Page 6 of Adrian

Taking a deep breath, I shake all thoughts of Princess Blair from my head. She’s on her own. I did what I could.

Three

Blair

* * *

“Shit.” I stand on the porch of my dilapidated home and cuss up a storm. Literally. Because this storm is making the mountain look like I’m going to need an ark to stay alive. “Fuck. Damn. Son of a bitch.”

I’m not opposed to a few colorful words when it’s appropriate. And I’ve never been in a more appropriate situation than this one.

Why didn’t I listen to Mr. Fancy Jeans? Because I’m stubborn. If I weren’t so stubborn, I wouldn’t be fleeing my stupid life in search of something new. Something deeper. Something that will fill my soul. Something that will derail me from the disastrous train wreck I’ve been living in.

Move to the mountains, I said. It’ll be fun, I said. No one will bother you here, I said. Go for it!

I’m resourceful. At least I thought I was. Until today. My plan was to move into this piece-of-shit house while I built a new one. The realtor didn’t tell me this building wasn’t habitable. I’m starting to think that’s because she assumed I would have known that. Plus, I told her I intended to build on the property. I just didn’t mention that I meant to live here in the meantime.

I was desperate to escape the rat race. I basically sold most of my worldly possessions and moved to this quaint mountain town in order to escape my family and friends. I assume they won’t follow me.

My prayer is that when my parents realize I’m not on a short vacation, they will indulge me in the hope I will eventually change my mind. Over time, they’ll learn otherwise. I’m not going back.

I’m being a bit of a coward. I didn’t speak a word about my plans to anyone. I simply left because I knew they would try to talk me out of it, and I wasn’t in the mood to spar with them.

It’s done. Even though I’m now questioning my sanity, given the furious nature of this storm. I will make this work. I’ll take Adrian’s advice and buy an RV or something so I can live here while I build.

No way would my parents come here. Right? They could send someone in their stead. That’s more their style. But I can be firm about my decision with their hired help. I’m not going back.

Hell, I don’t know anyone who would so much as drive their car through this town, let alone attempt a trek up the mountain. They’d be too scared their fancy vehicles might get dinged or scratched. This is the most backward place I’ve ever been to. It’s perfect.

Except perhaps for this storm.

I’m freezing cold. It wasn’t supposed to be this chilly this early in the season. It was warm earlier. Now, not so much. I didn’t even grab the raincoat from my SUV, and now I would get soaked if I ran toward the vehicle to rummage around for it.

I wasn’t lying when I told Adrian I would head to the city tonight. He did manage to convince me the house wasn’t livable in its current state. But I took too long investigating the property, trying to figure out where I want to build. The rain started earlier than he insinuated. He’d said tonight. I don’t think I would call this hour night. It’s five o’clock. It’s also getting dark, partly from the clouds, partly from the time of year.

The creak of wood behind me makes me squeal as I spin around. Adrian said this house would collapse in a stiff breeze. What’s happening is far more than a stiff breeze, and I think he was right. It sounds like it’s going to cave in any second.

I’m standing on the porch because at least there’s a rickety roof over me, but the rain is picking up. It’s coming down sideways and in droves now. I can’t escape it. I’m soaked clear through my clothes. So much for the expensive blouse and boots. Everything I’m wearing is drenched.

My hair is plastered to my head. The only wise decision I made before leaving New York was having my hairdresser dye my hair back to its natural color, because I figured that was my last cut and style for a long while, and I didn’t want the blond highlights making me look ridiculous as they grew out.

This morning, when I arrived, my hair was hanging in perfectly curled layers down my back. I had makeup on. I was even wearing stylish jewelry. All of that seems dumb now. I’d applied the makeup and jewelry by habit. My hair, too. Why did I stand in the hotel bathroom and arrange it so perfectly?

I’m sure my mascara is running down my cheeks. The only part of me that hasn’t been ruined is the jewelry. Rain can’t destroy gold and diamonds.

And why am I so fixated on such material matters? I’m so screwed right now it’s not even funny. And that’s good because I’m not laughing.

My SUV is about ten yards away, but I fear I would slip and fall in the mud between here and there if I attempted to get to it. I consider trying so I can at least turn on the engine and sit in the warmth.

My belongings are still inside. I didn’t unload a thing. I contemplate rummaging around to find dry clothes and some towels, changing in the driver’s seat, and then sleeping in the SUV while this storm rages.

The idea seems plausible and even inviting until my SUV slides away from me. My eyes bug out as it moves about five yards farther away and then lodges against a tree.

No way in hell do I want to be sitting in that and risk getting swept away so I possibly drown.

As the next lightning bolt flashes, so does the accompanying crack of thunder. That’s how close the storm is. It’s on top of me. And in the light, I watch a large branch fall on top of my SUV.

What did I ever do to the universe to deserve this madness? I bet this kind of storm only happens once every decade. Why today?