by Isabel Jolie
I squeeze his hands. “Hey, look at me. I want to be in your life. I do. I love you too.” Both his dimples break through as a relieved smile spills across his face. He leans forward a few more inches and lightly presses his lips to mine. I press on. “I want to be in your life. I just don’t think this is necessary. My gut tells me she’s not a real risk. Maybe a nuisance. And, yeah, it’s creepy thinking she’s out there watching me, or us. But she’s been stalking you for two years, and she hasn’t actually hurt you. And how much does a full security detail even cost?”
Sam immediately responds in a curt, clipped tone. “The issue is not money.”
Of course it’s not. He has more money than he could ever spend. “No, the issue is excess. It’s not necessary. And it’s privacy and freedom.”
Bill speaks up. “Our security prides itself on being discreet. Have you ever known you had a security detail when you’ve been out with Sam in the past?”
I think back. I’ve seen the men around but never focused on them. But now I most definitely would. Now I’d be hyperaware.
I plead with Sam. “It’s not necessary. I know in my gut it’s not necessary.” Yes, she was pushing a threesome with Sam. But something tells me shock effect was her motive. She had to know that once Sam saw her, there’d be no threesome. Maybe she’s simply seeking attention.
Bill and Sam exchange a silent stare-off.
Sam reaches out to touch me. “Will you consider moving in with me? I know it’s early in our relationship, but I know I’m ready for that step. You’ve been staying at my place anyway. And it would mean I would know you’re safe.”
“And if I move in with you, I won’t need the security detail?”
“That’s right. We can work with mine. Continue what we’ve been doing.”
This isn’t my dream way of being asked to move in with Sam. It is quick. But I’ve been wanting to move, anyway. And I’m serious enough about Sam that I wouldn’t go through the hassle of finding another apartment. Signing a new one-year lease doesn’t make sense. Moving in together will take our relationship to a whole new level. Nerves rumble as I pause before answering. “Yes. I’ll move in with you.”
Bill’s stern voice interrupts. “She will still be in danger when she’s not at the apartment.”
Sam ignores him. “I’d have my driver drop you off and pick you up from campus. We’d continue having someone trail her.” His voice turns cold when he references her. He turns to Bill. “Olivia will be safe. If she’s living with me, she’ll be safe. Ms. Ray won’t make a move on campus. Security cameras are everywhere.”
I add, “And now I know who she is. I’ll be aware.”
“Sir, she doesn’t need to move in with you. There are other options to ensure Ms. Grayson’s safety.”
“There are other options, but this is what we want.” His tone dismisses Bill. The discussion is over.
Bill knows Sam well enough to hear what’s not said. “I can revise the security detail contract for Ms. Grayson to be based on her living with you. I’ll keep security on her until the move.”
I’m confused. “Wait. I thought we agreed to no security detail?”
Sam’s still holding my hands, and he squeezes them. “How do you feel about packing a bag and moving in with me today? We can schedule movers for the rest of your stuff.”
Today? I was already planning on staying with him tonight. I can do this. It’s crazy, but I trust Sam. More than trusting Sam, I trust myself. Even if Sam and I don’t work out, I trust myself to be okay. I look Sam in the eye. “I can do that.”
I start to tell him we need to order in, and I need to work tonight, but the tension vibrates in the room between Bill and Sam, so I refrain. Sam tightens his hold on me as he speaks to Bill. “She’ll be moving in with me for all intents and purposes today. No need for a full contract. We’ll continue as we have been, with general monitoring of Ms. Ray’s whereabouts. We should also explore legal options. See if my restraining order can be expanded to include Olivia, or if we can get her own restraining order.”
The muscles along Bill’s jaw line ripple. He doesn’t say a word. Like an obedient military man, he nods and gives a brief, “Yes, sir,” before leaving the room.
Chapter 26
Olivia
I sit down at the table, staring at the unusual food I selected from the line at The Little Beet. A fresh vinegar smell cuts through the air. I sent out an SOS to Delilah and Anna, telling them if at all possible, they needed to meet me for lunch today. A random Tuesday. They selected this place near their office.
It’s a quick lunch spot with windows everywhere. Clean white tile covers select walls, adding to the modern, bright aesthetic. We have a table in a corner, which is ideal, given all I have to unload on them.
As they join me at the table, I struggle with where to begin. I go big. “I moved in with Sam.”
Anna’s eyes go wide like saucers. Delilah smirks, pushes her plate away, leans back, crosses her arms over her chest, and says, “Okay. Let’s hear it. That’s the emergency, right?”
“Yes and no.” Anna’s speechless. Delilah rolls her hand, her lips in a flat line, motioning for me to go on. “It’s so crazy, I don’t even know how to begin. Sam has a stalker. She started stalking me. My choices were to move in with him or have him hire me a full security detail. Which is crazy, so I moved in with him.”
Delilah angles her head. “Do you want this or not? Because if you don’t want to move in with him, he can totally afford a security detail for you.”
“How do you know how much a security detail costs?”
She rolls her eyes and huffs. “I do know a thing or two. And I don’t know exactly how much one costs, but I know Mr. Megabucks can afford it. So, do you want to move in with him? Are you that serious about him? How long have you been dating?”
Anna finally stops staring at me and turns to Delilah. “Hey, chill. Sam’s a good guy.”
“I am chill. I’m asking a question. An important question.” Delilah’s voice rises and carries through the restaurant, over the hum of patron noise.
“Sshhhh.” The last thing I want is to attract attention to our conversation. “I want to move in, okay? I mean, we both agree it’s moving our relationship to another level, but I’m ready. And I was looking for an apartment anyway.”
“When exactly were you looking for an apartment?” Delilah asks, skepticism dripping from every word.
“Well, it was on my to-do list.” I answer defensively. I’m not sure what’s going on with Delilah, but this is not the Dee I know.
“How long have you been seeing him? Like, two months? That’s insane. How can you know he’s the one after two months?” She’s practically glaring at me.
I set down my fork and place my hands on my hips. “I didn’t say he was the one. I said things are good, and this feels like a natural progression. And I love him.” Holy shit. Where is this anger coming from?
Anna, ever the mediator, jumps in. She touches Delilah’s arm and says, “Hey, calm down.” She waits until Delilah turns and faces her. “It’s okay. If anything goes wrong, we’ll be there for Olivia, okay? And if this person could be dangerous, then she’s right where she needs to be, and she’s safe. Safe. Okay?” Anna’s mannerisms remind me of my kindergarten teacher when breaking up a fight on the playground. The thing I’m lost on is exactly why there’s a fight on this playground.
Anna removes her hand from Delilah’s and crosses her arms, resting them on the table. “Now, tell us more about this stalker. And are you in danger?”
Oh, yes. That’s the reason I needed to speak with them. “Well, you know that girl I met at school and she’s hung out with us some? Lindsey?”
Delilah sets her iced tea down on the table and answers with a slow, “Yeah?”
I lift my eyebrows and for some reason whisper-shout, “She’s the stalker. She’s not a student at Columbia. She’s been stalking Sam for years. We think she must have seen us pretty soon af
ter we started dating. Well, actually, Anna, right after we had dinner at your place. He kissed me on the sidewalk before he put me in the car. We think she must have tracked me down somehow, because I met her a few days after that.”
Delilah squints. “But how would she know who you were if she just saw you on the sidewalk with him?”
I had thought of that too, but it seems she follows him everywhere. “I don’t know. She doesn’t have a job. She spends tons of time sitting outside watching. It’s bizarre. She has some money from her parents’ life insurance. Sam has a restraining order against her. They are looking into getting one for me now, but at this stage, it’s probably not possible. She hasn’t threatened me specifically. But, if you see her, go the other way. She goes by Tiffany, not Lindsey.”
“Holy shit,” Anna responds. “That’s insane.”
“Do you think she’d hurt you?” Delilah asks. She no longer seems angry, and judging from how she’s leaning closer to me, she’s intrigued and possibly concerned.
“I don’t think so. Did either of you get that vibe from her?”
Anna shakes her head, but the wrinkles forming around the sides of her eyes express concern. Delilah sits back against her chair and smirks. “Well, her Halloween costume was ‘sweet but psycho.’” Then, as if she just remembered, she slaps her palm down on the table. “Wait, didn’t you make out with her that night?”
Anna’s mouth drops open. I point my finger at her. “Close your mouth. And yes, we did. But, honestly, now that kind of makes more sense. She was feeding me drinks that night. And! She came on to me. I was so hammered anyone could have come up to me and pressed me against the wall.”
Wrinkles form across Anna’s brow. “Did you cheat on Sam?”
“No. Halloween was before our first official date. I don’t count your house.” And besides, even if you want to count that, we hadn’t committed to each other then. I’ve told myself that only ten thousand times since Halloween.
“Does he know?”
“Yeah. I told him right after Halloween. Obviously, I didn’t know Lindsey was his stalker.” And I haven’t actually made it clear that Lindsey is Ms. Halloween, but he knows about Halloween.
“How did you figure all this out?” Delilah asks.
“She approached me at the coffee shop, which I wouldn’t have thought anything of, because I see her there all the time. One of Sam’s security guys keeps an eye on her, though, and he saw her talking to me. Then Sam told me everything.” I rub my hand over my face. “Crazy, right?”
Delilah nods. “Yeah, it is. But, you know, if this has been going on this long, she’s seriously obsessed. And remember, some stalkers have definitely lost it, killed the object of their obsession, so you need to be careful. And you should probably tell Sam she’s been pushing for a threesome, in case it’s important to know for any reason.”
“He hooked up with her,” I blurt.
Delilah nods as if she expected that. “That may be what kicked the obsession off. But who knows? Do you remember that stalker who killed that girl on that TV show? My Sister Sam?”
Anna jumps a few inches in her seat. “Delilah, please!” She then looks at me and pops Delilah’s head. “Jesus! Empathy!”
I throw my hands in the air. “All right, all right, all right,” I say, in full imitation of Sam. That thought relaxes me.
“Wait, when did you move? And is our old apartment empty?” Anna jumps to the second question, her tone tinged with concern for our singles’ pad, our home right after college. I just told her about a stalker, and she’s envisioning our old place empty.
“I’ve only moved a couple of suitcases of stuff. You can help me tag stuff this weekend if you want. Sam’s sending movers to get the rest of what I want out and to donate unwanted stuff.”
With sad, puppy dog eyes, she asks, “The futon?”
“Anna, it’s time to say goodbye to that futon.”
* * *
“Wait, if you’re tossing this, can I have it?” Anna asks, pressing an old t-shirt dress up against her body.
It’s Saturday morning, and Anna came up to our old place with me to help me pack. Sam offered to have movers do everything, but I decided I should go through my closet and purge items I don’t want. Packers will pack everything. If I’m going through the moving hassle, I should reap the benefits of a more organized closet.
“Yeah. Of course.” I hold up a pair of gold stilettos that have seen better days. “These are too worn, right? Time to go?”
Anna reaches over to grab them, running her finger over them. “Maybe…Aren’t they uncomfortable as hell?”
“Yeah.” Definitely. I hate walking in this particular pair. It cuts across my foot, but I like how they look on.
Anna shakes her head with a disapproving face. “Donate.”
I’ve scheduled Goodwill for next week to pick up my furniture. It’s all crap from college. They’ll take everything, except for the mattress and futon. My plan is to leave those items on the sidewalk. That’s one of the great but weird things about Manhattan. People leave things like sofas and mattresses out on the sidewalk. Within an hour, someone will walk by and claim it.
Going through all my shoes while emptying out my closet is giving me serious déjà vu. Less than two years ago, Anna and I went through this same exercise, only that time I was moving to Prague. I push a packing box onto the bed and sit beside it.
Anna is down on her knees, pulling out shoes, when she glances back and sees me. “You okay?”
I stare out the window at the view of the northern section of the city, mainly random high-rises of various heights. A view we’ve seen on snowy, rainy, and clear sky days and nights. A view neither Anna nor I will see again, since I’m letting my lease go. The building manager found someone to take over my lease without any issue.
“Do you remember the last time we were doing this? Moving me out of the apartment?”
Anna gets up and drops a few more pairs of shoes into a moving box on the floor, then squeezes my knee. “Things were a lot different then.”
The sky is overcast, not quite gray, but not blue either. “Yes and no. I mean, I was heartbroken then and running. Now, I’m happy, but in a way, I’m still running.”
“Are you really running?” she asks with her head cocked to the side.
I exhale loudly. “No. No, I’m not. If I didn’t think I was ready for this step with Sam, I wouldn’t do it. That’s one thing spending eighteen months on my own and helping to manage an agency gave me—confidence. And I know myself better now. Much better than I did back then.”
Anna’s lips curl up into a gentle smile. “I agree.
My phone bings on the side table, and I reach for it. It’s a text from Delilah. She’s been a little MIA since I told her I was moving in with Sam. I never pegged her as being particularly judgmental, so I’m not sure what’s up.
Delilah: Hey, do you want to meet up this afternoon?
I look around the place. I’m almost done here. Movers will pick up my boxes on Monday. Goodwill will get everything else. Then, sometime after that, Sam and I will come back and drag out the mattress and clean up the apartment. I have two more weeks on my lease, so it’s not a rush.
Me: Sure.
I turn to Anna. “Want to hang out with me and Delilah this afternoon?”
She sighs as she tapes up one of the garment boxes that’s now full. “I wish. I told Jackson I’d go for a run with him this afternoon. Not sure why I promised that. I’m so much better doing morning runs than afternoon runs. I spend so much of the day dreading an afternoon run.” I understand, given I’m not an avid runner. Neither was Anna until Jackson convinced her to take it up for the health of her dog.
Delilah: I’m going shopping for a gift for my Dad. It’s that watch place I told you about. The guy sells super nice watches for less than retail. Small shop in diamond district. Want to meet there? You might be able to find a birthday gift for Sam, since I guess you’re not taking Lind
sey up on her offer. lol
I smirk. Yeah, ménage with a stalker? Not happening. God. I can only imagine what a nightmare that would have been if I’d taken her up on that, not knowing she was his stalker.
Me: Sounds good. Text me the address.
* * *
The cab turns onto Canal Street. There are a few large delivery trucks taking up space along the street, so I direct the cab to drop me off at the corner. As I step out of the cab, I inhale the pungent odor of uncollected trash. Graffiti lines the buildings. This isn’t my favorite part of Manhattan, not by a long shot. And it’s not even the real diamond district. The diamond district is officially on 47th Street in midtown. But there are definitely some smaller jewelers along Canal and Bowery.
I meander along the sidewalk, trying to locate building numbers so I can figure out where I’m supposed to go. I come to a glass door, framed in black metal with graffiti etched all along it. It’s a bit grungy, but it fits. Places like this sell way below retail. Customers are willing to visit sketchy, temporary locations to get the real deal. Way below market price. Presumably better prices because of lower overhead. But I’ve also heard theories that the lower prices are because it’s stolen goods.
I buzz on the number she texted, and the door vibrates. I pull it open. Trash litters the stairs. This place would definitely have lower rent.
I text Delilah that I’m here and headed up. I can’t believe she was willing to come here alone. This place gives me the creeps. If I’d known how creepy this building is, I’d have asked Sam to join us. But I had been thinking I might buy him a watch for Christmas, so I didn’t ask him to come or tell him what I was doing. He’s watching the game with Jackson, anyway. His beloved Longhorns are playing.