Change of Heart

I needed time to do that. I hoped I would be given that time.
    [Back to Table of Contents]
    220
    Change of Heart
    by Mary Calmes

Chapter Thirteen
    When Raymond Torres had built Paragon at the beginning of the nineties, he had included in the design a small, hundred-square-foot studio apartment behind the bar of the lounge. The original purpose was for him to have a convenient place to take willing women that he picked up in the course of the night. It needed to have a bathroom and a bed, but unfortunately, once the shower stall and toilet were put in, there was only room for a twin bed. There were no windows; it was a cramped, small space. It felt more like a prison cell than anything else; romantic and cool it was not, much more like someplace a stalker would stash his prey.
    Sitting behind the bar, the sounds of clinking glasses, loud, drunken conversations, and water going off and on came through the paper-thin walls all night long. It was the last place anyone would want to rest and the last place anyone would ever look for someone who needed it.
    I locked myself into the room behind the bar that no one but Ray and I had a key for. It was clean even though it was cramped, and I shed my parka and shoes before I turned off the light and collapsed on the bed in the darkness. The shifting had taken all my energy, and only adrenaline had carried me from the pit back to the house and eventually to the restaurant. I had called Ray when I was in the parking lot because I couldn't get out of the car. He had reached me in seconds, and while he helped me inside, I asked him if he could do me just one more favor.
    221
    Change of Heart
    by Mary Calmes
    One favor turned into three, but my boss didn't seem to care. I needed a place to sleep, I needed to eat immediately, and I needed someone to drive Delphine's car back. An hour later, two of the waiters returned the Lexus to the road in front of Logan's home. I didn't want anyone to see it parked in front of the restaurant, not that anyone would be looking for me for awhile. If I was weary, Logan had to be exhausted.
    He was probably passed out in his bed. The thought was not comforting, because half of me wanted nothing else than to be lying beside him, wrapped in his arms. It was the other half that was the problem, the half that kept reminding me that I had been betrayed before. Too tired to think anymore, when Ray had insisted that I sleep upstairs, I didn't fight him.
    I sank into oblivion, and I didn't even hear a sound.

    * * * *
    I woke up the following evening, having slept for over sixteen hours, ravenous. I had made sure to eat before I initially went to bed because it was dangerous not to. After any shifting, panthers needed to refuel and hydrate, so I had eaten a steak and drank what felt like a gallon of water. I was still too tired to walk, but when I called Ray, he brought me up a hamburger and fries, a glass of milk, and more water. I told him that being served by the boss man was nice. He made sure to tell me that he simply didn't want anyone but the two of us knowing about the room. He didn't give a crap about me; he was just protecting his secret. But the affection in his eyes, the way he tousled my hair, gave him away. As we sat and talked, I knew he wanted to ask what was going 222

    Change of Heart
    by Mary Calmes
    on, but it was nice that he didn't. He left a half an hour later, and I fell back to sleep in seconds.
    The following day, I was up by five in the afternoon, again ravenous, but finally able to get up out of bed and shower.
    Once I was changed, I went downstairs to the huge, bustling kitchen of the restaurant. I waited for the jeers but realized that technically, I hadn't even missed a day, since I had been given extra time off for working two weeks straight. I was back when I was supposed to be, and that was funny somehow. In the middle of life-and-death battles, I had returned to work on time.
    In the kitchen, Ramon had me sit on the counter while he fed me. Breakfast for dinner had always been my favorite, and after an enormous omelet, a pound of ham, toast, and a half a gallon of apple juice, I felt better. He watched me chug down more water, and when I got up and thanked him, he asked me where it had all gone. He always made a point of telling me that someday, my metabolism would change, and because of my eating habits, I'd end up weighing a thousand pounds. I told him not to worry about it.
    I came out of the kitchen in time for Ray to