InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ A Purity Short: Cacophony ❯ Naked ( Chapter 8 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

By: Sueric

~Chapter Eight~
~Naked~

~o~

Kelly stepped out of the casino, letting out a deep breath as she blinked rapidly, her eyes, taking a moment to adjust to the late afternoon sunshine.

It was insanely hot—hot enough that she could see the vacillating waves of heat as they rose from the pavement and distorted the cityscape in lazy, almost lethargic, lines. One-hundred-five degrees, Lyza had said in a disgusted kind of way over the cold caramel lattes she’d brought back after her lunch break, and if Kelly had heard, ‘but it’s a dry heat’, once, she’d heard it a hundred times over the course of the day. Heat at this kind of temperature was heat, and it really didn’t matter if it was a dry heat or if it wasn’t. It was pretty miserable, period.

If she had it her way, she’d head back to her apartment, crank up the air conditioner, and not leave it till the next time she was scheduled to work, which wouldn’t be until Monday, but before she could do that, she had a class tonight.

This class, however, was a later one, and she’d gotten off work a little earlier than usual, which meant she didn’t have to be there for a couple hours. Ordinarily, she’d walk to the campus since it wasn’t that far, and it irritated her to no end that she’d wasted the money on a cab yesterday—that she’d felt like she had no other option than to do that, given the troll who wasn’t interested in leaving her alone.

It didn’t make sense, did it? Just why was that guy so interested in her, in the first place? She wasn’t really accustomed to getting that kind of attention. That was the kind of thing that Belle had normally attracted, but Kelly herself never really had. Maybe it was because she might be all right looking, but standing next to someone like Bellaniece Zelig? ‘Check that. Bellaniece Izayoi, right?’ She sighed. No, Belle was the one who stood out. Kelly? Kelly tended to blend into the background . . .

“Well, fancy meeting you here—again.”

She smothered a groan and kept walking, opting to ignore the voice—and the man it belonged to.

He chuckled, absolutely undaunted, as he hurried to keep up with her. “Where are you headed, beautiful?”

“Beautiful?” she scoffed before she could stop herself. “I think you have me confused with someone else.”

“Nope, not at all,” he quipped, missing or ignoring the absolute derision in her tone. “Anyway, how about you tell me where we’re going?”

“That’s really none of your business—and we aren’t going anywhere together,” she replied brusquely. “Now, if you’ll excuse me . . .”

He didn’t get the very blatant hint. “It wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me to let you walk off on your own, Kelly.”

She bristled at the use of her name from him. Given that she was required to wear her clearance ID at work, it wasn’t really surprising that he had learned it. Even so . . . “It’s also not very gentlemanly for you to assume that I want you to walk with me at all, especially when I don’t even know your name—and no, I’m not asking.”

“I love your spirit. Girls with that kind of spirit are always a great time in the sack,” he said with another laugh. “My name’s Ken. Ken Davrays, and before you ask, yes, that’s Ken Davrays of Davarays Pharmaceuticals.”

“Never heard of them,” she lied since it was one of the biggest pharmaceutical companies in the USA, maybe the world.

“Really?” To his credit, he did sound very surprised, but her lie did nothing to shake his misplaced and arrogant optimism. “Well, I’d be more than happy to tell you all about the company over dinner. What do you say?”

She started to open her mouth, to tell the irritating man that she really wasn’t interested—again—only to stop short when a very familiar youki brushed over her. Out from under the overhang of a small convenience store nearby, Cartham stepped out of the shadows and made no bones about heading straight toward her. He didn’t say anything right off, but he did spare a moment to look the human up and down, as though he were assessing him as a potential threat. “Cartham! Hi!” she blurted before she could stop herself, very aware of the crash of distinct relief that surged over her—and very aware of the really strange outfit that Cartham was wearing. If she weren’t so uncomfortable because of the presence of the irritating would-be suitor, she’d comment on it, but that would have to wait, at least, for the moment.

He nodded at her greeting, but he didn’t take his attention off of Ken. “A friend of yours, Kel?”

“No,” she replied before Ken could try to claim that he was. “Just a customer from the casino.”

It didn’t surprise her when Ken gave Cartham the once-over and summarily dismissed him as wanting. “Don’t worry about it, um, Cartham, was it? Kelly and I were just going to grab some dinner.”

Cartham shifted his gaze to meet Kelly’s without moving his head, and he must have read her expression right because he slowly looked back up again and chuckled. “Well, we already made dinner plans, but I guess if you’d like to tag along—”

“I’m sure that Mr. Davrays is too busy for that,” Kelly broke in with a bright smile. “Come on, Cartham.”

She grabbed his hand and tried to pull him away, but he didn’t move, which meant that she didn’t, either. Tamping down her irritation at her perceived lack of strength, which really wasn’t the issue since Cartham was a hell of a lot bigger than she, Kelly had no choice but to stand back and watch.

“Davrays? Interesting last name,” Cartham remarked casually, affecting a relaxed sort of slouch.

“Davray’s Pharmaceuticals,” Ken supplied. “Future CEO, actually, when my father chooses to retire.”

Cartham nodded slowly. “Impressive . . . and you’re . . . hitting on Kelly, I take it.” His nodding slowed, and he rubbed his stubbly chin thoughtfully. “Let me ask you something, Mr. Davrays . . . Has Kelly, here, given you any kind of indication that she’s welcoming of your advances?”

Ken chuckled and actually winked at Kelly. It took everything within her to keep from rolling her eyes. “We’re working on it,” he said, sounding a lot more confident than he really ought to.

Cartham chuckled, too. “Is that right? Hey, uh, Kel?” He gestured at Ken. “Are you interested in Mr. Davrays?”

She managed to paste on a tepid smile. “Um, no, I’m not,” she admitted.

Cartham jerked his head toward her as he turned his attention back to Ken once more. “You heard the lady. Catch you later, buddy,” he said, slipping an arm around Kelly to lead her away.

They didn’t say anything as they walked down the boulevard. To be honest, Kelly was half-expecting the irritating man to follow them, but to her relief, he didn’t. Maybe he realized that Cartham really would be much more than someone like him could handle. She didn’t know, and she didn’t really care, either. Cartham let Kelly lead the way, and she sighed as the vague headache that had been threatening ever since Ken had approached her outside the casino loosened its grasp on her.

“So, um . . . Are you hungry?” he finally asked, breaking the companionable silence.

“Yeah,” she allowed with an offhanded shrug. “I have a couple hours before class, so—”

“Class?”

She nodded. “I texted you about the classes,” she reminded him.

“Oh, that’s right. You did. They’re going okay?”

“Very well. I just have another week before finals, and then, I’ll have my certification. Well, if I pass, that is . . .”

“For that promotion, you mean? You can do it.”

“I hope so. I mean, my manager hasn’t mentioned it again . . .”

“Yeah, but I doubt he’d have said anything about it if he didn’t think you could do it. You’ll get it.”

Something about his quiet praise, the absolute belief in his tone, made her blush, and she cleared her throat nervously as she veered toward Scolari’s, a very nice little Italian restaurant that she’d loved since she’d discovered it, and Cartham followed her inside.

It only took a few minutes for them to be seated, and they ordered drinks before the waitress hurried away.

“So, Cartham . . . What’s with that outfit?” she asked, burying her face behind her menu, lest he should see the little grin on her face. Given that he was wearing his normal jacket, despite the ungodly temperature was suspicious enough, but under that, he wore a bright red Hawaiian shirt and a pair of knee length khaki cargo shorts. Add to that, the bright white, brand new sneakers and ankle socks, and, well . . . He looked entirely un-Cartham and just a little ridiculous, to be honest.

He grunted, scanning his menu, and he answered without looking up. “I know, I look stupid,” he muttered. “It’s my disguise for the job I just finished.”

Kelly lowered the side of her menu long enough to pin Cartham with a very droll stare. “You have to dress like a dork to find someone? Tell Cain you need a raise . . .”

He snorted. “Something like that.”

Kelly cleared her throat. “So, you’re done for now, then . . . Are you staying here for a couple days?”

Cartham nodded, setting the menu aside. “Well, kind of. I mean, yes, but maybe not here in the city.”

“Oh?”

He shrugged, but then, he made a face. “Well, I rented a spot at the campgrounds, so I guess I’m staying there since the fee’s non-refundable, and I hate to waste money.”

Something in his voice made her blink, and she glanced up at him, only to do a double-take. He looked about as miserable as he could look, and she broke into a small smile. “You don’t like camping?”

Again, he shrugged as the waitress slipped their drinks onto the table. “Not really my favorite thing, no,” he admitted. “I mean, I don’t mind living off the land, no, but the whole tourist-y part of it? Yeah, I could do without that.”

“You could stay with me. Then, you won’t be wasting money since it won’t cost you anything else.”

“Well, I didn’t want to just assume . . .” he admitted.

“Hi! Have the two of you decided what you want?” the waitress asked, stopping at their table, tapping her bright red, polished nails against the tablet in her hand as she waited for their order.

“Hmm, I don’t know. Seafood sounds good, but it’s hard to trust that it’s as good as what you get back home,” Cartham muttered, frowning at his menu.

Kelly laughed since she understood that well enough. Maine had some of the best seafood anywhere in the world, or so she believed. “I’ll have the shrimp scampi with the garden salad with light Italian dressing on the side.”

“Sounds good,” Cartham added. “Same.”

The waitress smiled and hurried away.

Kelly watched her go before turning her attention back to Cartham once more. “You know, I’ve never been camping,” she admitted. “I mean, not real camping. I don’t think that staying outside in a pup tent in Belle’s back yard counts. Even then, I doubt we actually ever stayed outside all night . . .”

Cartham considered that for a moment before reaching for a steaming hot breadstick from the basket that the waitress had left with their drinks. “Sounds like you’re soft,” he rumbled in an unmistakably teasing tone of voice. “I doubt you’d like it, anyway. This place has one outhouse, and it’s halfway across the grounds from the plot I rented.”

She thought it over for a long moment, pulling a breadstick from the basket and breaking it in half. “I . . . I could camp with you,” she suggested. “I mean, I have class tonight, but I’m off all weekend.”

“You sure you want to do that? I mean, I told you about the bathroom situation . . .”

Kelly shrugged. “Sure. How bad could it be?”

-==========-

“This . . . kind of sucks . . .”

“I blame this on you.”

Turning her face to peer at Cartham, who was as stretched out as much as he could be on the sleeping bag in the rather small tent, Kelly made a face and stuck out her tongue before peeking out of the slightly opened tent flaps at the gray sky, the steadily falling rain. “How is this my fault?” she countered.

He grunted, slipping onto his side, legs bent at the knees since it wasn’t a very large tent to start with, propping his head on his bent-elbow-ed hand. “Easy. It was your idea to come back out here and to try out camping, and that’s when it started raining.”

She rolled her eyes since that logic was about as goofy as the man’s outfit. If he’d brought any of his normal clothing, she hadn’t seen it, and every last thing that he’d pulled out of his knapsack still had tags on them. “I haven’t even gotten to sit by a campfire yet,” she pointed out.

It was true. When they’d pulled the rented pick-up truck into the parking area at the campsite, it had already started to rain. Kelly had figured it’d dry up by morning. Now, at nearly noon, she was almost convinced that it was the coming of the second Great Flood.

“We could pack it in. Go back to Vegas,” he suggested.

She laughed. “Nah, I’m good. Besides, it’s nice to get out of the city for a little while.”

Pushing himself up, he hunched forward, wrapped his arms around his spread knees. “Yeah, well, if it doesn’t stop raining, then we’re going to be hungry,” he pointed out. They’d bought some food, but it was stashed in a cooler, and pretty much all of it needed to be cooked.

“All right. If it doesn’t stop raining by two, we’ll go back,” she offered. “I should warn you, though . . . The food you bought? I don’t know how to cook most of it. The last time I tried to cook a steak, it came out kind of like shoe leather, so if you think I’m going to mess with it, you’re sadly mistaken.”

Cartham chuckled. “I gotta admit, my cooking skills are limited, too, but I’m damn good at cooking a steak.”

“Okay, you’re good at that,” she mused. “What else are you good at?”

Her question seemed to catch him off-guard, and he frowned thoughtfully. “Oh, uh, I don’t know . . . I’m pretty good at working on motorcycles, I guess. Rebuilt mine from the ground up.”

“Don’t suppose you have a picture of it? Your bike?”

“Nope. I’ll send you one when I go home, if I remember.”

She nodded. “Do you have family? I know you’ve mentioned that your parents aren’t around. Are your aunt and uncle still alive?”

Letting out a deep breath, he flopped back and rubbed his face. “Yeah, they are. They live in Kentucky now, but I can’t say I’ve gone to see them in a long, long time—not since I left their house. I have a couple cousins, but I wouldn’t know them if they were standing right there in front of me.”

“You . . . You don’t get along with your family?”

He shrugged, pushing himself up on his elbow once more. “I’m just not too good at the whole family thing, I guess.”

Kelly frowned. She had a feeling that there was a little more to it than he was saying, but he didn’t seem too interested in talking about it, either, and she couldn’t really blame him for that, she supposed. She wasn’t too keen on talking about hers, either, come to think of it—and maybe she didn’t know him well enough to pry, anyway . . .

“What about you? Cousins and all that?”

She blinked and glanced at him with a shrug. “Nope. Both my parents were only children. I guess that I might have some distant relatives because my grandmother had a sister, but I don’t know them, either.”

He uttered a little grunt and slowly nodded. “Guess it might be kind of sad, if I think about it,” he admitted.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. The more people, the more drama, right? I prefer to think of it as eliminating drama . . .”

He chuckled. “I guess . . . Anything else you wanna know?”

She rolled her eyes, but then, she bit her lip. “Well, you know, you never did tell me your name—your first name.”

He snorted as he leaned over to haul his knapsack closer. “What does it matter when I never use it?” he countered mildly.

She rolled her eyes and braced her hands against the canvas floor of the tent. At least the water repellent wax on the underside of the canvas was doing its job of keeping them dry—sort of. The overwhelming moisture in the air seemed to permeate everything, to the point that even her clothes felt as though they were clinging to her even though the temperature had dropped a good twenty-five degrees or more since the rain had started.

For some reason, his answer had felt more like a reminder—his way of telling her that they really weren’t friends, at all, that whatever she thought was little more than a figment of her imagination. It felt like a dousing of very cold water . . .

“It doesn’t,” she replied, pivoting on her hands to face him. “I mean, not really . . . Just, uh . . . Just curious, I guess . . .”

He didn’t say anything, but she could feel his gaze on her as she let her own drop to her legs, carefully covered in a pair of light sweatpants made out of tee-shirt material. Vaguely, she wondered if the silence was as painful to him as it was to her, and she gnawed on her bottom lip.

Just what did she think she was doing, anyway? Common sense reminded her regularly that she needed to stop looking forward to Cartham’s unscheduled visits. After all, he was only checking in on her because of Cain’s orders—and because she owed him money. True enough, he didn’t ever mention it, never issued her any kind of reminder, even in texts. Still, once she’d finished paying him back, then he wouldn’t have a reason to come around anymore, so allowing herself to form any kind of real attachment to him was nothing but stupid, and she knew it.

So, why had she suggested, coming along with him to camp out?

‘You know why, Kelly. You know why . . .’

She flinched inwardly, shrinking up her shoulders, drawing herself in a little more tightly under the rather shapeless light hoodie.

Why was it that she felt so stupid?

‘Don’t answer that . . .’

“Hey, Kel—”

“Uh, y-you know what? I just remembered. I planned on studying this weekend because we’ve got finals coming up, and I really need to do well on those . . . Do you . . .? Would it be a problem if we headed back now? I-I mean, you said yourself that you completed your, uh, mission, right? So, you probably want to be getting back to . . . to Maine, anyway . . .”

He didn’t answer right away, and she scooted over to pack her things away in her backpack. He watched her for a minute, and then, he sighed. “Okay, what’s bugging you?” he finally asked in his no-nonsense tone.

She shrugged, and she pasted on what she hoped was a friendly enough smile when she glanced at him. “Nothing,” she insisted, cramming her hairbrush into the bag and yanking on the zipper as she tried to hold it closed. “Everything’s fine!”

He didn’t look like he believed her, and, for a long moment, she thought that he might well argue it with her. In the end, though, he didn’t. No, he let out a deep breath and sat up, reaching for his bag to ready his things for the trip back to Las Vegas.

-==========-

It was late when Cartham let himself into the small house, deep inside the property on the coast of Maine, and let the knapsack with his gear, fall heavily onto the old wood floor. The plane out of Las Vegas was delayed, and he’d spent an extra two hours, sitting in a chair in the waiting area of the airport, bored out of his mind since he’d finished looking through the motorcycle magazine he’d bought to pass the time. He’d considered, buying a book, but he had trouble, concentrating enough to read something like that when he wasn’t in private. A lifetime of being on guard, he supposed, was something that was hard enough to ignore.

He really had no idea, just what had gotten into Kelly. He’d tried to get her to talk some on the hour-long drive back to the city, to no avail. It was as bad as the first day that they’d met. In the end, he’d dropped her off and headed for the airport, even though he hadn’t planned on flying back till early next week. He might not have figured out what was bothering her, but he didn’t have to be brilliant to realize that it had everything to do with him, and, what was worse, she’d yet to return the text he’d sent her, letting her know that he’d gotten back home safely.

Digging his wallet out of his back pocket, he dropped it on the small table near the door.

Stifling a sigh, he started to shrug off his jacket, only to stop when the stiffness of a plain white envelope stopped him. Kelly had handed it to him before hopping into the pickup truck that he’d rented. He hadn’t bothered to look at it, though, and had simply stuffed it into his pocket instead. Frowning as he pulled it loose and used his claw to slit the top of the envelope, he pulled out a wad of money and slowly counted it: two-thousand dollars, all in one-hundred-dollar bills . . .

She was over halfway done paying him back.

For some reason, the relief he ought to feel about it just wasn’t there. After all, loaning out money wasn’t really something that he’d ever actually done before. He couldn’t rightfully say he was close enough to anyone for it to have ever come up, especially since those that he considered ‘friends’ had money of their own, so it had never been an issue.

He ought to be relieved, right? He might not be obsessed with money, but he certainly liked to keep a careful eye on his account balances. As such, he knew damn well that it wouldn’t really matter if Kelly never paid him back, but still . . .

‘Hey, Cartham . . . Is she our friend?’

Blinking at the rather bizarre question posed by his youkai-voice, Cartham frowned. ‘Our friend? Well, I . . .’

The frown deepened as he trailed off. He might well have agreed, up until the weird way she’d suddenly shut down, and the hell of it was, he really had no idea, just what had happened. Everything had been fine, as good as it could be, considering the torrential rain. It was actually really comfortable between them—and then . . . To be honest, he really didn’t have any idea, just what had altered her mood.

‘That’s not true. If you’ll recall, she asked you what your first name is, and you brushed her off. Then, she—’

‘That? That was hardly worth the weirdness,’ he countered. ‘Everyone knows I go by Cartham. Hell, I’d guess most people forgot I even have a first name. That’s not it.’

‘Maybe, but then, Kelly may not realize that. I mean, if you think about it, it makes sense. She met you as one of Zelig’s hunters, and you really only gave her your last name. She didn’t know you before, and she certainly wouldn’t realize that you really aren’t called anything, but Cartham by anyone, ever.’

It sounded reasonable, and yet, how could that possibly be it? It made no sense, did it? Just not telling her his first name? It wasn’t nearly enough to be the cause of her mercurial mood swing.

The chime of his cell phone interrupted his thoughts, and he started, automatically patting his pockets in an effort to locate it. It didn’t take long.

‘Hope you made it home safely. Thanks for taking me camping.’

His frown deepened at the almost clinical sound of the message, and he sank down on the old, but clean dark brown leather sofa, staring at the phone as he let out a deep breath.

‘Flight was delayed. Just got in. Can’t decide if I should try to get some sleep or not.’

‘Tough question . . . I mean, there are pros and cons to both sides. Sleep is always good, but if you have to get up in less than two hours, then I’d say, no because too little sleep can be worse than none at all.’

‘Unless Zelig calls me in, I don’t have to be up at any special time. Maybe I should have stayed longer in Vegas. Been a while since I’ve had any kind of vacation.’

‘Now you’re just being a whiner, Cartham, and, for the record, camping doesn’t really suit you. Suck it up and get to work.’

He chuckled softly at her response. She sounded a little more like the Kelly he’d come to know, and that relieved him more than anything. ‘I’m not whining, missy. Just stating facts.’

She sent him back a smiley face. A moment later, another text came in. ‘Yeah, well, it sounded pretty whiny to me, Cartham—if that is, in fact, your real name.’

Cartham snorted and rolled his eyes, but his smile didn’t fade. ‘Oh, it is. At least, it’s the one I’ve always used. The only people who ever used my first name were my parents. When they died, I guess I just didn’t like hearing anyone else use it, so I just started going by Cartham. That’s all.’

It took her a few minutes to reply. In fact, he’d almost thought that she wasn’t going to when his phone rang, and he connected it without a second thought. “Hey,” she said, her voice, warm and soft, that alto that was brushed with just a hint of a whispery quality. He liked her voice. He . . . He liked it a lot. “I, uh . . . I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories for you if I did. I mean, it makes perfect sense when you explain it that way, and I—”

“It’s fine—I’m fine . . . I was ten. It was a long time ago,” he interrupted. He hadn’t meant to make her feel bad, or worse, to make her feel sorry for him. Pity never was his style.

“I’m still sorry. That had to be horrible for you.”

He grunted. “Keep your pity, missy. I’m a big boy now, aight?”

She sighed, but she didn’t argue with him, even though he could hear the censure in the sound. “Okay,” she agreed, though she didn’t sound like she particularly wanted to. “You know, though, most guys would love to get girls to pity them. They think they can score more points or something.”

“Never been something I’ve ever wanted,” he admitted. “No more than you do, right?”

“Touché,” she murmured. “How about neither of us pities the other, ever? Sound good?”

“I can deal with that,” he said.

“I’m glad you made it back safely,” she went on, her voice, taking on an almost sing-song quality. “You need to ditch those clothes, though. They’re really not ‘you’.”

He uttered a terse sound. “Tell me about it. Probably looked even more stupid with the jacket, but, well . . .”

“Yeah, why were you wearing that?” she asked. “You certainly weren’t cold.”

“It’s my protection,” he told her, wondering absently, just why he was admitting that to her, in the first place. “The chains are my weapons.”

“Oh . . . Really?”

He chuckled. “Mhmm.” Then, he yawned.

She gave the smallest little chuckle. “You sound really tired . . . It’s, what? Two in the morning there?”

“Closer to three,” he said. “Guess I ought to get some shut-eye. You, too, missy.”

“Yeah, I know,” she replied. “Uh, Cartham?”

“Hmm?”

She hesitated, but he could hear her breathe. “I . . . I was glad to . . . to see you this weekend. I . . .”

Cartham’s smile dimmed but the heightened brightness didn’t leave his eyes, either. “Me, uh, too,” he said. “M-Me, too . . .”

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cutechick18 ——— minthegreen ——— Elizabeth ——— TheWonderfulShoe
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Final Thought from Kelly:
No wonder he goes by Cartham, then …
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Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Cacophony): I do not claim any rights to InuYasha or the characters associated with the anime/manga. Those rights belong to Rumiko Takahashi, et al. I do offer my thanks to her for creating such vivid characters for me to terrorize.

~Sue~