Stalked

by Jamie Begley

  We’ve been in this town for the longest time I can remember. Every night I go to sleep, I expect to wake up in another bed, in another state. I thought Dad would make me leave when school was out, but he seems happier here than I’ve ever seen him.

  He’s getting married again. At first, I was really scared for her, but I can tell he really likes her. Her name is Tracy, and she is really nice to Dad, but not so nice that she lets him boss her around. They don’t argue as badly as he did with the others. She asked me to be one of her bridesmaids. I don’t want to, but Dad told me to. You won’t be mad at me, will you?

  I’m in seventh grade this year. I met Jacob last year, and he’s in three of my classes this year. He is so cute, Mom. I really like him a lot. He asked me to go to the movies with him, but Dad won’t let me. It’s okay. We still sit at lunch together.

  I’m putting a picture of us in the envelope for you to see. Jacob took the picture on his phone and got it developed when I told him I wanted to show you how cute he was. You should have seen him. He turned as red as his hair.

  I wish you were here. I think you would like him, and he would like you, too. You don’t think I’m too young to go on a movie date, do you? When you do talk to Dad, could you tell him that it’s okay with you? I really want to go, and Kristy’s parents let her date, and she likes Jacob a lot, too.

  When you do write, can you send me a picture of you? It’s been so long since I’ve seen you that I’m afraid I’m forgetting what you look like.

  Write back.

  xoxoxo

  Love,

  Zoey

  Zoey yawned tiredly. It was the first day since she started her business that she was having a difficult time finding the impetuousness to begin her day. The thought of another day of Stump staring holes at her was such a downer to her energy.

  That he was never going to like her chaffed. She was a likable person. She was kind to everyone, and that included six-foot-something males who treated her as if she were several cards short of a full deck.

  Lying on her bed, she was intent on restoring the positive energy that had repeatedly been zapped by Stump, whoever was stalking her, and her fall. Deciding to cleanse the negativity around herself, she closed her eyes, taking several deep breaths and imagining a big pink balloon coming down from the ceiling until it was suspended over her.

  Searching within herself, she found the negative reactions she wanted to set free, and like plucking weeds from a garden, she imagined herself bending down to pick the weeds that had grown every time Stump had called her a kook or crazy. Satisfied that she had gotten them all, she moved on to the ones that had grown at the fear of someone stalking her. Making sure she had gotten all those roots, she moved on to the pain she experienced with her knee.

  Standing again in her mind, she looked at the pink balloon hovering over her and, throwing upward, she mentally pushed the negative thoughts into the balloon. When she was done, she raised her hands and pushed the balloon as hard as she could, watching it float up, imagining it going through her ceiling and into the bright open expanse of the sky that would carry it away.

  Feeling rejuvenated, she got of bed to shower and dress. Choosing a pink maxi dress, she picked out a long, filmy scarf to tie her hair back, letting the long ends fall over her shoulders toward her breasts.

  Fixing a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast, she topped it with blueberries and a dollop of honey. Taking a picture, she posted it to Instagram, then she swirled a spoon into the gooey bowl as she watched YouTube videos of dogs behaving badly.

  Her good humor was restored by the cleansing and watching a video of a puppy using his owner’s false teeth as a chew toy. She was still laughing as she put the bowl in the sink when a loud noise came from outside.

  She was about to go to her window to look when a knock had her changing directions. She didn’t have to look out the peephole to see who it was. If her car wasn’t sitting outside, she would have pretended she wasn’t there.

  “What are you doing here?” Zoey asked as she noticed two of her neighbors looking out their upstairs windows. “Your bike woke up most of the neighborhood. I thought you were meeting me at the office?”

  “You know what people say… When you assume—”

  “So I won’t keep making an ass out of myself, there’s no need coming here. Go to the office.” About to shut the door in his face, a leather boot blocked her from closing it.

  “Aren’t you going to invite me inside?”

  “I was getting ready to leave.”

  She could practically see her imaginary pink balloon halting its journey and doing a U-turn to blow back in her direction.

  “Would you rather me wait outside, warming my bike up, or come inside?” Stump looked over his shoulder then turned back to her. “What are you looking at?”

  “Nothing.” Zoey opened her door wider. “When you put it that way, I guess I don’t have a choice, do I?” Stepping aside, she left him to close the door as she washed her bowl and gathered her cell phone and an orange. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him studying the bare living room.

  “You don’t believe in wasting money on material possessions, do you?”

  Zoey debated answering his question, afraid it would reveal too much of herself. Then again, if Stump kept his end of the deal, he was technically a client of hers, and she believed in being completely honest to gather the trust she needed to make a difference in their lives.

  “I work because I love what I do, not to furnish a home to show signs of my success.”

  “If hanging a picture on your wall makes you feel like you would be flaunting your wealth, then I’m surprised you own a home or a car.”

  “I rent this home. It’s not mine. My car is used, and I lease it.”

  “You still have them. You could live on the streets or take a bus to work.”

  “I’ve done both. I discovered I suck at being completely altruistic.”

  Stump halted his steps toward her kitchen counter. “You’ve been homeless?”

  “For about two months when I was fourteen, and again for a year before I turned eighteen.” Zoey tucked her cell phone into her pocket. Gripping her keys, she went to the door, wanting to put an end to the conversation.

  “Your old man beat you?”

  “My father never laid a hand on me.”

  “No kid your age runs away unless there’s a reason.”

  “There was.”

  “But you don’t plan on sharing it with me?”

  “I think I’ve shared enough for now. I have an appointment in twenty minutes.”

  “Lead the way.”

  She ignored the mock bow he gave her, placing the crutches under her shoulders. She was almost to her car when Kent came out of his house. Lowering her head, she pretended not to see him, wanting to avoid the early morning encounters that made her uncomfortable.

  “Morning, Zoey.” Kent’s raised voice made it impossible to ignore.

  “Morning, Kent. You’re out bright and early.” Zoey started walking to her car. Not even with Stump next to her did it prevent Kent from approaching.

  “I wasn’t able to get my run in yesterday, so I’m making up for it today. How’s your knee?” Kent’s vivid blue eyes went over her shoulder to the man next to her.

  “Kent, this is a friend of mine. Stump, this is Kent.”

  The two men eyed each other, neither reaching out to shake the other’s hand.

  “Kent?” Stump questioned, shoving his hands into his back pockets.

  “Kent Bryant. If you ever get a ticket for noise violation, give me a call. I’m on Yelp.”

  “You’re a lawyer?”

  Zoey wanted to hang her head at the revolting way Stump was looking at Kent. Her neighbor didn’t look like he appreciated it either.

  “You have a problem with lawyers?”

  “They have their uses, if anyone is stupid enough to get caught.”

  Kent gave Stump a scathing once-over. “T
hat explains your disdain. I imagine you have to keep one on retainer.”

  Zoey had been intent on getting to her car as fast as possible, but she was being unexpectedly treated to the sight of two aggravating men getting on each other’s nerves as much as they did hers.

  “I can talk myself out of trouble without paying a two-hundred-dollar-per-hour suit to do it for me. I’m also smart enough to know when a woman isn’t interested. And I don’t need a law degree to figure that out.”

  “Are you talking about Zoey?”

  “You see any other woman around here? You need to keep to your side of the grass, because I can guarantee you’re not going to find greener pastures over here.”

  Zoey flushed scarlet at Stump saying what she had wanted to say since she met Kent, but the way he was doing it was mortifying. She hated confrontation where feelings could be hurt when it could be done just as easily by being nice.

  “Stump, Kent is just being neighborly,” Zoey tried to intercede between the building argument.

  “He’s being a pest. There’s a difference.” Stump disregarded the attempt.

  Instead of Kent getting angry as she expected him to do, he got just as cuttingly rude.

  “There certainly is a big difference between class and being a low-life.”

  “You know, if you don’t like what I’m saying, it’s simple. Walk away, which is what I’m politely suggesting you do.”

  “I have a suggestion for you too….”

  Zoey began walking away. If they were going to start fighting, she had no intention of being a witness when her other neighbors called the police.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Zoey,” Kent called out.

  The longer she was acquainted with Stump, the more Zoey realized he had the same effect on other people as he did on her. She might maintain a distance from others who had bad vibes by using excuses and meditation, but Stump did it by being obnoxious.

  Stump was still arguing with Kent when she drove away, flicking the volume on high when she was out of her neighborhood. She had another long day and night ahead of her.

  She was treading to keep herself afloat between juggling her clients and Mrs. Combs. She had no time to spare dealing with the egos of men who didn’t hesitate to flaunt in front of her. A little too easily, now that she thought about it, away from their powerful energy blasting her more vulnerable pink aura. Two strangers wouldn’t normally react the way they had, unless they had an invested interest in what they were fighting over.

  Stump couldn’t care less if another man flirted with her. The only thing that brought jealousy out of Stump had four legs and was covered in fur.

  What really had raised her suspicions was Kent’s reaction. He had been as insulting as Stump and hadn’t been shocked at being put on the spot by Stump’s behavior. Only one thing could explain it, and it was familiarity. They knew each other. They would have succeeded in keeping that from her if a master hadn’t schooled her. Her father could have a crowded room believing the sky was orange, to the extent that, when she tried to tell the truth about him, no one would believe her.

  Looking in her rearview mirror, she saw that Stump had caught up with her. When she had to slow down for a stoplight, Zoey looked in her mirror to see a woman talking to him from her car. That he had raised his helmet visor to talk to her with a flirtatious expression had her eyes going back to the car in front of her, unable to watch.

  Why couldn’t he act that way with her?

  “Because he thinks you’re a kook,” she said to herself, and then became angry for caring.

  She had to admit to herself she was. During her childhood, she continuously tried to make her father proud of her and had made herself sick trying. Those old feelings were coming back to torment her whenever she had to deal with Stump.

  In the parking garage, she parked in the same spot she always did. And when she got out of her car, Stump had already parked and was waiting for her behind her car.

  “You need a bigger car.”

  “I love my car.” Zoey caressed the roof of her car.

  “You drive like an old woman without her glasses. Someone is going to rear end you for going too slow. I could go faster than you on a skateboard.”

  “No, you couldn’t.” Zoey smiled at his exaggeration.

  “Didn’t you see that old man in the motorized wheelchair beating you on the sidewalk?”

  “I could have beaten him if I wanted to.” Laughing, she pushed the button for the elevator. “I let him win.”

  As the elevator doors slid open, she started moving forward when her balance became upended, and she felt air instead of the elevator’s floor. Her crutches fell into the empty elevator shaft, and a startled scream came from her as she found herself held in Stump’s arms. They listened to her crutches hit the sides of the shaft, and then two loud thumps when they landed.

  Terrified, she gasped disbelieving at the gaping hole where the elevator should have been waiting. Stump’s own grim expression showed how close to death she had been.

  “Are you okay? Did you hurt your knee?” He gently moved her farther away from the elevator, not releasing her from his tight grip.

  “I’m fine… I almost died, didn’t I?” she asked shakenly.

  “Damn close,” he muttered, setting her back on her feet. “Don’t move.” He started to move toward the elevator shaft, but she grabbed his arm, holding him back.

  “Be careful.”

  His harsh expression softened. “I will. You can let me go now.”

  “Sorry.” Embarrassed, she removed her hand, watching worriedly as he went to the open elevator shaft.

  When he turned back, his face was even grimmer. Taking out his cell, Stump walked back to her, taking her arm and ushering her to the doorway that took them into the lobby. Matching his footsteps, she listened to the one-way conversation.

  “Ice, have Jackal call Penni’s building manager and find out why in the hell there aren’t signs posted that the elevator is out of service. Zoey would have bit the dust if I hadn’t caught her.”

  Zoey couldn’t hear what Ice said, but Stump’s reply had shivers going down her back.

  “That’s what I’m thinking, too, brother. Keep me updated. And for God’s sake, make sure the owner gets signs posted before someone gets hurt.”

  “Ice thinks it was deliberate to hurt me, doesn’t he?”

  “We both do. From now on, I’ll drive you back and forth from work.”

  “I can’t be without my car.” Shaking her head, she nixed that idea. She had to have her own transportation. It had worried her constantly when she had first hurt her knee that she couldn’t drive.

  “Too bad. You’re paying me to be your bodyguard, so let me do my job.”

  “You didn’t want the job! I’m not going to be dependent on someone else to drive….” Her protests trailed off when they saw the red warning sign and yellow caution tape blocking access to the elevator in the lobby. “Why are there warnings here and not in the garage?” Zoey raised frightened eyes to his.

  “Whoever removed the warning sign only wanted one person killed, and that is you.”

  “There could be another explanation. I would have been hurt without a doubt, but I wouldn’t have died….”

  “Just a few minutes ago, you said, would have died. That shaft goes down four floors to the offices that have a separate entrance on the lower level.”

  “I prefer not to dwell on what could have been. We’re both unharmed; that’s what counts.”

  Heading toward the stairway, she began silently chanting to calm herself, finding a positive outlook that she was still breathing and not being transported to the coroner’s office.

  “I prefer….” It took Stump a few seconds to realize he was talking to thin air. “Wait. Where are you going?”

  “I think that is pretty self-explanatory. I’m going to my office.”

  “You can’t go up those steps on your knee,” he said, his long strides catching up w
ith hers.

  “Watch me.” Flinging the door open, she went into the stairwell. Taking a firm hold on the rail, she braced herself for the first step.

  “Take one step, and I will carry your ass back to that matchbox car….”

  She hesitated. The fierce expression on Stump’s face would give any sane woman a pause, but like Stump believed her to be, she was a kook, and whether he liked it or not, she was going to work.

  Zoey did something she hadn’t done in years. She lowered her guard, exposing how vulnerable she felt after the near-disastrous fall.

  “If you don’t want me hurting my knee, help me. I would help you if our positions were reversed.”

  “Damn it to hell!” Swearing, he lifted her into his arms. “And you better not say a damn thing about me just cussing.”

  “I wasn’t going to.” She wound her arms trustfully around his neck as Stump carried her up the stairs. “This time,” she clarified.

  “You’re a piece of work.”

  “My dad used to tell me every night when my mother tucked me into bed that I was one of God’s finest creations, right after oatmeal cookies.”

  This close to him, she could smell the faint aroma of the coffee and cigarette he must have had before coming to her home.

  Her nipples tingled underneath her bra as if she had reached out to turn something on and received a static charge. It was an unexpected reaction, one she had never experienced before.

  “You didn’t mind that she put you behind oatmeal cookies?”

  The memory brought a shard of pain. She tried not to think of her mother anymore. The only reason she had mentioned her to Stump was that of her reaction to him holding her.

  What few memories remained from her childhood had grown dimmer as the years had passed until she no longer knew if the ones that were left were true or imagined.

  “No, I love them, too. I haven’t found anything to beat them either. Do you like oatmeal cookies?”

  Stump took a break before going up the last floor, resting her butt on his thigh. “Not enough to think they are one of God’s finest creations.”