23
OTHER FISH IN THE SEA
Eric reread the DMs, his mind spinning. Messages to Tessa. From him. But not from him. It could only mean one thing…
Username: @EricThornSucks
Password:
A coldness clenched around his chest, squeezing the breath out of his lungs. How had he not seen it coming? All this time, he’d focused on what happened to Dorian Cromwell. How many times had he looked back over his shoulder to see if someone was following him? And someone had been! Not walking down the street perhaps, but following him just the same. Some hacker stalking his Twitter from afar…
Or had he laid eyes on her before? Could it be the same one who jumped onstage in Seattle? Green eyes. Dark hair. Maybe five foot nine…The memory of her shrill voice still echoed in his mind: Wait! He knows me! I’m telling you—he follows me on Twitter! He’s followed me for years!
Delusional. Convinced of some secret relationship that only existed in her own imagination. How many times had he tried to warn his record label? He knew it was only a matter of time.
What had happened to Dorian was horrifying enough. But this…this was unimaginable. This fangirl hadn’t gone after him. She’d gone after the one he loved. She’d gone after Tessa.
And Tessa had no idea.
Eric’s hand leaped to his throat. Would Tessa go with her? Would she fall into the trap? Would Tessa think…
His mind raced back over old conversations, hopelessly jumbled inside his head.
Maybe I’ve seen Catfish too many times, she’d told him, not so long ago. Pretty much the same plot twist every time. Are you secretly a girl?
Tessa. No!
That damned pink rabbit’s foot. There were only two pink ones left on the little hook next to the gas station cash register. Eric had purchased one this morning and left the other one hanging.
He should have bought them both. Hell, he should have bought all the other colors too. Cleaned out the whole rack. He should have bought every last rabbit’s foot in the entire state of Texas. He’d just left it there, dangling on the end of the hook. And someone else had bought it. Someone else had held it out to her. And Tessa must have fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker.
The seemingly innocuous events of the past twenty minutes took on new significance. The spindly-legged figure in the parking lot… The pair of headlights that stopped just before the final bend in the road…
That must have been her. Eric had stood right there and watched the whole bait and switch go down. The car had idled briefly, just long enough for introductions. Then it swung around in a U-turn and went—went where, exactly?
They could be anywhere.
Did they go back to Tessa’s house? But where was that? She’d never given him the address. And now she was out there somewhere with…with…
Eric felt the bile rise in his throat, and he swallowed hard. He couldn’t lose it. Not now. He needed to think.
He only had one hope—one way to reach her. He double-tapped the Caps Lock and began firing off DMs:
Taylor: STOP!
Taylor: TESSA, THAT WASN’T ME!
Taylor: I’M STILL AT THE CLUB!
Taylor: TESSA, GET OUT OF THE CAR!
She would see the notifications. She had to. She always did. How many times had he messaged her at some random hour of the day or night only to be rewarded with an instantaneous reply?
“Come on, Tessa,” he whispered hoarsely. “Answer me, goddammit!”
• • •
Tessa’s fingers itched to check her phone, but she didn’t want to be rude. It was just a nervous tic—not like she would have any messages worth reading. She was already sitting next to the only person whose DMs mattered, right here on her living room couch.
The conversation had once again faltered into silence. Tessa chewed her nails, racking her mind for something else to say. She hadn’t expected her first meeting with Taylor to turn into such a horror show. How could it be this painful? They always had so much to talk about over Twitter. They could go on and on for hours. But here, in real life, it was almost like sitting face-to-face with a completely different person.
Tessa didn’t know why she felt so awkward, exactly. Taylor seemed nice enough. Or Blair, Tessa mentally corrected. That pretty much summed up the entire conversation on the ride back to her house.
“Are you Taylor?” Tessa had asked, despite the rabbit’s foot held out in confirmation.
She hadn’t caught the answer. She’d locked eyes with the stranger who approached the car, and she’d felt the weirdest sensation. Not a panic attack, but even more disturbing in a way. It was almost as if her whole brain shut down for a moment. She didn’t pass out, but her mind went kind of numb—like when your hand falls asleep, and you know it’s still attached to the end of your arm, but you’ve lost all ability to control it. Could that happen to a person’s brain?
She only spaced out for thirty seconds, and then the sight of the rabbit’s foot brought her back. Blair must have handed it to her. They were seated side by side in the backseat of the car at that point. Tessa had clutched the lucky talisman in her lap, struggling to catch up on the missing fragments of conversation.
“Wait. So, Taylor—”
“No, I’m Blair. Blair Duncan. You know who I am, Tessa.” The rabbit’s foot glowed pink, as if for emphasis, in the light of a passing streetlamp.
“Yeah,” Tessa had stammered in reply. “Obviously. Sorry, I’m kind of nervous.”
Blair had merely shrugged. “So is this…OK? Do you still want to talk and stuff?”
“Sure.” Tessa had tried for a friendly smile. She’d worked out that Blair must’ve lied about the name, but big deal. Tessa could live with that. And that picture of man feet attached to a pair of well-muscled calves? Oh well. She wasn’t all that surprised. Maybe Blair wasn’t exactly what Tessa had pictured all those lonely nights falling asleep by her phone, but Tessa had promised herself to keep an open mind. If all she got out of this was a friend, that wouldn’t be the worst thing—still a lot more than she had going in.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t go to the concert?” she’d asked.
“Definitely not. It’s a total circus back there. There’s got to be somewhere quieter we could go.”
Tessa had cast her eyes uncertainly in her therapist’s direction.
“That’s very thoughtful of you to consider Tessa’s feelings, Blair,” Dr. Regan had said from behind the steering wheel. “My advice would be to go where Tessa feels most comfortable. Your own house would make sense, Tessa.”
“Home?”
A part of her had wanted to protest. She’d gone to so much trouble to avoid telling some online stranger where she lived. She’d left her house for the first time in months just so the two of them could meet in a public place. But Tessa held her tongue. If her therapist thought it was safe, then her fears must be irrational. And she’d already left her house. She’d shown herself that she could do it. What else did she have to prove?
Now she and Blair sat alone together in her living room. Dr. Regan had left them a few minutes ago to wait outside in the car, in spite of Tessa’s whispered protestations. “What if I start to panic?”
“Do you have your pills with you?”
Tessa had set them on the coffee table, and Dr. Regan nodded in approval, issuing her final instructions to Blair on her way out the front door. “If she starts to hyperventilate, give her two pills with a glass of water. You can text me for help from Tessa’s phone.”
“But why don’t you just stay?” Tessa had argued.
Her therapist murmured something about giving them space to get acquainted. No doubt Dr. Regan found the awkward silence too unbearable to withstand for more than a few minutes. Tessa couldn’t blame her.
Blair shifted restlessly on the couch, and Tessa fought the urge to cover her nose. With every movement Blair made, Tessa caught another whiff of the overwhelming scent: some kind of flowery fragrance, so intense that it stung the inside of her nostrils.
Tessa snuck a sidelong glance. Blair was leaning to adjust the oversize duffel bag, still slung over one shoulder.
“Do you want to put that somewhere?” Tessa asked.
“No. It’s OK. I’ll just keep it—”
“Here,” Tessa said, helping to ease the bag onto the floor. “Wow, that’s ridiculously heavy. What do you have in there?”
Blair’s eyes darted away for a brief instant. “Just…stuff. Maybe it’s my Eric Thorn CD collection.”
“CDs? But he only has three albums.”
“Right. Well, I brought along my CD player too. You can never be too prepared.”
Tessa’s forehead furrowed as she eyed the bag. Who traveled with a CD player? Who even owned a CD player nowadays? “Don’t you have iTunes?”
“I’m kidding, Tessa. It was supposed to be funny.”
“Oh.”
“Whatever. Can I use your bathroom?”
Blair stood, and Tessa breathed a sigh of relief. This had to be the most excruciating conversation ever. It was almost like Blair was holding back, waiting for something—some signal. Tessa didn’t know what any of it meant. The long silences. The weird jokes. The overpowering cologne. And that bag… There had to be something juicy in there. Something important enough to carry all the way to Texas. She hadn’t missed the way Blair dodged the question, and it only served to fuel Tessa’s curiosity.
Tessa glanced up at the bathroom door. Still closed. No sound yet of a flushing toilet. She could take a tiny, little peek, right? No harm in that. How bad could it possibly be? With one eye on the bathroom, Tessa crouched down next to the bag.
She slowly zipped it open, bending her head close to look inside.
“Oh my God.”
The words came out as a breathless whisper, but Tessa didn’t hear the sound of her own voice. Her mind had slipped its groove again. Her eyes widened, but they didn’t see. Her heart stopped beating, but she didn’t feel afraid. She didn’t feel a thing. She only whispered the same words over and over, repeating her mindless chant. “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God…”
• • •
Taylor: TESSA I’VE BEEN HACKED.
Eric stared at the useless words, cursing each second that ticked by with no response. 6:23 p.m. now. How much time had passed since that car drove off? Tessa must have put her phone away. Must be busy getting acquainted—getting acquainted with “Taylor.” Taylor, the first stranger she dared let back into her life. The one she thought she trusted. The one she thought she loved.
Eric nearly threw his phone across the parking lot.
He had to do something. But what? Should he call for help? Call the police? Eric flipped away from Twitter and began dialing 9-1-1. His finger hung suspended over the Call button, but he hesitated. Call 9-1-1 and tell them what, exactly? He winced as he played out the imaginary conversation inside his head.
“9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”
“I’d like to report a missing person.”
“Male or female?”
“Female.”
“Age?”
“Eighteen.”
“When was she last seen?”
“Never.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I’ve never actually seen her. But she was supposed to meet me here twenty minutes ago.”
“She was supposed to meet you where?”
“At the Trail Dust Honky-Tonk Saloon.”
“A woman was supposed to meet you at a bar? A woman you’ve never met?”
“Right, but then she—”
“I’m sorry, sir. Are you calling to report that your blind date stood you up?”
Eric clicked the phone keypad closed. He’d never be able to explain the situation to some operator—someone who’d probably never even heard of Eric Thorn or catfishing or Twitter itself for that matter. The story would take hours to untangle. And even if he could explain it, even if he could somehow convey the danger that Tessa was in, then what? What could they do? Where would they send the squad car? He had absolutely no idea where she’d gone or where she lived. He didn’t even know her last name.
Another precious minute ticked by. 6:24 p.m. Eric shifted his weight from foot to foot, staring at his phone. He was breathing hard now but getting nowhere fast. What else could he do? He was just about to send another useless DM when a hand clapped him on the back.
“Hey, kid, I just got off the phone with—”
“Not now, Maury!” Eric brushed his manager’s arm away with a violent shrug.
“Texting again with the mystery girl? She’s got you reeled in pretty tight, my friend.”
“I said not now!” Eric strode down the sidewalk, desperate to get away from Maury’s prying eyes, but he heard his manager’s footfalls scuffle after him.
“Kid! Wait up! Trust me, you’re going to want to hear this.”
Eric turned on his heel, glaring daggers in Maury’s direction. “Whatever it is, it can wait.”
“What happened?” Maury asked with a nod toward Eric’s phone. “Caught the little lady stepping out on you?”
“Maury, I swear to God—”
“OK! OK, keep your pants on. You’ll like this. I just put in a call to publicity. The show’s off for tonight.”
Eric blinked. “What do you mean?”
“Canceled,” Maury said. “Take the rest of the night off. Go deal with your text message situation. Ring in the New Year however you see fit. Just get yourself to Santa Fe in time for sound check tomorrow.”
Eric shook his head, confused. “But what about the show? What happened to Tessa?”
“Who?”
“The concert winner! Tessa!”
“The fan from Twitter?” Maury cocked an eyebrow. “Since when did you start caring about—”
“I care, OK! Where is she?” Eric took a step closer, fighting the urge to grab his manager by the neck and shake the information loose. “For God’s sake, Maury, will you stop joking around for once in your life!”
“Take it easy!” Maury stumbled backward. “What do you want me to say? She flaked out. She bailed. She’s a no-show. I thought you’d be happy.”
“But did you talk to her?”
“Don’t take it personally, kid. You’ve got enough fans to spare.” Maury reached out to pat Eric on the arm, but he dropped his hand again at Eric’s harsh intake of breath.
“Dammit, Maury! DID YOU TALK TO HER?”
“No!” Maury shouted back, his own voice rising in defense. “Don’t take it out on me! I haven’t heard a peep. She’s not answering her phone.”