The Real

by Kate Stewart

  “I’ll find time,” I promised as I gripped my tote and waved to her before hauling ass past the park.

  Fuck this day already.

  There were days when the world couldn’t touch you. Where everything slid off your shoulders. When PMS didn’t play a factor in your mood and the swings were a rarity. But on that particular morning, Kat was making sure those days looked like holidays. “What the hell are you talking about, Jefferson? That’s not true!” She paused as she paced behind her desk. “God, I can’t believe you just said that. You. Are. Pathetic!”

  I winced as I listened to Kat belittle her husband, again. In less than a minute, she’d gone from all business with me to snarling at him. Why she answered the phone each time he called, I had no clue. It was like she wanted an excuse to lash out. Her shrieking was unnerving, and I was already irritated. I’d missed my train and was forced to take a cab to work. And work was proving to be impossible due to Kat’s ranting. Not to mention my only plans for the night were to listen to a washing machine that wasn’t broken. The only solace was that it was Friday and I would see Cameron in less than twenty-four hours.

  “Oh, you would go there,” Kat snapped as I sat helplessly, put in the shittiest of positions. Clearly, the woman didn’t give a damn about my perception of her, or anyone else’s, for that matter.

  I stood up from the chair opposite her desk. She covered the mouthpiece and caught me retreating.

  “Where are you going?”

  She had to be kidding. “To give you some privacy,” I whispered.

  “I’m sorry,” she said and nodded toward the chair I’d abandoned. She snapped into the phone. “I’m going to call you back. I have a meeting.” She hung up and threw her cell on her desk with a thwack.

  It was then that I noticed Kat was sweating and her face was ghostly white.

  “Are you okay?” I was still standing at her door as she looked over at me with wide eyes.

  “Fine.”

  “I can come back, and we can go through this later,” I assured.

  “I don’t have later. It’s my job on the line, remember?”

  I pressed my lips together to keep my temper at bay. I’d never met a woman so agreeable one minute and volatile the next. It was strange, but when Kat was happy, she had the same type of effect Bree had on me. And despite the constant hot and cold on her part, I genuinely liked her. I pushed all my presumptions away and decided to give her the benefit of the doubt because I’d never been in her situation. Her marriage was falling apart, and she obviously needed a friend or confidant, at the very least.

  “I know I’m here in a professional capacity, but I just want you to know, if you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

  She looked at me pensively before she spoke. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I am.” She slumped in her seat and sighed before smoothing down her perfectly placed hair. “Lately he’s been a nightmare. Just so damned needy.”

  “You’ll get through this. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine, I just haven’t been sleeping well.” She stared down at her ring finger and then smiled over at me. “Tell me how it’s going with the coffee shop guy.”

  “We’re taking it slow.”

  “Still not talking?”

  “Nope, messages only, and it’s working out fine.”

  “At some point, he’ll get tired of it,” she warned. “You know men.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not opposed to taking it further, but at least for now I have the upper hand. I don’t think he’s in a hurry, either.”

  “Sounds like a good one,” she said, motioning me to sit.

  “I hope so.”

  She massaged her temples and stared down at her phone, which lit up with messages.

  “Are you sure you don’t want a few minutes?”

  “Just a headache,” she said, opening her purse, grabbing a few pills, and swallowing them before she tossed a weary glance my way. “Now, let’s get these quarterlies over with and make the idiots upstairs happy. And then I’ll buy you a drink.”

  After four martinis in front of the fireplace at 2Twenty2, Kat disappeared. I’d been staring into the flames, trying to shake the ill feeling I’d had all day working side-by-side with her. In a way, Kat reminded me of my ex. They were both alluring from a distance, but upon closer inspection, you learned there was more than meets the eye. I watched the flicker of the orange light as I sipped my drink and cringed at the memory of him. Luke was charming, attentive, the whole package. He’d swept me off my feet, and I’d given him my trust. And in the blink of an eye, everything changed.

  He changed.

  Luke had accosted me at my front door after I’d been out with Bree. Never in a million years did I think he was capable of the type of crazy he displayed that night. After the incident, I realized that we all possessed a false sense of security until something unthinkable happened. And when it happens, it changes your opinion about humanity and opens your eyes. How I wished I was still blissfully ignorant.

  Luke was sick, and when I discovered it, I realized how naïve I’d been.

  The cynic in me came front and center, and my ability to trust myself and my judgment were nearly destroyed. That was when I’d become fascinated with alter egos, sociopaths, and serial killers. It was a form of therapy for me in a way.

  Luke wasn’t a killer, but he had me fooled into believing he was someone he wasn’t.

  “Luke, I told you I needed some space.” I moved past him, and he ripped my key from my hand and moved in, plastering me to my front door.

  “How convenient for you. This outfit is a little bit inappropriate, don’t you think?”

  “Luke,” I started as he refused to let me move. “Stop it. Get the hell away from me. Why are you doing this?”

  “I don’t like being lied to, Abbie,” he sneered, inching forward.

  “I didn’t lie. I told you I was going out with Bree.”

  “I don’t know if I believe anything you tell me anymore.” I barely had time to blink before he was berating me again.

  “After all I’ve done for you,” he started as he slapped his palm against the door next to me. I jumped as he pressed in while my whole body shook with fear. The look in his eyes was deadly.

  “That’s it. I’m done. Luke, this is over. Leave and don’t come back.” I pointed a shaky finger behind him and reached for my keys. An ominous smile covered his features. I studied his profile, unable to believe it was the same man who approached me months ago

  “As usual, you’re overreacting. You think Bree cares about you? That’s pathetic. I’m the one who worries about you, not her. I’m the one who takes care of you, Abbie. What the hell were you thinking wearing this and dancing with her?”

  “You watched me tonight?” I asked, as bile rose in my throat. A sick feeling swept over me as I realized just how much of a stranger he truly was. And I’d let him into my home and my bed. It was only when his suggestions of what he felt I needed to be doing started to gnaw at me that we’d begun to have problems. It sank in at that moment just how long and how much I’d been manipulated—since the beginning. “Luke, you need to leave, right now.”

  “I’m not going anywhere! You owe me an explanation! What were you doing, trying to get fucked?!” He moved in further, crowding me against the door as he spat his accusations in my face.

  “Give me my keys,” I demanded with a shaky voice.

  “I don’t think so,” he said in a tone that let me know he had leverage and he would be using it to his every advantage. “You’re such a fucking liar, Abbie.”

  “Hey, what the hell are you doing?!” The voice didn’t belong to Luke, and in an instant, he was pulled away from me and pushed to the side of the porch. Mrs. Zingaro’s son stood glaring at him as Luke fought his hold.

  “I’m having a conversation with my girlfriend,” Luke said lividly as he glared over at me before he turned to Michael. “So why don’t you mind your own fucking busi
ness.”

  “I’m sorry if we disturbed you,” I said, trying to catch my breath as I addressed Michael. Mrs. Zingaro shuffled outside her door, looked at her son, and began to speak in rapid Italian.

  “Luke was just leaving,” I offered, trying to defuse the situation.

  “The hell I am,” Luke said as he ripped his arms from Michael’s grasp and came flying toward me.

  “You alone?”

  I jumped in my seat, spilling my martini as a man spoke to me from the pastel chair opposite the couch I sat on. But he might as well have whispered in my ear. I was on edge, and it was painfully apparent. Across a table full of oversized Jenga pieces, he apologized.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ll get you another drink.”

  “No, it’s fine,” I said, wiping the droplets of olive-flavored alcohol off my skirt with my scarf. “I’m going to go look for my friend.”

  Annoyed with Kat’s absence, I ditched my drink to find her in the bathroom. She was going through her purse.

  “Hey, woman, did you forget about me?”

  She smiled at my reflection as she pulled out her lipstick.

  “Just got off the phone with my husband. I think I’ll head home soon.”

  “That’s good news, right?”

  Through our four martinis, Kat had revealed little to nothing about that morning’s blow up. I couldn’t be sure, but I suspected she only invited me to save face. She’d spoken about her career as a gymnast and a few people at the firm but little else. I studied her as she primped in the mirror. The woman was such a mixed bag, and I was exhausted trying to balance on her unsteady beam. But it was the subtle sag in her demeanor, the hint of sadness in her eyes that kept me trying.

  “Maybe things are looking up?”

  “We’ll see,” she muttered absently, lining her lips while she gave me a withering stare.

  “Sorry, you don’t have to tell me. I’m known for being a buttinski. My brother nicknamed me Miss Fix-It.”

  She turned to me and nodded. “Sorry to make you wait.”

  Kat seemed relaxed, but I was still crawling out of my skin. I had made so many strides for the better since Luke, but at that moment, I wanted nothing to do with being sociable. In the first few months after our breakup, I’d only felt safe around Bree or my mother, who was still in the dark about what happened.

  “No problem. I think I’ll head home too. I’m going to grab a taxi. Thanks for the drinks. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Sure you’re headed home?” She gave me a conspiratorial wink.

  She assumed I was off to see Cameron, so I took the easy route. “You busted me.”

  “Have fun. Before you know it, you’ll be married and fighting about who’s the worst driver.”

  At home that night, after a quick promise to Mrs. Zingaro that I would be by the following morning to check on her washer, I undressed and started a hot shower. Swallowing two sleeping pills before I stepped in, I let the water run over my back and shoulders in an attempt to relax. No matter how hard I tried, I would never forget the look on Luke’s face when he came at me seconds before Michael’s fist connected with his nose. Luke had the audacity to look shocked as he spat the blood pouring from his mouth at my feet, purposely spraying me with it, and inching closer as he threatened all of us.

  Before he left, he looked at me one last time and smiled with blood-laced teeth, a haunting look in his eyes. “It’s funny you think this is over.” Michael had managed to scare him off and Mrs. Zingaro had already called the police, who had shown up seconds after Luke had fled. I filed a restraining order the next morning.

  Shivering in my recliner, I clutched my phone while Bree talked me down. I never heard from Luke again, but the damage was done.

  “I was on edge tonight just having drinks and I hated it. When in the hell is this going to go away?”

  “I don’t know. Your ex-boyfriend was a freak show, even I didn’t see it. But you have got to stop watching shows and reading books about crazy people.”

  “I’m just trying to understand.”

  “First of all, Luke wasn’t a serial killer. He was a borderline sociopath. And he lives in Washington now. He’s moved on to manipulate someone else. You’re safe.”

  After our breakup, Bree had monitored Luke’s social media accounts. Less than a month after we’d broken up, he’d changed his status to in a relationship and latched onto someone else, claiming he was in love. I knew better. So did Bree.

  “It just freaks me out. I let him into my life. I don’t understand how I will be able to do that with another man.”

  “But you are dating again. It was a close call, and, yeah, it took some time, but you’re dating. And that just proves how strong you are. Cameron seems nice. You just have to learn how to trust your gut.”

  “I hate this,” I whispered.

  “I know. Listen, I hate to cut this short, but I have to go check on my patients.”

  “Okay, thanks for calling me, again.” I was sure she could hear the guilt in my voice and answered back in true Bree fashion.

  “Shut up. Keep going on your dates. It’s working. You can’t shut up about him. Don’t let one bad day ruin everything you have going. Promise me you’ll show up tomorrow.”

  “I promise,” I said as unexpected butterflies surfaced at the thought of seeing Cameron.

  “Now, turn off the fucking TV. Take a bath or use that birthday present I bought you.”

  The present she was referring to was a sex toy called The Anaconda. No further explanation needed.

  I sighed, grabbed my remote, and clicked off Mindhunter. “It’s off. And I’m never using that present. One four three.”

  “Love you too.”

  When I stepped off the elevator, I could see Kat pacing in her office, talking on the phone. I set down my tote and decided to make us a quick cup of coffee. It was only when I got to her office door that I realized it wasn’t a business call.

  “Jefferson, I’m at work. Don’t you dare threaten to come here and make a scene. I said fine! Fine!” Kat hung up the phone and looked out of her office window. Frozen at her door, she caught my reflection in my attempt to retreat.

  “Abbie, I need to get away. I need a few days off.” Kat turned to me, and it was then I saw one of her eyes was bloodshot.

  Steaming mugs in hand, I walked toward her, cringing at the sight of it. “Oh my God. Kat, does it hurt?”

  “My blood pressure is off. I need to relax. Is there any way you can cover for me? I know it’s a lot to ask with all that’s going on, but I need a few days. Just a few days.”

  “Of course,” I offered as I set down the cups. “Take the rest of the week. Where will you go?”

  She opened her desk drawer and began packing her purse. “I’ll go visit my dad, or maybe just get away. He owns a few vacation spots. One I love in Florida. Maybe I’ll get some sun.”

  So, it was her father who was wealthy. I knew the woman grew up privileged. It showed in her demeanor, in the way she spoke, and in her bite.

  “Kat, if you want to talk about it—”

  She shook her head. “I appreciate your concern. I do. But I need to get out of this city and away from him.”

  “Are you . . . in danger?”

  “What?” she asked incredulously, as if the idea was preposterous. “Of course not, no. And please don’t say a word to anyone else about this. I hope you can keep this in confidence.”

  There wasn’t a person within earshot of her office that wasn’t aware of what was going on in her marriage, but I played agreeable.

  “Of course,” I assured as she picked up her purse and covered me with grateful yet weary eyes. “Thank you. I’ll return the favor.”

  “No problem,” I said as she walked past me and turned to face me at the door. It was the first time a conversation with her husband had rattled her that badly. I felt the tension radiate from her from only feet away. “Abbie, if anyone calls—”

 
; “Go,” I told her and waved my hands in a shooing motion for emphasis. “I’ve got this. I swear you’re covered.”

  Squaring her shoulders, every bit of vulnerability disappeared from her as she faced the twenty-second floor that was rapidly filling with bustling employees. Slipping on her sunglasses, she bypassed the receptionist’s desk and moved toward the elevator. The woman seemed to be a ticking time bomb, and I was sure I could get more work done without her at that point.

  Just as I made the peaceful retreat to my own desk, my phone rattled in my pocket, and I rolled my eyes as I answered. “I’m surprised you remembered my phone number, dear brother.”

  Oliver was always quick to reply. “I didn’t. Modern technology. I have no idea what your number is.”

  “That’s the problem with the world. We rely on it for everything.”

  I could hear the smile in his voice. “What’s my number?”

  “I could rattle off anything and you wouldn’t know your own.”

  “Someone is a little feisty today. What’s eating you, little sister?”

  I sat at my desk. “I have a crazy coworker.”

  “I love my coworkers.”

  “That’s because you screw them all. If you are calling me to go in on Mom’s birthday present, it’s too late. She already got it.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah, shit. You’ll have to go online and pick something out all on your own.”

  Oliver sighed. “Come on, help me out here. What does she need?”

  “This woman gave birth to you. She needs a more in tune son. You can’t think of one thing to get her?”

  “Help me out,” he begged. Oliver was shit at remembering anything. I was pretty sure electronics had alerted him to his own mother’s birthday.

  “You better show up tonight,” I ordered.

  “I can’t make it.”

  “Richard Oliver Gorman, you aren’t missing her party. This is an important day for her. I’ve planned this thing for months. All of her old field crew is going to be there.”