Love in the Cross Hairs

Forward:

This story is more than one chapter. If you're looking for something pornographic you might be disappointed,but of you're looking for a love story this might be it. Regardless, if you get to the end of this chapter I'd like a comment.

Prologue:

Two people are alive and at work in one of America's larger eastern cities; one had been a rising star in the construction industry. He built everything from private homes to office buildings; he had all the things that money could buy, but then life threw him a low curve ball. The other was a lack luster lonely almost thirty something office employee looking for someone, anyone, to fulfill her fantasies of a happy life filled with all the things a younger girl once dreamed of.

As the story develops these two incomplete souls find each other, their lives entwine, affections grow, their ideas of happiness are pretty congruent, but families and life's unexpected pitfalls intervene, happiness and contentment are smashed on the harsh rocks of unexpected discovery. Then again, maybe not.

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Peter Dawson was thirty-two, a businessman, and lucky. He'd had a construction company that had been building all sorts of things since the early 1990's. Back in the day business had been so good he'd been able to buy large tracts of farmland and subdivide it years before he was ready to build. He'd built high rise, eight stories, condominiums and luxury apartments. He owned an ocean front house, a forty foot cabin cruiser, an expensive sports car, a time share in the Bahamas, and an apartment in the Big Apple. But then came the 2008 crash, the big housing bubble burst. He had to say good bye to the time share, all but a tiny handful of the lots, the New York apartment, the ritzy sports car, and the boat. Thankfully he'd held on to two of the apartment buildings and the seashore condo never having leveraged them.

There had been other losses he really regretted. He'd had a good core of hardworking employees; some American, some illegal. But his biggest loss was his fiancé. He thought he'd found the girl, just the right girl he believed he could spend the rest of his life with. Brother had that turned out wrong. She just wasn't the one; she turned out to be just the right girl for what had once been a good friend. His girl, his sweetheart, had been sweet on his friend all along. When the bubble burst, and he nearly went belly up, she went bye bye. His friend, being a lawyer, never blinked an eye when the cards came tumbling down. His girl, the faithless whore, simply followed the money.

He swore, never again would he go so far in debt, and never again would he trust a woman. Nothing with a vagina would ever get so close to him again. If he wanted what a woman had; he'd buy it.

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Then there was Laurie Stanton; Laurie was everybody's helpful little girl Friday. She worked as a software consultant for a medium sized law firm downtown. She was twenty-nine, alone, and lonely. She'd had her share of boyfriends, one anyway, to whom she almost surrendered her cherry several years earlier. Since then her life had been scripted to follow the same monotonous cycle; work, home, sleep, work, home, sleep, and parents and siblings for the holidays. There had been a time when she thought she'd find her piece of the American dream; the nice house on the quiet street with the husband, and the kids. She thought about it still; but she knew she was running out of time.

'On a Wal-Mart Parking Lot'

Laurie was exhausted, another week, another five days plus long hours of overtime for which she was never paid. It was Friday, 8:00 p.m., and she was loaded down with groceries. Groceries, what a joke, two weeks' worth of frozen dinners, microwave bacon, orange juices, granola bars, skim milk, coffee, and one small bag of salt free potato chips. She was so tired she wanted to cry.

It was September, shortly after Labor Day, the evening air was cool, no sun, god what she'd give for a few days in the sun, anything but that horrid computer screen. She pushed her cart up the softly sloping ramp toward her parked car. Great car, a 1998 Toyota Camry, bald tires, bad brakes, and a compact disc player that wouldn't work.

Oh sweet Jesus, let her get home, a hot bath, her novel, and a good night's rest. Tomorrow she had to play happy aunt and babysit for her sickeningly sweet sister-in-law. The one who always had the same line, "Oh Laurie you should find a boy and get married. You'd make such a good mother, blah, blah, blah."

She pivoted the cart to start up the incline that led to her car when her cell phone went off. 'Oh no, she thought, it was probably somebody who wanted her to watch or take care of somebody.' She stopped, leaned the cart against her leg, shuffled around in her purse, found her cell phone and flipped it open, "Hello."

From out of nowhere a really mean looking big guy ran up, grabbed her purse, and took off.

Surprised and scared Laurie jumped back out of the way. As she jumped the cart loaded with her food toppled over.

She fell back against a dirty mini-van; purse gone, wallet gone, car keys gone, food strewn all over the ground, and someone she immediately recognized as her boss impatiently yelling at her on the cell phone. It was too much. She cradled the phone in her arms and started to quietly weep.

Peter saw the creep slam into the woman. She meant nothing to him, but he hated that shit. He dropped the bag he was carrying and sped off after the thief. He could tell the thief was slow witted, overweight, and out of shape. He ran straight up the center drive of the parking lot. Peter ran him down, got him in a horse collar, and brought him to the ground. Then he punched the guy right in the nose.

An off duty policeman appeared. He grabbed the thief and threw him around a little more.

Peter took the woman's purse and looked around till he saw her. She was standing where the thief had left her. She was still weeping or something. 'Women,' Peter thought, the smart ones are stupid. He walked down to the woman, purse in hand.

When he reached her he said, "That wasn't too smart, leaving your purse to hang on you wrist while you got your phone."

By then Laurie had started to pick up her purchases and stuff them back in the cart. She took her purse, "Thank you. I don't know what I would have done...if..." She started sniffling.

One of the store assistant managers reached the scene, "Can we help you ma'am?"

"No I'm all right."

Peter looked at the paunchy assistant manager, "Sure you can. Go inside and replace everything she's got with new stuff. Look at her, she can't take this garbage home and try to eat it, not now."

The assistant smiled, "Sure. Ma'am, let me replace all this."

Laurie gave the man a wan smile, "No I'm all right."

Peter interrupted, he was a little softer; "Why don't you let him replace this stuff?"

She whimpered a little, "No, I'm all right, really."

A patrol car pulled over. They had the thief in the back, handcuffed, and ready to be taken to the county jail. A patrolman walked over, "I'd like to get some information if you wouldn't mind."

Peter answered, "Sure I saw it all. That creep tried to steal her purse."

The patrolman took Peter's name and address. Then he took some information from Laurie, "He'll be charged of course, there will be an arraignment. You'll have to be there Miss." He looked at Peter, "All we need from you is a statement. You can e-mail it or send by the regular mail. Here's the case number. He handed Peter a slip of paper. "Of course, if the guy wants a trial you'll have to appear."

Peter answered, "No problem."

The patrolman looked at Laurie, "I see you're Laurie Stanton. You live at 113B Maple Grove Road."

She answered, "Yes sir."

Peter looked up, "Hey that's in one of my apartment complexes. Look I'll follow you home."

Laurie answered, "You don't have to do that."

"Sure," he answered, "It's the least I can do."

"No, I'm all right."

Peter had the woman figured out, just another snooty, phony, 'so called' liberated woman who broke down at the first crisis, "OK, well see you around."

She sniffed, "Thank you. What's your name?"

"Peter, but don't bother. You needed help."

Laurie thought about it for a second. He'd helped her. He didn't have to do it. She ought to do something, "Can I pay you or something?"

Peter grimaced. Just what he figured; they're all the same, "No thanks just the same."

Oh she realized he might have thought she meant money, "No, I mean maybe I could fix you dinner or something, maybe a movie?"

He looked at her again, "Tell you what; give me your phone number, maybe I could take you out."

Laurie knew he was blowing her off. She wasn't pretty, but she could cook, "OK." She took out a scrap of paper and jotted down her home and cell phone numbers, "I'm home all the time. You call and dinner's on the table." She tried to smile, but she knew it didn't work.

Peter took the phone number, smiled and walked to his car. Tomorrow was a Saturday, but he still needed to work. Playing catch up wasn't fun.

Laurie thanked him again, finished loading her car, and drove home. She felt achy and sore, maybe from when the thief pushed her. Oh heck she thought, she had to call her supervisor back. He wanted something.

When Laurie got home she called her boss back. He said he wanted her to come in the next morning to help finish up a problem. She explained why she hadn't been able to talk earlier. He said he understood, but still wanted her to come in. She said she'd try.

Nothing much came of the incident. Peter went home, got to bed, and went off to work that Saturday. Laurie went in too. She was tired and sore, but duty called.

'A Turn of Events'

Long about Wednesday Peter got a visit. It was a sheriff. The thief he'd stopped had hired a lawyer. Peter had punched him in the nose, and now the thief wanted restitution. It figured he thought; no good deed goes unpunished. He didn't know what to do exactly. He was a little afraid the thief, with a good lawyer, might be able to make it tough for him. He didn't think any of his insurances would cover something like this. He was a little surprised the police hadn't picked him for battery. He didn't know what to do. He had no witnesses other than the assistant manager and an off duty cop. He didn't think either of them really saw anything. Then he thought about the girl. She might have seen something. He rummaged around in his coat pockets. Damn, he'd thrown the scrap of paper away. But wait a minute. She'd told him where she lived. She lived in one his apartment buildings. He could drive over, check the mailboxes and look for her name. What was it? Laurie, Laurie something; that was the best he could do.

After work he hopped in his truck and drove down to the apartments. He looked the mailboxes over, and sure enough there was a Laurie, Laurie Stanton big as day. He went up the steps and knocked on the door. There wasn't any answer. No one was home. He checked his watch. Four thirty. She probably didn't get home till later. He went back downstairs, hopped in his truck and waited.

Laurie, like always, had to work late. It seemed nowadays, more than ever two people were asked to do the work of three. She was sick of it, but there wasn't anything she could do about it. Bone tired, exhausted, she drove home. Her Toyota clunker bounced along with the rest of the traffic till she reached her cut off, drove down the off ramp, hit the four lane suburban roadway that took her home. She thought there must be fifty red lights in the five miles from the Interstate to her apartment. At last she was home. She pulled in, found a parking spot, got out and walked up the sidewalk.

Peter recognized the car, but not the driver. Of course it had been dark on the Wal-Mart lot, but this woman still looked a lot different. He didn't remember the dark red wavy hair, the trim little figure, or the tight little ass. The girl he watched leave the Camry was a real cutie pie. She was gorgeous! How could he have overlooked that?

Once he saw she'd gotten inside he got out of his pick-up, crossed the lot, and followed her in. She had a third floor apartment in an eight story building; the worst possible level, she heard and felt all the noise from both above and below.

He went straight to her door and knocked. He waited and knocked again. At last he heard someone on the other side and instinctively sensed someone was peering through the peak hole. The door was opened, but she'd kept the safety chain on.

"Yes, can I help you?"

"Yes, hello is this Laurie Stanton?"

"It might be; who wants to know?"

"Hi, I'm Peter Dawson; remember me? I'm the guy who got your pocketbook back for you the other night."

"Oh sure, wait a minute." She closed the door, unfastened the safety chain, and opened the door all the way, "Hi, how can I help you?"

He stood just outside the door, "I'm sorry to bother you. By the way, are you all right? I mean did you get your food put away, and I mean, nothing was too damaged and all?"

"No it was all fine. What do you need?"

"I'm sorry. You remember the guy I caught? Well he's hired a lawyer, and wants to sue me."

"Oh."

"Yes. Can I come in for a minute? I think I might need your help."

"Oh sure, I'm sorry," She opened the door and stepped back, "I just got home. Want me to put on a pot of coffee or something?"

Inside he got an even better chance to appraise her. She was really pretty. She was small, maybe five foot two, thick reddish hair that was down now, but he could tell it had been up in a bun not more than a few minutes earlier. She had really liquid looking violet eyes, long lashes that curled way up, a cute little turned up nose, pink cheeks, and, for want of a better word, an adorable chin. He realized he was staring, "Sorry, but you look different from the other night."

She felt uneasy, "Would you like to sit. I'll put on that coffee." She stepped back and pointed to an older, but comfortable looking love seat.

"Thank you," Peter walked to the love seat and sat stiffly on the edge.

"I'll be just a minute," she went back to the kitchen.

He looked around. The place looked smaller from the inside. It was clean. The furniture looked old, well used, but very clean and tidy. There weren't any ash trays. She had a small old fashioned television in the corner. There was one other chair, a coffee table, and an end table. Everything was covered with doilies. There were several little nick knacks, nothing special, just a few little things, a ceramic dog, a snow globe, a couple candle stick holders, and some pictures. He liked it. It looked homey, comfortable, just maybe a little forlorn.

He didn't have to wait long. She was back with a small tray with two coffee cups, a tiny milk carton, and some sugar cubes sitting on a napkin, "Sorry for the set up. I don't have any of the special stuff."

He smiled and took an offered cup, "That's all right. I don't either."

She sat on the extreme opposite end of the love seat, "Now what's happened?"

"I'm sorry to be a bother, but the purse snatcher has hired a lawyer. I think he wants to get something out of what happened. You remember I punched him. Well I have a small business, and I think he found out and wants to sue me. I'm not sure I'm insured for this. He could cut me up. Maybe you can help?"

Laurie poured a small amount of milk in her coffee. Looking at her cup and not him she answered, "I saw it all. You had to hit him. He was fighting you. I think he tried to hit you first. If you want me to testify or make a statement about that I will." Then she looked up, "You were really great the other night. I want to help."

He took a sip of the coffee. It was a little weak for him. He put the cup down, "Thanks Ms. Stanton, Laurie. I really appreciate it." He started to get up, "That's about all I need. I'll hire someone and they'll get your statement."

Laurie liked this man. He was unpretentious, not arrogant or pushy. She thought he was handsome, not real handsome, but certainly easy on the eyes. He had sandy brown hair; it was kind of scruffy, brown eyes, and what looked like a muscular body. She'd been eying him while he talked. He looked like he needed a shave; like he'd shaved early that morning, worked all day, and now was ready to get home. He didn't look like a body builder or anything, but he looked healthy, like someone who took care of himself. He was maybe just a little over six feet tall. He wasn't wearing a wedding ring. Why she noticed that didn't make sense, she never paid attention to that stuff.

She asked him, "If you're not busy or too tired, I could fix you something to eat." She saw the look on his face, "No I'm not suggesting anything. I am grateful though."

He smiled. It was a genuine smile, "Not today, but how about if I took you out. You'd be paying me back with your company, and I'd be showing my gratitude by taking you to dinner."

She smiled, a date, she hadn't had one of those in years, "OK."

"How about this Friday?"

"Sure, Friday's good."

"Great, but could I have your phone number again; I lost it from the other night."

She thought he probably threw it out, "Sure, she opened a drawer on the end table beside her, pulled out a notepad and a pencil and jotted down her phone number. She handed it over, "So Friday night?"

He took the paper, "Say eight o'clock. Nothing fancy. Don't get dressed up. You like Italian?"

"Everybody likes Italian."

"Olive Garden?"

"Wonderful."

He thanked her again. She walked him to the door, and he left.

As he drove away he thought about the girl. Girl was really the wrong word. She behaved like a girl; young acting, but she was older. By daylight he saw the tiny crow's feet around her eyes that betrayed her age. They didn't diminish those beautiful violet eyes though.

He thought she was small. In her living room she had on a lavender blouse and black slacks. The blouse was the standard button up the front V-neck thing. She looked small breasted, but he thought she was prettier being small like that. She didn't look anything like his old fiancé.

'Friday Night'

Friday night arrived and he was at Laurie's door again. To sweeten the date he'd stopped at the supermarket and picked up a handful of flowers. They weren't much as far as flowers went, just a mixture of sweetheart roses, ferns, and other stuff he didn't recognize. He knocked on her door and waited. He didn't have to stand there long.

Laurie opened the door and the first thing she saw were the flowers, "Oh for me?"

He held them over, "Just a little extra thank you for the statement and for being so nice."

"How sweet, come in a minute while I put them in water."

He stepped inside while she got a vase and prepared them. She set them on the coffee table. The arrangement looked nice the way she'd displayed them.

Laurie knew it was an inexpensive arrangement; something people bought at the food stores all the time, but she liked them nonetheless. She knew they were cheap, but he didn't have to do anything; it was a nice gesture. She said so, "Thank you again. They're nice, and I can't remember the last time anyone bought me flowers."

He felt good, but a little bit like a fraud too. They were a last minute kind of from the hip thing. They cost almost nothing, took no extra effort, and yet she seemed so pleased. He told her so, "It really isn't much, just a thought I had that maybe you'd like them."

She smiled and held out her lightweight tan windbreaker for him to help her with.

Peter took the windbreaker and held it up while she slipped her arms through. As he held it he could smell her. He didn't recognize the perfume, but thought it had a very subtle aroma. As a rule he thought women wore too much of that stuff. It gagged him, but what she had on wasn't strong at all. He asked her, "What kind of perfume is that? I've never smelled it before."