Chapter 13

13

E LIZABETH

Thursday

Things are good. I’m back and getting into my routine. School. Work. And also working out.

The beginning of the week was rough and intense, but I made it.

I’m back home after a long day, relaxing with a glass of wine, sprawled on the couch after a long bath.

A box of chocolates sits on the table, and like any other avaricious woman who respects herself, I have a stash of money next to it. I counted it several times, and now I’m thinking… What am I supposed to do with it?

Give it to Terry?

That might be an idea.

She could pay off some of her debt. We could split the money, and I’d also pay off my debt.

The only problem is, how do I explain to her that I got the money from a man without her calling the cops on me?

Was it a game that made me win this kind of money?

Yeah, I wish I could say that.

She’s a grown-up ass woman who knows how life works.

Did I get the job I’d interviewed for in New York?

Yes, nice try.

First off, it’s a lot of money to make that story work. About a year's worth of earnings if I had an average salary, and then I don’t have that job. I’m working at Maggie’s, selling clothing.

What else can I do with this kind of money?

Invest them?

I wish I knew how.

He said he’d teach me how to do that. But how? He’s not here. We barely see each other for virtual sex. Which might happen tonight, by the way.

That’s why I’m naked underneath.

He said he’d have a surprise for me tonight, and I can’t wait to see what it is.

Going back to money.

I would rather give it to my mother. A part of it, anyway. It would help us get rid of that debt.

My phone buzzes with a notification. I lean forward, pick it up from the coffee table, peer at the screen, and put it back.

That app drives me nuts. I thought I got rid of the stalker, the one bugging me with his annoying messages. I blocked him. And now I’m getting texts from another one.

Or maybe it’s the same person.

What’s up with these people? Then Keith comes to mind.

Speaking of stalkers. He came to my house.

I don’t make the connection for a moment, and then I jerk upright, grab my phone, and call Chloe.

Luckily, she answers right away.

“Hey, what’s up?” she says.

Smiling, I lean back.

“How come you’re home?”

“How come you’re home?”

I laugh.

“I’m always home in the evenings. I’m trying to get asleep,” I lie.

“Me too,” she lies.

Man, when have we become such hypocrites?

“Seriously,” I murmur.

“If it weren’t for the crappy weather, I’d be at a club,” she says, reminding me of the old Chloe.

The one who would’ve never settled for a job or get spooked by a man.

She’s not complaining––she seems satisfied with her job, even––and I wouldn’t be surprised if something else happened in her life.

She doesn’t miss going to school?

Going out?

Having a man?

A different man than the one who sent her overseas?

I don’t know what to make out of this new Chloe, but hearing her that she’d go out if she had the chance makes me feel better.

Ironically.

“Sounds good,” I say. “Listen… Do you remember that scandal a couple of years ago when some stupid ass ratted out one of the girls and let every body know that she was making money selling nudes online?”

A pause comes from the other end of the line.

“Yeah…” she finally says.

“Were you trying to remember who I was talking about? Or were you silent because you couldn’t believe your ears?”

“Both. Why do you want to know?”

“No reason.”

“Liz?”

“It’s really nothing. I remembered about that girl the other day. What was her name?”

“Shawna Parker.”

“Yeah, yeah. Shawna. You couldn’t tell the girl with baggy clothes and crooked glasses was some babe who was moonlighting and making a ton of money. At first, we all thought the guy was some ex-boyfriend who tried to get back to her.”

“The boyfriend was part of the story, but it wasn’t him. Some jerks exploited a loophole in the system and ran phone numbers they got from some shady websites––the kind you pay a fee to retrieve personal information from––to match girls with online profiles.

She was one of the victims, and they made fun of her precisely because she didn’t look like a hottie in real life and she had made so much money online.

“Yeah, yeah…” I mumble, sagging in my seat. “So they got all their information then?” I go on.

“I think so. They didn’t reveal the names of the other girls. Some of them had hooked up with men who would’ve smashed these assholes’ faces in, so they kept their distance. But they made a target out of Shawna. Do you remember when they used to call her The Blue Rabbit? That was her username. She had blue eyes and took pictures wrapped in faux fur for her online profile.”

“Where did you get all this information?”

She laughs.

“They never made a secret out of it.”

“Do you know why they did it?”

“Did they have to have a reason? They found it amusing to fuck with her. And then they bullied her out of school. She transferred the next semester.”

I sigh.

“What made you think about her?” she asks.

“Nothing, really.”

“Was it that guy? Keith?”

I say nothing.

“It was, wasn’t it? What did he do to you?”

“He’s a little creepy.”

“A little? What did he do, Liz?”

I ponder my answer.

“He’s suddenly everywhere I go and has this obnoxious smile on his face. I think he was at my place one night.”

“What??”

“Yes. I saw someone in the back. It was a man, for sure. He walked past my bedroom window. I had a feeling it was him.”

“Go on.”

“I confronted him, and he said I was nuts.”

“That’s what they say. What makes you think it was him? Did you see his face that night?”

“No. It was the things this Keith guy did. One day, he followed me when I left campus. Anyway, I don’t know why that girl came to mind.”

I know precisely why, but I don’t want to tell Chloe about my online activities.

“It was probably because someone from school tracked her down. That’s why I asked if they had her address and everything else,” I say.

“Anyone can find your information for a fee if they get your name. I don’t know why he would do something like that, though. I thought he ghosted you.”

“He did. And I can’t tell either.”

Another sigh.

Honestly, I don’t know what put me back on his radar.

My gut tells me it has to do with my online activities.

How did he get to me? I have no idea. I didn’t interact with anyone else other than David.

I’ll probably talk to him about no longer role playing this. It’s not worth the risk.

All I can think of is that I might be part of a bigger operation. Maybe Keith and other men like him cast a wide net. They checked several women––particularly looking for those with profiles on that platform––and that’s how I got caught in the mix.

Everything is possible.

People have so much time on their hands.

Damnit.

“He’s probably bored,” I add.

I wish.

“Anyway, I’ll keep an eye on him,” I say.

“And change the lock.”

“My lock is fine. He didn’t temper with my lock.”

“Maybe you need a better lock and some sort of security system. You can’t play with these things. People who do that are not right in their heads.”

She might be right, but I won’t turn my life upside down because of him.

“I’m sure is nothing.”

“As you say. Call me if you need me.”

“I will.”

We end the call, and I sag against the couch, my phone still in my hand.

The phone pings again, and I flip it over and notice that it’s the same person who’s been bugging me on that platform. He’s messaging me again.

A swirl of fury rams through me. I tap the screen, slide into the chat room, and start typing.

Me: Who are you???

A few moments pass before the man, whose name is a string of letters and numbers, replies.

Him: Are you free tonight?

I type again.

Me: Who are you?

More moments pull away.

Him: I thought you were open for business.

Me: What kind of business are you talking about?

Him: I guess you’re not.

Oh, fucker.

Me: What kind of business are you talking about? I’m not even active on this platform.

His next answer comes quickly.

Him: I think you are.

Me: What??

One, two, three seconds pass.

Him: You’re talking to me. So, you are active.

He’s fucking with me, reminding me of Keith again.

Me: Do I know you?

This time, he pauses for a little longer.

Or maybe he’s doing something else at the same time.

Him: No.

I don’t believe him.

Me: Do you know me?

Another pause.

Him: It was nice chatting with you. I need to go now.

No, no.

Me: Answer me.

Him: I think you know the answer.

I stare at his reply, lost for words.

What if it’s not Keith? What if it’s someone else?

It could be anyone, right?

Someone from school? Or someone from the neighborhood? It could be an ex. Someone I said no to.

Someone who hacked my account and maybe saw some of the things I recorded for David.

I put my phone down, and the house is silent when a soft sound alerts me to another message.

Him: You should replace the rocker chair. It creaks like hell.

I drop the phone and jerk to my feet, my head shifting to the back of the house.

I hear no noise. I see no shadows.

Is this about the money?

Is he after my money?

A thief wouldn’t taunt me like that.

It can be pure jealousy. Vindictiveness. Picking someone else over him.

It can’t be Keith.

It can’t be anyone else, either.

I shove the money into the box and head to the bedroom, where I hide it under the bed before checking the back door. It’s locked. The back porch is empty, except for the chair that is now slowly rocking.

Oh, my God.

I run back, grab my phone, and head to the window, feverishly checking the front. I spot nothing out of the ordinary. No people. No moving cars. And yet, I have a feeling something’s off.

Shaking, I go to the back of the house and unlock the door before peering outside. The cold wind swirls around my ankles, making me hug my robe closer.

Nothing.

The chair no longer moves.

Maybe it was the wind. Why isn’t it moving now?

And then I think I hear a knock on the door in the front, and my heart stops.

I close the door, lock it as quietly as I can, and tip toe across the bedroom and living room.

Through one of the bedroom windows, I notice a dark shadow peeling off the wall and cutting its way across the lawn.

I dash to the front door, not having an actual plan, only dying to know who that person is.

He is pulling away, so I muster enough courage to yank the door open to confront him and find out who the hell he is, not realizing that someone else must’ve knocked on the door.

In one swift move, I meet that someone with full force while the shadow keeps gliding away from my house.

The broad chest of a man blocks my view while a shrieking scream leaves my lungs, and strong arms loop around to catch me.

“Elizabeth??”

David’s voice beams with surprise as I instantly realize his arms are draped around me.

My knees give in, and a quivering voice rolls off my lips.

“There’s a man,” I say, shaken to my core. “Look.” I point to the dark silhouette moving quickly––faster now––down the street.

I don’t need to say anything else, and his hands clutch my forearms, his fierce eyes locking mine that are barely seeing anything through a veil of tears.

“Go inside, Elizabeth. Lock the door and wait for me. Don’t do anything. All right?”

I nod a few times before he pulls away from me, already barking at that man.

As soon as his thundering voice pierces the air, the man starts running. And David starts running too.

They quickly vanish around the corner, David closing the distance between them fast.

I push back and lock the door before moving to the kitchen.