by Nikki Chase
“Oh, that’s not so bad.” I try to keep the positive vibes going, but he’s not making it easy.
“Maybe it’s not so bad for you.” Steve smiles like he genuinely believes he’s giving me a compliment. “But he’s a guy. What happens when he has a wife? Children?”
“Maybe his wife can work.” I shrug with annoyance. I tried. I really tried to keep my mouth shut so we can have a pleasant meal.
“No way. Women, once they have kids, they just want to stay home all day and be with their babies,” he says.
“I’m sure there are women out there who disagree.”
“They’re just fooling themselves.” He dismisses my silly womanly opinion with a wave of his sausage fingers. “All women want to take care of their kids. It’s just biology. You’ll see. You’ll have kids and then you’ll want the same thing,” he says.
Okay, my initial instinct was correct. He’s just one of those guys who think they know everything all women want. Funny how these omniscient men are always the ones who never get laid.
My blood boils, but I keep a lid on it. Arguing with someone like Steve would just be a waste of my breath. So I just nod while I continue eating in silence.
“You know…” Steve’s voice trails off as he looks intensely at me. “I feel like I’ve seen you before. Have you ever lived somewhere else? Like, in the city? I mean, San Francisco?”
Shit. Okay. This is my cue to leave. If he knows me from before I moved here, he knows where I worked. And if he opens that big mouth of his, I could lose my job.
“Oh, excuse me. My phone is ringing. It looks important.” I fish my phone out of my bag. Nobody’s really calling, of course. I have to press a button so the screen isn’t completely dark.
I fake an emergency phone call and quickly dash out of the restaurant, but not before leaving a couple of twenty-dollar bills so Steve wouldn’t accuse me of being one of those women who are just using dating sites to get free meals. Somehow, he strikes me as the kind of guy who’d say something like that.
Damn. Yet another disappointing date. Maybe I should give up already.
Jacob
Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring!
Fuck. I’ve got to change this damn ring tone. It always starts so abruptly I jump from the sound eight times out of ten.
I click the blue icon jumping on my laptop screen to see that it’s Matt calling. I put on my earphones and click the green circle to start the call.
“What?”
“Why are you always so pissed off when I call you, man?” Matt’s frowning face appears on the screen, the graphics lagging a couple of seconds behind the voice.
“Your ugly mug annoys me.” I take a sip of my coffee. Maybe it’ll help me deal with the day.
“Come on. You know you love me. Besides, my Mom tells me I’m handsome.” Matt leans closer to the camera and raises his eyebrows. He squints at his screen. “Did you just wake up? What time is it over there?”
“It’s seven. And yes, I just woke up like twenty minutes ago.” I stretch my hands to the side and yawn.
“God. It pisses me off that you get to sleep in all day.”
“It’s not sleeping all day. It’s called working at night.”
“Po-tay-toh, po-tah-toh.”
I put my mug of coffee down on the cheap particleboard computer desk and sigh. “Why are you calling?”
“You used to be cool, Jacob.” Matt sticks out his bottom lip like he’s five.
This guy used to be an active duty First Class Petty Officer, a Navy SEAL. A damn good one, too. He's got his act together, so everybody likes to ask him for advice. But if you didn't know him, you wouldn’t know it by the way he acts. He can be pretty goofy.
“Negative. I was never cool.” I chuckle.
“And yet here I am, the coolest guy ever, calling you. All because I’m a great friend who’s worried about you. And you don’t even appreciate it.” He sighs in mock disappointment.
“What are you even worried about?” I frown. “I don’t need you to fucking babysit me, man.”
“Oh, right. I forgot about that temper of yours. I just want to check that you’re doing fine.”
“Of course I am.”
“Business doing well?”
“It would be if you weren’t harassing me.”
“You're still moving around? Not seeing anyone? I almost regret teaching you how to make your own money.”
“What are you talking about? That was the best thing you've ever done for me. Really.”
“Yeah. I just think… Maybe it's time for you to stop traveling so much. Think about settling down with a nice girl. You’ve never taken any woman seriously after the thing with that stripper, and I really don't think that's healthy.”
“What do you want me to do about it? Nice girls don't just grow on trees.” I shrug. Jesus, this guy. Just because he’s seeing some girl, suddenly he’s a relationship expert.
“Bullshit. I know you get your dick wet on the regular. Maybe pick one from your harem and just do it.”
“It doesn't work like that.” I squint at the image on the screen in front of me. I'm still talking to Matt, my buddy from the Navy SEAL, and not my nosy Aunt Ida, right?
“Yeah, okay. I'm not saying you should settle down tomorrow. Just try to take your dates more seriously. You know?”
“Uh-huh.” I pull up the Internet browser window on the computer. Maybe I should catch up on today's news instead of listening to this lecture.
“I just don't like seeing you getting all hung up on some stripper you slept with eons ago. Strippers do that, you know. Just ghost people and disappear without a trace. Doesn't mean all girls will do that to you. Try some other profession next time. Say, a hairdresser, or a teacher.”
I burst into laughter. Fuck, if he only knew how close he's gotten to the truth…
“Hey, I'm trying to have a serious conversation here,” Matt says with a big shit-eating grin on his face.
“Yeah, whatever,” I say as I peer above the laptop screen, past the horizontal slats of the white plastic blinds covering the window. Jessica’s car rattles as it pulls up into her driveway.
I can see her emerge from the car, between the slats of the blinds. And damn, does she look good. She’s wearing a dress tonight, which doesn’t happen often. I get up to take a closer look before I realize the earbuds in my ears are still plugged into my laptop.
“Hang on,” I tell Matt as I take off the earphones and stand in my usual spot right behind the blinds.
This particular window faces Jessica’s house, which is one of the reasons I like working here. I can see her come and go while I sit in front of the computer.
I position my eyes between two slats to get a clear view of Jessica.
She’s wearing a black, snug dress that shows off the tantalizing outline of her curves. There is some lace above her chest, through which I can see some of her creamy skin peeking through. The heels she’s wearing exaggerates the sway of her hips. It’s almost hypnotizing.
My hands are itching to yank her dress off so I can take a good look at her full, perky tits, her narrow waist, and her curvy ass. Jessica is not a tall woman, but she packs a lot of curves in her otherwise slender, petite body.
In my imagination, Jessica’s looking at me seductively, batting her eyelashes as her full lips form a small smile. I pull the hem of her dress up to see nude stockings that go halfway up her thighs, with a garter belt and suspenders holding them up.
I slip my hand down her panties and find her wet and ready. She moans and begs for more, as her long, fiery red hair is tangled in my hand. I pull until it hurts, forcing her to tilt her head so I can bite hard on her neck.
In reality, Jessica is like five yards away, and yet I can feel myself growing in my sweatpants. The soft fabric clearly outlines my hard cock. I reach my hand down to stroke myself. I’m so fucking glad I live alone right now.
It feels like I’m watching her move in slow motion, the way my eyes tak
e in every small detail of the way she looks tonight. The magic is broken when she gets inside her car and slams the door close hurriedly.
I glance at the clock on the wall. It’s almost seven. There’s not much time left until the market opens. Definitely not enough time left for me to take care of myself.
Then I look at the laptop.
Fuck, I’m still on a video call with Matt. Jesus. He’d never shut up about it if he sees me jerking off while creeping on my neighbor. I’d never live it down.
Luckily, the monitor and the webcam face away from the window where I’m standing.
I stick the earphones back in and take a seat, careful to keep my erection off camera. “Sorry man, I had to take care of something.”
“Hmm… You look suspicious as hell.” Matt leans closer, no doubt to scrutinize my expression.
“Whatever.” I laugh it off. “Hey it's almost time. I should go.”
“Okay. Talk soon.”
“Bye now.” I end the call.
As much as I consider Matt as my family, I don't like the way he was pushing for me to talk about my girl problems. Fuck that. I don't have girl problems. Girls have me problems. I chuckle at my own joke.
On the screen, I pull up my work window. Things are looking good tonight. This makes me feel better about not having time to take care of the boner in my pants. I dive into it and, before I realize it, two hours have flown by.
My knees feel stiff and my ass hurts from sitting for so long. I hear sitting too much is supposed to be as unhealthy as smoking now, so I’ve apparently traded one unhealthy habit for another.
I get up to straighten my legs, but just as I’m about to head to the kitchen to grab some food, I hear something outside.
It’s Jessica’s voice. She sounds frantic.
I stop everything as I perk up my ears to listen.
“Max! Where are you? Help! Someone!”
Jessica
Stan sat beside his lawyer, glowering at me. He looked ridiculous in his orange jumpsuit, but somehow also more menacing.
“What is the nature of the relationship between Mr. Harris and Miss Jones, to the best of your knowledge?” The prosecutor, Perry Davis, looked straight at me and nodded, encouraging me to repeat the same facts I’d told him again and again before the trial.
“I believe they were boyfriend and girlfriend,” I said into the mic, keeping my gaze locked on Perry, a man in his forties with premature grey hair and kind eyes.
“So they were lovers,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Would you say that they had a turbulent relationship?”
“Yes. I’ve walked into them arguing before.”
“Objection, your honor,” Stan’s lawyer said. “All couples have arguments. The fact that Miss Lewis has seen Mr. Harris and Miss Jones having a lovers’ quarrel doesn’t say anything about the quality or dynamics of their relationship.”
In my periphery vision, I could see Stan still glaring at me. I could feel the heat of his anger penetrating my cool exterior. A shiver ran down my spine. The room felt cold even though we were in the middle of an unusually hot summer.
“Overruled,” the judge said.
My heart pounded against my rib cage. My fingers started to shake, and I hid them behind the wooden witness stand so Stan wouldn’t see my anxiety.
“Miss Lewis,” Perry said, catching my gaze and smiling when I looked up to see him. “How often would you say these arguments are?”
“I don’t know. Nancy never told me. I only accidentally saw them sometimes at the club’s dressing room.”
“This is the club owned by Mr. Harris, where both you and Miss Jones were working?”
“Yes.”
“How many times have you seen them fight in the dressing room?”
“I don’t keep count.”
“Would you say it’s every week maybe, or every month?”
“More like every two weeks.”
“Have you seen these fights turn violent, Miss Lewis?”
“Yes.” I stared into Perry’s eyes, ignoring the soft gasps from the audience. It was like I had tunnel vision, the way I only saw Perry clearly and everything else turned into a blur.
“Can you tell the court more about these violent altercations?”
“Once, I saw Stan’s hands around Nancy’s neck. He was strangling her.” My mouth was working on autopilot.
My mind went blank and all I was doing was reciting the testimony I’d already gone through multiple times. It was like my whole body was gripped by a cold, giant, slimy snake that wrapped itself tighter and tighter around my body, depriving my lungs of air and my brain of coherent thoughts.
“Anything else?”
“Nancy sometimes showed up to work with bruises.”
“Objection, your honor. The injuries Miss Lewis refer to may have been caused by anything,” said Stan’s lawyer in a loud voice, which almost made me jump in surprise. I’d never spoken directly with the guy, but I hated his guts.
“Retained,” the judge decided.
“Have you seen Mr. Harris behave aggressively, or violently, toward Miss Jones?”
“Yes. Stan would sometimes corner Nancy and intimidate her until she was shaking in fear.” I made the mistake of glancing in Stan’s direction as I said his name out loud, not knowing that what I was about to see was going to haunt my dreams and keep me on edge for months to come.
“You. Are. Fucked.” Stan mouthed each word slowly, wordlessly, making sure that I’d understood, but without letting anyone else realize he’d just threatened me. He held my gaze hostage and snarled, smirking cruelly when I recoiled in fear.
I try to shake off my ugly thoughts about the trial that happened last year, just before I moved to Ashbourne. I refocus my attention onto the road, but it’s hard to keep my mind still when I’m just driving through familiar streets that I already know like the back of my hand.
I’d been pretty good at forgetting my past and focusing on building a new life for me here, but that was when there were no reminders of my past walking around in town. I could pretend everything was normal, act like I was really just another underpaid teacher in a sleepy little town. Like I didn’t have a dark secret following me around.
I was already nervous when Jacob moved into town. I’d suspected him of being related to Stan somehow, but I quickly ruled that out.
Stan wouldn’t have prolonged things—that’s not his style. If Jacob were working for Stan, he would’ve overpowered me when he saw me by the side of the road last week and taken me back to Stan’s men. Instead, he fixed my car without asking for anything in return.
Sometimes I get a strange feeling like he’s watching me, but there’s no reason why Stan would just keep an eye on me instead of just kidnapping me.
Still, it’s probably a good idea to stay away from Jacob, seeing as he knows about my past as a stripper and I don’t want that information to get out. Even if he doesn’t end up taking me back to Stan, if word gets out I could lose my job in a blink.
And now, there’s Steve. A random Tinder date. Tactless, stuck up, and condescending, but not a danger. At least that’s what I thought until he brought up having seen me in San Francisco.
He seems too tame, too soft, to be one of Stan’s men. But even if he isn’t, bad things could happen if he started digging into my background. If he has, in fact, seen me at the club, he could call them to ask about me. If the club knows where Steve is calling from, it would only be a matter of time until Stan’s guys paid me visit.
I turn onto my street. As my house comes into view, I notice all the lights are off. Strange. I usually keep at least the light on the porch on. Maybe the lightbulb needs to be changed. I think I still have a spare one in the closet.
As I pull up into my driveway, it occurs to me that I usually would’ve had the light on in the living room as well, but my house is completely dark.
Could it be a power outage?, I think to myself, trying to stay posit
ive. But all my neighbors’ houses are as bright as they usually are.
My electricity bills are paid automatically. They just withdraw the amount I owe from my bank account each month so I never miss a payment. There’s no way the electricity company has turned off my power.
I switch off the ignition but keep the headlights on, letting the beams slice through the ominous darkness. How can my house, normally a place of safety and comfort, suddenly seem so alien and sinister?
I get out of my car. Just as I’m about to grab my keys from inside my bag, I realize my front door is open. Because the door is black, I didn’t notice that before.
Shit.
My hands grow clammy as cold sweat and goose bumps cover the surface of my skin. Even though the air is clear, it’s hard to breath. I make the motions I usually do to inhale and exhale, but air wouldn’t enter my lungs. My heart races as I wonder what could’ve happened here.
I get as far as my porch before I take one look down the dark hallway and decide it’s not a good idea to enter on my own.
If it’s Stan, then I should run like hell. If it’s a burglary, they can take whatever they want—it’s not like I have anything of value in there. The only thing I’d miss…
Max.
Where could he be?
I back away from my own front door, the wooden floor of the porch creaking as I step back down the stairs. I walk toward the street, my hands shaking as I fumble in my bag, trying to find my phone so I can call 911.
“Max! Where are you?” I scream into the night, looking left and right, hoping to see a furry creature with floppy ears and a long, pink tongue sticking out of his mouth. I pull out my phone.
Panic grips me as I realize there’s not a soul on the street and nobody would even see me if one of Stan’s men were to grab me right now.
“Help! Someone!”
Jacob
Adrenaline pumps into my blood. I grab a key from my desk drawer and open the locked cabinet to get my Kimber .40 Smith & Wesson. I load the pistol and quickly take an extra mag, just in case.