by Stacy Wise
“Thank goodness you picked up. I wanted to let you know as soon as possible. We’re not getting married in July.”
“Why? What happened?” A sinking feeling hits me, and my brain shifts gears to comfort mode. Bad things can happen when planning a wedding. Lauren’s older sister got married a few years ago, and she and her fiancé nearly called the whole thing off. According to Lauren, agreeing on what type of cake to serve and what style of music to play can send two otherwise loving people into battle mode. It’s sad. If you can’t agree on the small things now, what’s going to happen later? I wish I could reach through the phone and hug Hannah.
“We’re getting married next month instead.”
“Wait. What?”
“We’re having a Christmas wedding.”
“That’s so soon!” Before I can think better of it, I blurt, “Are you pregnant?”
“No! But Nikki is. She doesn’t want to be eight months pregnant as a bridesmaid. I don’t blame her. And a Christmas wedding sounds really cool.”
I sink into my chair. “That’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you, and for your sister, too. Give her my best, okay?”
“I will. And our new date is December sixteenth. We’re having it at this beautiful Malibu estate that overlooks the ocean. Someone called to cancel as we were touring it. Can you believe it? It’s like fate! I can’t wait for you to see the place. I’ll text you some pictures.”
“Yes! Please do. And I’m putting the date in my calendar right now.” I smile into the phone. “I’m so excited for you. It’s all coming together, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. It’s wild. I’ll call you the next time we’re down there. I miss you!”
“Miss you, too. Talk to you soon.”
The gym is quiet but for the sound of gloves attacking a bag. My eyes travel to the source. It’s Ryan. His hair is slick with sweat, and his shirt hugs his muscled torso. I shove my things in a cubby and grab a rope, crossing to the far corner of the mats.
I stare straight ahead as I jump. For an entire minute, I keep my gaze fixed on the mirror in front of me, only allowing myself to look at the few women walking on the treadmills. But the sound of Ryan’s workout pleads with me to watch. My eyes flick to his reflection.
He’s savage.
Raw.
Intense.
My mind races down a path lined with warning signs and flashing lights, but I don’t stop it. Heat rises in my chest and neck as I imagine what it’d be like to have him in my bed, our bodies tangled together as he ravages me. Our eyes meet in the mirror for a fraction of a second, and I quickly shift my gaze to the clock.
The pounding of the bag stops, and he jogs over. “Shit. I lost track of time.” Ripping off his gloves, he says, “Jump for five more minutes. I’m going to change my shirt, and I’ll be back.”
I spin the rope around and around as I’ve done so many times before, the monotony of it doing nothing to calm me.
Ryan returns, and I gather the rope in my hands. His hair is damp, and he wears a fresh T-shirt that reads, “I’d flex, but I like this shirt.” “Sorry about that. I was in the zone.”
“I saw. It was—”
A loud bang cuts me off, and we both look toward the sound. Jasmine pounds the desk with her fists before shoving her hands through her hair. Ryan rushes over to her, and I follow.
“Jazz. What’s going on?”
She looks at him, her eyes desperate. I inch forward, curious. “My roommate just called me. He showed up at my place with a bag of lingerie and told her to make sure I wear it for our date.”
An uncomfortable laugh tumbles from Ryan. “Who?”
“The fucking computer guy,” she snaps. “The one I’ve been complaining about for, I don’t know, weeks? The one you joke about. Can you go find him and break all his bones?”
“I’m not sure that’ll solve anything, Jazz. Can you call the police?”
“What are they going to do?”
Pressing my hand to my forehead, I tell myself to think. I took a victims’ rights class in law school, so I should know what to do. I should’ve acted sooner when she first told me about him. But hindsight is not going to help me now.
“I don’t mean to butt in, but I think you need to get a restraining order filed against him.”
They both turn to me, and Jasmine says, “I thought they were only for abuse victims.”
“If I’m not mistaken, you can file for a civil harassment restraining order. And did you ever find out if he put spyware on your computer?”
“Javier has someone checking into it, but I don’t know if he’s figured it all out yet.”
“What the hell?” Ryan asks. “Spyware?”
“He knows way too much about me for it to be a coincidence. My social media accounts are private, so he has to be finding out stuff somewhere.” She sighs. “I want to punch something.”
I step forward. “Do you want me to help you file for a temporary restraining order?”
“Like right now?”
I look at Ryan. “You don’t mind if we reschedule, right? I feel like we need to deal with this now, so she can file everything with the court first thing in the morning.”
“Totally agree.”
Jasmine swipes a finger beneath her lashes. “Thanks, you guys. I’ve been trying to act like he’s just a pain in the ass, but I’m scared.” She presses her hands to her face. “I feel so stupid.”
Ryan steps around the desk and puts his arms around her. She grips his hands where they land above her chest. “Don’t. You did nothing wrong. You can crash at my place if it’ll make you feel safer.” He says the words softly into her ear, and I try to push off the army of green-eyed monsters that grip me. Will she sleep on the leather sofa, or will he give her his bed? Or will they bunk together, his arms wrapped protectively around her?
She peers up at me. “Where do we start?”
“Probably not here. I don’t trust your computers. Can you come to my place?”
“Ry? Is it cool if I leave early?”
“You don’t need to ask. Go.”
His eyes lock with mine, and I wish I could stay here in this moment and let everything else fall away. “Thank you for this.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Can you reschedule for tomorrow night, same time?”
“Sure.”
“Great. Good luck, ladies. Jazzie, text me later if you wanna come over, okay?”
“Yep. Thanks.”
The green monsters try to race back in, but surprisingly my mind forces them to retreat. Jasmine needs help. And I’m glad both of us are here for her.
My laptop whirs in front of us as we read the next question. She shoves her hands through her hair and rests her elbows on the kitchen table. “I have to do this, don’t I?”
“Yeah. Be as specific as you can. Dates, times—all that helps.”
She slides her phone closer to her. “I saved the emails and texts.”
“That’s good. We can print those to use as exhibits.” I turn back to the screen. “Would it be easier for you to type it in or do you want to tell me, and I’ll type it?”
She wraps her arms around her middle and stiffens. “The court probably wouldn’t appreciate a bunch of F-bombs, so you should type it.”
“Fair enough.”
“He, uh, he came to fix the computers, and was kind of annoyingly talkative, but you know me. I pretty much ignored him.”
She tells me how it changed, how he started to call, claiming he was following up, and then he began bringing her things and asking personal questions.
“You didn’t feel threatened at that point?”
“No, I was just frustrated, and I wasn’t going to let some smarmy little dude bother me.”
“And then what?”
“He started showing up wherever I went. If I was at the grocery store, he was there, too, acting like it was a coincidence. By the third time, I was like, this is no coincidence. He brought flowers to t
he gym for me with a bizarre poem attached about love and pain. It said something about bloody tears. I stuck it in an envelope and saved it. And then he started sending me these.” She opens her phone and shows me the pictures.
“Oh God.”
“Right? It’s bad enough he’s naked. But the words…”
I read quickly. He tells her he understands why she wants to keep their relationship a secret. He says he’ll wait for her. In vivid detail, he describes imagined sexual encounters.
“I’m so sorry you’ve had to deal with this. Can I ask why you didn’t say something sooner?”
She shrugs. “I kind of did, but the guys would joke about him like he just had a harmless crush. And then I wondered if I was overreacting, so I downplayed it in my mind. It got to the point I felt like I had to hide it.”
“And then he showed up with the lingerie.”
“Yeah. My roommate was so freaked out she packed a bag and is staying at her boyfriend’s place for a few days.”
“You’re more than welcome to stay here for as long as you need. My roommate is great—she’d say the same thing.”
“It’s cool. I’ll probably just crash at Ryan’s.” Tears spring into her eyes. “Sorry. I hate that I feel like I can’t go home.” Her arms find her center again, and she hugs them to her. “But I’ll feel safe with Ry.” She laughs. “No one would dare mess with him.”
“He’s a good guy,” I say slowly. Does she have any idea we kissed? The urge to tell her—to claim him as my own—is strong, but I don’t breathe a word. Because he’s not mine. A loud voice in my head starts to protest, but I shush it.
“He’s the best. Maybe it’s because he has sisters.” She sighs and turns back to the screen. “Let’s finish.”
I want to delve deeper, to ask what she means by he’s the best. Is she speaking in general terms, or is he literally the best guy she knows? But it would be weird to quiz her on him now. So we work for another hour before I finally hit submit. Her request is with the court, ready for review. She texts Ryan to pick her up, and I make myself busy taking water glasses to the kitchen.
When he knocks, I force myself not to leap across the room to answer. I dry my hands on a kitchen towel and walk to the door.
“Hey.” Siri sits next to him, her gentle eyes looking at me expectantly. “I walked up, since your place is so close, and my girl wanted to see you.”
I kneel down to rub her chest, and she thanks me with an enthusiastic lick to the face. “I wanted to see her, too.” And you. “Come on in.” I stand and close the door behind him.
Jasmine pushes in the dining chair and grabs her purse. “Hey, Ry.”
“Come here,” he says, drawing her into a hug. It’s what he should do—it’s what I expect him to do, because he’s that kind of guy. I only wish he would’ve hugged me first.
As they part, she says, “I feel so stupid that it’s come to this.”
“Don’t.” His eyes fill with intensity. “Seriously. You had nothing to do with it. The guy…he needs help.”
“Thanks.” She turns to me. “Thank you, too. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”
“You’re welcome. I’m just happy I could help. And I’ll be here for the next steps, too.” I smile and sneak a glance at Ryan. His eyes burn into mine. It’s how he looked before he kissed me. Chill bumps spring across my arms and up my neck, and I brush my fingers across my lips.
He inhales and looks away. “Let’s go, Jazz.”
“Can I walk the dog?”
He passes her the leash. “Yep.”
She turns toward the door, but he hangs back. “Thanks, Katie. I—”
There’s a clattering of rushed footsteps on the stairs followed by, “Don’t pull, Siri!”
“You better go.”
“Yeah.” He bites his lip. “Bye.” He pulls the door closed behind him, and I flop onto the sofa.
My eyes fall shut. Is he going to tuck her in and kiss her forehead? Or will she crawl into bed with him? Maybe they’ll stay up all night talking, and she’ll tell him he’s the best. In my mind, she’s suddenly moaning, Oh, Ryan, you’re the best, the best. Oh yes! The best.
Shaking the horrid vision from my mind, I spring from the couch and head for my bedroom, pausing to grab my phone from the table. I slip off my shoes and set them in the vacant spot on my closet shelf. Tonight was strange for so many reasons. I never would’ve pegged Jasmine as a victim, but I suppose it goes to show there’s not a victim prototype. When I told her I was happy to help, I meant it. I wonder how many other women are out there who need help. As I reach for my pajamas, my phone dings.
Thanks for being the awesome person you are.
My heart flutters. It’s painful how happy one tiny text from Ryan makes me. As I reread it, another lights up the screen.
I really wanted to kiss you tonight.
Biting my lip, I type,
I really wanted to kiss you, too.
I stand in the middle of my room with my phone in hand, staring hard at the screen. But a minute goes by, and he doesn’t respond. And then another. I toss my phone to my bed and tell myself not to worry. It doesn’t mean he’s kissing Jasmine because I wasn’t around. They’re friends. That’s it.
Chapter Twenty-One
I return to my office from the kitchen, my second cup of dark roast coffee in hand. I’m surprised to see Kenneth sitting at my desk, stirring up papers. Fear bubbles inside me. If he sees the documents I have for Jasmine, he’ll probably squeeze his stress ball until it explodes in his hand. Working on things unrelated to Janks and Lowe is probably grounds for termination. “Hi, Kenneth,” I say with forced calm. “Can I help you find something?”
“I certainly hope so. We have a filing due today on the Rivers case.” He slides papers left and right, like a child who’s frustrated when his finger painting turns brown from all the mixing. He finally looks up, a crazed gleam in his eyes. He’s so busy looking for something specific he didn’t bother reading what else is on my desk. Thank God.
“I sent it Friday morning. You asked me to do it first thing, and I emailed you when I sent it in.”
He crosses his arms and leans back in my chair. “You did?”
“Yes.” Of course I did, I want to yell. I do everything you ask me to do and then some. I walk over to the modular filing system, pull one of the labeled boxes off the shelf, take out a manila folder, and hand it to him. “Here’s my copy of the paperwork. I put your copy in your inbox. I can help you find it if you’d like.”
He flips through the pages, nodding his head and moving his lips like he’s reading aloud. Apparently satisfied, he passes the folder back to me. “Fine. In the future, please send me a text in addition to the email. I need to know you’re staying on top of things.” He shoves past me, and I keep my elbows close to my body so I don’t accidentally check him. It’s not my fault, I reassure myself. He’s a miserable person.
I’m about to leave for a quick sandwich when Kenneth bursts in, and I half expect to see someone chasing him, given the panicked look in his eyes. “Stay where you are, and we’ll order in. Shit’s going down.”
He presses his hands together and begins pacing the tiny space in front of my desk. “This is big, Katie. Hammond’s tour bus crashed en route to a stadium concert for his world tour last night. Seven people were on board, and we’ve signed up four of the victims, including Hammond himself, who broke his hand. No one knows how bad it is. Twitter is blowing up with rumors that he’ll never play guitar again. It’s a shit show, and I need you on it.” He fires off instructions, and I scramble to write everything down on a legal pad.
Just before five, Kenneth reappears in my office. His tie is loose and the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up. “What do you have for me?” he asks, pumping a stress ball.
As frazzled as he is, I’m ready to jump up and dance. Jasmine was granted a temporary restraining order, and the court has set a hearing date for a permanent order. I could hear the r
elief in her voice when she called to share the news. She’s already filed a copy with the local police, and Ryan will serve Roland in person later today. She just needs someone over eighteen to do it, and he was quick to offer.
Glancing at Kenneth, I say, “I have pictures of the scene from Google Earth, and I’ve marked where the accident occurred. The CHP won’t release the accident report because the NTSB is involved. I’m working on getting the other first responders’ reports. I’ve ordered the driver’s DMV records and have done a search to find any criminal history.”
“Put everything you have in a document and email it to me. This is a PR nightmare. Rumors are circulating about Hammond’s injuries. Some fans were blowing up social media with stories that he’d been killed. Frigging idiots. Every media outlet in the country wants a statement.”
“I wish I had more. It’s taking time to get everything we need.”
A scary smile slides onto his face. “Give me what you have, and I’ll spin it to make it work for us.”
That evening, I stand outside the gym and hoist my bag onto my shoulder. Jasmine rushes from her desk and high-fives me before pulling me into an exuberant hug. “Leave it to the girl who reads the waiver to help me out. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. We still have some hurdles ahead, but we got past a tough one. To get a permanent restraining order, we need to meet a higher burden of proof, but I think we have a good shot.”
She smiles. “I don’t have any doubts.” We step inside, and she heads back to her desk as I set my things by the cubbies. Javier’s students stretch on the mats, readying themselves for his class.
Ryan pads over, looking at me as though he’s seeing me for the first time. “Thank you so much for helping Jazzie.” He scrubs a hand down his face. “She filled me in on everything last night. I feel like a total jackass for not realizing what a huge problem it was.”
“Don’t. She told me that she kept downplaying it, because she didn’t really believe it was happening. It’s not uncommon.”