The Follower

by Jason Starr

  As she went to the cart to buy her bagel and coffee, he stood on the corner of Fifty-first and Lexington, watching her. Then, while she was paying, she suddenly turned and looked right at him. He reacted quickly, immediately walking away, and he wasn’t sure if she recognized him or not. He was disappointed with himself for not sticking to the plan, for being so impulsive, so careless. He never should’ve gotten so close to her.

  He walked the streets for most of the morning, deciding that it might not be as bad as it seemed. If she’d noticed him, he could simply say she’d made a mistake, that he wasn’t there. But the entire morning had been a major wake-up call. He knew if he needed to follow her again, he’d have to get a better disguise.

  Meanwhile, his desire to be with her, to talk to her, didn’t let up. Although it was his day off, after a nap he went into work to lift weights. Katie usually worked out in the early evening on weekdays and he hoped she’d show up. If she didn’t, he had no idea how he’d make it through the night.

  When he saw her arrive at the gym for the advanced step class, it was a huge relief. He coolly offered to help her with a hamstring stretch. Touching her skin for the first time was incredible. He’d been imagining what it would feel like and it was even warmer and softer than he’d expected. He couldn’t wait until she was his and he could touch all of her whenever he wanted to.

  Then he told her that he broke up with his girlfriend and he could tell that this pleased her. Everything was going great until she started talking about Frat Boy again.

  Peter couldn’t believe she still liked that loser. When she said she was going on a double date on Wednesday night with him and another couple, Peter felt like somebody had ripped a hole through his gut. He fought through it, figuring, Okay, I’ll go out with her the night after and then she’ll forget all about fucking Frat Boy. The crushing blow came when she agreed to go out to dinner with him on Thursday but said that it had to be “casual.” He was surprised he was even able to speak afterward, but he managed to control himself, telling her that he had no problem with that at all. Meanwhile, he was already thinking about ways to get rid of the little scumbag.

  He didn’t want to deviate from the script so drastically, but he knew he had no choice. Frat Boy had become more than an obstacle; suddenly he was a major problem. She was spending way too much time with him. He realized he might have misjudged the Frat Boy thing from the beginning. For all he knew they would fall in love and there was no way Peter was going to let that happen.

  That night, after he left the gym, he wandered around the Upper East Side. Like a soldier on a reconnaissance mission, he knew he had to familiarize himself with the area and find the perfect method and location for an attack. After all, he couldn’t go up to Frat Boy on a crowded street and stick a knife in his back. He had to find a place where they’d be alone, and then he had to figure out a way to get him there. He also had to find a better disguise because the Yankees cap and sunglasses weren’t hacking it.

  He liked the idea of doing it in a park at night, but he thought it would be easier to follow him into the vestibule of his building and take care of him there. If Frat Boy lived in a place like Katie’s, in a walk-up apartment on a dark side street, it would be perfect. As for a disguise, Peter decided he’d have to change his hair color, so he went to a drugstore and bought a can of dark brown temporary spray-in hair color. When he colored his hair, goatee, and eyebrows, he barely recognized himself. He still didn’t know exactly how he’d get rid of Frat Boy, but he knew that he wanted to strangle him rather than stab him—the less blood the better—so he went to a medical supply store and bought latex gloves to make sure he didn’t leave any DNA or whatever from his nails on Frat Boy’s neck.

  To test his disguise, he waited for Katie outside her office and followed her home. Although he stayed a safe distance away from her, she turned and looked in his direction one time and obviously had no idea who he was. He followed her home and then waited across the street from her building. It was the night of the double date and Frat Boy and his friend arrived at around seven o’clock. It was painful watching Frat Boy go into the building. Peter wanted to run across the street and take care of him right there, but he managed to control himself. Later, when the two couples left the building and headed toward Second Avenue, Peter followed.

  While the foursome dined outside at Mustang on Eighty-fifth and Second, Peter was watching from the other side of the avenue. Although Katie laughed occasionally, he could tell she was unhappy, that she didn’t want to be there. After dinner, the group went to a bar. Peter went in, too, hanging out near the front, and the disguise worked because Katie had no idea he was there. Then the couples left the bar and got into a cab. Peter didn’t know where they were going and was afraid he’d lose them, but he managed to hail another taxi. He felt like he was in some corny crime movie when he shouted, “Follow that cab!” He trailed them into the wraparound drive of a very large apartment complex off Third Avenue. He figured this was where one of the Frat Boys lived, or maybe they were roommates. The building had a concierge and doormen, and there were security cameras everywhere, so Peter couldn’t get too close.

  He hung out in the public space, near Third Avenue, waiting for Katie to exit the building, but when it got to be one A.M. on the night before a workday, he realized that this wasn’t happening. The images in Peter’s head of what was going on in that apartment were nearly unbearable. But he couldn’t hate Katie for it. She was a victim, that was all. She was vulnerable, naive, lonely. Besides, how could he hate someone who was so perfect in every possible way?

  Peter stood outside the apartment building the entire night. If he had to go to the bathroom, he didn’t notice. Finally, at around six A.M., Katie left. What kind of asshole was Frat Boy, not even taking her home or putting her in a cab? But standing off to the side, watching her hail a cab, Peter still couldn’t hate her. He was disappointed in her, for sure, but he blamed Frat Boy. When that asshole was gone, everything would be different.

  At around eight o’clock, Frat Boy left the building, wearing a suit. Peter followed him down to the subway at Ninety-sixth Street and onto the platform. Then Peter couldn’t believe it when Frat Boy started hitting on the girl next to him. Was he the biggest scumbag of all time or what? The girl didn’t seem at all interested, but he kept smiling, staring at her even when she was looking away. He reminded Peter of the jerks he used to see on spring break in Mexico. Assholes who went around thinking with their dicks, whose lives revolved around drinking and getting laid. There were so many empty, meaningless people like that in the world—who would care if one of them disappeared? As a train arrived at the station, Peter wanted to push Frat Boy off the platform. But with the girl and other people right there, he decided it would be way too risky.

  During the ride to Grand Central, Peter watched Frat Boy hit on and strike out with two other girls. At Grand Central, he followed him out of the station, out to Park Avenue. Then he watched him enter an office building. He hung around for a while, then realized that he’d been so preoccupied that he’d completely forgotten about his date later on with Katie.

  Figuring he’d better get some sleep or he’d be exhausted, he rushed back to his hotel room. He was lying in bed, imagining every detail of how the date would go with Katie, when she called. He felt like he’d willed it to happen. He was so excited to hear her voice that he didn’t realize she was canceling the date with him until after he heard it for the third time. He was too stunned to plead with her. He might’ve said something like “Okay, well maybe I’ll see you some other time,” but he wasn’t sure. He might’ve just hung up on her.

  The whole thing was crumbling—all the dreams, all the planning had gone to shit. When he got ahold of himself, maybe an hour, two hours later, he decided he had to do something immediately.

  Peter showered and sprayed fresh brown color into his hair, eyebrows, and goatee. He had no idea when he’d have the opportunity to do it, but he wanted to be pr
epared. He put his latex gloves in his pocket and left the hotel room.

  At a few minutes after five o’clock, Frat Boy left his office building and Peter followed. Grand Central Station was too mobbed to try anything, and the train uptown was packed as well. Peter felt good, though, knowing he was within striking distance.

  Leaving the subway at Ninety-sixth Street, Peter got more brazen. As they went up the stairs, he was right behind Frat Boy, and he stayed just several feet away as he followed him around the corner, to Ninety-fifth Street. He noticed that Frat Boy’s neck wasn’t very thick. It would be easy to fit his hands around it, and he had to resist the impulse to just reach out and do it.

  Peter stopped at the corner of Ninety-fifth and Third and watched Frat Boy head along the brick drive toward the building’s entrance. Although Katie didn’t say why she was canceling the date, Peter was certain it had to do with fucking Frat Boy. After all, they’d spent the night together last night, so it figured that they’d made plans to see each other again. Yeah, like that was going to happen.

  It started drizzling. Afraid about his hair color running, Peter jogged to Duane Reade, a block away, and bought an umbrella. It was a good thing because when he left the store the rain was coming down harder. He returned to the building, standing under an overhang where he was sheltered from the rain. But he realized that this could be a big waste of time. The building was part of a huge complex; there were probably several entrances and it would be easy to miss someone coming or going.

  Then Peter had a much better idea. He walked to Katie’s block and waited across from her building. Hopefully Frat Boy would arrive to pick her up, or she would go to meet him somewhere, and Peter would follow.

  Peter waited in the rain near Katie’s building for about two hours. At around eight o’clock, Frat Boy came walking down the block. He looked so cookie-cutter, like any Frat Boy in the world going on a date, wearing a dark green button-down shirt tucked into jeans and his hair gelled back. Again, Peter realized how irrelevant, how inconsequential this guy was. There were so many in the world just like him that killing him would be like squashing an ant.

  As Frat Boy approached the building, Peter looked around in every direction and saw that no one was around. He put on the gloves quickly, then crossed the street. Frat Boy was heading up the stoop to the building and Peter wanted to get to him before he had a chance to buzz Katie. He put one foot on the stoop when he noticed the curly-haired girl entering the vestibule, on her way out of the building. Of course Frat Boy smiled at her and said something and Peter knew his opportunity was gone. He made a U-turn and went back across the street.

  He waited in the rain, staring at the building. At some point, a Chinese delivery guy arrived. Peter knew the food was being delivered to Katie’s apartment. They’d probably spend another fucking night together.

  Peter didn’t care if he had to spend the whole night in the rain, without food, pissing in the street; he wasn’t going anywhere. He felt like he had to at least be near Katie—if not emotionally, then physically.

  Then, at about eleven-thirty, like a prayer answered, Frat Boy left the building. The rain had diminished to a drizzle. Peter followed him down the block, then uptown to Second Avenue. He was probably going back to his building. There were plenty of other people around, so Peter knew he couldn’t try anything. He thought he’d have to wait for another night to do it, then Frat Boy went into a bar. Peter looked around for security cameras. He only spotted one, outside an apartment building to the left of the bar, and was sure to avoid it. Then, standing outside, he formed a plan.

  When Peter entered the bar, he saw that Frat Boy, that slimeball, had already struck up a conversation with a girl—like Katie wasn’t enough for him. If he left with the girl, the plan would’ve been shot to hell, but Peter thought, Blow him off, blow him off, and she did—well, giving him her number first, but there was no hook-up.

  Feeling all-powerful, Peter sidled up to Frat Boy at the bar and started reeling him in. One time a couple of weeks ago, Peter had seen Katie with Frat Boy, and he remembered that Frat Boy had been wearing a Phillies cap. Using baseball as an entree, Peter was easily able to make the idiot believe they had met before. The tough part was segueing to the story about his wife, Cleara, the horny Brazilian model. As Peter was laying it on, he realized how ridiculous it probably sounded, and he didn’t think there was any way in hell that even a moron like Frat Boy would go for it. But the guy must’ve been even more of a walking hard-on than Peter had thought, because he bought the whole thing, hook, line, and sinker.

  They left the bar together. The only remaining question was whether Frat Boy would fall for the drug-dealer story, or would Peter have to drag him into the park by force and strangle him in the bushes? Frat Boy bit again and Peter was able to lure him toward the underpass. As they approached the stairs, Peter faked a sneezing fit and was able to put on the large latex gloves. Then, in the tunnel, when he attacked, Peter was surprised that the bastard didn’t put up much of a fight. It was like he knew that his fate was to die, and he just gave in to it.

  FIFTEEN

  Katie entered the deli on Lexington and Forty-eighth and saw Amanda waving to her at a table off to the left. Katie made a salad at the salad bar, then sat down across from Amanda and said, “I want to hear everything.”

  “No,” Amanda said. “I want to hear everything about you guys.”

  “You first.”

  “I told you on the phone—it was nice.”

  “Details, girl, I want details.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Amanda said. “He’s a great guy. He called me last night and we talked for, like, an hour.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, and we’re going out tomorrow night.”

  “I’m so happy for you.”

  “Thanks.”

  Amanda blushed, seeming in love. Katie hadn’t seen her get like this about a guy in a long time and it was great to see.

  “So,” Katie said. “How was it?”

  Smiling, Amanda said, “There’s not much to say.”

  “Did you guys—”

  “No, we just kissed and stuff, then went to sleep. He was a total gentleman.”

  “That’s very cool,” Katie said, remembering how Andy had been the opposite last Friday night.

  “So what about you guys?” Amanda asked.

  “It’s a lot better,” Katie said. “He was great the other night and he was great last night, too.”

  “Two nights in a row?”

  “I know, right? But, yeah, he was really sweet. I mean, he didn’t stay last night, but he said he had to get up early so…”

  “I guess that’s excusable.”

  “There was one weird thing.” Katie looked around, then whispered, “It’s kind of graphic but, did a guy ever try to, like…put his, you know…into your…”

  “He tried that?”

  “Two times. I mean, both nights.”

  Now Amanda looked concerned. “Did he—?”

  “No, no, not at all. He just, like…tried.”

  “Wait, let me guess. Did he say, ‘If it hurts, I promise I’ll stop’?”

  “Almost. He said, ‘I promise I’ll be gentle.’ “

  Katie and Amanda laughed so hard people started looking over.

  Then Amanda said, “Do they honestly think that’ll work? A girl’ll go, ‘Oh, you’ll stop if it hurts. That’s so nice of you. So if your dick starts tearing into me, you’ll stop. That’s good to know—thank you so much.’ “

  Katie was laughing.

  “So he’s into anal sex, huh?” Amanda continued. “So I guess if I see you walking funny one day, I’ll know why.”

  “Shut up!”

  “I’m surprised you can sit down now. Doesn’t it hurt?”

  Katie and Amanda laughed even harder, trying to catch their breath.

  “But, seriously,” Amanda said, “I have to admit, Andy seemed like a really nice guy and you two seem great t
ogether.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Isn’t it amazing? A few weeks ago, we were complaining, thinking there were no nice guys in this city. I was joking with my friend Meg the other day, going, I’m ready to throw in the towel, explore my lesbian tendencies. But now look at us.”

  “Will’s so cute.”

  “I know, isn’t he? When I first saw him I was like, Uh-oh, he’s so good-looking and he’s wearing scrubs on a first date. I thought he’d be really self-centered, just talking about himself all night, like that. But he was the total opposite. And I have to admit, I was definitely wrong about Andy.”

  “You think?”

  “Definitely. You have chemistry.”

  “Yeah,” Katie said. “I guess we do.”

  Smiling, Amanda said, “So what’d you think of their apartment?”

  “Gross.”

  “Disgusting, right?”

  “I saw something moving in the bathroom garbage.”

  “Oh my God, what was it?”

  “I have no idea. But I got out of there fast.”

  They started laughing hysterically again. Later, when they were leaving the deli, they talked about going on another double date, maybe even this weekend. Katie said she would talk to Andy and Amanda planned to ask Will.

  Heading back toward her office, Katie thought about her conversation with Amanda and laughed out loud. She felt lucky to have such a great friend. The last couple of days, as things in her life had started turning around, she’d been realizing that she’d been so down about everything that she didn’t appreciate what she had. It was time to start focusing on the positive. She had lots of great friends, supportive parents, and a really cool boyfriend. Even her job didn’t seem so bad. Yeah, Mitchell acted like a dick sometimes—well, a lot of the time—but everything that had gotten her so down before suddenly seemed so petty, even silly.