Slick as Ides

by Chanse Lowell

  “Well, I’m going out of my fucking mind. I need to see her!”

  “I don’t care. I’m not doing this for you or your father anymore. I don’t care if you pay me three times as much as she does. I work for her now. I’m loyal to her. She’s sweet, and vulnerable, and smarter than anyone I’ve ever known. It means a lot to me that she trusts me—now, get out. She’s going to see this anyway, since she has surveillance on my place.” His eyes cut to what must be a hidden camera in the room.

  I smile. “I know she does.”

  “You sick mother fucker! That’s why you’re here? You knew she’d see this and be so enraged she’d come after you?” His voice breaks like a pimply teenager.

  I smirk.

  “I hope she does worse to you than she did to her father. You disgust me.” He grips the cushion on his couch.

  “C’mon. You know she won’t. She’s in love with me. She could’ve turned me in so many times already, and she hasn’t,” I say, taunting him.

  “Leave.”

  I look up at where his camera is, or where he was looking, and give her an air kiss. “I’ll thank you to keep your fucking hands off my girl. If you don’t—”

  “You’ll what?” He pauses and glares at me, his eyes tortured beyond words. “Besides, I’ve never touched her no matter how much I’ve wanted to. If there’s ever any contact, it’s because she’s initiated it. She’s shy, but you wouldn’t know it since you force yourself on her every chance you get.” A guilty look swims in his eyes.

  He’s lying? Or not telling me all of it?

  A knot slips down my throat and chokes at my stomach, making me a little sick.

  “Just keep away.” I echo my earlier warning.

  “I’m sure you’ve already made certain that happens simply by being here,” he replies and then flips me off.

  “And next time, if I need to break into your house to steal something she gives you, at least try to hide it better. Any fucker could’ve come in here, broken into your safe and taken it. This isn’t a joke.” My eyes narrow at him.

  “No—but you are,” he says, fists clenching the seat beneath him.

  I grab my remote, glide out his front door and look through my phone messages like I’ve got all the time in the world. With my back leaning up against his wall next to his front door, I imagine her on her way over, to scream at me until her face turns red.

  She stays away, and I wait for nothing, hanging out far too long in front of his place.

  It’s fine.

  Eventually, she’ll find me.

  She can’t stay away. Not possible.

  I take my time, wandering around the city, hitting a bar on the way home, finally having a drink, even though I know it’ll piss her off.

  Good. I like seeing her all frothy at the mouth with her eyes blazing at me. It makes her horny as fuck, and that cunt goes super snug as I shove my dick inside her. Not to mention she finally says what she thinks and how she feels about me when she gets mad.

  My mind drifts on the way home. Most of my thoughts center on how Dad’s really fucked this all up by keeping these things from me.

  I’m done with him.

  I’m done with Jason.

  I’ll let my roommate continue to think I’m in the dark and have him keep control over the fund for Gregory Winters, but that’s it.

  He’s not messing with any of my inventions or Ides anymore.

  Fucking Ides. God, I miss her so bad, my entire body is breaking down for her, and I die inside over wanting to at least hear her voice.

  When I get home, Jason’s gone, and though I’m on guard, I don’t fucking care he’s out.

  He could be giving my dad a blow job, and I wouldn’t give a fuck.

  I thought I knew him and Dad, but apparently not.

  They mean shit to me.

  I lock my door, and I grab the razor in my side table drawer. In a moment, I’ve got my suture tape ready I invented for her, and I’ve cleaned the area where it’ll go. I make a small nick with the blade in my inner arm, beneath my elbow. The pain is bearable when I breathe in and out real slow and try not to think about it. I set the chip in place and then tape it back up.

  Now I’m chipped. She can find me some day if she wants to.

  “Lights out,” I tell the chip to test it, making sure I rigged it correctly to my specifications for my house and hers.

  The lights blink off.

  Oh, how I want her to find me.

  I want her to know me . . .

  God, I hurt.

  Riot’s fucking hideous words drift through my mind, and I fall asleep, with images of her cowering away from me and crying in a corner as I try to approach her.

  * * *

  It’s been two weeks since I confronted Riot, and still nothing from her or him.

  He’s gone.

  I’ve been told he’s left, and I can barely breathe when I consider her fleeing and disappearing as well. It’s been seven weeks of hell already without her.

  I’m tempted to go visit her father again, but Jason assures me Gregory has sent her the letter.

  Do I believe him?

  I’m not sure, but I’m running out of options.

  I still can’t break into her place, so I’ve taken to following her around any time she leaves her home, which isn’t very often.

  Today’s her grocery shopping day, and now with Riot out of her life, she has to run all these errands herself.

  I park closer than usual, needing to be near her.

  It’s risky, but I don’t give a fuck. I need this.

  She grabs a cart, rushes toward the entrance, her eyes darting around, her shoulders hunched and her hood up, covering her long dark hair.

  She’s spooked by every little thing, and this time, I follow her inside, taking the chance she’ll catch me, rather than sitting out in the parking lot, merely watching her get in and out of her car.

  With shifting eyes, she creeps along the produce section, grabbing the things she needs. Every so often, she pulls out her sanitizer and cleans her hands off.

  I smile at the way she frowns when somebody touches a piece of fruit and sets it back down.

  She fights off a shiver and roams around, grabbing some more ingredients for what looks to be a massive salad.

  When she’s done here, she heads down the aisles one at a time. I keep a distance, but she probably knows she’s being followed.

  I wait for her to ask an employee to send security to keep at her side, but she doesn’t.

  She goes to pay for her food, and I follow her out, still maintaining a distance.

  I wonder if she’s a vegan. She didn’t buy any dairy or meat.

  Another mystery about her I want to unravel.

  I head over to my motorcycle as she disappears, but right before she exits the parking lot, I swear she pauses and looks over her shoulder and glances at me.

  My heart freezes, but then she leaves.

  I tip my head back and a growl rips out of my chest.

  Why? Why won’t she come to me?

  She felt our connection. I know she did.

  Is Riot correct? Am I a psycho stalker?

  I don’t want to hurt her though. I just want her to be happy, so I’m maintaining my distance, but I can’t seem to let go.

  Fuck. What’s my problem?

  I sit on my motorcycle, and stare, unseeing at the asphalt.

  What now? What am I supposed to do? She clearly doesn’t want anything to do with me.

  I have no idea how long I sit and brood, but after a certain amount of time, I look up, and there she is, walking back inside the grocery store.

  What the fuck is this about?

  I stroll right back in, and this time she’s buying meat and dairy.

  I smirk and release a laugh of adoration. Too fucking cute, this woman.

  Once more, I stay back—cautious and wary she might call the cops on me. Not that I couldn’t lose them if I wanted to, but still . . .

&n
bsp; I just want to watch her for as long as possible since this is all I have.

  She pays for her groceries, and this time, she’s got a different color cloth grocery bags she’s using that she brought from home.

  I try to remember the last ones—I wasn’t paying that close of attention.

  Green. Oh, I get it.

  I chuckle deep in my belly.

  Green for produce.

  Now red, for bloody meat.

  God, she’s sick. I love it.

  And why the ever-loving fuck did she make two separate trips? Was it because she knew she was being watched before?

  If that’s the case, wouldn’t she be too spooked to come back again?

  She smears some sanitizer on her hands, pays for her goods and leaves.

  All at once, adrenaline rushes through me as I realize she’s about to be out of my life again for an extended period of time.

  She’s in her car, buckled up, and my gut clenches so hard, I’m almost crippled by it. A second later I step in front of her car and slam my hands on the hood.

  She stares at me through the windshield, gawking.

  I stare back, unblinking and silent, only conveying with my expression how I feel.

  I miss you.

  I want you.

  I die inside for you.

  Why can’t you love me?

  I love you more than anything . . .

  Stop hurting me this way!

  My palms make a hideous noise as I slide them off her hood, then I slowly step away and head back over to my bike.

  Her car sits idle, and I can feel her eyes on me as I drive off, leaving a piece of my soul there with her.

  She can keep it.

  I don’t need it anymore.

  She can stuff it in her red, bloody meat bag.

  Chapter 11

  Ides

  Seven weeks ago . . .

  “But what does it do?” Mr. Reid asks.

  “Well, seeing as how you had it stolen, I figured you already knew.” I wipe the sweat off the back of my neck.

  My knees are locked, and my breathing is shallow. He stands entirely too close, and I can barely think about why I’m here.

  He gives me a knowing look, as if he can tell I’m a bundle of nervous energy and scared to death of him.

  “Why do you hate me?” I blurt.

  “I don’t. I’ve never disliked you, but you’re not good enough for my son. He deserves better.” He strokes my device. “Now, tell me what this does.”

  “First tell me why I can’t see him anymore,” I demand.

  He blinks and offers a serpentine smile. “Do you know who you’re talking to?”

  “Y-yes, sir. But I don’t see why you sent him after me only to later tell me if I came near him again or allowed him to be around me, you’d kill me.” I gulp and shift away from him.

  His eyes light up. “I wanted to teach him a lesson.”

  “What l-lesson?” Damn my vocal cords. Will they stop shaking and making me stutter?

  “That I own him. He does what I say, and if I tell him to steal from the girl he’s been pining over for most of his life, then he’ll do it. If I tell him you’re nothing, then he better damn well believe me. And if I tell him to sue your ass and turn you into a beggar, then he’s going to do a hell of a fine job of it. Now . . .” He reaches out and tucks a strand of loose hair behind my ear, and bile tickles at the back of my throat as my stomach clenches. “Tell me what this fucking thing does before I have my associate, Westin here, remove your thumb nails.”

  My eyes twitch and water. “Okay. No need to break out your clubs. We’re all civilized here, I h-hope.”

  “Yeah, you can hope the moon’s made of fucking cheese, too, but it’s not gonna get you anywhere. I don’t have time to waste. Now tell me.”

  I pull the back apart on the apparatus and show him what he wants. It’s small and lime green—looks similar to a thumb drive, but it has a few buttons on it.

  I take a deep breath and start showing him what it does. “Okay, this is what you do.”

  His eyes follow my fingers as I pull the console closer.

  “Go on,” he says.

  “You point this end of the slimboy at any gaming device and it configures the chip inside so when you bring it home and plug it into the fatboy console, it’ll download all the games that were played on that gaming device previously. It also mimics all the components inside. So, say I wanted a Nintendo Wii but my mom said no, I already have an Xbox, I could use this thing at my friend’s house and copy any type of gaming equipment they have. It’s a game hoarder, and it’s compatible with all current equipment. It was going to go for fifty bucks per slimboy stick. The fatboy was supposed to go for twice that.”

  “That’s impressive,” he says with a throaty hum.

  I step away. “Yeah, well, I’m practical. I like to game, but I don’t want to have fifteen different consoles and a million games scattered all over my place. Helps me keep up with technology without breaking my wallet every month.”

  “You realize there are other applications that could be used for this as well,” he muses.

  I shrug, knowing inside that’s exactly why he forced Vapor to get it for him. “That’s your fucking problem, since you’ve stolen it and taken over. I wash my hands of this project now.”

  He smiles and removes it from my fingers.

  My hand shrinks away from him, and I instinctively rub my palm down my pants, like he’s covered in slimy germs.

  “You should see a doctor about that,” he says, glancing over at my now flexing hand.

  “And you should see a doctor about your kleptomania and egotistical tendencies. I’m sure there’s some medication for both. Maybe one for allowing your son to breathe as well.” I turn away from him. “Fix that.”

  I cup my mouth when I realize Westin’s armed and standing directly behind me, ready to do this man’s bidding.

  “I can see why my son’s so infatuated with you.”

  My hand slips off my mouth, and I turn back to him. “We just fucked a few times—that’s all. He’s nothing to me, and I’m sure he’s already forgotten about me . . .” For once in my goddamn life, I lie and keep a straight face.

  I have to.

  Protect Nick from this evil man . . .

  “She’s not aware he’s following her around. He hasn’t forgotten about her,” Westin pipes in.

  I shoot him a death glare.

  “Look, Stephen, I just don’t want him to get hurt. That’s all I ask. I’ll even skip town if I have your word you won’t hurt Nick.” I swallow a grapefruit sized lump of guilt, and chills race down my back at the prospect of never seeing Nick again. My shoulders bunch up around my ears, and my head tips back a little.

  I’m sure I look like a turtle, pulling its neck into its shell.

  I wish. I wish I could hide from this scary fucker, but there’s nowhere to go.

  Nick said his father had connections, and he was telling the truth.

  “No, you’ll stay. He needs this hard lesson. You need to be in sight but just out of reach.” He grins and pets the console like it’s his evil pet cat.

  My face falls and my throat goes dry. “Why?” I croak.

  “Because I want him to grow up, and you need to quit asking questions and being a nosy bitch,” he says.

  He towers over me, glaring, and I cower away.

  “I’ll stay away from him,” I whisper.

  “Good. Now leave. I don’t want you coming here ever again. I allowed it this once because I needed you to show me how this thing worked, but other than that . . .” Stephen turns away to leave.

  “Does Nick even know you stole it from him?” I ask and then bite my tongue, trying to shut my big fat mouth.

  “No. He’ll probably think you took it back.” He shrugs. “He was already pissed you didn’t have it, and that you’d entrusted it to your lawyer friend. His bitching that day . . . Jesus—gave me a migraine.”

  �
�But won’t that defeat the purpose of what you just told me? If he thinks I took it, he’ll try to get it back, and how am I supposed to keep him away?”

  He flies at me, and grips me by the shoulders. Every tiny inch of me shrinks away from him. “You know how. You’ve been jerking him around all this time, allowing him to break your defenses, but you and I both know, you’ve been deliberately holding back. Tighten up your home security. No more of these childish games. Either you keep him out, or I will.” His murderous look has my arms breaking out in goose bumps.

  When he releases his grip on me, I gasp and slump over, my hands wrapping around the spots he touched me.

  It tingles and almost feels like he burned me.

  He’s out the door, and Westin is suddenly at my side, holding me up by supporting me with an arm around my shoulders.

  “You okay, Ides?”

  “Don’t call me that,” I mutter and lean into him.

  Wetness spews out of my eyes, and my tummy drops and clenches as I try to take in some air.

  “He won’t hurt you . . . I won’t let him,” Westin reassures me as he gives me a side hug.

  “Yes, but what about Nick?”

  He exhales and keeps his thoughts to himself.

  Fuck. That’s what I thought . . .

  * * *

  Present day . . .

  I step back inside my house, and Riot’s curved around his laptop, working on something.

  “Hey,” I say and shuffle into the kitchen.

  “You okay? You look like shit,” he says, now staring at me, his eyes wide.

  “Had a little run-in with Nick today in the grocery store parking lot.” I blow out a puff of air through my pursed lips. “I don’t know how I can keep him safe if he keeps following me around. That tenacious son of a bitch just won’t give up. I don’t understand him. There’s nothing special about me.”

  He pushes his laptop off his legs and springs up from the couch.

  “That’s it—I’m not gonna let you go out anymore. You’ll stay home, and I’ll get whatever you need.” He hovers over me. “You’re not safe out there with that lunatic stalking you. Who knows what he’s capable of as a low, disgusting thief.”

  He opens his arms with a look of hope that I’ll let him hug and comfort me.