Chapter 10
Shelby
I thought you understood what was meant to happen between us. I gave you everything and you threw it all away. I thought we were going to be forever but I know you have other plans. I know he's replaced me. I won't let you go, Shelby. Remember that. You are MINE.
I read the email for the third time this morning and shivered. It wasn’t from Tyler, which begged the question…who was it from?
Tyler thought Anthony had been outside my apartment last night, but I wasn’t convinced. The only time I’d noticed Anthony in a place he shouldn’t have been was at the restaurant months ago – and even that had a good explanation. He probably hung out at places like that.
“He called you a bitch,” I whispered. But that didn’t necessarily mean he’d become a stalker.
What if it was Sean, the ex who’d refused to tell his parents where I worked? God, our relationship was so far away, now. Too much had happened for me, but maybe nothing had happened for him. Maybe, he hadn’t moved on.
I pressed my hands to my stomach but it didn’t quell my nerves.
You are MINE.
“No, I’m not.”
“Talking to yourself again?” Betty used a knock on the door as a chaser. “I just stopped by to tell you about my date, but if you’re busy going insane, I can come back later.”
“There’s never a good time when you’ve lost it. Come on in.” I crooked a finger.
Betty shuffled into my office. “What’s wrong? You’ve got that look again. Is this about Anthony?”
“I’m not sure.” And I filled her in on the details – the strange stalker and the email, and how Tyler thought it was Anthony who’d done it all.
Betty gave a low whistle. “Boy, you must be really good in bed.”
“What?”
“Ha, I’m kidding. But seriously, everyone is after you. You’re the hot topic, Shelby. You’re gorgeous and smart so I get it, but I’ve got to say I’m glad I’m not in your position because I wouldn’t handle all the drama, damn.”
“I wish things were simple.” All I wanted was time alone with Tyler, a strong career, and – yeah, that was about it. Instead, I had a mystery stalker and a male co-worker friend who screamed at me in front of people and tried to break up my relationship.
“You don’t think it’s Anthony, do you?” Betty asked, and perched on the edge of my desk. She cast a furtive glance at the open door, but the hall was quiet.
“Tyler does.” I exited my email inbox. “I don’t know what to think. Anthony was great when I first started here. No trouble at all. But now, I don’t know, maybe he’s lost it? That sounds harsh.”
“No way. It’s not harsh. The guy screamed at you in front of the entire office. Who knows what would have happened if Tyler hadn’t been there. He was so hot protecting you, by the way.” Betty made a growling noise.
I laughed. She was such a goof, she had the uncanny knack for cheering me up.
“So, what about this email? Do you have any leads on that?” Betty asked.
“What do you mean by leads?”
Betty tilted her head this way and then that, weighing up the variables. “If it was me, I’d have stalked out the guy who sent it ages ago.”
“How?”
“Google the email address. It’s got to be connected to a domain name or whatever. Then you get the whois information and –”
“You lost me.”
Betty rolled her eyes. “Just Google it and let’s see what we find.” She hopped off the desk and hurried around to my side of it.
I should’ve thought of this before, but everything that’d happened with work and Tyler, and now, Anthony and my mystery stalker, had distracted me from taking action. Besides, it was an email. I couldn’t exactly call the cops on anyone about an email.
“Okay, here,” Betty said. She opened my email again and I pointed out the threatening one. She clicked on that, then copied the email address and pasted into my browser. “Let’s see what your little stalker friend is hiding.” She hit enter.
A short list of garbled results popped up. Nothing that made any sense to me, but Betty narrowed her eyes. She clicked on another link and scrolled down a page of information.
“Here,” she said. “Okay, it says it’s registered to Jessie Jameson.”
“What?” I gave her a quizzical look. “Who the heck is that?”
“I take it you don’t know any Jessie Jamesons?”
“No,” I replied. “And let’s be honest, that sounds like a fake name.”
“I concur,” Betty said. “But let’s check it out anyway. Hold on, let me grab the other chair.” She fetched it and dragged it around to my side, then plopped down. “Oh god, this is too fun. We’re basically detectives right now.”
“I think it would be more fun for me if I wasn’t the one who received the weird email.”
“You’re going to have to report this to the police,” Betty said. “If there’s someone threatening you and hanging around outside your apartment, I think you’re obligated to.”
“Won’t they just laugh me off? I don’t actually know who it is,” I said. “And they can’t hang around my apartment and look out for crazy stalker dude for me.”
“Ah, we’ll figure that part out,” Betty replied. She typed Jessie Jameson into the search bar, then hit enter.
Facebook and Twitter results popped up first. A few Instagram profiles. Nothing that gave us anything clue about who this person might actually be.
“They’re all female,” Betty said. “Did the stalker look female? Did you have a secret lesbian tryst in college?”
I snorted. “No, I didn’t. I was too busy studying to go through that experimental phase.”
“Yeah, right.” Betty nudged me.
“I’m serious. And the stalker was too tall and broad shouldered to be female. And, oh, they lacked boobs too,” I said.
“No judging. A lack of secondary sexual characteristics doesn’t count for much these days. Haven’t you ever heard the term ‘gender fluid?’ It means boys and girls might not look like boys and girls and can be either.”
“You’re making my head hurt,” I said. “But we’ve still got nothing on this whole email address thing.”
“Yeah,” Betty said, and sat back. She folded her arms and sighed. Her glasses slid down her nose and she didn’t bother pushing them back up the bridge again. “Yeah, you’re right. And if you’re sure you don’t know anyone by that name, we can assume the details are fake.”
“And I’m back to square one with no clue who it is.”
“I still think you should call the police.”
“What purpose would that serve?” I asked. “They’ll just ask me to keep on reporting incidents or collecting evidence. And until something big happens I won’t have any protection.” Other than Tyler, who’d jogged out half-naked to chase the guy down last night. The minutes I’d spent waiting for him to come back, staring at the drawn chain on the back of my apartment door, had stretched into eternity. I’d been sure he’d get in trouble.
“You’re right on that too,” Betty said, and finally adjusted her glasses. “Then I’m stumped. You should get a Taser or pepper spray or something.”
“How about a gun?”
“Calm down, Satan,” she said.
I giggled. “You’re funny.”
“I try to stay abreast of current memes. Listen, though, this is kind of creepy. If you need my help with anything just let me know. Call me at home. I’ll bring my pepper spray over there so fast your stalker slash gender fluid Jessie won’t know what hit them.”
“Thanks,” I said, but I didn’t envision myself calling her up any time soon. Betty was sweet, but we hadn’t connected on a deeper friendship level yet. “You were going to tell me about your date.”
“Oh! Oh, right, yeah. Okay, so it was amazing. Mark is a gentleman. I followed all of your advice and we’re going on a second date next week.” She let out a girlish squeal of delight. “I’m so excited I could just pop. I know it’s stupid but –”
“That’s not stupid. I get like that all the time about going on dates with Tyler.”
Two soft knocks at the door made both of us freeze.
We looked up.
Anthony stood there, filling the frame, his shoulders sagging and eyes downcast. Shoot, even the shirt of his suit was rumpled. He looked like he’d slept in the same clothes he’d had on yesterday. Did that rule him out as the stalker? I wasn’t sure this guy even owned a hoodie.
“Bet you wish I’d brought my pepper spray to work now, eh?” Betty asked.
I blushed the color of beets. “What do you want, Anthony? If you’ve come to scream at me again, you can save it.”
“I – uh, no. I’m not here to scream at you, Shelby,” he said. “Listen, I’m really sorry about that. I was way out of line.” Anthony raised his gaze at last and those ice blue eyes cut through me like a knife.
“He had a meeting with his father this morning,” Betty said and cut through the awkward silence that’d spread after Anthony’s proclamation. “Apparently, he got in a lot of trouble for that outburst on company grounds. Isn’t that right, Abernathy?”
A flash of anger from Anthony but he squelched it again and the pathetic ‘forgive me’ look locked into place. I didn’t like how he could do that. The ability to control what he showed and when made me doubt everything about him.
“That’s not why I’m apologizing,” he said. “I was wrong to treat you that way.”
“Anthony.” But I didn’t have anything to say to the guy. He’d made me uncomfortable too many times in the past few weeks. I needed a break from our friendship. All of the positives had disappeared after Tyler and I broke up the first time and had been replaced by failed attempts at getting into my pants or screaming at me.
That wasn’t the kind of friend I wanted.
His expression of hope killed me. He put on those puppy dog eyes. I glanced at Betty but she hadn’t changed from downright distaste.
“Anthony, I accept your apology, but I think you and I should take a break from our friendship. We need some distance, okay? Because all the good stuff had been outweighed by the bad. I’m starting to doubt whether we can be friends at all.”
“No, we can. We can, I swear. I was just being overprotective,” he replied.
“Oh yeah, remember when Chuck Norris saved that village of people while screaming that they were dumb bitches?” Betty asked.
Another flash of that anger, once again quickly disguised. “Shelby, please.”
“No,” I said. “That’s it for me. I’ll see you around, Anthony.” I looked down so I wouldn’t witness his departure. The quiet intensified, and finally, his footsteps retreated.
“He’s gone,” Betty said.
I sighed. “I need a chocolate. Seriously, after this week I wouldn’t be surprised if I gained ten pounds.”
“You can afford it. Come on, let’s go get a coffee and a donut,” Betty replied, and checked her watch. “Before your co-demon assistant arrives.”
My mood had improved – it was impossible not to laugh at Betty’s quips – but I couldn’t quite shake the fear of the watcher beneath my window and the email still open on my PC. Would this weirdness ever end?