Strange Magic by Gord Rollo Page B

hell-bent for leather through the town streets, heading blindly for home. This wasn’t supposed to happen to him. He was the Peeping Tom, the king, the powerful black panther, the man in control. He was the giver of fear, not the receiver. He was too strong and confident to fear anyone. Fear was supposed to be an attribute of his weaker personality, not him. He couldn’t help it though, couldn’t stop running, no matter how hard he tried.
    He worried the urges in his head wouldn’t let him go home again, but not once did they bang their drums, not even when he crashed through his back door and crumbled in a quivering heap on the hall floor. It was strange, but perhaps the urges also felt threatened by the evil presence he’d witnessed this night. Maybe they were just as scared of the disappearing man as he was?

S UNDAY , S EPTEMBER 20
S TRAIGHT FROM THE
S KELETON’S M OUTH…

C HAPTER N INE
S AVIOR IN THE B OTTOM OF A B OTTLE
    Wilson paced back and forth, pausing occasionally to rub the toes of his already gleaming dress shoes against the back of his pant leg. It was the appointed meeting time, but there was still no sign of his wife and daughter. He was agitated as a plump chicken being introduced to Colonel Sanders and fought the urge to turn and flee.
    His nervousness had nothing to do with his wife being late. In fact, he inwardly hoped Susan might not show at all, but that was highly unlikely. He was quite sure she’d be here soon.
    “But will she be able to tell I’ve been drinking?” he muttered under his alcohol-tinged breath.
    He’d desperately tried to stay away from the booze, knowing how important this morning was, but eventually his frazzled nerves had gotten the better of him. He took some small comfort in the knowledge he wasn’t drunk—nowhere near. By sheer willpower he’d found the inner strength to limit himself to a few quick shots, and as pathetic as it sounded, he actually felt quite proud.
    Would Susan feel the same? Would she notice the effort he’d made? Would she give him the benefit of the doubt? Would she realize how difficult it had been forhim to work up the courage to face their old friends and neighbors, or would she sniff his breath and simply pass judgment again?
    The silver Honda pulled to the curb as Kemp performed one more shoe-shine on his pants before his family joined him. The tension temporarily vanished as Amanda dashed ahead of her mother and sprang into his open arms. She was cute as a button in her finest white dress, her hair tied in ponytails with bright red ribbons. Wilson hugged and kissed her, taking full advantage of the moment before reluctantly setting her down.
    Two thoughts occurred to him as he straightened up to face Susan. His first was how beautiful she looked in a dazzling green dress that almost matched her eyes. He was about to compliment her when a second thought raced through his conscience.
    She knows…my God she knows I’ve been drinking.
    She stood there looking him over. In his mind, he had pictured her screaming at him in disgust, then storming back to the car with Amanda, leaving him standing on the sidewalk, hopelessly and deservedly alone.
    Silently praying this wouldn’t happen, he held his breath, worked up some courage, and asked, “Well…do I look okay?”
    Susan took a minute. Wilson was right; she did know he’d been drinking, she just wasn’t sure what to do about it. It hadn’t been his breath. She saw it in his eyes. Wilson had never been able to keep a secret from her, and she’d easily spotted the guilt in his eyes the moment she stepped out of the car.
    Anger started to boil within her, but then she noticedthe effort he’d put into trying to look nice for her. He was wearing a slightly baggy gray suit and red tie that she remembered buying him years ago. It fitted better back then, of course. Still, he looked very handsome. He’d also shaved and put on English Leather, her favorite cologne. She looked him over once