The Grim Room (Chapter 2)

Chapter 2 of my thriller novel

*If you like what you see and want to keep reading, start a paid subscription for only $35/year. This is a polished, completed novel (78,000 words).

Photo by Joshua Sortino on Unsplash

***

CHAPTER 2

            Rebecca looked deeply into her boyfriend Jake’s eyes, running her slender fingers through his hair, smiling, thinking of their future together. With her other hand, she flicked a random hair off her red scissored bangs, a line of demarcation between hair and forehead. They were in her studio apartment on Waller Street, one block from Haight in San Francisco.

            Jake pulled back, shooting a cuff of his Brooks Brothers suit, checking his watch. He was such a handsome man. A second year graduate student at UCSF, studying in the neuroscience department. He was unlike any man she ever dated.

            “We better go, babe. It’s 7:15. Reservations are for 7:45. With traffic…”

            She smiled, her eyes beaming. “Right. Captain Jake, taking the helm.”

            A smile crept onto his pale face. His hair, dark and reminiscent of JFK in the early 60s, was combed perfectly. A flower was pinned on his suit. Always the bastion of punctuality. But it was good; Rebecca was too lax with these things.

            “C’mon, babe. You only turn 28 once!”

            Crimson rose to her cheeks. Blushing, she pulled Jake close again, their faces inches apart. “I love you, Jake Gobel.” It was nearly a whisper, but more direct and forward than the other times.

Jake’s lips moved towards her and their mouths touched. Soft kisses which soon turned to open mouths and tongues slithering. She felt his anticipatory energy and knew where this could go. But they had someplace to be. Joe’s Crab Shack—her work—for her birthday dinner.  

            “I love you too,” Jake said, his fingers holding her chin. “We better go, honey.”

            Her iPhone rumbled on vibrate in her purse. She dipped her hand in, keeping it inside—hiding it from Jake—and glanced at the screen: Alison Jones. Her best friend. Why would Alison be calling her right now? She knew she and Jake were going out to dinner. She better not be thinking of asking Rebecca to cover a shift. No, Alison could be selfish but she wasn’t that bad. Rebecca turned the phone over in her purse and hit the ignore button.

She smiled at Jake. “Let’s go. I’m ready.” She slung the purse’s strap over her shoulder.

Jake took her hand and together they made for the door. Right as they were about to exit, her phone vibrated again. Rebecca sensed some weird intuitive feeling; her heart started beating one note harder. Why? What was this? Something must be wrong. But still, she let it ring.

Holding the door open, waiting like a gentleman for her to pass first, Jake said, “You need to answer that, babe?”

“Why, thank you, kind sir. No, let’s go.” Sometimes she felt she didn’t deserve Jake; he was too good for her. But that was her insecurity talking; she had always been the one to follow, not lead.

They arrived at Jake’s 2014 BMW i8—a gift of his trust fund—the sleek, aerodynamic body reflecting off the moon’s glow. It was cold out, almost about to rain it seemed, and the breeze was steadily growing.

“Crap, forgot my coat,” Rebecca said. “I’ll be quick.”

Jake cocked his head, shooting a cuff again. “Hurry, babe!”

She sighed and turned, flipping her bangs in slight irritation. It annoyed her—just a little—when he rushed her. One of their things. Every couple experienced that though, right?

Just as she was reaching the door and pulling her key, her stupid phone buzzed once, this time indicating a text message. Fully delving into medium mode irritation, she whipped the thing out, her key in the other hand. The screen said: Alison Jones: “Call me asap. It’s important.” Aghhh: how annoying. Typical Alison: Couldn’t she wait until tomorrow like a normal friend? Why did she always have to bust in on Rebecca’s plans like this, make things so difficult? Ugh.

Rebecca fiddled with the key—sometimes it stuck—and went inside. Running over to her bed, sticking her purse on the down comforter, she opened her closet and found her coat. Catching herself in the standup mirror on back of the closet, she thought: Should I call her real quick or not?