Goldie Locks: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance

by Flora Ferrari

  “You really think that’ll solve anything?” Phoebe pipes in, sounding underwhelmed. Sarcastic even, which makes me smile to myself.

  My dad takes a long breath in, and examines Phoebe from head to toe before settling his eyes on Trixie, like he can see things nobody else can, he gives his own verdict.

  “Probably not,” he admits. “But I figured you’d be too rattled to try and handle this on your own, even with an old fart like me helping out,” he adds with a solemn look he shares in my direction.

  “It’s dangerous son. Probably illegal and no doubt, there’ll be nothing but trouble if we try and handle this ourselves let alone if we’re caught exacting our own brand of justice.” He warns us both.

  “How soon can you start?” Phoebe asks, and my dad’s smile broadens.

  “You’ve picked a good egg there, Max. A clever girl indeed,” he observes, bowing in front of Phoebe like she’s suddenly royalty.

  “Arthur Bear, of Three Bears Locksmiths, Ms. Gold. Or should I call you Ms. Goldie Locks with that hair, at your service.” He smiles.

  If he wasn’t so sincere, so genuine, I might feel embarrassed. But my dad makes me proud and I know it sets Phoebe’s mind at ease too, knowing that with two Bears helping her out, we all stand a better chance of success.

  “First things first,” the old man announces. “We’ll need to lure whoever it is back here and make sure we catch them in the act.”

  I feel my head shaking straight away. “I won’t put Phoebe in harm’s way Dad,” I warn him and he agrees.

  “Of course you won’t, that’s why I’m going to stay here with her and you’re going to be the one doing the real luring and the catching. There are security cameras in my van in the back alley, and the two-way radios,” he says casually.

  “Sounds like you’ve got some setting up to do, and I’d be quick about it if you’re gonna have time to meet the owner across the street, fix his lock, and be seen leaving here alone too,” he adds with a wink.

  “But I thought-” I start to ask.

  “I’m with Phoebe, remember. I have to stay here. You’ll have to get moving. Something tells me once whoever it is thinks she’s back here and all alone, they’ll be back before you can blink.”

  I think I get his plan, but I don’t like it. Then again, if there’s anyone in the whole world I can trust with Phoebe apart from Trixie or myself, it would have to be my dad.

  He’s a lot smaller than me, but he’s the man who taught me to look after myself long before I grew bigger than he is.

  He’s also the one person I’m sure could still kick my ass if he wanted to as well.

  “Alright Dad, but I’m not over the moon about this,” I grumble.

  I look over to Phoebe, who seems to be instantly on side with my dad. Even Trixie’s looking adoringly at the old man.

  “Fine,” I tell them all, “but if nobody shows by nightfall, we’re going to the police.” I threaten them both, knowing that my dad’s right. Feeling in my gut that his plan is way better than anything I could have done on the fly. But it all hinges on whoever it is returning to the scene of the crime once they think Phoebe’s here all alone.

  Assuming they even see me leave and decide to bother her again.

  Phoebe seems to relax instantly, offering my dad a soda. Even switches on the TV and sets herself down with Trixie to watch as my dad stops me at the door as I’m about to leave.

  I want to kiss Phoebe goodbye, but feel self-conscious around the old man.

  “You’ve found her, huh?” he asks me in a low voice, his eyes dancing with delight.

  I feel myself blushing and without having to say another word, he claps his hand on my shoulder, telling me how proud he is of me.

  “Now get moving son,” he urges me. “Bring the cameras and the laptop in the back of my van up here, and a new lock for our customer across the street,” he adds, looking like a man who’s just won the lottery instead of someone who’s setting up camp to catch a stalker.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Phoebe

  Arthur Bear is nothing like his son Max. But I do remind myself he is adopted. And that he has an adopted older brother as well.

  Makes me wish I could miss my own family, but like I’ve hinted to Max. Some things are better off left in the past. Providing they don’t come back to haunt you that is.

  His dad’s about my height, which is short. Round like me too, but not as curvy. With a balding gray head and shining blue eyes, he reminds me of the grandpa-type figure I’ve never had but would love if I did.

  I can tell too that he’s playing it simple for my benefit but the man’s no dummy.

  He’s made a plan to catch whoever’s haunting me and in record time, just happening to have everything he needs on hand in his truck?

  “We install security cameras too,” he tells me, reading my thoughts, as well as Max, does, making me wonder if I really am such an open book.

  Looking around the tiny apartment, he asks if he can take a look at the kitchen window. “Max said something about wanting locks on that too,” he says absently.

  I want to tell him not to bother, that I’m moving in with Max, but I don’t know how much Max would want me to tell his dad, so I let him go do what he wants.

  After a few minutes, I get the impression he’s keeping an eye on the back alley anyway, nothing to do with locks for my kitchen window.

  It isn’t long before I hear a knock at the door, with Max’s deep voice letting me know it’s him.

  I open the door and let him in, both of us sneaking a long kiss before his dad sees.

  “Ah, you got all the gear? Good.” I hear Arthur comment from behind us.

  Oops. So much for privacy, but then again this place is the size of a broom closet.

  I feel myself flush with embarrassment but Max and his dad don’t even bat an eye, making me feel like I’m part of the team already.

  Maybe even part of the family? Okay, maybe a little early for that. But Arthur doesn’t seem to be bothered by his son playing tonsil hockey with a girl old enough to be his daughter.

  And why should he? Age is just a number, right?

  “I got these too,” Max says, handing his dad a couple of small boxes.

  “Body cams, I’ll need one when I catch this creep in the act,” Max explains to me.

  “When we catch him in the act,” his dad pipes in, unpacking one and handing it to Max and then turning his attention to the laptop.

  “You set those CCTV cameras where you think is best, son. I’ll patch them through to here along with the body cams. Use channel thirty-one for the two-way and I’ll hear from you once everything’s in position,” he tells Max.

  “Once you’ve done all that, head across the street and fix the lock. Take your time and be sure to linger before leaving alone. We want whoever I think is watching to see you leave by yourself. Got it?”

  Max nods, looking like he’s okay with taking directions from someone else for a change, but there’s a wisdom about his dad. A patience that seems to project from the man.

  I’ve got no problem going along with his plans and only pray that whoever’s been doing all this actually shows up.

  I don’t know if my nerves could take another full day of this.

  “Max?” I hear myself squeak before he leaves. “Be careful. Please?” I beg him, not realizing how much danger I’ve probably been facing until I see how seriously the two men are taking all of this.

  He gives me an intense look before ordering his dad to make sure I’m the one who’s kept safe.

  “Aye, aye Captain,” his dad winks, saluting him before he closes the door. I try to feel some of the relief I felt earlier, but I only find myself starting to worry about Max now.

  Even though I know he can handle himself.

  “He can manage,” Arthur says without looking over to me, his head down and his glasses perched on the end of his nose as he synchronizes the body cam Max has fitted to his shirt, the
n his own.

  Within about twenty minutes, Max has set up half a dozen tiny cameras in the hall, and every part of the building anyone would have to pass to get to my apartment.

  “See? Here,” his dad announces, calling me over to have a look. I can see Max leaving the building and follow his point of view as he crosses the street.

  Every angle in or out of the building showing in a square on the laptop’s screen.

  A well-used and worn looking two-way radio crackles to life.

  I breathe a sigh of relief when I hear Max’s voice.

  “All set?” he asks his dad, who replies in the positive, reminding Max to take his time with the lock job across the street.

  It isn’t long before the owner of the office block across the street arrives, and Max’s dad fields a phone call from him once he meets up with Max, who he remarks is taking his time to fix the lock.

  “We’re thorough,” his dad volunteers cheerfully. “And at no extra charge to you either,” he reminds his customer, who seems happy enough once Max finally finishes and leaves the place locked up and secure.

  “Anything yet?” Max asks his dad via the radio, scanning the street himself as he hovers near his car before getting inside it.

  “Nothing yet,” his dad tells him.

  Arthur’s been keeping an eagle eye on the screen the whole time, noting every single person who comes into the building, with none of them coming onto my floor so far.

  I recognize pretty much everyone anyway. All people who live in the building.

  “Okay, Max. Make like a tree and leave,” his dad says, laughing at his own dad joke while I feel my stomach knot, and Max groans at his dad’s humor.

  “I’ll circle a few blocks, make sure I’m not followed,” Max says.

  “Is he coming back?” I ask his dad, who nods his head slowly.

  “If I know Max, he’ll be back here before we know it. Just needs to make sure eyes are on your building and not him,” he tells me like he’s gently explaining something to a child.

  The waiting starts to take its toll, and after a while, I move to switch the TV off but Arthur shakes his head.

  “Leave it on,” he whispers, lowering his voice and making my panic rise.

  Something on his screen’s caught his eye and he licks his lips before he starts to chew at them.

  “You close by, Max?” he whispers into his radio, but there’s only a dull crackle from the other end.

  Looking over his shoulder I notice the square that had Max’s body-cam on it has gone blank.

  I try to say something, but Max’s dad presses a finger to his lips, urging me with a look to be quiet before I follow his finger back to the screen.

  Somebody is coming.

  Someone I’ve never seen before and they’re heading right for my floor.

  At least, I don’t think I’ve seen them before. For a second I think it’s the delivery guy come back.

  Dark puffy jacket and a dark baseball cap.

  But once they step out onto my floor, I can see something that tells me it’s not him.

  Tells me it’s not even a he at all.

  I feel a sudden rush of anger taking over, squashing my fear and nerves in a split second.

  I’m suddenly more unafraid than I’ve ever been in my whole life and feeling my own claws starting to come out, I make for my own front door.

  “Wait, Phoebe. No!” Max’s dad implores me, his hand gripping my arm and his eyes calmly pleading with mine to hold off, just for a few moments at least.

  Sensing my mood, Trixie starts to growl and Arthur thinks maybe it’s because he has his hand on me, but we can both see her eyeing the doorway to my apartment, as well as darting glances back to the figure approaching it from the outside.

  My eyes narrow and I try to make out the face underneath the baseball cap, but it’s that hair that gives her away.

  “Where are you, Max?” his dad whispers into the radio, voicing my own thoughts exactly as I wait for something to happen.

  But it’s just a long-haired figure by my door and no Max insight so far.

  Watching the screen still, I can see the woman bending down and sliding something under the door.

  I can feel Arthur’s grip on me relax and his eyes close briefly as he nods, letting me know he’s right here if I need him.

  With renewed anger and energy, I pounce towards the door, flinging it open.

  She’s shocked and staggers a step back, but the last thing she’s expecting is for me to grab hold of her.

  Grabbing hold of her hair. Which I feel peel off under my grip before she breaks free and bolts down the hallway.

  Running straight into a wall of Maxwell Bear, waiting for her at the other end.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Maxwell

  I don’t need my dad to point her out to me.

  I had a hunch back at the office space earlier. The broken lock, the yellow sheet of paper on her folder with nothing written on it.

  Probably a few matching envelopes underneath. I’d bet.

  Something too about how eager she was for me to stay but have Phoebe leave, maybe not wanting to be recognized if Phoebe did join the dots.

  It’s over now, I’m gonna make sure of it.

  Following her up to her floor, I wait and watch from around the corner as she slips another note under Phoebe’s door, but to my shock, its Phoebe herself who rushes out and grabs ahold of her. Tearing what looks like the woman’s hair for a second, until it registers as a wig.

  The woman snarls, scratching at Phoebe before turning on her heel and that’s when I step out, waiting to grab a hold of her myself and not planning on letting her go anywhere, no matter how much of a fight she puts up.

  We’ve got proof. Video evidence and the last three notes she’s left, as well as what can be retrieved from Phoebe’s phone.

  I explain all of this to the hissing woman, but she doesn’t seem to think she’s in any trouble.

  “You’re not the cops. You can’t do anything. No law against a practical joke,” she spits, the whining Cali voice being replaced by something from the exorcist.

  “No, we’re not cops,” I assure her. “We’re locksmiths. And I’m rich enough to hire the best lawyers, making sure you have enough civil suits for stalking and harassment to guarantee you won’t have a dime left long before we even go to the cops with any of this.”

  The woman growls and hisses some more, finally breaking down into tears once she realizes everything I’ve said is the truth.

  My dad and Phoebe carrying Trixie walk slowly down the hall, with a few doors opening and then closing just as quickly as neighbors peek out, but no one wanting to get involved.

  “Let’s all sit down like grown-ups and have a nice little chat, shall we?” My dad tones in, his voice calm but firm as he raises a brow in my direction, reminding me not to hurt our new guest, as well as the fact that he’s still recording everything.

  I hand the woman over to my dad, who looks like he’s consoling her but my dad’s keeping a tight grip on her in case she runs as I reach for Phoebe and Trixie.

  She melts into my own arms and I feel her sobs start to take over with Trixie worming her way up between us, licking both our faces.

  “It’s almost over,” I tell Phoebe.

  “What do you mean almost?’ Phoebe sniffs.

  “I mean, we have to decide what to do next. I’m sure she’ll admit to everything, but then we’ll have to go to the police,” I explain to her, realizing it could take a long time to process if they choose to do anything about it at all.

  “I just want her to stop,” Phoebe says. “No point in her stalking me, we all know who she is,” she sniffs again.

  “Do you know her?” I ask Phoebe, but she shrugs and buries her face in my chest again.

  “I’m not sure of anything Max, except that I love you and I want to get away from here. Away from this city. Forever,” she tells me, her body rocking with emotion.

&
nbsp; The whole story, as it turns out is stranger than anything I could have ever dreamed up. Even my dad looks amazed once we sit our stalker down and get her talking once she’s calmed down.

  She knows Phoebe alright, but Phoebe only has a vague memory of what happened.

  What it was that set all this in motion.

  It all started years ago when Phoebe was studying to become a hairdresser at the community college.

  “You’re still as fat as I remember,” The woman spits, cursing Phoebe out some more before I caution her.

  “Hey! Keep it polite, huh? How about starting with your name. Your real name?” I ask, finding a handful of phony IDs in her jacket pockets, along with bundles of small bills and some jewelry I’m sure the police would want her to explain.

  I lay it all out in front of her and remind her, “We’re not the police but they are just a phone call away and so is my civil suit legal team,” I growl in her ear, urging her to speak up for the camera.

  “You really don’t remember me, do you?” The woman asks Phoebe.

  “My name is Laura Anderson, and this… bitch fucked up my life!” she shrieks, lurching towards Phoebe, but my dad’s hand is quick to sit her down again.

  “Now, now. None of that. We’re all here to get to the bottom of things. No more acting crazy, alright?” he says soothingly.

  I lean over, asking Phoebe if she even wants to take part in this, but she nods instantly letting me know she’s all in.

  “Three years ago I was Homecoming Queen,” Laura starts to explain. “That is, I was supposed to be homecoming Queen,” she adds cryptically.

  I notice Phoebe’s face trigger recognition and she looks down at her feet, biting at her lip.

  So she does know who this is.

  “What happened?” My dad asks calmly, checking that everything is still recording.

  “The morning of the Homecoming, I go to the local hairdressers. Deciding to get blonde highlights and to have my hair styled… by a professional,” she hisses, glaring at Phoebe, whose lower lip is trembling by now.

  I rest my hand on her shoulder but it doesn’t seem to make much difference.