Loathe at First Sight
Page 21
First, the pitcher of “Grown-Up Gluten-Free Vodka Kool-Aid Punch” arrived at our table, along with two red Dixie cups. The mini–tofu dogs and sprouted organic potato salad came next. To me they tasted fine, but Candace took a bite of each one and spit them into her napkin.
Vegan baked beans soon followed, and then for dessert we had campfire s’mores that we could roast tableside. I ate about a dozen charred s’more bites, while interspersing toasts to the bride-to-be with the never-ending supply of spiked grape Kool-Aid. Aside from the astronomical bill and the fear of floors cracking and us falling into the koi swarms, the night turned out to be much more fun than expected.
Jane fell into me with a lazy smile plastered on her face. “Our limo is outside, we should head out.”
Candace whispered, “Wow, even though she’s completely hammered, she’s still keeping us on schedule! I need to run to the bathroom before we go. Sorry, pregnancy makes me pee a ton!”
I turned to Jane. “Are we really going to a club with a frequently peeing pregnant woman?”
“Ab-so-fucking-lutely! This might be one of Candace’s last crazy nights out in a long time.”
I hadn’t considered this was Candace’s last hurrah before having kids. Jane would be getting married soon and settling down too. And as for me, well, I took the night off and wasn’t working on that cursed video game. The game that would make or break my production career. The game that put a bull’s-eye on my back for all those online trolls.
More drinks, anyone?
WE JUMPED INTO the limo and I poured two glasses of champagne and made Candace a sparkling apple juice cocktail with maraschino cherries and a lime garnish.
I gave a toast. “To Queen Jane. May all her drinks be paid for tonight. And may she pass those free drinks over to me.”
We giggled and clinked glasses. Candace went next.
“Cheers to my girls! We’ve been through a lot together.” A flash of melancholy spread across her face, and then she burst into tears.
“Oh my god, Candace, are you okay?” I asked at the same time Jane yelped, “Oh my god, Candace, your makeup is running!” We both handed her fistfuls of tissues, for different reasons.
Candace blew her nose. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be crying at a bachelorette party. I guess I’m sad that so much has changed recently. I got married, I’m having a baby soon. A year ago, my life was much more carefree. Now my life will never be the same. I think this might be my hormones talking, though.” She took a deep breath and fanned her face with her hands.
I reached out and patted her arm. “Candace, we’re here for you, no matter what.”
Jane patted her other arm. “Well, whatever you think of your life, at least you’re not getting ripped apart online like Melody, by a bunch of douchebag losers who probably live in their mom’s basement.”
“Yeah, Melody, what’s going on with that?” Candace had stopped crying and had regained her composure.
I shrugged. “Well, I know a few things now. Like that the Seattle police don’t know jack shit about tracking down trolls, so your bunch of feminist hackers are helping me figure out who the really dangerous ones are. I just hope they find something soon. Oh, I have a 2.5-star review average on my game, with over five hundred reviews, and the game still isn’t out yet.”
Jane said, “Yikes. That’s terrible.” She topped off my champagne glass.
“It’s gone up from 1.5 stars last week. So there’s that.”
Candace asked, “Can I help with anything? I could do the publicity for your game. I’ll be on maternity leave soon and bored out of my mind. I could put a PR plan together!” She seemed to be back to her old, bubbly self. Maybe she needed a friend in crisis to distract her. Or maybe it really was hormones. If Candace could help with the media outreach for the launch, then this game might actually have a chance to succeed.
“Candace, you are brilliant. I’d love your help with PR. A million yeses! Thank you!” She gave me a side hug, and we toasted again.
Jane squealed, “We’re here!” as the limo slowly rolled up to the Saturn Club.
The line of patrons wrapped around the block, fully encircling the building. Jane walked right up to the bouncer, and within nanoseconds he unhooked the velvet rope and waved us through. I had to give her credit, Jane had her shit together. And that made my life easier as maid of honor.
The hostess just inside the front entrance tapped around on her iPad to look up our reservation. She walked us over to a set of tables with Reserved signs. “You can pick any open table here. The minimum table purchase is five hundred. Is it just you three?” She handed us a menu listing bottle prices of whiskey, scotch, tequila, and their own signature Intergalactic Punch made with absinthe, pineapple juice, ginger, and lime. The other tables were occupied with investment banker and corporate lawyer bro types. Our adjacent male compadres ogled as we settled into our table. Jane loved the attention and even winked at a few admirers.
I rolled my eyes. “Ugh, this place reminds me of those Korean nightclubs where the men get table service and leer at female patrons, and then ask for the pretty ones to be escorted to their table.”
Jane waved down the petite Asian waitress and asked for a bottle of Grey Goose. When she left with our order, Jane motioned for us to lean in so we could hear her. “One of my firm’s partners owns this club. He’s done a lot of business in Korea and really liked the nightlife there. So yeah, this place is modeled after those ‘booking’ clubs in Seoul.”
The table made a whirring sound as our vodka ascended to the center section, along with shot glasses and mixers. Jane and I poured ourselves two shots each and tossed them both back.
“Let’s go dance!” Jane grabbed my hand, and I pulled Candace off her seat to come, too. With surprising steadiness, Jane scampered down the stairs and led us through the crowd. I glanced back to see if anyone had stolen the $300 bottle of Grey Goose we left on the table.
“Nice tiara!” a handsome (but barely my height) guy yelled out to Jane. She gave him a dazzling smile and kept moving toward the main dance area. Candace’s belly whacked into people when she turned left or right.
Jane and I stood on our tippy-toes to see if we could find clearance in any parts of the dance floor. Some space cleared near the DJ booth, by a gigantic overhead speaker the size of the three of us put together, so that was undesirable. Jane shouted to Candace and me, “Okay, stand facing me and form a circle. When I say ‘now,’ slowly take a step back. Let’s do that a few times to see if we can make room.” She sounded like she knew what she was doing, so Candace and I nodded and awaited her instructions.
“Now!” she yelled. I took a step back and my heel clamped down on the back of someone’s shoe. “Sorry,” I whimpered and then turned back around cringing.
Candace bumped into a man holding a drink, which he spilled on himself. He turned around with arms cocked, ready for a fight, but looked down and noticed her belly. His face softened. “Oh man, a true party girl! Can I touch it?” She shot him an if you touch my belly I will murder you here and now look. He winced and scooched forward a little. Candace took another step back.
Jane’s tiara caught the light and sparkled wildly as we danced, reflecting little rainbows all over the place. She slithered to the music while Candace bopped along. I took some photos, then swayed and stumbled to the beat. All the Kool-Aid, champagne, and vodka had finally caught up with me.
A drunk guy wearing sunglasses on his head came over to chat. “Helloooooo, bride-to-be. You’re so pretty and sparkly.”
Jane looked away sheepishly and then fixed her stare right back on him. “You think I’m pretty?”
Candace and I exchanged a glance. Oh, please.
He stepped closer to her. “You are VERY pretty. And I love how you dance. Any chance you want to have one last fun night before you get married?”
I cleared my throat and tugged on her elbow. “Hey, let’s go back to our table. I’m feeling claustrophobic.”
The waitress came by our table and we ordered kimchi fried rice, fries with gochujang dip, and spicy stir-fried rice cake. Yeah, there was no doubt now that this club was inspired by the Korean clubbing scene. Half the menu was filled with the kind of bar food you ate at 2 A.M. with your Korean friends after a night of heavy debauchery.
Throughout the night, as men of all shapes and sizes stopped by our table to chat with us, did they wonder why someone dressed like Lady Diana showed up to the club with her frumpy Asian friend and extremely pregnant sidekick? Maybe they were too drunk to notice, I concluded.
When our ginormous food order arrived, we passed around the platters of fried-up goodness and laughed the night away. Just as I stuffed some stir-fried spicy rice cakes into my mouth, I received a text from an Unknown ID.
You girls look like you’re having fun tonight. Congratulations to the bride.-DDay
My heart stopped. I scanned the room in slow motion. Everyone around me, smiling, drinking, dancing, eating. Jane’s tiara head thrown back in laughter. People making out at other tables. Twentysomethings on the dance floor grinding so hard they looked like they were making babies right there in front of me.
No one lurked. No one stared. But someone was here, watching me.
“I have to get out! He’s here!” Jane and Candace gaped as I knocked over my drink and scrambled out of the booth. “I’m sorry. I need to leave!” I grabbed my purse and ran to the entrance, bumping and elbowing my way out.
“Ow! Yeah, you better get out of here!”
“Watch your back!”
“I’ll fuck you up for that!”
Hate-filled words ricocheted around the room and enveloped me as I pressed onward to the exit. Sweat and tears streamed down my face as I thrust my trembling body through the front door, straight into a downpour.
Shit. My umbrella would have come in handy now.
Shivering, drenched, and terrified, I turned around to make sure no one followed me out.
How could I stay safe now? Danger was everywhere and I had nowhere to hide.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Can you explain one more time on how this stalker found your number?” The male police sergeant on the scene looked retirement age and had kind crinkles around his eyes. Very grandfatherly and sympathetic. But he didn’t know shit about troll stalkers.
Club patrons and onlookers took selfies in front of the patrol car. Wil called Nolan, his stripper BFF, who sped to the club in his green plaid pajamas and gave me his bathrobe for warmth. In any other circumstance I would have teased him about his PJs, but this wasn’t the time. To any passerby, I looked pretty silly standing in front of the club with a plush blue bathrobe, but it warmed me up, and that’s what counted. He opened an umbrella and held it over our heads while the sergeant took notes.
I choked back sobs and described to the officer how I’d been doxed and my phone number had been leaked. “I got my number removed from the message boards, but this stalker still has it. You can add this incident to the harassment case already open with Seattle Police.” He typed my name into his patrol car laptop and couldn’t find me. After a few tries, he found me under “Melanie.”
Tears fell onto the robe and were quickly absorbed by the lush plush. What would Jane say about my hideous makeup now streaked down my face? I snickered inside at the thought of her backing away with her hands up, denying knowing me, and then turning and fleeing.
I leaned my head on Nolan’s shoulder. “Why me?”
I’d already asked this question many times before.
I had asked myself Why me? with each hate-filled email I opened, read, and deleted.
Why me? I’d wondered when anonymous racists called me a chink, jap, or gook on those gaming message boards, and no one came to my defense. Some idiot had even called me a spic and no one contested him. These fools couldn’t even get their racist terms straight.
I’d questioned Why me? when an angry keyboard warrior claimed that my silence on social media was evidence that I secretly passed judgment on those who engaged in trolling me. This guy received hundreds of likes for his post. What kind of messed-up logic was that, when silence and lack of retaliation somehow meant I was a judgy bitch?
What was motivating these haters? Competitiveness? Gender, class, or race entitlement? Jealousy, or boredom, or maybe combat for combat’s sake? Perhaps just good old-fashioned caveman-with-club misogyny? Were they doing it for the laughs? Or worse, all of the above? It could be anything. Or everything.
Danger lurked everywhere now, both online and out in the real world. Even though no one had physically harmed me, yet, could anyone actually ensure my safety? Like paranoid prey, I continually checked my surroundings and flinched at even the smallest unexpected noise. How had control over my own life slipped away so quickly?
Nolan folded me into him as we waited for the police squad to check for any possible larger threats to the establishment and to the patrons inside. With my cheek against his warm, taut chest, I felt his heartbeat pulsing as hard and fast as mine. Slowly, he stroked my hair as I cried into his shirt.
Candace volunteered to take Jane home. During the sergeant’s interview, she’d screamed at one point, “My maid of honor is HOT, look at her! No wonder people want to stalk her. She’s HOT!” Her outburst was comical at first, but after about twenty seconds of that on repeat, it became unbearable. Candace gave me a final hug and helped put hiccupping Jane into the Liftr car. I could say with 100 percent certainty that Jane would be puking her brains out within the hour, and Candace would need to deal with that. That tiara, an unfailing beacon for alcohol donations, had earned Jane a lot of extra free drinks.
Sergeant Banks came over and wiped a handkerchief across his sweaty forehead. “Well, to me this stalking sounds like it’s the responsibility of the internet companies who host those message boards. One would hope that one of the biggest technology meccas in the world would have a police department that was better at investigating cases like these. Give us a burglar or car jacker or something and we can handle that better.”
“So what you’re saying is . . . even though we have clear-cut evidence of stalking, death threats, and assault warnings, you can’t help her?” Nolan asked.
His slight shrug said everything. “Our resources are limited—it’ll take us quite some time to pull everything together.”
I didn’t have “quite some time.” I sent WheedWacker a screenshot of the anonymous message with my text, Can you ID this stalking asshole?
An immediate reply. Fuckers like these are tricky. Need more info. Dynamic IPs, IP spoofing, using relays is the norm these days for these guys but we’ll hunt ’em down. We’ve been deleting and reporting your personal info when we see it online and on the Darknet. When you reactivated your social media accounts to post tonight’s photos, we think the anon creepster wanted to spook you. Delete all your photos and suspend accounts immediately.
I did. I deleted everything. All my social media accounts, gone. I asked the sergeant, “What if I find out these stalkers’ identity? Can you make arrests then?”
He raised his eyebrows. “It would be more likely.” Much more encouraging than a shrug.
Candace and Jane had already gone, and as the police entourage thinned out, it was time to leave. With Nolan’s arm still draped over my shoulder, I turned to face him, to thank him for being there with me. Supporting me through yet another crisis.
His eyes gleamed, even in the cloud-covered darkness. For what felt like an eternity, we stared at each other, like we did on top of those stairs, just moments before our lips met and he returned my kiss, leaving me roused and confused. I thought back to when Candace and Jane had said I was too picky when it came to men and needed to be open to opportunities.
Well, here was opportunity st
anding right in front of me.
This time I knew what I wanted.
I wanted Nolan.
When I stepped a little closer to him, his lips twisted into a slight frown as he pulled his arm away from me. “Hey, you’ve been through a lot tonight,” he said, offering me a wavering smile. “You’ve been drinking and under duress, and the last time we did this”—he hesitated with his next words—“you regretted it. Like, a lot.” He stiffened and scratched his cheek. “The most important thing for me right now is to get you home safely. Is that okay?”
Numb from both the frigid weather and his rejection, I barely nodded. Had I missed my chance with him?
With Nolan’s hand barely touching my back, we walked over to a Subaru. My eyes widened when he unlocked the doors. “You have a Subaru Legacy? I pegged you as a BMW guy.”
He smirked. “Really? I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended by that. I bought this car when I realized I’d be moving to Seattle. I read somewhere that it was one of the most popular cars in Washington State.” His face fell instantly when he remembered something. “But I might need to sell it soon.”
The early morning mist had already settled on his windshield. With his wipers on full blast, he swished away the dewy wetness as he drove me home. Biting my lip during the quiet drive, I couldn’t help but wonder if he was moving to New York. If anything could ever happen between us. If this attraction was just one-way. How different would everything be if I had stopped worrying, doubting, and overthinking and had just let things play out on that stairwell?
I CALLED MY parents early in the morning after my apartment building was swept for bombs (yes, BOMBS).
“Your daddy and me still wonder how you get a stalker. Stalker usually go after beautiful girl.”
“Thanks for being so supportive, Mom.”
“We watch local evening news every day. All the stalkers want to be boyfriend. Maybe you have secret admire crush.”
I closed my eyes. “Mom, not all stalkers are infatuated with who they are stalking.”