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  Bats in the Belfry

  Alteration Book 1

  SC Jones

  Bats in the Belfry

  SC Jones

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locals and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locals is completely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by SC Jones

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  This book is dedicated to my dear friend and most loyal fan, Shelby West.

  Thank you.

  One

  “I love you.” Lane’s head moved toward the thin shadow currently leering down at her. He'd been standing behind her for almost a minute before he said anything, probably longer before she noticed he was there. She had no idea what he had said, but the way he was looking at her made her feel like it was somehow important.

  “What?” she asked confused holding his gaze.

  “You heard me,” he said surely, with a touch of a smile on his lips. Lane was trying to be understanding about it, but she was truly confused, because she really hadn’t heard what he’d said.

  “No really…what did you say? I wasn’t quite paying attention.”

  “I said, I love you.” The genuine smile that spread across his face made her believe that he was in the right place at the moment. She had never met this guy before, not that she was trolling for a date in a place like this, but here he was looking at her as if they’d been together for years, and at that very moment he had realized that she was the love of his life.

  “You… love me?” she repeated in utter disbelief not knowing the right thing to say. What exactly do you say to a stranger professing his love to you?

  “That’s right.” He nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets with certainty.

  “I don’t… I don’t know you," she said, now second guessing herself. Maybe they had met, and she simply couldn't remember, but she was certain they hadn't been intimate enough for him to love her.

  His smile widened even more. “But you will,” he whispered, before turning and walking casually out of the social room, and disappearing down the hall. She watched the empty space that he once occupied, and wondered what he was in for. He was strange, but oddly familiar in a way that made her rethink the entire interaction.

  Turning to her actual reality, Lane stared at the man sitting in front of her with the usual vacant look in his eyes while he stared blankly into space. She sighed, and began lightly tapping her freshly painted nails on the wooden table. Looking down at her fingers she couldn't remember painting them that day, but the faint lingering smell of methyl acetate indicated that it was indeed fresh. They were red, and she hated red.

  She gazed around slowly scanning the room while the other occupants were completely oblivious to her presence. One guy who was politely having a conversation with his toes, sat on the floor next to the muted TV, while another had a painted smile on his face while he stared at a spot in the opposite corner of the room. She hated this place. The white walls and smell of bleach was a constant reminder that she wasn't in a safe place. The screams were the worst, making her skin crawl like nails on a chalkboard. There was nothing likable about it, but still she kept coming back in hopes something had changed. That one day he would be better, and she could take him home. She had read the books, spoken to the doctors, and the psychiatrist, but they all said the same thing. Nothing was ever going to change. He was too far gone, and didn't want the help.

  Suddenly his eyes blinked into focus, and landed on her nails when a soft smile formed on his face. “My darling daughter.”

  “Dad. How have you been?” The dark skinned six one man carried more weight in his former days. Since being here he had become thinner, and looked a lot older than forty-two with dark circles and crows’ feet surrounding his eyes.

  “I’m… good, better.” He shrugged placing both hands on the table while trying his best not to fidget. Lane knew he was lying. He said the same thing every time she visited, but when Martha called with her weekly updates, telling Lane of his daily breakdowns and morning out bursts, which usually caused him to be either sedated or locked in his room for the entire day, Lane knew he was anything but better. “Why are you dressed like that?” Steven asked causing her to look down at her attire.

  Her crisp white shirt and gray pencil skirt were one of the many suits she had acquired when she worked as an assistant for John Donaldson and Associates one summer her senior year of high school. She was surprised all of them still fit considering that was four years ago. Dolefully looking at her father, she knew she would have to repeat herself next week, but she didn’t mind doing it if it somehow helped. “I told you last Friday, Dad, I have an interview today.”

  “Really, did you get the job?” he asked with a hopeful gleam in his eyes. A week ago, she had applied for an assistant job at Luxury Corp, one of the largest luxury car dealerships in Felicity, and she was quite surprised when she had gotten the call two days ago to come in for an interview.

  Ever since she was forced to put Steven behind the walls of Felicity’s best mental institution three months ago, she had been looking for a job that paid more in order to keep him comfortable here. Working at The Bar and Grill down on main wasn’t cutting it anymore.

  “Dad, I haven’t actually gone to the interview yet. It’s in an hour.”

  “Oh… well break a leg then.” She nodded at the old theatrical slang which didn’t actually apply to job interviews. She remembered him saying those words to her before every school play, and dance recital throughout middle school. They were her comfort, her assurance that she would do well because he was there cheering her on. Looking at him now she doubted he’d even remember this conversation, or any of the ones in the past.

  “Dad have you decided to take the medication the doctor recommended?”

  His eyebrows cringed and his smile quickly turned into a scowl. Steven didn’t think anything was wrong with him. He thought his daughter was over reacting like she always did about everything going on in her life. She had always been a worry wart, and it only worsened as time passed. “I don’t need any medication, Hunny, I told you that. There’s nothing wrong with me," he said with a hard voice.

  “Right… dad, don’t you want to get better so you can get out of here?”

  “Of course, I do. I don’t understand why you put me in here in the first place.” He turned his attention to the empty chair next to him and said, “I won’t say that to her,” he mumbled so only the empty chair could hear.

  Lane rolled her eyes at the one-sided conversation, and placed both elbows on the table leaning forward. “Dad, I’m not getting you out until you start taking the medication and start making some kind of effort to want to be out in the world.”

  “I won’t take any God damn medication, there’s nothing wrong with me!” he yelled slamming his hands on the table. Lane looked around the room hoping the nurses hadn't heard his little outburst, because something like this could have him removed, cutting their visit shorter than intended. Luckily no one seemed to care as not a soul even glanced their way.

  Trying to stay as calm as possible, Lane released an even breath before blinking at him. “And what do you call that?” she said, her voice wavering between anger and annoyance while she pointed to the empty chair.

  “Who, Thomas?” he asked.

  “Exactly, Thomas, dad. There’s no one there. There’s no Thomas, there’s no Bradly, there’s no Amelia. You have schizophrenia. Those people are
n’t real and you need to take your meds in order to get better and get rid of them.”

  The scraping of his chair against the tiled floor ended the conversation as he got up. “I’m not having this argument again. If you feel the need to waste money by keeping me here fine by me, but I am not taking any medication especially when there’s nothing wrong with me. Come on Thomas it’s time for lunch anyway.” She watched as he left the room mumbling to Thomas about how selfish she was.

  Massaging her temples, she stood pulling her jacket from behind the chair, and putting it on before heading into the hall where she met Martha at the administration desk. Martha, who had become sort of a mother figure to Lane, was a short buxom woman with warm grey eyes, and a larger than life personality. She was finishing up a call, and was placing the receiver down only to find Lane's upset face. “Not a good day huh?" she asked with a woeful expression.

  Lane sighed and shook her head. “Is it that obvious?” she said before looking at her watch. She had to leave soon or else she’d miss her interview.

  Martha came around the desk, and begun walking with her down the hall toward the elevator. “Well, don’t worry he’ll come around, they always do. Just don’t give up on him. I see too many of them come in here and not have a single visitor. He needs the support and since your brother won’t come see him, you’re all he’s got.” Lane nodded.

  Tristan, Lane’s twin brother left home at sixteen with the delusion of becoming a famous musician someday. As twins you would think they were close, like each other’s best friends and saviors, but somewhere along the line something pushed them apart. Lane didn’t care about fixing their relationship since he was that way with practically everyone in his life. She hasn’t seen him in years. He didn't even know their father was sick.

  “You don’t have to worry Martha, I’ll be back on Wednesday as always for yet another round of, 'I’m never going to do what you say.'” Martha laughed and patted her shoulder while Lane checked her watch again. "I have this interview to get too, which if I don’t leave now, I’ll be late.”

  “Well good luck honey. I’ll see you Wednesday and don’t worry I’ll try to get him to see reason as usual.”

  “Thanks Martha. I’ll see you Wednesday.” With a short-wave goodbye Martha swiped the elevator with her access card, changing the light from red to green.

  ***

  In an office on the seventeenth floor of Luxury Corp, Lane stood and shook the hand of the woman who had been grilling her for the past hour. “We’ll contact you in a few days to let you know what we decide. Thank you for coming by Miss Bennett.” Miss Wills, a petite blonde with a bright smile, whose name on the door followed by Human Resource Manager, led her from the chair with which she had been sitting, ushering her toward the door.

  “It’s my pleasure. Thanks again for the opportunity.” They shook hands briefly, and with a tight-lipped smile Lane exited the open door. By the elevator she pressed the call button, while her mind drifted to the last hour. She had tried her hardest to convince Miss Wills that she was the perfect person for the assistance job, and while Miss Wills seemed like a nice person, who even offered her a smile or two, and laughed at her jokes, Lane knew how these things worked. She wasn't the only hopeful vying for the job, and some of the other girls she had passed in the hall seemed like a better fit for the position. Her best was all she could offer, even though nerves had her practically shaking like a leaf the entire time. Even though her confidence wasn’t at a supermodel level she still tried to convince herself that she had a real chance, and maybe she did.

  In the empty elevator she pressed the button for the ground floor, and watched as the steel doors closed. The beat from a song unknown filled the empty space while the elevator started its slow descent. She had always thought about working in a place like this. The two hundred foot all glass structure was the tallest building in Felicity. Anyone who saw it would stop and marvel at its black mirrored glass that went from top to bottom. Being inside made Lane feel like someone important, like she was one of them. The women and men who worked here, dressed in style, and carried themselves with a certain air of confidence that almost made them untouchable. She knew she didn’t fit in, but she liked having the idea of belonging to such a sophisticated world of expensive suits, cars and Manolo Blahniks.

  Don't get her wrong, she wasn't raised to care about superficial things. Her mother died when she and her brother was only four, and her father worked for a secondhand car dealership, nothing like this one. She had a pretty normal middle-class upbringing, but she liked the idea of having enough to never have to worry about not having at all. Working and Luxury Corp would be a major step up, and with the salary they were offering, she wouldn't have to worry anymore.

  Taking her phone from the inside of her purse to switch it from silent to loud, she spotted a text from one of her co-workers Kay, thanking her for taking over her shift tonight at the bar. She wasn’t looking forward to a night of drunken idiots ogling her in the stupid shorts, and over tight t-shirt her boss insisted they wear, but the extra money would come in handy especially with the monthly payment of her father’s hospital stay almost due. As she read over the simple thank you the elevator stopped, causing her to glance at the panel while the doors slowly opened, making way for Castell Taylor.

  Castell was pissed once again at the man he was forced to call his father. He hated him with every fiber of his being, and Garrett knew it, but the smug jack ass that he was didn’t care that his own blood despised him.

  After waking up to one of the worst hangovers of his life only to find the woman from the club last night comfortably asleep next to him, wasn’t the worst part of his morning. It was some shitty news his father had dropped on him when he entered his office less than twenty minutes ago. Although the idea had promise, he still hated the fact that his father had ordered him to do it, as if he was still some child learning to heel. He stepped into the elevator, phone in hand oblivious to anything around him while he read over the itinerary for his unwanted upcoming trip.

  Lane watched as the gorgeous man in a perfectly tailored black Armani suit walked in. His shiny leather shoes clicked as he filled the once empty space, not with only his large body, but also his scent.

  They were on the fourteenth floor, as Lane inched herself into the corner, eyeing him from beneath her lashes, while his long arm stretched and pushed the close button. Her heart sped up. She was immensely intimidated by this man, not because he was worth billions, but he had built something out of nothing, which no one in this town had ever had the guts to do. He had worked hard, strived to become the best, and he had done it in less than five years after leaving college. She wanted to be like him, and not to mention the fact that the guy looked like a walking advertisement for that suit he wore, she also wished she could be with him.

  She Googled him once. Six three, two hundred and ten pounds, played high school football, went to Colombia on a football scholarship, tore his ACL his first year there and somehow graduated with a business degree three years later before opening his own dealership. Reading all that on paper was nothing compared to the real thing she was currently staring at. From his dark tousled just got out of bed hair, to his brooding brown eyes with long lashes, and perfectly sun kissed skin he was beautiful no doubt, but so, so, so out of her league.

  Averting her eyes to her phone the elevator continued moving. Castell didn't look at her, even though she kept peeking at him hoping he would. As much as she wished a guy like him would give her a little attention, she also dreaded it. He was strong, and intense, and he reminded her of one of those men to which, 'no' wasn’t in their vocabulary.

  Turning her eyes to focus on the numbers above the door, she bit her lip to stop herself from saying something stupid like, “Oh, how’s the weather today Mr. Taylor, or what cologne do you use? It’s very sexy. Makes me want to bite into your neck maybe lick your skin until I could taste it in my mouth.” Stupid thoughts and even stupider hormones. In h
is eyes she was probably a little girl, though he still hadn't spared her a glance.

  Three.

  Castell scowled when he opened an email from a man, he never intended on seeing again, let alone so.

  Two.

  Lane was completely out of breath and started chewing on her bottom lip, praying she didn't draw blood soon.

  One.

  They both blew out a hot breath.

  DING.

  The door opened and Castell quickly exited. Lane stepped out a few breaths later, and quickly made it out the revolving door and into the warm air of Felicity in May.

  Two

  Quickly pulling her 2001 Corolla into a parking space across the street from The Bar, Lane shut off the engine with the car making a weird noise before finally going quiet. She had bought the car three weeks ago from a guy off craigslist after her piece of shit beetle mysteriously disappeared from the front of her apartment building. Not bothering to call the police on it since the doors couldn’t lock, the two front windows were jammed, and the air conditioning stopped working two weeks after she bought it from the stupid guy who said it was a reliable machine, she figured whoever stole it wouldn’t have better luck than she did trying to get it started.

  Getting out of the car she ran across the street heading towards the alley at the side of the bar to which the backdoor was located. Pulling it open she rushed in running head first into a girl she'd never met. “I’m sorry, didn’t see you there,” Lane said focusing her eyes on the girl’s face.

  She grinned, showing off her pearly whites between a pair of bright red lips. “Lane, right?”

  “Right…do I know you?” she asked looking down at her chest covered in a black The Bar t-shirt like the one Lane was currently wearing.

  “Hmm, I wouldn’t say so. I’m Adrian Russo I started last night. Was your day off yesterday so we wouldn’t have met.”