by Max Henry
“You, are a sick fuck,” she hissed. “No wonder I was told to stay away from you.”
Hurt flashed in his eyes, before rage again took over. He moved to speak, when Trent stepped in between and placed his hands on Pete’s chest. Whatever the big guy said, it worked to calm him, as Pete quickly disappeared behind the bar.
Cass tugged on her arm. “Come on. You can explain what the hell that all was on the way home.”
She turned to find hurt and confusion on Cass’s face, and felt ill. “I’m sorry. I ruined your night, didn’t I?”
Cass shook her head. “No. It’s fine.” Her words betrayed the look of disappointment she held.
Steph followed down the hallway, and out into the night, eager to escape the scrutiny of the other patrons. Her spectacle drew quite a crowd, and she didn’t know if she could rightly ever show her face in there again without somebody recognising her.
Cass hailed a cab after she said a quick goodbye to Gary, and shoved Steph inside. She scooted across the seat to allow room for Cass. The driver pulled away on her instruction, and headed for home. Cass turned to look at Steph, and raised an eyebrow. “Well? What the fuck was that, Stephanie?”
Shit, she was definitely in trouble. “Nothing. He said something earlier that made me mad. Plus, he didn’t do a damn thing to help me.”
“I think there’s more to it than that. What did he mean by what you ‘gave’ him?”
Steph stared out the window at the blur of streets, and frowned. “Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me, babe. Why did you want to come here tonight? Really?”
She sighed, and counted the lamp posts as they fleeted by. What would she tell her? How exactly did she explain what she’d done with Pete? Normal people didn’t do shit like that. Normal people had a better sense of self-preservation than to let a stranger into their home, and do what she did.
“Fine,” Cass snapped. “Don’t tell me. But if this comes back to bite you on the ass, I can’t do much if I don’t know what’s going on.”
Damn her. She was right. What if things went sour? What if Pete kidnapped her, or murdered her? Who would know then? As if he’ll murder you. Yeah, right. Did her conscience not see the look in his eye as Trent pushed him away?
“He knows where I live, Cass.” Her words barely made a whisper.
“Shit.”
****
“It’s the end of me shift, Gary. Do ya honestly expect me to stay?” Pete levelled the big guy with a stare that challenged his authority.
He wilted a little at the cool look he received in response. “I can’t trust your psycho little head not to go after that girl. So you can stay until we close.”
“Come on,” he pleaded. “Let me out. Phil’s here anyway. Ya don’t need me.”
Gary continued to block the exit as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Fine. Have it yer way. I’ll fuckin’ exit out the alley.”
Gary sighed, and stepped aside. “You bloody go anywhere near her, and I’ll have your nuts strung out to dry.”
Pete laughed. Like the big guy had it in him to do such a barbaric thing. Himself on the other hand … well, best leave that subject untouched. “Ya have me word.” He held a hand over his heart.
“Asshole,” Gary mumbled.
He jogged down the steps, and shook a cigarette out of the pack as he went. Phil, the owner of the bar, had turned up to take over the final hours. Why he couldn’t trust Pete to do it, who knew? What did Phil think he’d do? Rob the place? Maybe in another time.
Pete shielded the end of the smoke as he lit it, and ran through the plan one last time. Ever since that mad-hatter of a woman had left the place, he’d plotted his comeback on her. How dare she fucking accuse him of blatant assault? He wouldn’t have done a single thing if she didn’t want him to. Talk about confused. The woman didn’t know what her body craved.
Pete stopped at the first bus stop, and checked over the map plastered on the inside of the shelter. He plotted out which services he would need to take, and how long it would take him to get home. If only he’d brought the fuckin’ car tonight. But then again, he hadn’t planned on going home alone.
The alarm sounded its happy screech to tell Steph to get out of bed. All fine and well if she was off to work, but she wasn’t. The first of January being a public holiday, she’d forgotten to tell her phone’s alarm to take Monday off.
Steph swiped at it from under her covers, and silenced the persistent noise. She nestled back into the comfort of her bed, and scowled into her sheets at the fresh memories of last night. What a fine performance she’d put on for half the darn city. Her brow bunched as she pushed the embarrassing thoughts from her head, and succumbed to sleep once more.
Four hours later, she woke with a start to the sound of several thumps on her front door. “Coming,” she hollered, and yanked on a sweatshirt to cover her thin bed attire. Cold feet scuffed over the tiles, her limbs still sleep groggy. She swung the door open, and remembered that she should probably be a little more cautious for a while given who may, or may not decide to pay her a visit. Relief washed over her as Ivan stared back from the landing.
“You look terrible, babe.”
“Hello sweetheart,” she drawled, full of sarcasm. “Want a coffee on this fine morning?”
“Yeah, but I think I’ll make it, huh? Don’t want you to fall asleep over the jug.”
She gave him a playful punch as he walked past her, and into the unit. “So how was your night?”
“Not as heavy as yours it seems.” Ivan wandered into her tiny kitchen, his tall frame dwarfed the cramped space. “I tried to call you.”
“You did?”
“Yeah, but I guessed you must have passed out already. So, I thought I’d come check on you this morning.”
“Thanks.” Steph slid into an armchair, and warmed a little at the thought someone cared so much for her well-being.
“But enough about you …”
“Hear, hear.”
Ivan grinned as he wandered over with a glass of water for her. “I wanted to see if you could guess who I met up with the other night.”
“Do I know them?” She accepted the glass from him, and took a small sip.
“Of course.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m not that cruel.”
“Honestly, my head is a mess. You better just tell me.”
“Verity.”
The glass clattered the last millimetres to the table. “Excuse me?”
“I know, I know. “ He held out his hands. “I was surprised too.”
Steph had heard neither hide nor hair of Ivan’s ex since the woman left him for another guy. “What did she want?”
“She wants to try again,” he called out as he returned to the kitchen. “It seems legit, Stephy.”
“I sure hope so.”
“I knew you’d disapprove,” Ivan said, and reappeared with his coffee. “People can change.”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “And sometimes they don’t.”
They continued the discussion for the next half hour while Ivan sipped his coffee, Steph her water. She listened, and offered advice where she could, but she held back what she honestly thought of the two-timing bitch for his benefit. Ivan seemed happy, and all she ever wanted was for her friends to be happy—which made her think of Cass. She’d screwed up her bestie’s night—selfishly—and had some making up to do.
“Do I ask how your night was then?” Ivan tipped his head, and regarded her with that look which said he already knew the answer.
“Awful.” Steph nursed the last of her water. “First I get hit on by some sleaze who can’t take no for an answer, and then I have a full-on argument with Pete.”
“Interesting.”
“Embarrassing, is the word I would have chosen.”
He shook his head with a cheeky smile that made the corners of his eyes crease. “We’ve all had bad nights, Steph. It’ll wash over.”
“I sure hope so,” she
said, and drew her knees into her chest.
“Anyway. Thanks for the coffee,” Ivan said as he stood. “I better head off. And you need a shower.”
“Gee, thanks.” She poked her tongue out at him. The action brought flashbacks of Pete as he did the same thing, and her mood instantly soured.
“All good?” Ivan asked, and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Yeah.” She nodded. “I’ll see you out.”
Steph followed him from the unit until he hit the stairs where she chose to stay at the top to see him off. He got into his sedan, and started the engine. Her gaze danced around the street as she waited on him to back out of the parking space. Given the number of discarded cans on the neighbour’s yard, she mustn’t have been the only one to have a big night. She waved as Ivan pulled away, then froze.
Ice ran through her veins as her chest fruitlessly tried to pump enough air into her system. Her eyes locked to the figure that leant against a light post over the road. A figure too familiar for her liking. A figure who smoked.
Steph backed up slowly; her hand felt the way along the rail to guide her. Her eyes never left Pete. How long had he been there? What did he want? Was this it? He knew she was alone, so now he’d attack her? Kill her? She berated herself for her stupidity in letting an unstable lunatic into her life so easily. What the fuck had she been thinking? Was she that easily blinded by his appearance? Her unexplainable attraction to him?
Steph dived into her unit, and slammed the door shut. She slid the bolt, turned the deadlock, and tested the handle to be sure. Laid low on hands and knees, she ducked beside the front window. Steph peered out through a gap in the blinds to the street below, and sure enough his legs were visible from under the canopy of a tree. She turned her head to search for her phone, and cursed when she remembered it was still in her room.
With a deep breath, she took one last look out the window. Sickness rose in her throat.
He was gone.
****
For the next four days, Pete’s strange surveillance of her place continued. Tuesday he arrived after dinner, and left by nine. Wednesday, he appeared before and after work. Thursday, he stayed put as she walked past him to get to the train station. Friday morning, he had the decency to offer her a polite “Good mornin’,” as she passed him by.
She wasn’t stupid. Steph knew what he tried to do. And his mind tricks wouldn’t work on her.
She cleared her dinner dishes away, and prepped for a Friday night in with her fall-back comfort—Superman movies. She poured a glass of wine, and picked up the bowl of popcorn she had made earlier in the evening. As she passed the front window her curiosity got the better of her. She balanced the bowl in the crook of her arm, and edged the blinds apart to look across the road. Sure, night had set in, but the crack of vision seemed way too dark. Was it a new moon?
Steph placed the glass, and bowl on the top of a nearby bookcase, then with both hands drew the blinds wide. She gasped, and stumbled back. Her foot tangled in her discarded work shoes, and handbag. The point of her tail-bone sung with pain as she landed hard on her backside. Regaining her composure, she pushed to her feet, and stormed to the door. Steph slid the bolt open, and with the deadlock held around, wrenched the door back on its hinges to stick her head outside.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Pete looked lazily across to her from his position; leant with his back to her window. “Waitin’.”
“What the hell for?” She stomped out the door, placing her hands on her hips. “Hell to freeze over?”
The front door clunked as it swung shut. She winced and tried the handle. “Fuck!”
“Locked out?” he remarked casually.
“I bet you love that,” she bit back. “Go on then. What do you want? I don’t think my night’s going to improve.”
“Argh, don’t be so negative,” he soothed. “There’s every chance it could get better.”
“Pete,” she chided. “I’m locked out of my apartment, with a madman on my doorstep. What good is going to come from this?”
“Ya think I’m a madman?”
“Aren’t you?” Steph threw her hands in the air, before she slumped against the locked door. “You’ve been stalking me for the whole week.”
He chuckled. “As if. I was merely givin’ ya a chance to apologise.”
She pushed off the door, and marched up to him. “Me? Apologise? What the hell for?”
He traced a lazy line along her jaw with an inked finger. “For callin’ what we did assault.”
She threw her arms across her chest, and scowled. “Okay, so maybe I was a little off. But it still wasn’t polite.”
“Since when do people worry about being ‘polite’ when they explore their sexuality?”
She spluttered for her next words. “I … I wouldn’t have said that, exactly.”
“What would ya call it then?” He ran the pad of his thumb across her lips as he licked his own.
Nothing. She had nothing.
He laughed, and pushed off the wall to slip by her. Steph watched as he flipped out a leather wallet, and produced a small wire from the coin pocket. He then proceeded to pick her lock, and pushed the door open with a wide smile once he succeeded. “Tah-dah.”
“I am so not asking where you learnt that.” She brushed by him, and scooped the snacks from the bookcase. He followed her in, and shut the door. “I wasn’t actually going to ask you in, but well, you know,” she said as she nodded to his position in her lounge.
“Why did ya finally decide to talk to me?” he asked, fingering her photo frames on the entertainment unit.
“Apart from the fact you were standing outside my place?”
“Mmm, apart from that.”
“I thought I better tell you I’m moving, so you don’t freak out the new tenants.”
He spun to look at her, a furrow in his brow. “Huh?”
“I transferred to a smaller office in the northern suburbs. “ She shrugged. “Didn’t think it was any of your concern where I work.”
“It’s not,” he bit out. “But it is me concern where ya live.”
Steph placed the food onto the low table next to her seat, and flopped into the armchair. “Do enlighten me.”
He crossed the small gap to her, and squatted at her feet. Their knees touched. “How can I visit ya, if you’re so far away?”
“Stalk me, you mean?”
“Visit.” He narrowed his gaze on her. “When did this all come about? Yer transfer, that is.”
“It’s been in the pipe-line for weeks, but I got confirmation Tuesday.”
“And you’ve got somewhere to live—just like that?” His eyes narrowed as he waited on the answer.
“If you’re worried I’m about to move in with another man—” She patted his hand condescendingly. “—I’m not. I found a place that was available immediately.”
He snorted. “Like I was worried.”
Steph smiled, and he looked away. She wasn’t fooled by his tough, arrogant exterior. The look on his face as she said she was moving fell nothing short of a boy being told his childhood friend was off to a new school; it was hurt, disappointed, but resigned. He held the appearance of somebody who had lost out plenty of times before, and now chose not to fight the inevitable. He looked ... defeated.
“Ya goin’ to tell me yer new address?”
“So you can come hang out on my doorstep and give me a reputation before I’ve finished unpacking?”
“So I know where to find ya.”
Pete’s words held promise, the kind that sent chills straight down her spine. “What if I don’t want to be found?”
“Nobody’s invisible, Love. Everyone can be found.” The side of his nose twitched with a sneer, and the dark flecks in his eyes took on a glazed appearance. He looked as though he reminisced, and if it involved what he did when he hunted out people who didn’t want to be found—she didn’t want to know.
Steph drew
her knees to her chest, and gripped her ankles with white-knuckled determination. His proximity left her uncomfortable, vulnerable, and a little unsettled.
“Do ya still want me to fuck ya?”
She gagged on her next breath. He had to be kidding, right? What twisted world did he live in if discussions of stalking, and of moving to unknown destinations led to sex? She released her ankles, and planted her feet against his chest to push him off balance and out of her way. Steph stormed to the front door, and avoided his gaze. “I think you ought to leave, don’t you?”
“No.”
Great, now she’d have to call the police on his ass. You know you won’t. Fantastic. Her inner monologue doubted her sanity.
He picked up the bowl of popcorn, and plonked down on the couch. “What we watchin’?”
“I am watching a movie. You are about to leave.”
“Nah,” he twitched his top lip in thought. “I’m not quite ready to.”
Frustration boiled over inside. She wanted to clench her fists, scream, and stomp a tantrum until he went. He wasn’t being fair. How could somebody be so stubborn, and remain so nonchalant about it all? And why the hell was he so damn sexy when he did that?
He patted the seat next to him. “Ya joinin’ me, then?” She growled, certain she had a shit-show of winning, and crossed the room to where he sat. He casually scrolled through the channels on her TV. “What station is it on?” he asked.
“Ten,” she answered as she gave out into the seat next to him. “Don’t eat all my popcorn, because I don’t have any more.”
“Ah, Cutie,” he said, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders to pull her in. “I wouldn’t dream of denyin’ me girl.”
His girl, huh? We’ll see about that.
“Ya want to have a quick one before it starts?” he glanced down at her, a twinkle in his eye. “Kiddin’.”
“Lucky for you.” Steph remained stiff at his side, wary of exactly what he had planned. Her eyes roved the room for anything that could act as a weapon should he become dangerous. When was he not? That was the curious thing, though. If she felt uncomfortable, and threatened around him—why hadn’t her flight instinct kicked in? Because the thrill of his unpredictability is what you need. Need? Since when did she need instability? Or the sort of guy she had yet to decide belonged in an insane asylum, or not?