Not long after I’d walked into my apartment, my phone rang with a call from Kat.
Without so much as a hello, I whined, “Honey, darling, love, I can’t bear to go out tonight, let’s stay in and watch something.” Kat and I often took in a movie on Fridays and we hadn’t seen each other in weeks. Truth be told, I didn’t relish company, but it was preferable to going out. It would have been perfectly fine with me if I didn’t step foot out of my apartment for the entire weekend—I was that drained.
“I wasn’t thinking about a movie,” she said. “I’m coming to visit Janie for a while. Elizabeth said Quinn’s driving her crazy and that she’d enjoy some company and distraction.”
“Oh, that’s a good idea,” I replied, relieved. I loved Kat and she was an easy companion. I never felt like she was here for mental gymnastics or energy vampirism. I didn’t have to be ‘on’ for her and I appreciated that. Even so, basic conversation felt too much for me. If she wanted to spend her Friday night up at the Peevish Penthouse with the Surly Sullivans, that was fine with me.
“I’m on my way up, would you like to join me?”
I’d rather stab myself in the eye with a rusty fork. “Thanks, but I’ve already had the pleasure of Quinn’s charming company today. I’m good.” An idea suddenly came to me so I asked, “Will you stop by here on your way up? I have something for you.”
I still hadn’t given Kat or Janie the cheese I’d brought back from Germany last week. Not only was this the perfect moment to give Kat hers, but I was going to be a sneaky sneak and get Kat to deliver Janie’s.
It was a slightly crappy thing to do to my poor angel. As soon as she walked in, Quinn would subject her to an interrogation and a parcel search. It was fine though, because A, Kat was a tough cookie, B, Quinn would be so much nicer to her than he would me, and C, everything in Janie’s box was up to the standards he had set, and had been double checked by Dan.
So, no big deal, see? Kat would be fine.
Even so, when I opened to find said angel, her big, gorgeous eyes blinking so trustingly at me, I felt a twinge of guilt.
“You need a drink first,” I said quickly, taking her hand and leading her to the kitchen.
“But—” she started to protest.
“Believe me, you really, really do,” I insisted. I led her to the granite-topped island where the round, wooden gift boxes of cheese sat.
“Oh!” she breathed. “Is this what I think it is?” She reached out and caressed the top, lovingly tracing the faux-burnt logo of the cheese shop.
“It is,” I confirmed.
With both arms, she pulled the stacked boxes toward her and embraced them in a hug.
I laughed, enjoying her exaggerated worship, but I warned, “Only one is yours. The one on the bottom is Janie’s.”
“That’s nice, she’ll love it.”
“Your mission, should you choose to accept it, will be to deliver that cheese to Janie this evening.”
She eyeballed me suspiciously and drummed her fingertips on the box. “Why don’t you do it?”
“’Cause I don’t wanna!” Petulantly, I thrust my chin forward and stamped my foot. I could only hold the ridiculous expression a mere second before we both laughed.
“That bad, huh?” she asked. I nodded slowly. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
“God bless you, child,” I kissed her hand then proceeded to pull out two shot glasses from the cabinet.
“I don’t need a drink, Steven.”
“Yes, you do.” I poured two shots of tequila and slid one toward her. “Think of this like a Kamikaze pilot taking his meth right before flight.” I gave an inward wince at my wisecrack. Kat wasn’t a teetotaler by any means, I knew she and her knitting posse enjoyed their Tuesday cocktails, but Kat had a past with reckless drug use I knew she regretted. I didn’t want to bring up any painful memories for her or make her feel bad.
Luckily for me, she laughed, unoffended. “Gotcha.” She tilted her head back and sucked the shot down. Her face screwed up into a grimace and she said, “Oh my.”
Following suit, I said, “Yeah, that’s the stuff,” and banged my fist against the counter. “Care for another?”
Once the heat of the tequila hit my insides, I felt keen for more. Maybe I’ll get shitfaced tonight. Maybe I’d put on some acoustic emo music and let myself wallow in maudlin longings. I’d eat macarons, shoot top-shelf liquor, and have a few hate-yanks in order to avoid dealing with Ken. Yeah, I wouldn’t deal with him, I’d just sit and obsess about him all night. Great plan, Steven.
“No thanks,” she replied. “I’m headed to Boston in the morning for a meeting with the board. The last thing I need is a hangover.” Kat’s grooming for her eventual inheritance and responsibilities meant she had to prove to the powers that be within the company that she understood all aspects of the business. She had a lot on her shoulders, and I didn’t envy her one bit. “Besides,” she continued. “Janie’s expecting me, so I should probably head up.” She adjusted her purse on her shoulder and hefted the boxes up. “Thank you for the cheese, you are the best!”
She held the boxes somewhat awkwardly and I worried they might be too heavy for her. “Do you need help?”
“No, it’s fine. I got it.”
“Are you sure? Because I bet Dan wouldn’t mind helping you carry them.” I winked. “I could call him…”
She shook her head quickly, “Don’t do that! I’m fine. It’s one floor.” She sounded a little panicked by the idea. I hadn’t been serious, only trying to joke with her. The way those two acted when either one was mentioned was like they’d been zapped by a cattle prod, especially since Dan had broken things off with his girlfriend a few months before. I didn’t get it, but I held out hope they’d stop pussyfooting around.
“Calm down, nervous Nellie, I’m just kidding with you.” I opened the door and said, “Give Janie my love and tell Quinn Dan inspected the cheese.”
As we said our goodbyes, my phone chimed twice.
UNKNOWN: stop blocking me i miss you lets have fun
UNKNOWN: answer me when i call
My heart kicked up, startled because just as I finished reading the second message, my phone rang. The same number from the texts flashed on the screen. This had to be King.
“What do you want?” I answered angrily. I was angry. I was so pissed that he’d laid his hands on me and so livid that he’d made me afraid for myself, and for a few moments, my friends and coworkers. It didn’t matter that he’d had nothing to do with the prank, but just knowing that the real and palpable fear of that possibility wouldn’t be in my mind if he hadn’t started doing this—whatever this was—to me, was infuriating.
“Please don’t be mad,” he said, his voice even. There was no hint of the menace and rage he’d been emanating when he’d been here. He sounded…jocular, and that was more enraging than if he’d answered with obscenities. Who the hell did he think he was, trying to be friendly? Fuck this guy.
“Fuck. You.”
“Give me another chance, okay?”
Chance? Chance to what? Beat the shit out of me? Rape me? Kill me? “Call me, text me, or send me one more thing and I’ll go to the police,” I threatened.
“But you didn’t even give me a shot. I know we’d be good together. I know I was too rough, but you had me so hard, baby.” He spoke low and rough, infusing intimacy into his voice, no doubt hoping to take this into obscene caller territory.
“Not happening. Again,” I asserted, “if you contact me, I’m getting the authorities involved. Piss off.”
“Don’t—” he began, tone angry. I disconnected the call and blocked this new number of his. How many times could he change numbers? Or phones? I needed to change my number, that’s all there was to it.
Standing in the quiet stillness of my apartment, with the echo of his voice in my head, I felt the memories of King flooding back to me. He’d kissed my neck as I’d unlocked the door, his hands digging into my quads, all the brimming impatience cresting. I’d hardly got the door shut before he’d pushed me against the wall and knocked the keys out of my hand. I hadn’t been alarmed by that point, just excited. But his kiss had been painful, almost a grinding of our faces and I hadn’t liked it, I turned my face to the side. “Whoa,” I cautioned, intent on slowing his roll. He stepped back a fraction, but immediately tore my shirt, causing the buttons to fly. The movement jerked me, angered me. “What the hell!”
The disturbing memories were interrupted by the sound of a text alert.
DKM: I’ve been thinking about you. I know you’ve been busy, but I’d like to see you. Maybe a few drinks and some jazz would be a great way to unwind. Are you free tomorrow?
I felt a sharp pain behind my eye. Maybe I’m having an aneurysm, I thought. Ken was going to be the sweet and shiny cherry on the stroke sundae I was eating.
This fucking guy. Those fucking macarons. That fucking jazz. Ken was like a damn mirage. Unicorn Level: Look But Don’t Touch Meets Completely Fictional. I’d done something extra heinous in a past life, I was sure. Karma was really bending me over this time around. Oh, you’re trying to escape man-troubles? Too bad sucker, we’re sending you a kind, smart, sexy heterosexual to torment your ass with artless benevolence and buns of steel.
I downed two more shots, discarded my shoes and flopped down on the couch, letting the alcohol work its magic. Oh, magical agave, give me strength! I needed to call him. I had to tell him about King—at least, what was important for him to know. There was no getting around that. Maybe if I embellished, maybe if I made it sound like there was imminent danger to me, he’d bail. Then I wouldn’t have to try to extricate myself from him. If I did, I’d fail. Even now, I wanted to hear his voice and tell him that I’d love nothing more than dinner and jazz and drinks and conversation with him.
With frustratingly sluggish movements, I dug my phone out of my hip pocket. My mind was clear, I knew what I needed to do, but my body felt like moving my weight to the side took herculean effort. So damn tired. All I had going for me right this moment was liquid courage and an obligation to be honest about potential dangers. I just hoped it would be enough to scare him off.