Prophecy Volume One: Revelations

By Brenna Lyons

When Joe Connor is hired to protect Kyla Keating, he thinks his boss is insane. Why would Samantha "Gram" Allen hire him to watch and protect a woman she doesn't even know? Gram doesn't even want to know Kyla. She only wants to know two things. Is someone else watching, and does Joe see anything unusual? Joe has no idea how unusual things are about to become. Kyla is the subject of a prophecy, a woman with fantastic powers, an unknown quest, and a ghost guide. She also has a personal army of bodyguards and enemies who will kill her, none of which she is aware of. It is Joe's destiny to love and protect her, but when he has to kidnap her to keep her from being killed, will he ever win back her trust so he can do his job?

CONTENT ADVISORY: This title has a "to be continued" ending and is completed in Prophecy: Rapture.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brenna Lyons
• Release date: Apr 20, 2011

Brenna Lyons

Brenna Lyons wears many hats, sometimes all on the same day: ex-president of EPIC, author of more than 100 published works, teacher, wife, mother... She's a member of ERWA, IWOFA, Broad Universe, and more than 60 other author groups. She's taken Spinetingler's Book of the Year for 2007, and she's also finaled for multiple times for the EPPIE, PEARL (including one HM, second to Angela Knight), CAPA, and once for a Dream Realm Award. Brenna writes in 25 established worlds plus stand-alone fiction books and stories, poetry, articles, and essays. She's a bestseller in indie/e fantasy and horror, straight genre and cross-genres thereof. Brenna has been termed "one of the most deviant erotic minds in the publishing world...not for the weak." (Rachelle for Fallen Angels Reviews) Milieu-heavy dark work is practically Brenna's calling card, with or without the erotic content. She teaches classes in everything from POV studies to advanced editing, networking to marketing.

Book preview

Prophecy Volume 1: Revelations

By Brenna Lyons

Copyright Notice

This ebook is licensed for a single read. The copyright owner has not bestowed resale rights, rights to reproduce, or rights to distribute this title to any purchaser. No commercial use or alteration of this title is permitted. This book may not be resold, transferred, shared, or otherwise passed along (for free or for sale) without permission of Brenna Lyons, the rightful copyright owner of this material.

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Cover Artist: Brenna Lyons

Logo courtesy of Ann Vremont

Prophecy: Revelations © 2001/2003/2011 Brenna Lyons

All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition. If you enjoy this work, please look for more of Brenna’s titles on Smashwords.

The following is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or events is purely coincidental.

Message from the Author

I must apologize for the delay in getting PROPHECY back out for sale. My original intent was to give the entire book a new cleaning edit, but I kept dragging my heels and finding reasons not to do it…subconsciously, of course.

Finally, a friend pointed out to me that the mental block to doing that edit just might be the inherent temptation to rewrite PROPHECY into something more to my current tastes. That having never been my intent, and my friend being, in all likelihood, completely correct about me… She does know me well. I decided to give PROPHECY nothing more than a quick spit polish and send her back out into the world.

That in mind, please remember that PROPHECY was the first novel I ever wrote and the first I edited. I have grown significantly as a writer since those days, but this is a slice in time when I was not so polished.

Happy reading!

Brenna Lyons

Dedications:

Dedicated to my husband, Tamer, and all the guys of the old MSP crew, especially the Roberts. You know who you are.

To Dorothea, my first proofreader; vicious...just for you.

To Dawn and Cecily, my first readers.

To Suzanne, my first editor.

And to Lisa who always believed in me...even when it cost her money.

Chapter One

April 9th, 2001

Joe Connor ducked to the right, his shoulder brushing the rough brick storefront. His smile widened as he caught sight of the telltale flash of auburn three doors up. He surged forward as she slowed, taking chances as he read in Kyla’s actions that she was close to her destination. Kyla slid left between two businessmen, and Joe lost track of her for one heart-stopping moment. As always, her way of neatly avoiding the crush allowed her moments of near invisibility in the rush of taller pedestrians.

She reappeared, her slim figure outlined in the streetlights as she prepared for a dash across the busy street. Joe slid in behind her, daring to inch into her personal space. Kyla shivered and smoothed her hair, so close Joe could have raised his hand and allowed one of her curls to brush around his finger. He didn’t, and she didn’t look back at him. Kyla never did. It had taken him more than a month to learn that about her.

Joe wasn’t worried about Kyla seeing him, and tonight was a night to take chances. A loner, with few friends and little time for family, Kyla didn’t fit into the pattern of city life. For any other stunning redhead, a night out like this would be commonplace, but this was Kyla. She didn’t typically go out this late. It had only taken him a week to learn that.

Joe startled and blended into the group of people behind Kyla as she led the way across the street. Her stride was purposeful now, and Joe gave her an extra few yards lead on him. He’d seen that walk before, just before the quiet, introspective young woman had unloaded her anger on the one boyfriend Joe had seen her with in his two months on the job.

When Gram first approached him for this job, Joe thought she was crazy, but the money was right, and he couldn’t argue with that. He smoothed the bristling hair at the back of his neck. Gram was easily the most intimidating employer he’d ever had. The elderly woman could never be mistaken for feeble, even in her age and infirmity. She had resources that boggled him and a foreknowledge that was downright spooky at times. That was what really bothered him about Gram. She made him uneasy.

The job was simple. Keep as close an eye on Kyla Keating as possible, twenty-four-seven. Kyla was a woman Gram couldn’t even claim to know except by reputation, yet Gram was paying a lot of money to make sure Joe kept on her tail.

Joe’s needs were all met as part of the job. He was provided with an apartment near hers, money for expenses: meals if she ate at a restaurant, movies if she went there, an all-zone bus pass every month, and a car, in case someone else drove her somewhere. The small apartment he occupied was across an alley from the rear of hers, but the entertainment center wasn’t just for amusement. It was wired to Kyla radio, as Joe liked to call it. For two months, he had gotten to know Kyla in a way he was sure few had.

Kyla seemed oblivious to how unique she was, to how she stood out in a crowd. Joe had learned her favorite foods, her favorite songs, and her favorite pastimes. He’d caught glimpses of her drawings and heard her recite her own poetry as she wrote it.

Some nights, Joe watched Kyla move around her apartment using the binoculars. Some nights, he laid back and listened to the sound of her voice. He wondered if she could fall for a security guy with a few semesters of college under his belt. Joe sighed. Kyla was definitely out of his league.

At any rate, while Joe was having a completely meaningless relationship with a dream, Gram wasn’t interested in any of it. It had confused him at first, but Gram had explained that she only needed to know two things. Was there anyone else watching Kyla, and did he see anything unusual?

Unusual how? Joe had asked her.

Anything that happens around her, to her, or that she does. Anything, no matter how irrelevant it seems, may be important, Gram had answered him.

Joe kept following Kyla, and he learned more about her every day. So far, he hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary. Of course, Joe had no idea what he was looking for either.

He dodged right without conscious realization that Kyla had made the same move, following her as she stepped into line at the Rex Theatre. Even with the single person between them in line and her voice low, Joe picked out which of the two movies she was seeing easily. He cringed at how he would have to fake his way through if he hadn’t.

Ticket in hand, Joe strode inside. He passed on the concession stand just as Kyla had. His dinner had been a big one. He could afford to pass on popcorn and soda to secure a seat close to her.

Joe sucked in his breath as Kyla turned into her row, her gaze sliding along the crowd and passing over him like a warm touch. She hadn’t noticed him. Kyla never noticed him. Joe reminded himself that he should be glad of that. His job was to watch and report. He couldn’t do that if she knew he was there.

Joe sighed as he sank into his seat two rows back from her. As usual, he would miss most of the movie watching Kyla. Was it a good thing or bad that she liked such good movies?

* * *

Kyla’s eyes were on the screen, but her mind was elsewhere. There was something behind her that she should see.

Most of her life, feelings like that had plagued her. She’d turn suddenly to see a flash of movement reflected in a mirror or a shadowy image fading away. She hated the cold, feathery, static-charged feeling it gave her.

At times, Kyla would turn to a voice over her shoulder, and there would actually be a person there. The person would stare back at her; annoyed, amused, kindly or startled, and her mother would drag her away.

"Don’t stare, Kyla. It’s rude." Her mother was always there, waiting to pounce on her. What is wrong with you? she’d hiss, accentuating every sibilant and seemingly adding a few that didn’t exist. Stop it.

Kyla knew what the problem was. The flashes of movement were phantoms, afterimages of things not there anymore. The people hadn’t actually said what she’d heard them say. But, if she told someone that, they’d lock her up and hurt her. Was that something her mother told her, too? Kyla couldn’t remember her saying it, but she had known it was true from a very young age.

As time went on, it simply became easier to ignore that nagging feeling, to avoid crowds, and to forget the dreams. It was better not to see what was over her shoulder. Kyla pushed away the feeling and tried to concentrate on what was on the screen.

* * *

Joe followed Kyla at a good distance. He knew she was headed home, but he had to follow her the whole way. Her apartment was on the south side of the city in a redbrick apartment building that housed four two-bedroom units. She had shared the unit with a roommate, while they were both in college, but when Sarah married and left the apartment, Kyla hadn’t taken a new roommate. That made Joe’s job easier. There was no one else in the apartment to confuse the bugs, to close window blinds, or to make Kyla ill at ease.

Kyla approached the last intersection. Even from here, Joe could tell she was nervous. Did she realize he was following her? He ducked into the shadows, just in case. Kyla reached the corner and turned suddenly. The street was empty except for a few cars. She looked right at him, and Joe reminded himself that she couldn’t possibly see him in this light. Still, he held his breath, wondering at the changes in her. Kyla never looked back.

She turned away.

* * *

Kyla was sure there was someone behind her, but no one was there when she looked. The nervous energy grew stronger, until she felt she might jump out of her skin if it didn’t stop.

Suddenly, an idea came to her. She wondered if she could still pull it off. After all, it had been ten years since she had tried it last.

Kyla moved to the switching box and looked around. If no one saw it, what was the harm in trying? What about your unseen stalker, if there is one?

Kyla decided there were worse things than ridicule in life. She ran her hand down the side of the box until she felt that old power surge coursing through her. She tapped the metal. Kyla knew it was unnecessary, but it helped her focus, so she did it anyway. Change.

She glanced up at the light. Well, it still worked. As soon as the light changed, Kyla launched across the street. She labored the near freezing air in and out, pausing after her four-lane dash to concentrate on the light again. Change. She smiled as the lights obeyed and turned to the front door. Whoever you are, try that on for size.

* * *

Joe stared after her for several minutes before moving to the lamppost. For two months, he had watched that light changing. It was four minutes on one side and two on the other. It had never changed like that before. He timed it through several more cycles, all four minutes and two.

Did Kyla do that? Was it some type of trick? Joe ran his hand over the box. Whatever she had been looking for, he couldn’t find it. He placed his hand in roughly the same spot Kyla had and hit the box. Nothing happened.

Joe shook his head. This was definitely one to tell Gram, but what was he going to tell her? He noticed the light changing and hurried across the street. Joe passed by Kyla’s building and headed for his own. Time to listen to some Kyla radio, he muttered.

Inside his apartment, Joe dropped his jacket on the chair as he dialed Gram. That was her order. If either of the conditions were met, he should contact her, any time day or night. The phone rang. Again. Three times. He was about to give up when Gram finally answered.

Hello? He had woken her, he could tell.

Gram, it’s Joe.

Joe, what’s wrong? She woke quickly when she heard it was him.

Nothing, Gram. He hesitated. This is going to sound nuts. Joe rubbed his fingertips over his forehead and tried to find a way to begin.

What did you see? she asked patiently.

That was as good a starting position as he could have asked for, he supposed. Well, I think I just saw her change a traffic light. I mean, it made no sense. She was nervous. She walked over to it, touched it and it changed. As soon as she was across, it changed back, and she smiled at it.

You’re sure it’s not a quick light?

No way. I timed it before, and I timed it after. It was a complete anomaly. I’ve never seen anything like it before.

Good. Just as it should be. He could hear the smile in her voice.

What next?

Keep me informed. And Joe?

Yes?

Good work.

Thanks.

The line went dead. Joe hung up slowly. The old woman took this all in stride, as usual. He shook his head. He was never going to understand Gram.

It wasn’t simply Gram’s whacked belief that her Goddesses had taken a personal interest in Kyla and wanted her protected that bothered him. Religion wasn’t Joe’s thing to begin with, and Gram’s religion went beyond his ability to comprehend any belief structure. Assuming her gods existed, why would any deity bother with someone not even of his or her own faith? Joe wasn’t sure what Kyla was religiously, but she wasn’t quoting Goddesses.

It wasn’t that Gram was paying Joe big bucks to watch, report, and protect Kyla but didn’t seem to care about anything he told her, even the weird stuff she demanded to know. Okay, that did bother him, but only because he didn’t understand why she did it. She was paying Joe a lot of money. That demonstrated a sincere interest in Kyla despite Gram’s seeming disinterest.

Something bothered him about Gram that he couldn’t put his finger on. Was it that her Goddesses wanted Joe here? Not any bodyguard for Kyla but Joe, personally? He’d ignored that because of the money involved, dismissing Gram as a religious nut with deep pockets.

But Gram was more than a religious nut. She not only had Joe following her on this crazy expedition. She had devoutly Christian Eric, Episcopal Jason, agnostic Stacie, atheistic Liz, and an undisclosed number of support team members, including Catholic Howie and even a Jewish doctor named Bruce Rosenberg. Her ability to pull that off made Joe more nervous than anything else he’d seen so far did.

Joe smoothed the hair on the back of his neck and settled into the recliner to tune in Kyla radio. He brought the binoculars up to his eyes and looked at the lighted window across the alley. Kyla was in the kitchen making hot chocolate. Never coffee or tea. Always hot chocolate. She didn’t smoke and rarely drank alcohol. Never to excess.

She had changed into a short nightshirt that barely covered her upper thighs when she reached for the top shelves of the cabinets. All that and smart and psychic? She was a fascinating woman. Joe had a wild urge to accidentally run into her a few times. Maybe, she might even let him pick her up.

But, what, then? he asked aloud. If she knew him, she could pick him out in a crowd and realize he was following her.

He sighed. Kyla’s favorite quote from Shakespeare flitted through his mind. ‘Til then, his love must lie unmade at home, he could hear her say.

So much for fantasies. Back to reality.

Kyla set down a mug and returned the powdered chocolate to the top shelf. Yikes. She was spectacular. She took the mug and disappeared up the stairs. Joe watched as she climbed into bed and pulled the blankets up to her hips while she sipped the hot chocolate. After a few minutes, she laid down and pulled the blankets up to her shoulder. As always, a small colored light in the corner was left on all night. Joe wondered what personal demons it was intended to ward off.

He set down the binoculars and settled back with a cold Coke. Good night, Kyla, he whispered to the dark room.

* * *

The ringing of the phone jangled Kyla’s nerves, and she shot up in the bed. Her hand rested on the phone as she squinted at the illuminated numbers on the bedside clock, which read midnight. She pressed the phone to her ear. Somebody better be dead, she growled into it.

Kyla, it’s your mother. Is that the way I taught you to answer a phone?

Hang up. Her mind screamed at her to hang up, begged at her to hang up. Instead, she answered. No, you didn’t, but you also taught me that it was rude to call family after nine o’clock and anyone else after eight.

Not as rude as not returning phone calls.

Kyla had closed her life off from Briana in every way she could. She’d tried changing her phone number and even getting it unlisted, but someone always made sure her mother had it. In the end, it had become cheaper and easier to screen her calls. Some days, she called back and made her excuses for not seeing Briana. Most days, she ignored the machine.

I went to a movie and didn’t get home until ten thirty. It would be rude to call, then. Now, if you’re done interrupting my sleep, I’ll hang up.

I waited up for you.

Then you should have said that in your message. I’m not a mind reader, you know. Briana got very quiet, so Kyla continued. Besides, if I had called you at ten thirty, you’d have been asleep and told me how rude I was for calling. Kyla was pushing it, but she was tired and ticked off.

How dare you. Her voice went shrill. How can you be so ungrateful to me? So critical? Don’t you know how much I’ve given up for you? Briana was spun now.

Kyla decided that anything else she said was wrong, anyway. I’m sure it cut into your bar-hopping incredibly.

Who do you think you are? Briana raged at her.

A grown adult who needs her sleep for work tomorrow and who has asked you repeatedly not to call me. That’s the way it is. Don’t expect my gratitude for waking me up like this.

I won’t stand for—

Then don’t call me.

I trust I won’t see you this weekend?

She’s having friends over, Kyla remembered from the answering machine earlier. Sorry, Mother. I’m already committed for this weekend, she rehearsed in her mind. Committed to what? Well, there is Saturday dinner with Dad. I have other plans.

With your father, I suppose. Her anger melted into that disconcerting distraction.

Part of the time, Kyla admitted.

And the rest?

I have a date. She grimaced at the lie, but it was better than the truth. Or was it? Kyla wasn’t sure about that anymore.

Bring him along.

I don’t think so.

Why not?

Briana was angry again, but Kyla was beyond caring. I might want to marry this man, Mother. Why ruin it right off the bat by introducing him to you?

Briana grew very quiet. Kyla guessed that she was somewhere between shocked and pissed now.

Good night, Kyla. I hope you sleep better than I will, Briana said with a note of finality.

Good night, Mother. I will. I’m sure, she practically sang back into the phone before she hung up.

That was refreshing. Maybe she should have done that years ago. On second thought… Kyla picked the receiver up and punched in *67. She had been toying with the idea of blocking Briana’s number for months. No time like the present, right? Kyla smiled as she settled back onto her pillow.

She sighed, unable to sleep now that thoughts of Briana had been set free to plague her. It was always like this when Briana made it past Kyla’s carefully-prepared walls.

Her mother wasn’t part of her family. She hadn’t been since Kyla was eighteen and was finally, legally allowed to run away from home and have a real life. From that day on, she’d made it clear that she was her own person. It had been over a year since she had seen Briana.

When her parents divorced, Kyla would have given anything live with her Dad. Instead, the mother-friendly laws kicked in and she was stuck with Briana.

Briana had always been cold and unfriendly toward her daughter. Nothing Kyla did was ever good enough for the domineering woman. If Kyla made Dean’s List, that last grade should have been an A instead of a B+. If Kyla got rave reviews for her supporting role in a high school play, she should try harder so that she could be the lead or not do it at all. Kyla found that Briana rarely approved of the things that she cared about. Drawing and writing were a waste of time.

It doesn’t put food on the table, Briana was fond of pointing out.

What about Stephen King? Kyla had bit off many times. She knew she wasn’t that good, after all. So, Kyla had picked one of the many things that she was good at to major in, and took as many electives as she could in the things she loved.

College made life easier. For one thing, Briana hadn’t been paying the bills for school anymore. Kyla went through on a competitive scholarship, so Briana couldn’t complain about how Kyla wasted her mother’s money. That didn’t mean she had no complaints at all. That simply wouldn’t be Briana.

She complained that computers were a man’s field. Why not go into secretarial or paralegal instead?

Kyla rolled her eyes at that. Leave it to Briana to pick things she had no interest in. For her age, Briana was stuck in an unrealistic place. She was married in the early seventies, not the fifties, after all.

Kyla guessed that Briana was ticked off at having lost control of what classes she took completely. Briana had to approve her high school schedule, but minor or not, Kyla had filed her own schedule in college. Then, her salvation came. She’d turned eighteen a few weeks into the school year. Her time with Briana ended less than a month later.

Kyla smiled again. She was free, and sleep would come.

* * *

Joe laughed so hard, he almost toppled out of the chair. For two months, he had listened to the acidic banter between mother and daughter. Briana Keating was a class-A bitch. There was no doubt about it. There was also no doubt that Kyla had spent years perfecting the art of not letting Briana get the upper hand. Joe wondered how many years the domineering woman had made Kyla’s life a living hell to rate this response. Too many, he decided. It was a disturbing thought.

So far, Joe had become accustomed, as much as anyone ever could, to Briana’s verbal abuse, her guilt trips, and her seemingly neurotic obsession with her daughter’s social appearance. Everything was centered on what was rude or inappropriate. Joe could see how that would get old fast. He knew some people weren’t cut out to be parents, but Briana took the condition to extremes. Joe wondered what other horrors living with that woman exposed Kyla to. He didn’t like that answer any better.

Of course, Joe knew that Kyla’s claim of the date was a lie, but how she used the excuse to get the upper hand was pure poetry in motion. Joe was introspective for a moment. It was strange. He had no hope of ever getting to meet this woman, and yet he realized he was relieved at the thought that Kyla didn’t really have a date.

Joe raised the binoculars to watch the young woman. Even in the pool of green light, she was beautiful.

Her face clouded over.

A nightmare? he asked aloud.

Kyla was muttering something. She cried out harshly and sat straight up in bed. The light in the corner blazed brighter than usual and exploded, sending shards of glass out into the shade. The room was lost in the instant darkness.

What was that? For several stunned minutes, he stared through the binoculars into the darkness while Kyla’s breathing normalized.

The hall light flooded the room. Kyla wrapped an errant lock of hair behind her ear as she stared at the mess. She retrieved the vacuum from the hall closet and a wet washcloth from the master bathroom. Dutifully, she cleaned the mess. She threw away the glass-filled rag and returned the vacuum.

Her finger was bleeding, he realized. Kyla sucked at the cut while she screwed in a new bulb, blue this time. Joe wondered if the color had any significance to her. When it shined to life, she turned off the hall light and crawled back into bed. Kyla crossed her arms around her knees and stared at the lamp.

Should have known better than to mess with the traffic lights, she commented in a quiet voice. At least it wasn’t the wiring this time. She curled back under the blankets and sighed deeply.

Joe put down the binoculars and took a deep breath. Kyla did that? She couldn’t have. It was ridiculous. Wasn’t it?

Kyla’s voice wafted out of the speakers and interrupted his train of thought. Honestly, what man would want to marry into this? Even without the binoculars, Joe could tell she was looking right at him. He’s out there somewhere. He just has to be. There’s someone for everyone, right?

Joe felt a lump in his throat. What was wrong with him? He’d been stuck on this job for so long that he was losing his perspective.

Chapter Two

April 10th

Another thing Kyla had fibbed about was the need to go to work in the morning. It was Tuesday. That meant she was tele-commuting.

Joe watched her log into her terminal via the modem, as Kyla hooked her feet under and around her chair. She seemed most comfortable like that, but he never understood how she could sit that way for any length of time.

She ate her breakfast while she waited for the connection to initialize. Kyla was unlike many people who lived alone in that she almost always cooked herself meals. Not a TV dinner, but an actual meal from scratch graced her plate almost every night and all three meals on days she tele-commuted. Even with only his job watching her to keep him occupied, Joe couldn’t match that.

He didn’t know for sure what she did on the terminal at work, but Joe knew tele-commuting had its advantages. While mail downloaded, Kyla wrote poems. While new programs uploaded, she read a book. He doubted Kyla had half as much fun at work, though she whipped right through everything she did.

While she debugged lines of code, she sang along with her oldies on the CD player. Today was a charged up day. It was Depeche Mode, Terminator II, Meatloaf, and Queen so far. Her music was always oldies. She burned CDs and played them according to her mood. Joe could gauge Kyla’s mood by the CD she chose, and she had as many CDs as she had moods.

Kyla had a wonderful singing voice, especially in the shower. Joe often joked with himself that he wished he had Kyla vision for those showers. As it was, he could see most of her apartment as long as the blinds were open, and Kyla liked light.

During the course of the day, Briana called four times. Each time, she got the answering machine, and each time, she got more abusive. Each time, Kyla shook her head, hit the delete key on the machine, and picked up the phone to dial in the same code. It took Joe until the beginning of the third call to catch on. Each time Briana called, Kyla blocked the number she called from. Assuming there was a limited number of phones she could use in a given day, this would be short lived.

On the fourth call, Briana was screaming incoherently about how she would never call again if Kyla was going to be like that. Of course, Briana used language that would make a twenty-year salty dog cringe in the process, but Kyla cheered regardless. She danced around to the music of the next song, Billy Joel’s Pressure. Somehow, that seemed appropriate. Joe felt his heart skip a few beats as Kyla gyrated across the floor. Then she settled back on her perch by the computer and got back to work.

* * *

A short time later, the phone rang again. That time, Kyla picked it up when barely a syllable of her outgoing message had played. Hi, hun, she practically sang into the phone. What’s new with the lady with the baby?

Sarah laughed. Oh, you are there. You know, the usual. Carl’s ecstatic and wants to know if I get to keep the Tetons.

Kyla grinned. Tell him you might. It depends entirely on your system, but probably not.

How do you know all of this?

You know me. Jack of all trades.

So, why the covert actions? Or, do I really need to ask that question?

You don’t. We’re playing a new game. She calls and I block her. It’s like chess.

And you never lose at chess.

Kyla rolled her eyes. Sarah would say that. She’d lost more than her share in three years sharing the apartment together.

Well, I figure when I have every phone open to her use within ten blocks of home and work blocked, the Phone Company will ask why.

So take her to court.

When I have the time. I figure I’ll get the restraining order at the same time if she breaks down and threatens me on tape. Kyla smiled at that thought.

You have more patience than Job. Wait, who am I talking to again? Sarah laughed at her own joke.

No, I just have a perverse sense of humor.

Vengeance is a dish best served cold.

More like, good things come to those who wait.

Don’t wait too long or Mr. Right will be an octogenarian and your peer.

Can it, Kyla warned. He’s out there somewhere. I’ll find him eventually.

So what was wrong with George? He didn’t last long.

Kyla screwed up her face. Ugh. Don’t go there. He’s not really into my type.

What type is he into? Sarah asked. Somehow, I get the feeling this is morbid curiosity.

Young. Like, way too young. He only went for me because I’m petite.

I won’t ask how you found that out.

Kyla grimaced. Don’t.

At least you found out before you slept with him. She sighed. Well, gotta run to the OB. TTFN. Perky Sarah was back.

Good luck.

"Talk to you tomorrow, hun. Let me