Nightchild

Chapter 46

It was early evening when Ma Manford and Harvey Wickersham had reluctantly gone for the day, both uncomfortable about leaving Blyth alone. Duke had been there but hurriedly cleaned the stalls, promising to return early the next morning. As always, he planned to spend all day Saturday with the horses. Now, there was a silence about the empty house which disturbed Blythe. Even Heathe had neglected to come out and check on things like he usually did whether Nate was in town or not.

Since early afternoon, Blythe had paced, unable to concentrate or keep her mind on any one project. Nate had been away two full nights now and not a word from him. No call, no hint of when he might deign to return or how she might get in touch with him and her resentment was increasing by the minute.

Absently, she flipped the knob on the television in the clubroom but impatiently stood, went to the bar and was about to fix a drink when the doorbell chimed loudly, reverberating in the stillness. Blythe set the unopened bottle on the bar and rushed to the door, part of her exuberant with the hope Nate would be waiting there on the veranda, the other part furious and ready to lash out at him if he were inconsiderate enough not to have a really good reason for his unacceptable behavior.

Her eyes full of the maelstrom of emotions that whirled inside her heart and head, Blythe threw open the door expectantly. Her face drained of all expression and her eyes went dead as Eddie Vega, uninvited, stepped pompously through the passageway and into the hall.

She had never been subjected to the unpleasant experience of being alone with this man she had such an intrinsic loathing for. She felt her skin grow clammy as she repressed an overwhelming urge to cover her nose and mouth with a trembling hand to stifle the fetid odor of booze and drugs, exuding from his sweaty pores. His breath, too, was rancid as he swung sharply round to face her, as if he were firing the first shot of their, before now, cold war.

"Where's Nathan?" he demanded with a smirk.

Pivoting away, she inhaled deeply of the cool clean breeze that buffeted its way through the open doorway before eyeing him critically. "Not here."

"No shit!" Eddie answered sarcastically, lifting a greasy jet brow. "Then where?"

Blythe pushed the door shut, letting it bang loudly, indicating her irritation. "I suppose he hasn't returned from Nashville. I thought you'd know. You are his business manager, aren't you?"

"Yeah, and you're his wife, neither of which means either one of us knows what the shit he's up to. I just know he ain't doing any business."

"What's that supposed to imply?"

Eddie grinned slyly, the corners of his mouth turning up in a cruel twisted travesty of a smile. He strutted into the clubroom and over to the bar, in much the same way Rene had the day of her visit. Blythe watched as he threw down a couple of neat bourbons and wiped his mouth with the back of a small hand.

He was dressed in his ritualistic suit with silk shirt open to the navel, a cascade of gold chains clinging to the darkly tanned perspiring skin. Chest hairs glistened as they curled, snarling themselves in ripples of gold like slippery moss-covered reeds, breaking through yellow waves.

Blythe swallowed hard to fight back the repulsion and trepidation that undulated through her. Feeling something noxious and menacing in his presence, she sucked her breath in sharply as he pulled a small vile from an inside coat pocket and filled a tiny silver spoon with white powder. She watched quiescent as he pressed on one elongated nostril and snorted deeply with the other. How dare he come into her home with his drugs and innuendos. Nate had warned him to keep his habits away from her and the ranch. The audacity of the man was unbelievable.