Reece
“Look, I said I was sorry.” The apology wraps around my mind like a fog, intrusive but with the weightlessness of air. My so-called best friend pauses, waiting for my response.
Mattie’s pleas tug at my heartstrings, but how can I forgive her?
I shake my head, forcing a tight smile on my face, hoping the grin will lighten my tone. “I know. I just need some time, okay?”
“K.” She huffs through the phone and I can picture her pushing her thick fringe of dark bangs away from her face. With black and purple hair, a closet full of leather jackets, and ten tattoos, she really should have been the one to date a musician. “I mean…I told you. We were waiting for you.”
She says it like it’s my fault. Like this whole thing is my fault for being late that night. Maybe it is.
I want to tell her how much her betrayal hurts, how her disloyalty ripped me apart more than his even did. We were supposed to have one another’s backs, always. I can’t find the words, so I simply say, “I know.”
Her voice goes up an octave as she repeats the same story to me for a third time, pleading her innocence in all this. “He kept plying me with drinks and then he came on to me and you know how he is. So damn charming and as handsome as the devil himself. If I could take it back, I would. You know I would.” There are tears in her voice and it makes me want to cry too.
I twist the string around my wrist—a friendship bracelet she made me years ago. “I know.”
“Please.” She can sense my hardened heart is cracking and she digs her fingers into the edge of what’s left of it, pulling it apart. “Don’t let this asshole come between us. We’re best friends. I don’t want to take on this city without you.”
“I feel the same way,” I say.
But I’m lying. I don’t feel the same. Not at all. Nothing feels the same anymore. There’s been a major shift. Something’s changed between us. Something’s been lost. And I don’t know if we can get it back.
Her voice is tiny, that helpless little girl voice that gets me every time. “Are you still coming Friday?”
I can’t say no. She made a mistake, but she’s my best friend. A few weeks ago I would have said I’d do anything for her. I can do this. Right? “I’ll be at your party. I promise.”
“Oh my god, really? Do you promise? There’s no way I could enjoy finally having my first legal drink at O’Tooles without you.” Now her voice is light and bright and I picture her bouncing up and down on the toes of her Doc Marten boots.
O’Tooles.
Mattie is sweet but self-absorbed. She probably doesn’t even remember that’s where I first saw him play.
“Of course. I’ll be there. See you then.” I hang up before she can say more. Or maybe I’m hanging up before the sob that’s choking in the back of my throat lets loose and tears stream down my face.
I’ve cried enough. Haven’t I? I swallow back the anger, the hurt, and the tears.
There’s a loud banging sound in the hallway that startles me. I hop down from my perch and tiptoe to the door. Opening it and peeking out reveals my neighbor struggling with a large stack of boxes. He’s dropped one on the ground. He gives me a friendly wave. “Sorry about that! Heavy one.”
I give him a waggle of my fingers. “No problem. Need help?”
“I got it, but thanks.” A dimple on his left cheek shows as he grins.
I close the door and go back to my spot. There’s a ledge built into the window just wide enough for me to sit on, my back leaning against the frame, my legs stretched out in front of me.
I’ve only been here a few weeks and I’m still getting used to the place. The only upside to my new shoebox of an apartment is the big window that overlooks the city. The most prestigious housing development in Manhattan, The West is across from me, its shiny metal and glass a stark contrast to our dilapidated building.
I sit and I stare out the window. My reflection stares back at me. Pale skin. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Nothing special.
Not like all those other girls.
I think of him.
The asshole that broke my heart.
I should have known better than to get involved with an indie funk rockstar with a sex addiction.
Jake Jack.
God, even his name makes him sound like the tool that he is. But he was just being himself. I’m the one who was stupid.
I turned a blind eye to the long line of women waiting outside of his trailer after the show. I pretended I didn’t notice how many of them happened to be wearing an article of his clothing. I’m not the jealous girlfriend, I told myself. I’m the cool girl. The one who can handle dating a rockstar, a woman strong enough to handle dating a man that every woman in the city lusts over.
But I couldn’t keep him.
There was more than one time I walked in on him with another girl or a group of girls. But I kept coming back.
The day I found him kissing my best friend? Well, I guess I finally found my hard limit.
I was an idiot.
I’m smart. Book smart. The kind of smart that made teachers look at you funny when they got your scores back on the end-of-grade test. Smart like I probably could have gotten scholarships to a state college. Had I applied.
When it comes to love, I’m an idiot.
I heave a sigh, staring out the window. I feel that familiar tightening of my throat. Tears burning at the backs of my eyes. I’m not going to cry…I’m not going to cry.
But once again, I’m not strong enough and a single tear rolls down my cheek.
I brush it away with the back of my hand.
My phone dings at me. I slip it from my pocket, checking the screen. A text from an unknown number.
He’s not worth a single tear you shed.
Prickles dance across the nape of my neck, making my hair stand on end. Huh. That’s strange. Who would have sent this? Who knows I’m currently wallowing in self-pity, crying on my ledge, over him?
One of my friends must have gotten a new number.
They keep checking on me, sending texts, flowers, chocolates, wine. They all saw it coming way before I did. I didn’t tell them about the party, about Mattie—we’re all in the same friend group and that would be awkward. That would be throwing her under the bus.
I just said that I finally wised up and dumped his ass.
They told me I was worthy of better, but it’s hard to see that when you’re just a sucker with low self-esteem—quoting The Offspring, his favorite band other than his own—and you’re caught up in a whirlwind romance with a badass rockstar swinging a killer dick.
God.
That thing was huge.
And probably germy as hell after being inside half the women in NYC. I’m lucky it wasn’t filled with diseases. I had an IUD and cleared all the tests after our breakup—it doesn’t feel as good with a condom, baby, quoting Jake Jack, the idiot—thank god.
My disgusting thoughts make another tear spring into my eyes. “Damn, Reece. Stop being so pathetic. He was a bad guy, and you were an idiot, and now it’s over.” I press my hands to my eyes, wanting to stop the tears, but I can’t.
My phone dings again. During my little trip down STD testing memory lane, I’d forgotten the text from the unknown number.
The screen is blurry through my tears.
I said
He’s not worth a single tear
Stop crying
NOW
An eerie feeling comes over me. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. A little tendril of ice tickles my stomach.
None of my friends would send texts like these.
I feel like someone’s watching me. Like someone knows I’m crying—right now—not because they know what I’ve been through… but because…
They can see me crying.
The prickles turn to lashes of hot flames, licking at my skin. The back of my neck burns. I run a shaky hand through my hair.
I’m just being paranoid. Living in a big city will do that to a girl. Enough horror stories are going around to keep your doors locked and bolted twenty-four-seven.
I stare out of my window, peering up at The West. I can just make out a few outlines of people in their condos going about their evenings. I picture one of them watching me.
I don’t know what comes over me, but I lift a hand and wave, mouthing the word hello. I watch the shadowy figures, waiting for a wave back.
God. I’m losing it. Maybe I need to eat. When’s the last time I ate?
Thanks to the breakup, I haven’t had much of an appetite.
Ding.
I look down.
Hello to you too, Reece
Holy shit.
It’s him. The man from the texts is watching me. I mean… I kinda knew he would eventually contact me, but I wasn’t expecting…
My phone falls from my trembling hands.
I pick the phone up from the scuffed hardwood floors, checking for damage. None. The twenty-dollar screen protector seemed like a fortune at the time but now I’m glad for it.
Is it really him? My fingers shake as I tap back a reply.
Who are you
I wait. Prickles rise on my forearms. I can’t tear my gaze away from the screen.
I’ll be your daddy now
Little Reece
Doesn’t every good girl need a daddy
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
Fear and angst rise with bile in my throat. “Daddy? What the hell…”
I stare up at the high rise like I’ll see his face, like a clear vision of a man will show up and I’ll know just who this is on the other end of the phone.
It’s sick.
And wrong.
And scary…
But somehow mixed in with the fear is a delicious thread of danger, one that trickles through my core, a hot wave of lava. I press my thighs together, tugging my bra away from my chest.
I’m turned on.
Fuck.
What the hell is wrong with me?
My fingertips hover over the screen. I should delete this number. I should tell someone. Hell—I should probably call the police.
But I don’t do any of that.
I type back.
My dad is dead
I hit send. My father died twelve months ago, and he was my only family in this world. My heart still aches. I’m still scrimping away every extra penny to somehow afford the gravestone he deserves.
Your father passed away
True
But I can take care of you
Babygirl Reece
Oh my god. Again… I knew he would contact me but… what kind of sicko sends texts like this to a stranger? He knows my phone number. He knows my name. He knows my father is dead. I should…run. Shouldn’t I? But my nipples tighten further, my panties dampen.
Begging the question: What kind of sicko replies?
Me. I’m the sick one. Because as I type back, my heart races and a warm flush gathers in the center of my chest.
Okay daddy
Where are you
My guess is The West
Am I right
I look up at the building. My gaze rises to the top floor, to the penthouse. A faint glow of light catches my eye, the dark shadow of a tall man with broad shoulders dipping behind the curtains.
Could that be him?
I wait for a reply but my screen stays dark.
He’s gone.
I should feel relief, but I don’t. I wanted him to text me back. Am I crazy or just lonely or just a sad case mending a broken heart? It was a momentary lapse in judgment to text back in the first place. I won’t do it again.
Tomorrow, I’ll wake up, sane. I’ll tell Mattie what happened, what I did. We’ll go to the police station together and figure this out. I’ll destroy this phone. I’ll get a new number.
Maybe I’ll have to move.
But I don’t want to go to Mattie. And I can’t take the whole we knew this would happen sympathetic stares from my friends. We knew Reece would crack and do something crazy with this breakup.
I suddenly feel totally, desperately alone.
I can’t believe I’m doing this. My fingers shake, shame filling my belly and making me feel sick.
Are you there
The answer comes back faster than the others.
Daddy is here
Daddy is always here