Chapter Two

Cheryl’s POV

"Of course is it."

"You get my point?" Kathleen's voice was ecstatic.

"What point? This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. You want me to marry Russell Walker, a man I barely know just because I'm desperate for money? You can't be serious."

The hair on the nape of my neck stiffened, my face reddened, and a sheen of sweat broke on my face, dragging my hands through my hair repeatedly, I paced about, scoffing.

"Cheryl, I know that this sounds insane, and-"

"Of course, it's insane, and you girl- are crazier than this bizarre idea of yours." Flailing my hands in the air, I rolled my eyes.

"This is probably the last thing you would ever want to consider, but, it might also be the only solution to the problem at hand. Look, if my guess is correct, you'll get a divorce immediately after Russell Walker becomes the CEO of Tyler and Walker Corporation and if you can get married as soon as possible, this should not take more than a few months."

"Can you even hear yourself? I don't know this man. He doesn't even know if I exist, and you want us to get married based on a damned contract?" Hand on hip, I let out a scoff, "You can do better than this, Kath. You know me better than anyone else. This is against my principles. I would never do this." Shrugging, a hand in the air, my eyes rolled.

"I'll leave you to think this through. If we must do this, we don't have time. I'll see you." Before I managed a reply, Kathleen already hung up.

Kathleen has gone bonkers!

Just then, Bobby's eyes narrowed at me. Was my frown that obvious?

Turning away, I reached for my temple, scratching it and my stomach fluttered.

"Are you going to help around here, or would you rather stay idle  all day?" Bobby's crisp voice from behind me snapped me out of my thoughts.

Argh! Cut me some slack, peevish fag!

"I'm coming, Bobby!" My teeth clenched. Rolling up my sleeve, I made my way back into the kitchen, feet stomping, nose flaring, heat flushing through my body.

                                                                       ***

At exactly fifteen minutes after two, a probable six hours after Kathleen called me, I took off my apron. A slight moan escaped from my lips as my fingers worked on my temple. Flexing my muscles, my head fell back against the bristol chair I'd plopped down on. Working an extra shift sure was easier said than done.

"Hey, Cheryl. You seem pretty exhausted. Didn't know I would catch you here." Mason Lewis, the lanky ruddy high school barista in the coffeehouse threw his bag on a stool and trudged toward me.

"I've been having extra shifts of late. I'm pretty much done for the day, though. Thought I should unwind a little before heading out." A throaty chuckle erupted from me.

"You don't take a break, do you?"

A momentary silence lingered in the air. "I have to head out now, Mason." Propping myself from my seat, I grabbed my bag. "Bobby's out, I'm not sure when he'll be back. Remind him it's my day off tomorrow, and don't forget to let him know that I'll appreciate it if he pens down this little information and hangs it up somewhere on his wall. I'll. Take. No. Calls. From. Work. Especially not Bobby's," my voice grinds out. "Be a good boy, Mason." Swatting Mason's shoulder, I added, "I'll see you." Without waiting to hear whatever the sophomore had to say, I headed for the door, scrambling past murmuring customers.

My cell phone dinged in my pockets about two minutes after mounting on my ride.

"Hey, Mrs. Welling, everything okay?" Stalling my pedal just before I hit the steep road, I took a quick breath, somewhat unnerved at my neighbor's call.

"Oh dear, Cheryl. I hate to be the bearer of this terrible news, but your house..." My heart skipped a bit. "...I don't know how...it caught fire. You need to find your...you need to come right now." My mouth fell open, my eyes dilated and my heart caught in my throat. A flush of adrenaline tingled through my body and my trembling body kicked into action. In the next second, my bicycle crashed to the floor, and I ran down the road.

I arrived less than thirty minutes later at the blaring sound of an ambulance's siren. My mind vaguely registered the metallic tang of the air and the smoky smell of uniforms and equipment. Skittering past a crowd of people, I found my way to the front of my apartment, heart thudding. About five steps from my door, Mrs. Welling's shrill voice stalled me. Closing my eyes, I swirled, meeting her worried gaze.

"Cheryl, I'm so sorry about this. This shouldn't have happened to you." I welcomed her tight hug, unsure of what to say.

"Thank you, Mrs. Wellington." I buried my face in her chest.

"Miss Moore, I'm so sorry about your loss." A voice interrupted us and I turned to the sight of a sturdy man in a pair of glasses. His deep-set downturn eyes bored into mine and I took a cursory glance at his other features. He scratched his receding hair, glaring at Mrs. Wellington who shot him a hard look before leaving.

"Richard Brown, the fire prevention chief officer." I barely caught his thin lips which disappeared as he spoke.

He extended his hand for a shake and his large palm gripped my small ones firmly.

"How is the state of things inside?" I asked, swallowing hard.

He pinched the skin between his brows, a hand in his pocket.

"Very bad. I'm sorry to say this, but your apartment is in shambles. We came a little too late."

Surprisingly, I was a little calmer than I expected. "D-Did you discover what caused the fire?" I asked, after musing for a while. It couldn't be my doing. The fire accident happened several hours after I left home.

"We discovered a leaking gas in your kitchen. A briquette was just right beside it."

Grimacing, my eyes narrowed and my brows squished together.

"A leaking gas? That's impossible. My briquette is also never beside my gas."

"The police are in the best position to give you more information about that," said Richard with a wave of the hand. "It's a great thing that your loss would be covered by your insurance company." Richard rubbed his chin, peering into my hazy eyes. "Your apartment is insured, right, Miss Moore?"

"I-I-I want to be alone, please." The murmurs and chatters of onlookers, cries of deep male voices, and the drawls of old women filled my senses in fleeting seconds as I ran past the crowd with no destination in mind. It wasn't until I reached the end of the road that I halted, catching my breath. Hands on hips, my eyes darted around the quiet and empty road. Chest heaving, feet pacing, lips parting, a shrill cry erupted from me.

Hugging myself, I squatted down, eyes tear-filled. As though I had swallowed a frog, my throat tightened and in the next second, hot tears flooded my cheeks.