Jaws of Love (Chapter 5)

Warnings: None at the moment. Maybe a few swears XD.

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"Our top story, a young girl...bzzt."

Rosemary Bowden shut off the TV and threw the remote on the couch. She had been watching TV for three hours straight, in hopes of gaining inspiration to write the next chapter of her novel. Unfortunately, she didn't get it.

"Damn deadline is coming up too fast and I'm not even halfway through my book." She muttered, grabbing a couple of pens sitting on the counter and pushing them through her yellow bun. Her emerald-green eyes caught sight of the unfinished manuscript sitting on top of the TV. She smirked when she saw the title.

"Jaws of Love? I'm calling this piece of crap Jaws of Love? I must be really desperate for inspiration if that's the best I can come up with...and that's only the title!" She groaned. It had sounded like a good title when she came up with it. But as different ideas and scenes ran through her head the way scenery passed by when one drove around in a car, she realized she couldn't keep the title anymore. The problem was she had no idea what else to call it.

Alex's right. I don't get very much done when I'm at home. She thought, remembering her boyfriend. Of all eight friends, Rosemary was the only one who worked at home. She wrote romance, thrillers, and mystery novels for a living. She wasn't bad off economically wise. In fact, she had accumulated a good number of male and female fans over the past few years. This new novel, Jaws of Love, was predicted to be the next bestseller. It would be a romance novel to attract females but would have a good dose of action and mystery in it for males. But try hard as she could, the book was nowhere near completion. This was all thanks to her friends.

I hate you guys sometimes. She thought. Of course, it wasn't true. But they were the reasons she didn't have anything done. No one was home yet and she was worried. Sure, writing could help alleviate some of that worry.

But I just don't want to write now. Not until everyone comes home safely. Rosemary sighed and picked the manuscript up. She made her way over to her writing desk, which was also in the living room. In fact, the whole place was small. It was a typical living room with a white sofa and two matching armchairs, a wooden table sitting in the middle of it and a TV with a DVD player (the same place where her manuscript had been lying) faced it. One doorway led into the hall. The other led to a kitchen and dining room. Few magazines and books lay around the place but for the most part it was clean. It was just another typical living room.

Rosemary flipped through the pages of that manuscript before she let out a sigh of frustration and threw it down. Keeping herself from screaming out loud, her green eyes caught sight of something. She smiled at the framed picture sitting on her desk. It was a picture of all eight of them, taken in the summer when they all went to the beach. It was a ridiculous picture because no one had been paying attention to the photographer. Tiffany was yelling at Dylan who was sticking out his tongue and mocking her. Debra was sitting on top of Trip's shoulders, giggling like a little girl. Her boyfriend had a shocked look on his face but no one knew why. (Dylan said it was because Debra accidentally kicked him in the balls while she was swinging her feet. Trip denied it, saying it was impossible for her legs to go down so far. No one else bothered to offer up an explanation.) Alex was ignoring the damn camera, looking down at the sand. Rosemary had covered up her mouth to keep herself from laughing at everyone else. Suzanne and Cole were the only ones who looked slightly normal, arms wrapped around each other and grinning widely. They were giving each other bunny ears and didn't know it until they saw the picture.

I don't live in a house. I live in a goddamn loony bin. She smirked. It was hard to believe they were adults yet they still acted like they were teenagers. Perhaps that was a good thing. Life would be very boring otherwise. The eight of them did a lot of things together. For example, next month they were all going to Cole Sawyer's family reunion even though the other seven weren't invited. (And it wasn't like anyone would notice them either. Cole had well over two thousand members of extended family). They had their share of good times as well as bad. In fact, the bad seemed to outweigh the good on more than one occasion. But they got through bad situations. Even when it seemed hopeless, the eight of them pulled through.

By now, the sun was starting to set and the air was growing colder. Seeing that the clothes she had hung out to dry needed to be bought in, Rosemary decided to put the writing on hold for a few minutes longer and take care of that little problem first. Scooping up the pink laundry basket, she pushed the screen door open and stepped out onto the deck. Then she made her way across the backyard to where the clothesline was strung between two oak trees. Not much was on that line, just a few shirts and sheets. Still, they were dry and needed to be taken down. Working her way across the line, she began pulling everything down. She also wondered how come no one else had come home yet.

"Where the hell is everyone?" She asked out loud, taking one of Alex's shirts off the clothing line and putting it in the basket. No doubt she needed to iron it before she gave it back to him. "It's after five."

After five was one of her favorite times of the day. Everyone would be home and doing their own thing. Sometimes, they'd all gather in one room and entertain themselves. In fact, all four couples took up a corner in the room. Rosemary would obviously be editing the newest chapter to her story while Alex gave her tips. He'd be looking over her shoulder, sometimes giving her a kiss on the neck, and pointing out what she could change. In the second corner, Dylan would be sitting, a cigarette in one hand and a red pen in the other. He'd be grading the essays balancing on his lap and complaining about everything in the world. Tiffany would right next to him, also grading stuff but taking shorter time. She would also complain about anything she could find to complain about. (Complaining was what Dylan and Tiffany both excelled at). Then in the other corner, Cole would be lying on his stomach, doing his research work on his laptop. Suzanne would sit close by, painting her nails and talking to her boyfriend about work. Then the final corner, Debra would be giving her boyfriend a backrub and after some time, they'd switch off. Yes, Rosemary loved it when they gathered in one room and did their own thing. It was a quiet time for them.

But it didn't last long. After five was also the most interesting time of everyone's day. They'd put everything down and prepare for whatever the night had in store for them. Very rarely was there a night where they could sit down, relax, and not worry about the troubles that lay ahead. For the most part, nighttime was filled with excitement and danger. The reason that no one was here yet gave Rosemary more reason to believe that there was more danger than excitement for everyone.

The phone started ringing the moment Rosemary stepped onto the deck and opened the screen door again. Putting the basket on the floor, she ran over to the counter and picked it up. "Hello?"

"R.M., I have a crisis." Alex Ruteger blurted out, calling Rosemary by her nickname. Actually, Dylan had christened her with it but everyone liked it and the name stuck ever since.

Rosemary sighed but at the same time, she was worried. Alex never called with a crisis. And from the tone of his voice, it was serious.

"What happened?" She asked.

"I need to talk to you about Skippy."

Rosemary suppressed all hateful remarks. Paul "Skippy" Tarnakov was Alex's best friend at work though Rosemary personally could not stand him. The guy was the typical sidekick and an occasional comic relief, the type of person everyone hated save one or two tolerant people. She never told Skippy she hated him for fearing of hurting Alex. Still, hiding those feelings was hard.

"What the hell did he do now?" She sighed. Skippy was also well known for getting himself in jams and never being able to pull himself out.

"Well, Skippy has a problem with his date. See, he bought her inside the house and there was her..." Alex was starting ramble again and Rosemary knew she had to cut in before she heard about the shit Skippy Tarnakov was in this time.

"Alex, baby, I don't mean to be rude but...would you mind telling me this some *other* time? I'm in the middle of writing my latest chapter." Rosemary lied. Okay, it wasn't a total lie. She *had* been meaning to sit down and write the latest chapter to her book. The chores at home and lack of inspiration kept her from doing that. Dylan was right, she *was* a 'Hausfrau' when she wasn't working. Not that she could help it though. It seemed like the chores increased everyday and nothing happening in the world seemed to trigger ideas for "Jaws of Love". But she wanted an excuse to hang up the phone before Alex went on about Skippy's problem.

Alex was silent for a few minutes. "I don't *have* any other time to tell you this." He finally said.

Rosemary frowned. "Honey, I'm sure you..."

"R.M., I listen to you ramble everyday in bed. I know about how much you love passion fruit margaritas, how you think the leader singer of Matchbox Twenty needs to use a different kind of shampoo, and how you hate those little globs of toothpaste in the sink. I listen to you blab about how much you hate handsome men who smoke, how much you hate menstruating every month, and how much you adore that cute black dress you saw at the mall. Last night, you told me that you love brownies with chocolate chips in them and you hate coffee flavored ice cream. You also told me that you loathe people who fight about religion, trying force others to change their beliefs_"

"I do!" Rosemary interrupted. "Do you know how annoying it is when one party is bashing another because of their religious beliefs? It's stupidity! It's ridiculous! It's like trying to promote vegetarianism at an all American barbeque party!"

Alex sighed. "Look, the point I'm making is...can I tell you about what happened to me for a change? And what's on my mind?"

Rosemary gave up. I'm getting softer each year.

"Fine." She said. "Tell me all that happened."

"So Skippy comes in and tells me about how he was in the urge to get into a foursome with his date, her sister, and her mother. And I insisted he blah blah blah blah..."

Rosemary had stopped listening to him because something else had caught her eye. She thought about going online to check her email but there was a news story that caught her eye. She clicked on it and began to read. She had heard about it on the news earlier but didn't pay attention then.

It was a story about two girls who had been found killing and eating people. Some grotesque images from the crime scenes had been posted, enough to make Rosemary's stomach churn and send her flying into the bathroom. Never had she seen so much blood in one place. It would take months before those rooms were completely clean. But these pictures came from previous, similar incidents. Then she took a look at pictures from recent cases. It seemed like the same thing had occurred. The creative juices began to run through her body again as she kept looking. Inspiration to write "Jaws of Love" was coming back. If only she had more sources or another version of this story...

Oh shit! Shit! She realized, shutting the computer off. The TV! They were probably talking about the case again and she hadn't heard the whole thing.

"And I suggested..."

"Alex, baby, I don't mean to cut you off but I have to do something! I'll see you when you get home!" And before Alex could say a word about Skippy Tarnakov's problem, Rosemary hung up. She scooped the remote control off the couch and flipped the TV back. Instead of the news, there was a commercial where a woman was pouring light-blue liquid into one of those...

"Shit!" She complained. Of all things, why in the hell were they airing a maxi pad commercial? Besides, a string of murders over a short period of time was far more important then how well a maxi pad absorbed liquid. Pouting, Rosemary plopped on the couch and saw the two maxi pads get liquid poured into them. The first one soaked through the cloth but the second one did not. Drumming her fingers against arm of the couch, she watched commercial after commercial as she waited for the news to come back on.

Finally, the news came back but to her disappointment, it was time for the sports news. Swearing, she flipped to another station only to find the same thing over there. The other stations had nothing but soaps, infomercials, and the generic maxi pad commercials. Realizing that she wasn't going to find anything more about this from the TV, Rosemary turned it off in disgust and threw the remote control back down on the couch.

Looks like I'll have to wait till tonight to know what happened. She thought. Pushing this piece of news aside, she got up and decided to start writing the rest of her manuscript.

* * *

Debra Laird threw herself onto the grass and stretched out. She had made a last minute decision to cancel that dance class for today and spend time with her boyfriend. Besides, the last class left her too tired to move around. Her head was pounding and her joints felt like rusty hinges. So she begged Trip to take her to the park. It would be far from the school and it would be fun to spend some time outside due to the unusually warm weather. But before she could enjoy it, she had to talk to her boyfriend first. Trip sat down next to her and looked up at the peach-colored sky, waiting to hear what she had to say. There weren't very many people around them. This gave her the opportunity to speak up and try to figure out what was going on.

"I'm sorry for dragging you here." She told him. "But I'm gonna cut to the chase. You've been hanging around me for quite a while now. You wanted to talk to me even though I'm not in the mood to talk to you."

Trip didn't say a word.

"I keep pushing you away and you keep pushing back." Debra continued. "It's like I'm not allowed to have my own freedom or something. It's like you have to know everything about me."

"I'm not a control freak." Trip murmured. "Not once have I told you what to do or tried to change who you are."

That answer was not what Debra was looking for and it pissed her off.

"What is it you want then?" She demanded. "Why are you so insistent on talking to me?"

"Just tell me the truth!" He snapped, glaring at her. "If you're pregnant, then I have a right to know! After all, you're carrying my kid!"

Upon hearing those words, Debra sat up and looked at him confused. She didn't know whether to start laughing or crying.

"You think I'm...pregnant?" She asked. When Trip nodded, she made her decision and began to laugh. She literally fell over on the grass and her face began to turn red. Then tears started rolling down her face. Her boyfriend just sat there, looking lost, as his girlfriend giggled. He didn't think the matter was *that* funny.

"So are you or aren't you?" He finally asked. Debra suppressed her laughter, sat up, and smiled at him.

"I'm not." She said, leaning over and giving him a kiss on the cheek. Trip let out a sigh of relief. Debra patted her flat stomach to prove her point. "I wouldn't be dancing if I were, dear. And you know my mother will kill both of us if you got me pregnant."

Trip was relieved by the news. "I'm glad. So why are you avoiding me?"

"Avoiding you?"

"You know, you haven't spoken to me until now." Trip accused. "You turn away from when I look at you. You refuse to get help from me. And you..." He turned red. "You're even ignoring me in bed. What happened?"

Now it was Debra's turn to blush. True, she and her boyfriend had started sleeping with each other. The sex was wonderful but they were both careful when they did it. They were in control, they loved it, and the chances of her getting pregnant were minimal. She hadn't told anyone, not even her other six friends, about the sex but there hadn't been any reason to. For all she knew, they were probably doing the same thing.

Nevertheless, he was right. In the past nights, she *had* been avoiding him. Anytime he wanted to get close, she pushed him away. But she had to push him away. She needed time to think on her own.

"What happened?" Trip asked again. Debra bit her lip and faced him. Hazel eyes met jade ones and stared into each other for a while. Finally, Debra made up her mind to tell him the truth.

"Well, it's...wait a second, sweetie." She looked around her. No one seemed to be paying attention to the two of them. People were playing or walking dogs or reading on park benches. But no one was looking in their direction. It was safe to reveal everything to her boyfriend.

Debra pulled down her leotard so that her right shoulder and a black bra strap were showing. Then she pulled the bra strap down to reveal her bare right shoulder. On the back of it was a strange brown mark that looked like a letter from an Asian alphabet such as Chinese or Japanese. Problem was none of her Asian friends knew what that word meant. They figured it was just a strange mark and she agreed. She always told strangers that this was her birthmark but it was a lie. Only her friends knew what that mark really was and they weren't telling anyone.

"It itches." She complained, scratching it as if she wanted to get rid of it. "It's been itching for a very long time. You know what that means."

Trip nodded and examined that mark closely. "You've been having dreams and they're coming true."

She nodded.

"How long has it been itching?"

"Ever since...ever since that girl was found." She whispered.

"What girl...oh! You're talking about the murder in Wilmington!"

Another nod. "I've been scratching it a lot. I think I drew some blood the last time it got this irritating. That was when that other girl was found...you know, the one who jumped off the roof?"

"Did you put anything on it?"

Debra frowned at him. "Hello! I'm not talking about an ordinary rash here! It's...you know." She finished off, running hand across the mark. Pressing down on it, her skin turned white but that mark became darker and more visible. The damn thing was like a curse she'd die with.

*/Oh, talk about irony./* She thought with a smirk, scratching her shoulder. The itch burned and there was no medication out there to relieve her pain. Trip reached out and put his hand on top of hers.

"Don't do that." He said, pushing her hand off that scar. Then his face darkened. "You should have told me about this sooner."

"Well, I thought I could bear the pain." Debra shrugged, pushing her bra strap and leotard back up. Then her voice lowered. "What do you think it all means? I mean, murder everywhere and my dreams..."

"What else did you see?" Trip interrupted. He said it with the tone of voice she did not like. He sounded serious and demanding and while he wasn't trying to hurt her, that voice did scare her. Debra made the smart choice and answered him.

"Danger." She murmured. "More death. The possibility of you and me being separated and our friends getting hurt...you don't think that will happen, do you?"

"You're the one who's psychic, not me." He murmured.

"I didn't say I was psychic!" Debra said indignantly. "I was having dreams...and they're kinda coming true...and it's not the first time this has happened..."

Trip had heard enough and he knew what he needed to do. Clearly, Debra did not what her dreams were about but if she saw something, it would refresh her memory. He stood up and brushed himself off before turning to her.

"Then come with me. I feel bad for the others but..." He said, grabbing her hand and pulling her up to her feet. Debra, completely lost, let him take her halfway across the grass before speaking up.

"Sweetie, where are we going?" She asked, finally breaking free of his grip. Her boyfriend was a normally quiet and gentle person. But she also knew there were also rare times where he broke out of his quiet mold and became a little more dynamic. This was turning out to be one of those 'rare' times. Trip turned around and answered her with just eight words.

"We're getting a head start on this mystery." He told her. Without another word, he turned around and started to walk away. Minutes later, she followed.

TBC...

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