The Voyeur Next Door

by Airicka Phoenix

  “Fun? You call this fun? Sneaking off, worrying the hell out of your family to party with people who are too old for you in the middle of godforsaken nowhere … that’s fun? What’s the matter with you? Do you have any idea how dangerous this was? Did you even stop to think what could have happened?”

  “I’m not Regina!” Tamara screamed.

  I wasn’t sure who froze first, me or Gabriel. But it was around that time I realized the music had died and the only sound came from the roaring inferno a few feet away and Tamara’s labored breathing.

  “I’m not going to get myself used and killed in some fucking sewer, okay?”

  Gabriel reared back like she’d slapped him, and maybe she had. Just not physically.

  “You have no idea…” He broke off, took several steps away from his sister. “Get your things. Now. We’re leaving.”

  That didn’t seem to be in the cards when rain began to splatter down over the clearing in rapid successions. Most of those around the fire darted for cover. A few of the boys stayed to help extinguish the fire and I knew that once it was out, we would plummet into a darkness found only in the wilderness. But I couldn’t bring myself to move. I could scarcely tell if I was even breathing. I was stuck on a single fact that refused to be ignored: Gabriel was Q. I wasn’t sure how that was possible, but I had no doubt. What was worse, I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed. Maybe because it was such an impossibility, or maybe it was because I hadn’t wanted to believe it, but the fact remained … Q was Gabriel. Gabriel was Q. I was having cybersex with a guy who hated me.

  Okay, maybe hate was a strong word, but definitely didn’t like. I had shown him my … everything. God, I had come for him. I had watched him come. I had done things with him … for him I wouldn’t have done with anyone. I had told him things, secret things that I hadn’t shared with even my diary. He knew things about me that could potentially destroy me and he didn’t even know it was me.

  Or did he?

  Did he know I was Aoife? Had he known all along? Had everything we shared been a sick joke?

  I wanted to vomit. I would have too if I could just focus.

  “Ali?” He was standing in front of me. His hands were on my arms. Rain slashed down on us, soaking through our clothes and skin and still I couldn’t move. “Ali?”

  Did you know? I wanted to scream. Were you secretly laughing at me while I bared myself to you? I couldn’t do it. Already the hurt, betrayal, and mortification burned behind my eyes. His touch made my skin crawl and my chest hurt.

  “Ali, say something!” He shook me.

  “Did you know?” I croaked.

  His hands stilled. “What?”

  I nicked my tongue between my chattering teeth. The sharp tang of blood filled my mouth but I ignored it.

  “Did you know?” I repeated, my voice breaking, adding to my humiliation.

  “Know what? What’s wrong?”

  I wasn’t sure if it was rain or tears, but they slid down the hot contour of my cheeks. It was a wonder steam didn’t rise from the surface. I warred with myself about telling him. Somehow, admitting it felt like defeat, like I had allowed myself to be conquered. But I had to know.

  “Did you know I was Aoife?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Gabriel

  I had no idea how I got us home. There was a vague recollection of trudging through the wilderness with Ali’s flashlight as a pale guide bobbing a few feet ahead. Ali hadn’t let me take her hand and I couldn’t blame her; I wasn’t sure what I would do if I touched her.

  The rain had really started picking up when we reached the Jeep. But even with the light downpour, we were already soaked by the time we climbed into the jeep. I kept the heat on full the whole way with Tamara in the seat next to me and Ali a dark lump in the backseat.

  No one had said a word the whole way. At one point, Tamara had fallen asleep with her head propped against the window and I wondered if I should say something, but what? What could I possibly say? What could I possibly tell her? I’d had no idea she was Aoife. How could I? And yet, I felt like I should have. The signs had all been there. Maybe a part of me had always known and ignored it as an impossibility. Who the hell knows?

  At Mom’s, I shook Tamara awake and marched her inside. I knew Ali would be gone by the time I returned and I was right. The backseat was empty and her car was gone. I went home that night and pushed back the curtains on my terrace doors and stared at the apartment straight across from mine, feeling like I was seeing it for the first time.

  “Is Ali coming tomorrow? Your mom wants to thank her for helping with Tammy.”

  I shifted the phone from my right ear to my left ear and stared harder at the adjacent window. I had been studying the sheet of glass and bricks for most of the morning, waiting for the doors to open and prove what I already knew. I wasn’t sure why it was so important, but I felt like I couldn’t rest until I knew Ali was Aoife, which I already knew beyond a shadow of a doubt. The whole situation had my head in loops.

  “I don’t know, Grandpa,” I mumbled.

  “Well, didn’t you talk to her last night after you dropped Tammy off?”

  “No, we didn’t.”

  Truth be told, I had been relieved when I found Ali gone the night before. I wasn’t sure I was stable enough to have that conversation when I was exhausted, wet, cranky, and just downright blown over. I had needed a few hours to regroup, well, as regrouped as one could get after finding out the two women he’d been obsessing over were the same. Most men, I assumed, would have been thrilled. But I was only just getting used to the idea of having Aoife, of having that strings-free relationship with someone I owed nothing to and had no obligations to make any obligations. And Ali … I didn’t even know where I stood with her. She was just too guarded, too much of a mystery. I didn’t need that kind of problem in my life. I had wanted something simple, something I could control and that was something I had found with Aoife. Now it was gone.

  “Gabe?”

  “Yeah, I’m here.”

  “I asked if you could call her and let me know so I can assure your mom.”

  Call Ali? The mere thought gave me a headache.

  “I can’t.”

  “Don’t tell me you guys are fighting again! Jesus, Gabe!”

  “It’s complicated, Grandpa.”

  “You listen here, boy. Life is full of complications. It’s how you deal with them that determines the type of man you are. Now, call that girl, apologize for whatever you did and call me back.”

  The line went dead before I could even think to be offended by his assumption that I was the reason Ali and I weren’t speaking. Honestly, was it really either of our faults? When I looked at her from across the fire and seen her face, I thought she was going to faint. I thought maybe she’d hit her head during her tumble and had a concussion. I never thought it could be for the reason I was now glowering at my phone and trying to think how to be a man about this problem.

  But I did as my grandfather asked. I called Ali. Not because I was told to, but because I knew the matter had to be resolved. Come Monday, she would still be my employee and I would still be her boss and I needed to know where we stood and just how big the damage was.

  She picked up. Part of me had been hoping she wouldn’t.

  “Hello?”

  God, how had I not recognized that voice? Now that I knew who was on the other end, all I heard was Ali.

  “Hi.”

  I heard her draw in a sharp breath and felt my own chest tighten.

  “Hi.”

  “We need to talk,” I blurted, knowing it was up to me to just rip off the band aid.

  “I know.”

  I rubbed a hand over my stubbled jaw. “Coffee?”

  “Okay.”

  We made plans to meet at the bistro around the block. It was a good fifteen minute walk, but I thought it would be enough time to get my head together before I saw her. It would certainly give me enough time to think of what to say. Y
et, the moment I reached the coffee shop and saw her standing outside the doors, my mind went stupidly blank. My heart picked up in a strange patter of excitement and my hands actually ached to touch her. I felt like every part of me had suddenly turned traitor. It was as though now that my mind and body knew who she was and how she made me feel, they didn’t care about anything else.

  She was dressed in a brown skirt over a white t-shirt and wedged sandals. Her enormous purse hung from her fingers down at her side and swung slightly with her anxious fidgeting; she looked as nervous as I felt and somehow, that didn’t make me feel any better about this. If anything, seeing her disrupted everything I had originally wanted to tell her, like how we could never be Q and Aoife again, or how we could never again do the things we did. If anything, seeing her standing there, the late afternoon sun tracing the pale contours of her face and shining through the thick plait of hair falling over one shoulder, all I wanted was to find a way to do all of it over again. It made me want to drag her into my arms and finally do what I’d been dying to do since she first walked into my life: kiss her. But I knew that couldn’t happen. At the end of the day, she was still my employee and even if she wasn’t, I wasn’t ready for what she deserved.

  As though sensing my turmoil, big, beautiful eyes unhindered by hideous glasses rounded on me and fixed. Her lips parted, but no sound emerged. Her knuckles whitened around the straps gripped tightly in her hands and she seemed to stiffen all over. I realized it was up to me to make the first step.

  I went to her, careful to keep my strides even and casual. Something about the way she was watching me reminded me of a spooked rabbit preparing to flee at the first sign of danger. I hated it.

  “Hi,” I said when I was close enough to be heard, but not close enough to do something stupid like touch her.

  “Hello.” She twisted the straps tighter around her hands. “This is where I first met Earl,” she said with an uneven smile. “Kind of funny if you think about it.”

  “Ali…”

  She shook her head, smile gone. “I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to have this talk.” She drew in a loud, shaky breath and straightened her shoulders. “I don’t want you to be Q.”

  That hurt. While I should have expected it, it still stung hearing her say it.

  “It’s not ideal, I get that,” I murmured. “But we do have to talk about it.”

  “I know.”

  Her gaze kept skipping over me, touching everything on me and around me, except my face and that annoyed me. I had waited so long to see her eyes, to see her without her mask and now she wouldn’t even look at me.

  “Do you want to go inside?” I asked.

  She glanced at the shop, her jaw set. “No.”

  But she walked over and yanked open the door. I followed her inside.

  We both ordered iced coffees and found a booth at the far, back corner, away from all the mindless drones huddled over their laptops. We seemed to be the only ones without any type of devices inches from our noses. I ignored them and focused on the woman seated across from me, picking idly at her drink lid.

  “Ali.”

  Something in her expression propelled me to break my own rule and reach for her. My hand settled over the one she had on the table and I almost hissed at how cold her skin was. She jumped, but didn’t pull away and I considered that some kind of progress.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered, staring at our hands. “This wasn’t supposed to be complicated.”

  “I know.” I gave her soft fingers a squeeze.

  She raised her eyes to my face for the first time and I was struck by the vulnerability shimmering across the velvety surface.

  “You really didn’t know?”

  I shook my head. “I had no idea.”

  She sucked in a breath. “What now?”

  I knew what I wanted and I knew what needed to be done. The two were completely different things and neither wanted to come out of my mouth.

  Instead, I heard myself saying, “Earl wants to know if you’re still coming tomorrow night.”

  Guilt shimmered in her eyes and she sat back. “I don’t think it would be a good idea.”

  While I agreed with her, I also knew running wouldn’t solve anything.

  “I think you should come,” I said honestly. “Unless you’ve decided not to work at the shop anymore, we can’t avoid each other forever.”

  “Do you still want me working at the shop?”

  I wanted more than that. It was selfish, but I didn’t want to give any of it up, to give any of her up.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  She gave me a weak half grin. “Because I’m the only one who knows your new filing system?”

  “Partially,” I answered with a slight grin of my own.

  Her smile vanished and her gaze went back to studying the drink she had yet to touch. “I have to think about it.”

  Saturdays were usually reserved for sleeping in and doing nothing. Already, by leaving my apartment, I had done more that day than any Saturday in a very long time. Yet it felt like I had accomplished nothing.

  I returned from my meeting with Ali and went straight back to bed. I didn’t even bother undressing as I threw myself face down on the mattress. My boots hit the floor and I burrowed into the pillows. But sleep never came. I lay awake, staring at my bedside table and wondering what Ali was doing. Had she gone home as well? Was she in her apartment that very moment, naked except for her robes? Last we spoke, she had mentioned having bought a few different ones. I would be lying if I wasn’t curious to see them on her, or off her. Mostly off. It had only been a day and I already missed the sounds of her moans.

  At seven, my phone never rang. I watched it, waiting for it to spring to life and nothing. The disappointment was crushing. I felt like a child at Christmas without any presents under the tree.

  Rolling out of bed, I left my bedroom at last, finally finding a purpose. I moved into the living room and went straight to the terrace doors. The steel hoops hissed along the rode I shoved the curtains apart and peered through the glass at her apartment.

  She stood with her shoulder propped against the doorframe. Her arms were folded beneath her breasts and in one hand, she held her phone. I didn’t know what part of that made my insides hurt more, that she was there and hadn’t called, or that she was there and wanted to.

  I pulled away. I had to. The alternative was to open the doors and step outside with her and I couldn’t do that. Not when I couldn’t tell her what I wanted, when I couldn’t even tell myself. Going out there would only confuse things further and she was hurting enough.

  Closing my drapes, I moved back into my gloomy apartment and returned to bed.

  Tamara refused to speak to me when I arrived for Sunday dinner. She sat sullen and stone faced in the kitchen with her arms folded and her face stubbornly averted. I didn’t care. She could be pissed off all she wanted. I honestly would rather see her hate me, than see her dead, or worse.

  Mom was tense. She kept rattling on about random things that I was sure no one was listening to. Jonas occasionally bobbed his head like whatever she was talking about made perfect sense, but Earl and I were lost in our own thoughts, which suited us both just fine.

  Earl had invited a friend to dinner. He hadn’t mentioned her name, but it must have been serious, because he hadn’t brought a woman over since grandma died almost twenty years ago. I could tell he was nervous, and it also made sense why he wanted Ali over as badly as he did. Maybe he thought his friend would feel more comfortable if she wasn’t the only outsider at dinner. I wasn’t sure if Ali was coming, or not, but part of me was equally anxious to see her.

  When the doorbell rang, Earl and I both jumped. No one seemed to notice, except Tamara, who arched a brow at us.

  “I’ll get it!” Mom said, cracking the ladle against the side of the steaming pot and rushing off, ladle still in hand.

  A moment later, we heard her excited exclamation as the ne
wcomer was welcomed in. I couldn’t tell from the muffled voices who it was, but my palms were sweaty and I had a whole jungle going crazy in the pit of my stomach. I would have laughed at myself for acting like a guy on his first date, except nothing about my situation was funny. At least not to me.

  Mom returned with a figure in tow.

  It wasn’t Ali.

  This woman was tall with a smile that lit up her brown eyes. She moved with the grace of a dancer, or a model, but was dressed like a woman who took on powerful men in a boardroom. Her crimson dress suit was cut to perfectly compliment her willowy silhouette. Her hair was sheered to a regal chin in a sleek bob that gleamed like a platinum helmet on top of her head. In one slender hand, she held her purse, in the other, a bottle of wine.

  “Beatrice!” Earl leaped out of his seat and hurried across the kitchen to greet his guest. “You came.”

  Beatrice chuckled, a deep throaty sound of someone who had spent the better part of their life smoking. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

  Earl waved her apology aside with a shake of his head and took the hand holding the purse. “Come in. I want you to meet everyone.”

  While Earl made the introductions, I peeked at my watch. It was already after five.

  She wasn’t coming.

  “Gabe, can you get the—”

  The doorbell chimed.

  I was out of my seat before the tinkle of bells fully faded from the air. I might have shouted something about getting it, but I couldn’t be sure as I sprinted to the front door.

  Ali peered up at me from the front porch, a boxed pie in her hands.

  “Hi,” she whispered.

  I had never been so happy to see anyone in my life.

  “Hi.”

  “I brought pie,” she said, holding the dessert up for me to see. “I thought wine, but Tamara can’t drink and it wouldn’t be fair so I…” She pulled in a breath. “I’m sorry I’m late. I kept arguing with myself whether or not to come. At one point, I think I even declared war on myself, I’m not sure, but I think I won, so … here I am.”