Watching You

 

“What can I get you, Vin?”

“The usual,” he said to the bartender. Chip maybe. Chad? Charlie? He couldn’t remember the guy’s name right now. He’d tried not to become a regular here, but it didn’t work out that way.

A pint was put in front of him and his order of a burger and fries placed with the waitress that just walked by.

This place started out as a neutral location to meet some clients. Nothing major, just casual. Some of the men he met with preferred this to his office and that was fine. Then, little by little, Vin found himself coming here more often for a quick dinner or beer. To clear his head.

To not be so alone.

He’d never given his name, but he’d used his credit card a time or two. That was all it took to be called Vincent and for him to correct them and say, “Vin.” Now it was like he belonged when he told himself to never belong anywhere again. Should he be upset over that? If he was supposed to be, he wasn’t, and wondered what it could mean.

“Catch any of the Yankee game last night?”

“No,” Vin said, lifting his beer. The game was playing on the TV over the bar, but baseball had never been his thing. He knew big names and teams and not much else. Not unless he needed to know for a job, or if it came in handy to bond with a potential client. Not that he bonded with many people.

“It was a long one last night. Thirteen innings. Never thought I’d be able to shut it off.”

“All you have to do is hit the button on the remote,” Vin said dryly.

“What fun would that be?”

Vin shrugged and started eating the minute his burger was placed in front of him, happy that he was served so fast. The bartender moved away and started to chat up another patron.

When Vin heard giggling, he turned his head quick to see the source, an image of Piper jumping into his head. Instead of long brown hair pulled back, big eyes, and a bright smile, he saw a blonde with a lot of makeup and a flirtatious grin she was sending his way.

He nodded and went back to eating, not interested. Maybe another night or another time, but not tonight.

Tonight he was trying to get his neighbor out of his head. The one that was sweet and wholesome and the type that he stayed away from, if they had the gumption to even stay in his presence. Normally his broody scowl sent them on their way with little to no words.

Piper had more than gumption, he could tell right away. She was persistent and pushy, but not in a way to completely turn him off. If that had been the case, he would have slammed the door in her face after he snatched the envelope out of her hands.

But he didn’t do that. No, he stood there and waited to see what she’d say. What she’d do. A challenge, maybe? Something he was lacking in his life.

He pegged her well: she was nosy. Now he knew, and now he could steer clear of her just like he did everyone else in the building.

He wasn’t there to make friends

He wasn’t there to socialize.

He was there to live. To move on. To find some peace.

He wasn’t going to be able to do any of those things if he was chatting with the neighbors. It’s not who he was or who he’d ever be again.

After tossing some bills on the bar, he got up and decided to go home. He’d find something to watch on TV until his eyes were heavy enough that they’d fall on their own. He doubted they’d stay shut, though. Maybe someday, but he was sure that someday wasn’t going to be tonight.

He was just shutting his car door in his building’s parking lot when he heard heavy breathing and loud feet on the pavement. He turned his head and saw Piper running toward him. If it wasn’t for the exercise gear she was sporting, he’d think she was being chased. She sure wasn’t the most graceful of runners.

“Hi, Vin,” she said, coming to a stop next to him. “Twice in one day. Imagine that.”

“Yeah, imagine that.”

She laughed at his mumbled words. “It’s such a beautiful night out, I thought I’d go for a run. Sometimes I get itchy feet.”

He knew that feeling well. “That’s nice.”

“Not much of a talker, are you?” she asked, walking beside him into the building. He was trapped unless he wanted to be rude, which he wouldn’t be. Even if he was, he was sure it’d bounce right off of her like a balloon hitting a wall.

“Not usually.”

“I like to talk. The silence gets on my nerves.”

“Not surprising.”

“You’re funny,” she said when he opened the door to hold it for her. Before he could say anything else, she stopped and whipped her head around quickly and looked out across the parking lot to the apartment buildings on the other side, then darted around in all directions.

“What? What is it?” He was reaching for a gun that wasn’t there and had to tell himself to take a breath. Get a grip.

She waited a second, then laughed. “Nothing. Sometimes I get this feeling that someone is watching me. No biggie. Just my imagination, I’m sure.”

She hadn’t noticed his sudden movement, thankfully. He followed her gaze and looked around, didn’t notice anything, but didn’t move forward, either. “Did you just feel it now? Or when you were running too?”

“Just now. It’s good. I tend to be jumpy. Probably has to do with my past.”

She shrugged and started walking. She couldn’t just say that and not expand. He couldn’t let it go. Instead, he found himself asking, “Why?”

“Why what?” Piper made her way to the staircase and held the door for him.

“Why would that have to do with your past? Are you running from the law? Running from someone?”

“No,” she said, grinning at him. “Why would you think that?”

He could tell this conversation was going to give him a headache. But in good conscience, he couldn’t let it drop without knowing more. “Do you often feel like someone is watching you?”

“Now and again. Like I said, I’m sure it’s just because of my childhood.”

He wanted to grind his teeth. What happened to her being chatty?

They’d gotten to the third floor and he held the door for her to proceed. When she stopped in front of her apartment, she turned to say, “Thanks for chatting with me.” She opened her door and took a step in, but he wasn’t moving. “Would you like to come in for a drink?” she asked.

He said, “Sure,” before he could stop himself.

 

***

 

Piper wanted to pat herself on the back for what she’d just accomplished. She didn’t think it’d work. Nor did she know she had it in her to throw out just a little bit of information without expanding. That had taken a lot of willpower. But dang it all, it worked. And it felt great!

It was exactly what she needed. As she’d gotten closer to home from her jog, she’d felt this odd sensation. Like eyes staring at her…all around her. Surrounding her and sucking her in. Making her feel tiny. She’d looked everywhere and saw nothing. But the feeling wouldn’t go away. It only got worse. Bad enough that she sprinted the rest of the way home until she was out of breath.

By then, the feeling was gone and she figured it was her imagination playing tricks on her. Again. Probably from hearing Karl’s voice the week before.

So she needed a distraction like she always did to get all those past thoughts out of her head, and there in front of her was the perfect subject to occupy her mind.

Now Vin Steele was in her apartment. Imagine that. She’d just met him today. Just found out his name. And now he was in her apartment. The urge to dance a little jig was huge, but she held back. Barely.

And she was hot and sweaty and probably stinky. Smooth move, Piper, she thought.

“So,” he said. “Your childhood?”

Ah, he was a protector. She knew it. “Nothing major. I mean, nothing that I’m sure people haven’t heard before. I’ve been in the foster care system my whole life. You learn to look over your shoulder a lot. You learn to move fast and pick up when you need to. To not rely on anyone. I used to be really skittish.”

“Used to be?” he asked, following her to the kitchen. She opened up the fridge and pulled out two bottles of water. He probably thought she’d meant alcohol when she offered the drink, but she didn’t have any in the place.

“Once I turned eighteen and moved out on my own, I stopped looking over my shoulder so much.”

At that point, she’d done what she needed to do. She learned to survive just fine. It wasn’t always right, but it got her through. That was all she wanted back then. No need to give too many details for their first real conversation. She didn’t want him to think she was some nutcase with drama unfolding all around her.

“I would have thought once you were on your own, you’d do it more,” he said, opening the water bottle and taking a drink.

She waited until he was done, watching his face. A nice few days’ growth of beard, his hair short and a tad bit messy. His expression saying, “I don’t know why I’m here and I wish I could leave, but something is telling me not to just yet.” Or at least she was hoping. Wishful thinking on her part.

“I had my freedom then. I could be on my own and I was. I was with a good family before that and they wanted me to stay. I don’t like to be dependent on anyone, though. I still talk with them often. Share holidays with the family as a whole. They have a son and daughter, a few years older than me, and I see them often too, but I didn’t belong and still don’t. I belong to myself,” she said, smiling.

She’d perfected that smile all her life. Piper learned she was left alone if she pretended to be happy rather than a troubled kid. And if there was trouble in the house she was at, she learned to just hide, if not escape. She was good at finding the best way to act to get through.

“How can you make what most people would think of as a depressing life into something so casual?”

“Because others had it worse. I moved around. I had some good homes and some bad. I ended with a good one, and now my life is even better. What’s not to love about that?” Practice makes perfect, as the saying went.

“So that is why you looked over your shoulder often back then? Some of those bad homes?”

“Always be aware. I learned that early in life,” she said. “You know, I didn’t think you’d be this gabby. How about some cookies?”

“Don’t go out of your way,” he said.

“It’s not out of my way. I have sweets in my house nonstop. I’m always experimenting with things, bringing stuff home and making plates for others.”

“For those that aren’t so special,” he said, and actually cracked a grin. Wow, she was really proud of herself now. And boy was he downright handsome. A little mysterious, a little dangerous. A whole heck of a lot of heat was filling her body right now.

She opened the fridge and pulled out a plate. “We are all special in our own way if you really think about it. What are you in the mood for?”

He looked over the plate of assorted cookies and brownies, muffins and pastries. Then he reached for a big thick brownie with peanut butter frosting on it. Nothing dainty there, and now she had a better idea of what would suit him. It was always a test of sorts with her. She could judge people by the dessert they picked.

“Aren’t you going to have one?” he asked after he bit right in. Didn’t even break a piece off like most people. Even better.

“Do you know how many of these things I sample on a daily basis? I’m good.”

His eyes roamed over her body. She was skinny, she knew, but not through dieting by any means. She never sat still, and like she said, she sampled so many of her creations that she learned to just take a nibble of each. Nothing more. The rest of the time, she stuck to a pretty healthy diet.

She pulled a stool out and sat at the little counter, nodded her head to him, but he chose to stand. Guess he wasn’t going to get as comfortable as she would have liked, but she was thrilled with what she’d accomplished so far.

“So what about you?” she asked. “You know about my childhood, want to tell me about yours?”

“Nope,” he said around a mouthful.

Her jaw dropped, and he reached over and lifted it back in place. Then he winked at her, but still didn’t say a word. “You’re joking, right?”

“Nope,” he said again, taking the last bite of the brownie, and walked toward her door. “Lock up behind me.” Then he was out of sight, just like that.

So much for thinking she had the upper hand.