,” Mr. Wyatt answered. Marianna waited for him to say more or ask a question, but he did neither.
Oh. So he was one of those untalkative people. All right, she could work with that. It had taken Marianna and her friends some time to break Blaze, of that habit. This was nothing.
“It’s kinda crazy, right?” she asked, fiddling with her wallet. “What happened at the museum?”
Having Alna walking between them wasn’t helping Marianna watch Mr. Wyatt’s reactions, but him being taller than Alna by at least a head help. Even still, Mr. Wyatt didn’t have any major reaction that Marianna could see. Except for a slight frown, Mr. Wyatt seemed unconcerned. Alna would be able to catalogue his reactions better, but to Marianna, Mr. Wyatt didn’t look like someone who was trying to hide anything.
“Yeah, it’s pretty shitty.” Mr. Wyatt stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets. “Can’t believe anyone would do something like that.”
Well, that wasn’t very helpful. Going by the brief, there and gone, frown on Alna’s face, she was thinking along the same lines. Up ahead, a café appeared. They were out of Meteor Lane.
“Why do you think someone would do that?” Alna asked, her eyes once more on the ground. A man walked past them, holding a boy’s hand who Marianna assumed to be his son. “Is it about money, you think?”
Mr. Wyatt glanced over at her. The mocking smile that appeared on his face seemed to speak of years of seeing the darker side of humanity. “You’d be surprised what people will do to get what they think they deserve. As much as we’d all like to think otherwise, people aren’t as kind as they should be.”
Marianna felt suddenly humbled. She directed her gaze to a nearby shoe store, almost missing the look Alna gave her. The look on Alna’s face was all Marianna needed to see; she was beginning to doubt that Mr. Wyatt was the killer/thief, but she wasn’t ready to let go of the possibility yet. Marianna could see a break-in in their future.
Abruptly, Alna stopped walking. Marianna walked a few more steps before stumbling to a stop, turning to face her girlfriend. Mr. Wyatt followed suit.
Alna was giving Mr. Wyatt a smile that was a mixture between shy and grateful. Her eyes were soft, more so than they normally were around people Alna didn’t like or know.
“Thank you for walking us,” Alna said in a warm voice. “But we’ll be okay now. I can call us a cab from here.”
Mr. Wyatt gave Alna a considering look and then turned to Marianna, one eyebrow raised in question. Around them, people walked to and fro, going about their lives.
Marianna started a bit. Was Mr. Wyatt asking for her permission?
Pasting what she hoped was a reassuring look on her face, Marianna added, “We’re fine. Thank you.”
Mr. Wyatt paused and nodded. He held out his hand to Marianna and then Alna, shaking their hands. With a playful, roguish grin that might have made Marianna’s heart stutter under different circumstances, he said, “Stay safe, then. Wouldn’t want to find you facing down another asshat.”
Nearby, a woman shot Mr. Wyatt a vicious glare, covering her child’s ears.
“Will do,” Alna agreed, sounding sheepish. Bumping into Marianna’s shoulder, Alna directed Marianna to the café she had noticed earlier. They didn’t enter but turned to look back at Mr. Wyatt. He was nowhere to be seen, lost in the crowd of people.
Marianna slumped back against the café’s large window. Alna gave a concerned look and reached up to touch her cheek.
“Are you all right?” she asked, ducking her head so that she could meet Marianna’s eyes.
“Yeah.” Marianna tried to will her heart to slow down, which had sped up with remembered fear of the mugger. “That was a bit terrifying,” she added weakly.
“It was,” Alna agreed, stroking Marianna’s cheekbone with her thumb. She resisted the urge to lean into the gesture.
Before Alna could say anything more, Marianna mentally shook herself, standing up straighter. “So what do you think of that?”
Alna sighed, leaning next to her. “I doubt he’s the one we’re looking for,” she admitted. “Nonetheless, I do not want to dismiss him yet.”
Marianna nodded. “So back to the drawing board?”
“It seems so,” Alna said. And then, stepping back, she added, “But for now, we should get you to work.”
