Chapter 10
Cordelia shifted on her feet, her right palm flat on the glass door of the ‘The Dress Place’. She double-checked her watch. Reassured by the tiny hands, she pushed open the door.
“Miss Chase.” Miss Twittle popped out from behind the cocktail dresses.
Cordelia jumped. “I’m not late.”
“Yes, not this time.” Miss Twittle waved away Cordelia’s words. “I want to know why you did not inform me of your problem.”
“My what? I don’t have a problem.”
“Yes, you do. And when you have a problem, the store has a problem.”
Cordelia’s eyes darted around. Shiny cocktail dresses to her right, pastel elegant suits to her left, the pants and silk dresses were neatly hung, and the jewelry display on the counter appropriately sparkled. Cordelia didn’t see a problem other than being trapped by the dresses, suits, and Miss Twittle’s scowl.
Cordelia inched forward, easing past Miss Twittle towards the counter. “Miss Twittle, I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Cordelia placed her purse down and turned to face the manager.
“I see you’ve forgotten. Forgetfulness does not a good sales clerk make.” Miss Twittle peered over the steeple of her fingers.
Casting aside the idiocy of the statement, Cordelia’s mind raced through every policy that Miss Twittle had ever given.
“Perhaps you could tell me?” Cordelia’s mind came up blank for any infractions. The Angel-induced tardiness of last night couldn’t count.
“You’ve been neglectful to one of our customers.”
Cordelia frowned. She had thought she cleared up the particular complaint last night with the receipts.
Miss Twittle’s lips disappeared in a tight line at Cordelia’s expression. “I see you don’t even remember his name.”
Cordelia raised her brows. Men hardly ever came in, and those that did she recognized as somebody’s father. “A ‘his’?” She asked to clarify.
“Yes, he came in to pick up a dress for his mother —“
“Mother?” Cordelia stood straighter, more confident. The men that did come into the store bought last minute gifts for their wives or mistresses not their mothers.
“Don’t interrupt – as I was saying, I spoke with him last night, he said that he had previously spoken with you about a dress that his mother ordered. You were to check on the status of that order. You had told him to come back yesterday. Yet, did you get that information or speak to me about it. No you didn’t. And now it seems you’ve even forgotten his name and probably that of his mother.”
Cordelia shook her head firmly.
“Yes, Miss Chase. I spoke with the man myself. Very polite and handsome, looked like one of the older students from the university.”
“Miss Twittle, believe me that never happened. I would remember if a hottie from the university came in, believe me I would.”
“Are you calling me a liar?” She asked sternly.
“Um, no.” Cordelia chewed on her lip, doubt creeping up her spine. “What did he look like?”
“I told you he was handsome.”
“I get that- but was he tall? Blonde? What?”
Miss Twittle’s brows pinched in a vee. “He was tall but not too tall, dark hair, a little pale, but not unattractively so, quite nicely built. I will admit that he gave me quite a start, blending into the darkness with his dark coat. Generally, I don’t approve of leather coats on gentlemen but in this instance…”
The tingling of recognition as well as anger began in Cordelia’s stomach. Okay, so she’d made Angel a little mad, but to make up such a story for what – to get her fired? He had made her late yesterday and now this. She WAS going to kill him.
From Miss Twittle’s tone, she was halfway smitten with Angel. She wouldn’t want to believe Cordelia. Anyway, what could Cordelia say? That a vampire was getting her back for calling him Slayer- whipped one too many times? She had to think of something before Miss Twittle stopped waxing poetic about Angel and expected her to explain.
Cordelia guessed that she could make Angel buy a very expensive dress for his non-existent mother. Except, Cordelia wasn’t sure how. She wasn’t Buffy. And she was pretty sure that Angel wasn’t scared of her spritzer of holy water.
Cordelia’s head shot up, catching the last part of what Miss Twittle had been saying. “Excuse me?”
“I said, you really need to –“
“Not that.” Cordelia waved her hand. “The part where he said he would come by tonight.”
“Yes, I told him your work schedule. He said he would try to come by tonight. I really —“
Cordelia blocked out the rest of the words. Damn Angel. He was going to be waiting for her after work probably to gloat or something equally as obnoxious. He needed to get back to adoring Buffy from the shadows. It was obvious that he had too much time on his hands since they broke up.
The sight of the glossy cover of the Soap Opera Digest lying on the counter interrupted her internal rant and triggered a glimmer of an idea. Cordelia glanced at the still talking Miss Twittle. She was obsessed with her daytime soaps and the major melodrama that accompanied them. Cordelia kept her smile hidden. The fact that Miss Twittle thought Angel was handsome would only help.
“Oh God, Miss Twittle, he found me.” Cordelia clutched at her throat.
“Excuse me?” Miss Twittle puckered her brow.
“Miss Twittle, I swear to you, he wasn’t a customer. But, I do know him. Oh God,” Cordelia whispered, her lips trembling. “He doesn’t have a mother.”
“Miss Chase, everyone —“
Cordelia shook her head. “There was a rumor that he killed her in a fit of rage. Father, too. I know. I didn’t believe it either when I first heard.”
Miss Twittle moved a little closer, the drama of Cordelia’s speech drawing her in. “Who is he?”
“I don’t really know. Oh God. How can this be happening?” Cordelia buried her face in her in her hands. “With my parents away. I’m all alone,” she mumbled.
“Calm down, Cordelia,” Miss Twittle said with concern, as well as burgeoning curiosity. “Just tell me.”
Cordelia gulped, wiping her eyes. “I met him several months ago. I was visiting a friend in Los Angeles. He was so nice and handsome. I was stupid.” Cordelia turned slightly, biting on her thumbnail.
“Now, now.” Miss Twittle patted Cordelia’s hand in encouragement.
Cordelia peered out of the corner of her eye at Miss Twittle. She was actually buying it.
Cordelia took a deep breath. “I thought it was okay, he was so charming and I met him with my friend and people she knew. I thought it was okay. So, I went out with him. See, I thought he was a friend of my friend or at least a friend of her friends, but not really, you see, they just knew who he was. That’s when my friend told me about the rumors.”
“About killing his parents?” Miss Twittle questioned eagerly.
“Oh no, that came later. This was about a girl he used to date that went crazy and then turned up dead.” Cordelia leaned in closer. “She had long dark hair. They said he was obsessed with her.”
Miss Twittle’s eyes widened. “Oh dear. What happened then?”
“I didn’t want to believe it of course. Even when he started showing up everywhere and getting jealous when I spent time with anybody else. But, my friend was really worried so she called my dad. And he hired a private investigator, that’s when —“
“His parents?” Miss Twittle asked.
“I…didn’t know what to believe. He hadn’t been arrested, or anything, but Daddy made me break up with him and come home.”
“Very good.” Miss Twittle nodded again. “But he’s here now,” she said, tapping her finger on her chin.
“I know. I’d thought it was over. See he never tried to contact me, or if he did my daddy took care of it. I think maybe,” Cordelia looked down at her fidgeting fingers. “I think maybe, my daddy hired some one to scare him away.” She looked up at Miss Twittle. “Is that bad?”
“Your father did the right thing.” Miss Twittle nodded. “And now, your parents are gone and he’s here. He must have found out that your source of protection was gone. And I believed him.” Miss Twittle tsked. “Well, psychotics are like that, believable and charming, just look at Ryan Collins, he had all of Port Charles fooled at first.” Miss Twittle said knowingly.
Huh? Whatever. “What am I going to do? I could leave and go to my parents. Though I’m not exactly sure where they are in Europe right now.”
“First, you’re going home,” Miss Twittle, said decisively.
“What if he knows where I’m staying? You didn’t tell him that did you?”
“Of course not. But, he may’ve have found out. Psychotic serial killers are sly like that. He found you here. Can you stay with another family friend?”
“I wouldn’t want to put any of them in danger.” Cordelia bit her lip. “I know. How about a dingy hotel? He’d never think of looking for me there. But I’d have to keep it a secret.”
“Your secret is safe. We should call the police.”
“But, he hasn’t done anything.”
“Yet,” Miss Twittle said with foreboding and a hint of excitement.
Cordelia shot a look at the woman. Miss. Twittle was salivating at the idea of danger.
“You go, find a hotel. Do you have a cell phone? I’ll need the number.”
“Okay.” Cordelia picked up a pen and slip of paper from the counter.
“I’ll memorize it then burn it.”
Cordelia was relieved that Miss Twittle hadn’t said she’d swallow it. Miss Twittle watched weirder stuff than soaps, that’s for sure.
“I think it best that you still work here, so I can keep an eye on you. You will park up front next to my car from now on. And I’ll make arrangements with the owners to have a security guard hired immediately. You will be safe here.”
“You’d do all that for me?” Cordelia was stunned.
“Of course. Now, shoo, I told him you got off at 7:00p.m. It’s early yet, but you should be away from here before dark. Now, be careful. Make sure he isn’t following before you move.”
“But, what if he comes here? It’s a public place. You can’t stop him.”
Miss Twittle waved away the concern. “If he has the nerve, then I’ll take care of him. Put the fear of God in him.”
Cordelia wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. She was positive that Angel wouldn’t. “Don’t do anything dangerous.”
“Oh, I won’t let on I don’t want to be the next victim, though…” Miss Twittle eye’s shown with an anticipatory light.
Cordelia shot another look at the older woman. Miss Twittle was in serious need of some mental rewiring. Cordelia was just grateful that if Angel some how found out, he would be mad at her and not Miss Twittle. She’d hate to be responsible for the woman’s heart attack if Angel decided to get ‘grry’ on her.
“Thank you. I feel so much better.” Cordelia grabbed both of Miss Twittle’s hands.
“That’s alright, sweet heart, just go.” Miss Twittle smiled, patting her hand.
Cordelia ran to her car, still reeling from Miss Twittle’s turn about. She had genuinely smiled.
Chapter 11
Angel jerked awake, clutching the arms of the leather chair. He scanned the shadows of the room trying to discern what had yanked him out of sleep.
Nothing was hidden behind the once-stylish sofa, or under the long table covered in books or the cabinet holding stakes and other weapons. The marble fireplace was as cold as it had been the night before.
Angel relaxed as he sensed the quiet of the room. The cause hadn’t been external, but rather a dream. He concentrated trying to recall the contents. However, the images had fled leaving nothing but an after taste of flowers and spice.
Angel leaned down picking up the sketchpad from the floor. He frowned, glancing at the beautiful face that stared back. He turned the pages and threw the pad back down. He hadn’t managed to get one of Cordelia’s expressions right.
Angel braced his hands on the armrests and pushed up from the chair, noting the late afternoon sun fighting to get through the heavy brocade draperies.
He made no sound as he followed the patchy carpet up the stairs to his bedroom. Angel slumped to the mattress, his elbows resting on his knees as his fingers rubbed at his temples. The scents and flavors of his dream were fading and being replaced by an expanding tension.
Angel pulled off his boots. His black sweater and pants dropped to the floor as he strode into the bathroom.
Angel stood in the heart of the shower spray trying to drown out the tightness in his head and muscles. However, the steaming water did nothing but heat his skin.
***
Angel leaned against the kitchen counter clad in a new outfit of black. He held the empty container between his palms, waiting for the blood to give his body the relief the shower hadn’t.
“Damn,” he growled, tossing the plastic container in the trash. The tension was still in his body, prickling at his muscles daring them to strike out. He needed to move.
He strode out of the kitchen his fist clenching and unclenching. The main room was cloaked in darkness. Angel grabbed at his leather jacket, ready to taste the freedom of the sun’s retreat.
A shrill ring broke the silence. A sharp stab of irritation pierced through as it rang again.
Angel stilled his temper, internally debating whether to answer, then grunted and reached for the phone. “Hello, Buffy.”
“Um. Hi. How’d you know it was me?”
Angel took a deep breath. “You’re the only one that has the number.”
“Giles —-“
“We don’t do tea.” A flicker of guilt washed over Angel at the stunned silence that shouted through the receiver. “I’m sorry, Buffy.”
“Um, he —“
“You don’t have to explain his feelings to me, Buffy.” Angel forced his voice to be reassuring.
“Was there something you needed?”
“I… I just…do you want to go on patrol tonight?”
“I can’t.”
“Oh.”
He almost relented when he heard her sad sigh, but the memory of the previous night and the presence of Willow and Xander brought him up short.
“Good night, Buffy.”
“Angel?”
Angel’s hand tightened around the receiver. “Yes.”
“Tomorrow night, we’re all going to the Bronze, maybe —“
“Maybe. Good night.” Angel said quickly.
“Good night.”
The receiver was half way to its cradle when another soft sigh floated into his ears. Once again guilt fisted around his heart. He jerked the phone back up. “Buffy, I’m —” He sighed at the dial tone.
Angel hung up as the clock on the mantle caught his eye. Thoughts of calling Buffy back scattered. Cordelia would get off work in less than thirty minutes.
Angel stuffed his arms in his leather jacket and rushed out of the mansion.
***
Angel frowned looking at the parking lot. The tension in his body increased as he studied the three lone cars. None were a convertible, none red, and none with Queen C taunting from the back bumper. They hadn’t transformed no matter how many times he willed it or wished to slam his fist through each windshield.
Angel moved quickly to the storefronts. He saw the manager’s sedan but not the red convertible. He stilled as sensed the heartbeat and heard the footsteps coming along his side.
“Can I help you, sir?”
Angel turned at the belligerence disguised as manners. He studied the beefy man, the brown uniform, and the large gun strapped to his side. Not police, but a security guard.
“No.”
“If you’re not here to shop, then I have to ask you to move on,” The man said with authority.
“You’re new.”
“Not to the business,” the man blustered. “Been wearing a uniform for fifteen years and a gun for longer.”
“I meant here.” Angel waved to the storefronts.
“Your interest, sir?” The guard moved closer.
Angel studied the man. There was a hostility oozing from the tip of his toes to his head.
“I’m just glad that the stores have finally seen fit to have a security guard on duty at night.”
The guard nodded. “Couldn’t be soon enough, I say. Two young ladies working alone.” He pointed to the dress shop. “Some one needs to be here to protect them from danger. I feel particularly fond of young Miss Chase. No one will get near her, I can promise you that.” He slapped his gun.
Angel’s face remained impassive. “I’m surprised you know her as you just started.”
“Oh, I’ve known little Cordelia for ages. Know her father. Not personally of course. Mr. Chase is a very important man. But, I know how Very protective he is.”
“That’s nice,” Angel was beginning to feel like he was in the twilight zone. He moved towards the store.
“Where are you going, sir?” The guard dogged Angel’s steps.
Angel turned. The guard’s hand was still on his weapon. “Into to the dress store.”
“Needing evening wear, sir?”
Angel refused to react to the sarcasm in the man’s tone. “For my mother.”
“A good son.” The guard moved quicker on his feet than his bulking form would indicate. “Here, let me.” He opened the door, for Angel, following immediately after.
Angel glanced around seeing the manager behind the counter. “Hello.”
“Hello.” Miss Twittle gave a curt nod.
“Is Cordelia here?” Angel was a bit surprised at the woman’s reaction. Last night she had been willing to talk to him. Now he could sense the walls zooming up to her eyes. He looked again, sensing an excitement in the woman. Not sexual, but danger. The woman was high with it.
“I sorry, she went home. Not feeling well.”
He frowned. The woman and the guard were human but the man’s hostility, and the woman’s show of excitement worried him. There were humans that took joy in the hunt and kill, filling with adrenaline to rival that of a vampire’s. Angel glanced around the store. Cordelia wouldn’t go quietly and the store looked completely in order. He turned back to the woman. Her hand had disappeared under the counter as she watched him. Her scent of excitement shot upwards.
Angel forced his arms to remain at his side, though his frustration begged that he reach over the counter and throttle the woman for answers.
“Cordelia’s sick? I’m sorry to hear that. She was so helpful, to both me and my mother, possibly I could have her address and maybe send her flowers or perhaps a card.”
Angel watched as Miss Twittle tensed, he could imagine her gripping her knuckles white on whatever weapon she was hiding. He glanced discreetly to his side. The guard had unsnapped his holster.
“I couldn’t, I’m sorry, it’s against store policy. But rest assured, she’s well taken care of. Her parent’s may be in Europe, but they left her in capable, very capable hands. She’s staying with the family of her boyfriend. So, you see, she’ll be fine. Cordelia is a very lovely young lady that has many admirers in this town. You’re concern is appreciated but not need. Good night.”
Angel made his body acquiesce to the curt dismissal. His fears that the two humans had some how caused harm to Cordelia vanished with each word the woman spoke. She was protecting Cordelia…from him.
Angel stood on the street corner, his fists itching to slam into something. What had Cordelia told the manager, to get the woman to do a 360 from disliking Cordelia to calling her – “her sweet Cordelia”- and making her willing to commit violence on his person?
The only portion of the manager’s tale that had a ring of truth was Cordelia’s parents were in Europe. He couldn’t imagine that she would strip away Cordelia’s built in support system and make up a new one, if the true one was still present.
Cordelia didn’t have a date the night before. And she had been walking alone when he fought the Phermitica demon. During every encounter with Cordelia, Angel hadn’t smelled anything but her unique scent. If a serious boyfriend existed he would know it.
A slow grumble vibrated through his chest as he imagined a faceless boy with fumbling hands attempt to bring the fire of passion to Cordelia’s hazel eyes. Involuntarily the clumsily hands changed in strength and skill becoming his. His knowing fingers, teasing and tempting, accomplishing what the boy’s awkward inadequate touching couldn’t.
Angel’s feet continued to travel through the darkened streets as another involuntarily growl worked its way out his throat.
Angel looked up realizing his feet had stopped. Images of his hands slowly bringing Cordelia to passion disappeared as his frustration took over. Angel curled his fist, trying to subdue the rubber bands tightening around his muscles straining to be snapped.
He needed to find her. His mind flipped over his choices. If he went to Buffy, he’d have to explain and it would take too long. Giles or the others were not even a possibility. Angel straightened. The school was though
***
Cordelia curled on the bed clad in old sweats, one of her dad’s old flannel shirts that he had gotten when he went through his ‘LL Bean’ phase and thick wool socks. Her wet hair was snatched high in a clip. She scooped out a spoonful of peanut butter, sucking on the smooth goodness and watched the fuzzy sitcom blaring from the old TV. Okay, so, sitting in the hotel room watching reruns of M*A*S*H wasn’t the embodiment of excitement but it was okay.
She wasn’t working, she wasn’t out pretending or lying. The normal loud shouting in the parking lot was absent, and no sounds of slaps, yells, or a baby’s cry drifted through the paper thin walls, and M*A*S*H made her giggle. It was almost relaxing.
The only thing that would make it better was if she could’ve have taken a hot bath rather than a shower. But try as she might, no matter how many times she scrubbed, she just couldn’t sit in the hotel bathtub. It was bad enough she had to stand in it. There were stains on the porcelain that she didn’t even want to hazard a guess at the original source.
Cordelia’s cell phone let out a ring. She flipped the cover. “Hello.”
“Dear, are you settled in?”
“Miss Twittle,” Cordelia said, hesitantly.
“Now, dear, you can call me Gladys.”
“Okay, Gladys,” Cordelia answered, quirking a brow. The woman was practically giddy with excitement and good will.
“He showed up.”
“He did?” Cordelia sank deeper against her pillow. Angel actually went in the store. Why?
“Yes. He asked where you lived. He was so calm and polite.”
Cordelia shifted and took a breath. “He’s like that.”
“I can see that now. Very suspicious, the way he was glancing around, his eyes darting in every corner, I didn’t notice it last night but he has very beady, disturbing eyes. It was clear that he was looking for you. But, don’t worry, honey. We took care of him.”
Cordelia lost all ability to speak.
“Honey?”
Cordelia gulped twice and slammed her fist into her thigh to stop picturing Angel dust and her standing in front of Buffy trying to explain.
“You — How?” she choked out in a weak voice.
“We didn’t shoot him.” Miss Twittle’s voice couldn’t quite hide her disappointment.
Cordelia clenched the pillow. She tried to stop picturing a pissed-off, gunshot Angel, and her standing in front of him trying to explain.
“You didn’t?” Cordelia prayed that she heard right.
“No, but I was tempted the way he stood there calmly asking where you lived. Barney almost had his gun out.”
“Barney?” Cordelia sank back onto her bed, bringing the cover protectively up to her chin.
“My cousin. He’s a security guard. Luckily he was suspended from his last job, so he was available at the drop of a dime. I told him that you were being stalked. Mrs. Macintosh approved the expenditure right away as soon as she heard that you were in possible danger. She still thinks very highly of your mother.”
“Of course.” Cordelia pulled the cover up over her head. “You told her?”
“Bits and pieces, between you and me, she’s a gossip, and we can’t let that degenerate get wind that were on to him.”
“Umhm.” Cordelia shoved her fist in mouth.
“Well, sleep tight. ” Miss Twittle paused. “You did make sure no one was following you, didn’t you dear.”
Cordelia reluctantly pulled her hand from her mouth long enough to say yes.
“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow. If anything happens call me. I can have Barney there in a minute. He was very concerned that the man actually showed.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem, dear.”
Cordelia flipped the phone closed. Oh God. What in the hell did she start? She curled into a tight ball.
She had become such a major liar. And now an innocent Miss Twittle and this Barney were right in the middle of it.
Cordelia curled up tighter. She had been afraid since the first time she lied to cover for her parents, but now she was swimming in it. Before it was just about her, now other people, innocent people were being affected. Cordelia banged her head into the pillow. When would it stop? She shook her head, not quite ready to accept the small voice that told it would stop as soon as she told the truth.
Small tears trailed down Cordelia’s cheeks until finally she fell asleep.
