CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN
(part four)

Friday afternoon — 2:35 P.M.
The Castle

Sitting on the edge of Sam’s bed, Delphie conserved her strength. She’d endured hours of psychic interrogation as a young child. She could endure it now that she was strong, well loved, and experienced.

But she was starting to lose track of her answers. His questions had become wild, crazy and off centered. She said whatever came into her mind. If her answers were vague or unclear, he would hurt her either use his psychic powers to squeeze her mind or hit her.

She’d do almost anything not to be hit. She had hated being hit as a child. She hated it now.

Why hadn’t he taken her back to Leadville? What was he waiting for?

When he was hungry, he dragged her into the kitchen by her hair to demand that she make his lunch. He used to only like restaurant food, expensive fancy food. But today he only wanted a sandwich. That was all a sandwich. They ate and he returned to his crazy interrogation.

Thank the Goddess that age had taken any sexual urge from him. While she was certain she would survive whatever he dished out, she just didn’t want to have to endure him today.

She’d become so accustomed to being loved, respected, and cared for. These hours with Johansen were almost more humiliating than when she was a child, when she didn’t know better. Every time she was ready to give into her despair, she saw Celia near her. Celia’s support helped her through the worst of the day.

“I need a glass of water,” she said.

“You may get one from the bathroom, Chastity,” he said. “I’m going to take a nap. If you leave, you will die. Your mind will break into pieces. You know this. No Marlowe can save you now.”

“I will take a bath while you nap,” she said.

“Fine,” he said.

Taking off his ancient dress shoes, he lay down on Sam’s bed. His scarecrow limbs made him look like more like a coat hanger person than the demon he was. When he closed his eyes, she went into the bathroom.  She filled the tub with warm, rose scented, foamy water then stepped in. When her entire body was in the tub, she dared to reach for the bathroom telephone. As silently as she could, she picked up the receiver.

No dial tone. Johansen must have cut the lines. She’d never used a cell phone. Jacob bought her one but she couldn’t figure out how to use it. It sat, uncharged, on her dresser. She cursed her stupidity.

For the first time, Delphie gave into her hopelessness. She slipped below the suds and wept.

~~~~~~~~

Friday afternoon — 3:40 P.M.
Lipson Construction

“Sorry, honey, I can’t join the party,” Tres yelled to Tanesha over the loud music in the background. “It’s awesome, really wonderful news.”

“So why aren’t you joining us?” Tanesha asked. “Heather and Blane are taking care of Molly’s kids today. She won’t be there.”

“It’s not that,” Tres said. “My brother needs some help moving in. He’s going to stay with me for a while.”

“Enrique?”

“Yeah,” Tres said.

“But I thought he owned his house,” Tanesha said.

“He does,” Tres said. “He’s ending it with Calvin. Calvin said he’d move out at the first of the month. Enrique doesn’t want to throw him out…”

“Like he did Blane?”

“Well, yes, that’s exactly what he said,” Tres said.

“Huh.”

“Huh is right,” Tres said. “He quit his job today too.”

“Wow, better find out what’s going on with him.”

“That’s what I thought,” Tres said. “Sorry I’ll miss the party.”

“It’s all right,” Tanesha said. “I have to work at seven anyway. I think they have a family dinner this evening. I just thought you’d have fun if you came.”

“I would have,” Tres said. “Thanks for the invite. I’ll be with Enrique the rest of the night.”

“Ok, I’ll catch you tomorrow,” Tanesha said.

“Tomorrow.”

Tres smiled when he set down the phone. Since they’d had their big talk, he and Tanesha seemed to be closer, more honest. She was becoming his best friend, maybe the best friend he’d ever had. Grabbing his coat, he went out to his car.

What the hell was going on with Enrique?

Denver Cereal continues tomorrow…