She made the call.
I did what I could, but Alice noticed Pamela’s distraction this afternoon and asked about it, so Pamela told her the whole story. Alice was just as intrigued as Pamela.
“Did he tell you what he does?” she asked.
“Yeah, he’s in banking,” Pamela told her. “He didn’t seem sketchy[1] at all, and he was definitely into me.”
I tried to suppress the feeling of satisfaction she felt at this thought, but it was almost impossible—to know oneself to be desired is a heady thing.
Alice laughed. “Well, then, maybe you should meet him. I’ll go with you if you want,” she added, on my insistence. Not that I thought Alice would be much of a discouragement, but at least she would provide some safety.
“Well,” Pamela said, “maybe I will call him, and just so happen to mention where I am going to be tonight. Just casually,” she said, winking at Alice, and the two of them laughed.
This was what they did. I struggled to find the right response—the full weight of my anxiety made Pamela anxious, too, which was not what I wanted, really. I want her to enjoy her trip, just with caution. But I could not just let her go so recklessly.
Lyle did not lose very much time. The girls had not been in the pub for an hour before the door opened and he came in. This time he was wearing a leather jacket and tight jeans, and Pamela inhaled sharply on sight of him. Her anxiety spiked higher, filled with a rush of self-doubt—suddenly she was wondering how she could have attracted the attention of a man like this.
“That’s him?” Alice asked, following Pamela’s gaze.
“That’s him,” Pamela confirmed in a low voice.
Alice hummed in satisfaction. “Yeah, girl, get it.”
Lyle crossed the pub, his smile widening as he approached. “Ladies,” he said, nodding to them both. He looked at Pamela, his body leaning toward her. “This must be fate.”
She snorted, and immediately regretted it. “What, when I called you?” She picked up her drink to hide her nerves, and it took all of my influence to get her to set it down after a single sip. I wanted her wits about her.
“No, you see, I live only a few streets away from this place,” he said.
“Oh, really?” Alice asked, on my request. I could see that Pamela needed a moment to recover. “Where do you live?”
Lyle turned to her politely, and I took the moment to look at his aura again. He did seem to be more comfortable than he had the day before, more sure of himself, as he would be on familiar ground. This confidence sharpened his aura, strengthened the heat of it, and whether she realized it or not, Pamela could feel it. He knew it, too, and though he was polite, his eyes roved over her skin with a certain possessiveness.
I am not quite sure what came over me at that moment. It was not quite anger, but it was more like that than anything else I have felt with a charge. There was love in it also, and fear, and a rush of power that made me feel larger than the building. I spread my wings and looked down at the man, and I said in a quiet voice that rolled like thunder, “If you hurt her, you will be made to regret it.”
Lyle stepped back from the table and cleared his throat. “Well, I’m getting a drink. Anything I can fetch you, ladies?”
For the rest of the evening he was a perfect gentleman. He still desires Pamela, that is certain, but I made an impression, it seems. He kept his hands and his eyes where they were supposed to be for the rest of the evening. Pamela had also felt something of my outburst, and it seemed to restore her confidence.
Enough, in fact, that when Alice suggested they leave, Pamela made the suggestion that she and Lyle meet for dinner the following night.
It is frustrating, isn’t it, when these humans continually make choices against our advice? I do take comfort in one thing, though. The hours of conversation with Pamela seem to have changed Lyle’s interest. He still desires her, of course, but he now also knows enough about her to respect her as a person. I will have to hope that this is enough to protect her.
If it is not, then I will have to do it myself. And I will.
[1] Her usage of this word seems to have nothing to do with sketching and more to do with a suspicious, off-putting aura around someone.