Chapter 32 – Just Got Wicked

“You can't be serious.”

Chris looked up to meet Mel's gaze, surprised when she looked dumbfounded.

“What?” he asked.

“You can't expect to feed eight people – ten if Justin and JC bring dates, and eleven if Stephanie comes – with an eight pound turkey, Chris,” she said.

“That's like a pound a person!” he said.

“Joey alone can eight eight pounds of food,” she said, tapping her pen on the notepad in her hands. “And have you seen Justin put it away? It's like feeding a teenager. Sometimes I don't think he ever finished puberty.”

“No arguments there,” Chris said. “And sorry. You're the chef here, not me. You asked for my help and I'm trying to give it.”

“Fifteen pounds, at least,” she said. “I can make some turkey concoction with the leftovers if we have any. And actually write it on the list so you don't forget.”

As she stood up from the couch and turned to walk away from him, he scrunched his nose up and moved his lips to mock her. He still couldn't escape the smile from showing up on his face as he wrote it down on his list.

“Don't forget potatoes,” she instructed. “And rolls. And bread and sage for the stuffing. You'll have to get stuff for the cranberry sauce. Oh, and I need the ingredients for my apple pie, too. Chris, are you listening to me at all?”

“Why are we cooking the food if we're having the Thanksgiving dinner at Addy and Lance's new house?” he asked, throwing the pen and notepad down on the coffee table in front of him. “I think we're getting swindled here, Weston.”

“We're cooking because you know Addy is too pregnant to do all this work – and neither of us trusts Lance to not give us all E coli or something.”

“That is a good point,” Chris said.

“Besides, I'm the chef,” Melissa said, pouring herself another glass of wine. “And we're having it at Addy and Lance's new house because there's no way we can fit eight people inside our apartments. Lance said that the cleaning crew he hired did a fantastic job. They're excited to show it off. Can't you just be happy for them, sour puss?”

“I'm not a sour puss,” he said. “And I am happy for them, thank you. It's just...well, maybe I had other plans for Thanksgiving than standing in the kitchen over a hot stove all day while Addy fidgets around worrying that everything isn't going to be perfect.”

“Like what?” she asked, turning to him with a smile on her face. “Staying in your boxers all day, watching the Thanksgiving parade, drinking a couple beers, exercising your finger to switch the TV over to the football game, and passing out before the end of the third quarter to drool on the throw pillow?”

“That sounds heavenly, but no,” he said. “Actually, I was...going to ask you to come to Pennsylvania with me on Thanksgiving.”

She almost choked on the drink of wine she was taking, instead spitting it out in front of her.

“Well our carpet was off-white,” he said.

“You were going to ask me to do what?” she asked. “Are you insane?”

“People say that I am, but I think I'm relatively normal,” he said.

“Compared to insane asylum patients,” she said, wiping the wine from around her mouth. “I can't go to Pennsylvania with you, Chris.”

“Why not?” he asked. “You're not going home to Arkansas. You're off school for the holiday, you don't have a job anymore...”

“Thanks for reminding me,” she said.

“We're having Thanksgiving with the group a couple of days before the holiday, and Addy and Lance will be busy with his parents on Thanksgiving weekend when they come in from Mississippi. Did you have big plans to watch some romantic comedy marathon in your pajamas and top off the fifteen pound turkey with a gallon of ice cream?”

“That's exactly what I planned to do, thank you,” she said. “Myself and Patrick Swayze have a pretty hot date that night.”

“My mom loves Patrick Swayze, it can be a double date,” he said.

“Your mom?” she said, her voice raising.

“Come on Mel,” he said. “I'm not asking for your hand in marriage here.”

“No, it's worse than that,” she said.

“Duly noted,” he said with a smile, slinking towards her to wrap his arms around her waist. “For the future.”

“You can't do this to me, Kirkpatrick,” she said, feeling the smile turn up the corners of her mouth.

“Do what? Do this?”

He leaned in to her, capturing her lips in a kiss. He lingered a few moments before releasing her.

“Yeah, that,” she said, savoring the feel of his soft lips against hers. “I don't understand us.”

“Understand what?” he asked.

“Understand this – you and me. What are we, Chris?”

“You mean, like, are we...?”

“Together, yes,” she said, walking away from his grasp. “Together, friends, friends with a benefits package...I'm confused.”

“I guess I assumed since we sleep in the same bed, we were...together,” he said. “Am I wrong?”

“No...yes...I don't know, Chris,” she said. “To tell you the truth...I like how we are now, living here with you, eating dinner every night with someone, cuddling on the couch when we watch TV, having you next to me in bed, but...I don't think I'm ready for a real relationship.”

“Isn't this a real relationship, though?” he asked, placing his hands in his jean pockets. “What else is there in a marriage – or a relationship, period? Look at Ad and Lance. They're probably the most boring couple we know, they definitely don't go out swing dancing every night – and they're happy.”

“They're happy now,” she said.

“You don't think they'll always be happy?” he asked.

“Things happen,” she said. “You fight, you cheat, you fall out of love...people change.”

“Mel,” he said, walking towards her. “I don't know what happened to you in your last relationship with whoever it was you were with. It's none of my business, especially if you don't want to tell me. But I want you to know...how I feel for you will never change.”

“You can't promise that,” she whispered as he wrapped his arms around her, facing her back.

“I can't promise that we'll work out, or we'll always be together, or that we won't disappoint each other sometimes, or that we'll never fight,” he said. “You're right, people do that. What people don't do is fall out of love. Once you fall in love with someone, I mean really fall in love with someone, you can't fall out. People who say they fell out of love with someone...were never really in love to begin with.”

She leaned into his body, lacing her fingers through his as he ran his hands down her arms and into her hands. She listened to his breathing against her ear for several moments, letting it calm her nerves.

It was one of the first times she could remember feeling safe in someone's arms.

“I'll go to Pennsylvania with you,” she said softly. “On the condition that I'm not introduced as your girlfriend, and this is nothing serious.”

“Of course it's nothing serious,” he said. “A little dinner with my family. Some turkey, some potatoes, stuffing, my mom's homemade pecan pie...nothing big.”

She smiled as he leaned in to kiss her neck.

“Don't you have a gig to go to?” she asked.

“A gig?” He looked at the clock on the wall. “Oh shit! The gig in Red Hook!”

All worries forgotten, she laughed as he rushed away from her and into his music room, grabbing his guitar and equipment, dropping sheet music and cords along the way.

“Did you forget?” she asked.

“With ten minutes to spare, I can make it!”

She couldn't stop laughing as he sat his guitar and equipment in front of the door, grabbing his coat and keys off the table and walked over to the door. He stopped with his hand on the knob.

“Forgetting something?” she asked.

“Yeah, I am.”

She watched as he calmly walked over to her, smiling when he wrapped his arms around her and leaned in to give her a kiss.

“I love you,” he said.

She only smiled. “Nine minutes, Chris – go!”

She laughed as he rushed away from her and out the door, mumbling off a hurried goodbye as he struggled with his equipment.

“I love you, too,” she said after he had closed the door.

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Sneaking – that was what was key. Being stealth was something he'd had to get used to over the past couple of years. Despite knowing the ins and outs of the horror and suspense movie industry, Marc had found out it wasn't as easy as the movies made it look. Every opportunity presented a new way to get caught.

The security guard in Lance's apartment building, for example – everything would have gone exactly as planned, if he had accounted for an extra security guard being around that night. His surveillance wasn't just for “stalking” as they called it – it was research. And in all his research, he had never seen more than one security guard roaming the building past eight at night.

So that's what he had planned for. It was a surprise when the guard saw him passing the door and walking to the elevator – and recognized him by face.

It was even more of a surprise when he realized that Marc was there to see Addy and they'd gotten into a scuffle in the empty lobby. Eventually, it led to the security office. And that was where he had shot him.

He was bound not to make a mistake like that again.

He carefully opened the door of the service elevator on the fourth floor, making sure to move slowly in case of creaks and noises. When he had a crack big enough to fit his body through, he leaned to his side and slipped out, immediately putting his back up against the wall. He peeked around the corner, keeping an eye out for straggling tenants roaming the hallway, and when he was satisfied there were none, he smiled to himself.

He slipped the black knit ski mask over his face, moving the holes for the eyes and nose over their intended spaces. It wasn't cold enough on this early November night to comfortably wear one, but he couldn't risk her waking up and seeing him.

He had been outside, waiting and watching for hours. He had seen the one with the black hair leave – Chris, he thought – in a rushed hurry carrying a guitar and other various items. Then it was only waiting to watch for the lights in the apartment to go out, signaling that she had gone to bed.

He casually but quietly walked down the carpeted floor of the hallway toward the apartment, keeping his ears fine-tuned for tenants opening their doors, the sounds of a potentially moving elevator, and quiet footsteps.

Not only had his stealth skills improved, but his hearing had too. He could hear a pin drop from a mile away by this point.

He walked up to their door and reaching into his pocket, grabbed the bobby pin, brandishing it in his gloved hand. Keys had become too hard to come by, ever since Addy had wised up and found a new hiding place for spare keys. And it was impossible to have spare keys for everyone's apartment. He'd had to resort to learning how to pick locks. A couple hours on YouTube, a package of plain bobby pins, and practicing on a purchased doorknob was all it took.

A couple quiet minutes and only one useless bobby pin later, he heard the mechanism on their door click. He slowly and quietly turned the doorknob, glancing briefly behind him to make sure that no one had appeared in the hallway without his notice, and slipped inside.

He was surprised they didn't have a deadbolt – like Addy. He thought it was cute how she thought that could keep him out. He'd gotten good at that, too.

It was colder in Chris's apartment than he had accounted for. The coolness of the central air penetrated through his black shirt and slacks right away, and for a brief moment he shivered. He quickly recovered himself as he shut the door silently – he had no time to mess around with things like body temperature.

He was on a mission. No matter how many notes he sent, how many phone calls he made, they refused to take him seriously. So he would make them.

He didn't want to hurt her. He'd made sure to keep his anger in check tonight, in preparation for this. She wasn't who he wanted.

He glanced around the apartment only a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness before walking down the unlit hallway. He passed the music room and the bathroom, eventually finding his way to the exact room he was looking for – the bedroom.

He saw Melissa's silhouette immediately, laying in bed with one hand rested under her pillow and one in front of her, at the side. The sheets and blankets were pulled up over her body, stretched up over her chest and held in place by her arm. Her breathing was light and even, a peaceful look on her face.

He smiled to himself, stepping out of the doorway, lightening his footsteps for extra protection. As he walked closer to her and more of her facial features became clear to him in the darkness, he could see what Chris saw in her – she was pretty.

He could see himself with her – but she wouldn't go for a monster like himself, especially after he knew Addy had gone around slandering his good name.

“No time to think about that right now, huh Melly?” he whispered quietly, kneeling on his knees in front of her side of the bed, reaching up to gently brush the apple of her cheek with his index finger.

Her muscles flinched at the light touch and he heard her sigh, but he didn't move an inch.

“Sweet, innocent Melissa,” he whispered. “Hope you won't miss this too much.”

In one swift move, he lifted himself to a standing position using his lower legs, and stood over her a few minutes before reaching down behind her neck. He pushed her hair away from her neck and it didn't take a long search to feel it, even with the gloves on.

Trying to brush her skin as little as possible, he quickly undid the clasp on the gold chain, slipping it off her neck in time for her to shift to lie on her back, with her head turned facing away from him.

“Thanks Melly-girl,” he whispered to her in the darkness, slipping the necklace into his pocket. “My Addy will really love this one.”