Page 2 of Shadows Relived
She scoffed as she entered the living room, reaching for her purse. “In this cozy little neighborhood? Please. Besides, I think I can handle myself just fine without putting my apartment on total lockdown. You’re beginning to sound like my father, who just called, demanding I return to D.C.”
As they headed out the door, she filled her friend in on her phone call with her father. His whole demanding attitude still rankled her, and she knew it came out in her tone. “I just don’t get it. I’m sure he’s had things like this happen to him before, so why the sudden panic attack? It makesno sense.”
They continued talking as they made their way to Ronette’s car, and the more she thought about her father’s call, the more the whole thing annoyed her. No matter how hard she tried to shake it, she found her agitation level rising, and by the time they reached the car, she wanted to call her father back and give him another earful.
“Well, you told him you were fine, so stop worrying about it.” Ronette pulled out of the parking lot into the flow of traffic, but all Meaghan could see was her father’s red face as he ordered her back home. No. St. Augustine was her home. Had been for the past several years. D.C. was a painful memory. And one she had tried desperately to forget.
By the time they entered the bar, Meaghan had relaxed some, looking forward to a night with her friends.
The pulsing beat of the music reverberated through her body as she made her way through the crowded place to a table closer to the stage where the singing took place. She had been looking forward to this night all week, needing the chance to let loose with her friends and forget about the stresses of being a teacher for a few hours or the papers she needed to look at, which waited for her on her kitchen table.
Andy, a dark-haired third grade teacher, waved them down, already having claimed a table for them. He returned to the rum runner he seemed to nurse, smiling at them as they sat down.
“Started without us, I see,” she teased as she flagged down the bartender.
Andy shrugged. “Well, you were taking forever to get here.”
“She got a weird call from her father,” Ronette told him just before they ordered their drinks, as if that explained everything.
As the server left, Meaghan filled him in, her annoyance simmering once more just below the surface. The whole thing made no sense. Were activists really so committed that they would threaten a man’s family? Or was this just another stupid attempt by her father to grab control of her life? Well, if it was, there was no way she would let him get away with it.
“Earth to Meaghan!” Ronette’s voice broke through her thoughts. “You’re a million miles away, woman. What’s going on in that smoking mind of yours?”
Meaghan plastered a smile onto her face, not wanting to dampen the mood. “Nothing. Just got lost down the father-from-hell rabbit hole again.” She sat up straighter in her seat. “However, I’m not letting it ruin our night. So, let’s pick some songs already.”
As they discussed song choices, the server arrived with their drinks, and Meaghan immediately reached for hers, taking a fortifying sip. She laughed as her friends tried to out-embarrass each other with terrible cheesy songs from their youth, and soon, laughter filled the table. Meaghan forced herself to focus on the conversation, chiming in with her own suggestions and making a show of dramatically singing a few lines.
When the DJ’s assistant came around to take their names for the night’s sign-up sheet, Meaghan put down her first choice. She was determined to shakeoff the weird vibes from the call with her dad and just let herself get lost in the night's silliness and singing in front of strangers.
It wasn’t long before her name was called and she was handed the microphone, the opening lyrics appearing on the screen in front of her. This was her element, a chance to be larger than life for a few fleeting minutes with none of the genuine pressures of life weighing her down. She started doing karaoke when she was in high school, her friends joining her, each one trying to outdo the others. Sometimes they’d do group numbers or even duets. It was a time for her to forget the craziness of her life back then. It was the same way now, especially after that call from her father.
Meaghan closed her eyes and opened her mouth, letting the words flow free. She could almost feel her worries melting away with each note she belted out into that cheap microphone. Up on the small stage, she was in control in a way her father could never understand.
By the final lingering vibrato, she was grinning from ear-to-ear, drunk on the heady applause. She caught Ronette’s eye as she made her way back to the table, and they shared a smile filled with the giddy euphoria of the moment.
“That’s how it’s done, people!” Andy crowed, thrusting a fresh drink into her hand.
Meaghan accepted it, only too happy to keep the good vibes flowing for as long as possible. This was her life, filled with people she loved and a job she cherished. She’d be damned if she let her controlling father muck it up with his blown-out-of-proportion dramas.
For now, she was content to sip her cocktail, half-watching as Andy stumbled through an off-key rendition of some old boy band hit and Ronette scrolled through the song list with a devilish glint in her eyes.
“That was a great song.”
She turned as a tall, slender man stepped up to the table, smiling over at her. She felt the blush color her cheeks. “Thank you. It’s one of my favorites.”
“Well, you did it justice. I hope to hear you sing again.” He dipped his head once more, telling her to enjoy her night as he moved over to his own table.
She followed him with her gaze, still smiling, but also suddenly wary, her father’s words about a threat still ringing in her ears.
CHAPTER 2
CALLEN MCHOLLISTER SIGHEDAS he shut his front door behind him and hung his keys on the hook above a small table he had as a catchall by the door. His date had been an unmitigated disaster from the moment he picked up the overly made-up woman at her apartment. She had insisted he come in and meet her cat, Mr. Fluffy, and then droned all night about her real estate business, bragging about her sales numbers and fat commissions in a way that made Callen’s skin crawl. When he had tried to steer the conversation in another direction, she just steamrolled over him, oblivious to his lack of interest. And she wanted kids. Lots of kids. One thing he knew about himself was that he was not a kids type of person. She even talked about her collection of old spoons!
“Why the hell did I ever listen to Elvis?” He stomped his way into the kitchen where he knew a bottle of whiskey waited for him. Elvis meant well, he knew. Butthe man’s taste in women was questionable, even though he always seemed to have one hanging on his arm.
He reached for the bottle of Woodford Reserve, poured himself a healthy glass and then headed for his back porch. All he wanted to do right then was wash away the foul taste of the evening. A plume of smoke from the neighbor’s grill wafted through the air, making his mouth water despite his foul mood. Even his neighbor was having a better evening than him. Hell, everybody was probably having a better evening than me, he thought with a sigh as he dropped into the weathered camp chair. He stretched his long legs out in front of him as he took a slow sip of his whiskey, the amber liquid burning its way down his torso.
His gaze drifted over the treeline about fifty yards away from his property as night slowly swallowed the sky. The forest always looked different at night, more mysterious and foreboding. He had grown up in a small town in Georgia with a similar view and loved it. He had spent many weekends camping and exploring the woods with his friends, and each trip out seemed like a brand-new adventure. His father had even bought a cabin out in the middle of nowhere they would spend many a weekend at, fishing, hunting, sitting around a fire and burning hot dogs. He had always found a strange sort of peace just staring into the darkness between the ancient oaks and pines, a soothing balm to a restless soul.
