I narrow my eyes and look in the rearview mirror at the little smart ass and put my middle finger up. Then I take another hopeful look at my cell phone but once again see nothing.
Reality is starting to settle in.
I’m not Gigi’s bodyguard or her boyfriend.
I am nothing to her.
And it was foolish of me to ever think that I actually could be.
Twenty-Five
Gigi
One Week Later
* * *
I’m on the train headed to Temple’s medical school to tie up some loose ends with the human services office and pick up my last paycheck. Money will be tight once I start my new job at the regional theatre, but I simply can’t keep my job with the standardized patient program. There are too many bad memories I have that are associated with it. It’s time for a fresh start.
Both Casper and Bernadette are working today and I wave to them from the back of the training room. My supervisor wants to chat before I sign my exit paperwork, which I agree to, seeing that she’s always seemed to have my best welfare at heart.
“You are one of the best patient actors we’ve ever had, Gigi. Are you sure that you still want to quit?”
“Yes, I think it would be best.”
“The higher ups in Human Resources have been looking into your situation since it happened. There’s no way a felon should have been approved into our program. Someone dropped the ball somewhere.”
I nod in understanding. “I hope they figure out where the weak link is.”
“They better or a lot of people in management are going to lose their jobs.”
“Well, I better head on in now. I’ve got some paperwork to fill out before I’m completely finished.”
“Oh, sure, go ahead. I’ll tell Casper and Bernadette where you are when they go on break.”
“Thanks.”
Before I enter the HR office, Janet asks one more question.
“Are you okay, Gigi?”
“Huh?”
“You don’t seem like yourself.”
She’s right. I’m not myself at all. I’m like a walking zombie. I’m the sort of girl who needs her eight hours of sleep but since Knox moved out, I haven’t been able to sleep through the night. A couple of times a night, I wake up, go pee, scroll through my Twitter feed, do random internet searches for dogs for adoption and then fall back asleep. After doing this a few nights in a row, by the time the sun rose today, I was exhausted.
“It’s been a long couple of weeks.”
“I can’t imagine what it was like to interact with a real-life stalker.”
This entire time I never thought of Ben (I mean Jake) as an actual stalker, but if this was anyone else, that’s probably what I would have called him too. My dad’s connection to this has probably clouded my judgment.
I stuff my check into my crossbody bag and head to the bank. I could do a virtual deposit from home, but it’s a nice day, so I might as well deposit the check in person since I’m out. Maybe I can clear some of the cobwebs out of my head as I walk.
I’m looking at my cell phone to check the time when a rather rotund woman stops in front of me and I accidentally bump into her.
“Excuse me,” I apologize, but as I look up, I realize that it isn’t a woman at all. It’s Jake dressed in women’s clothing. He’s carrying some sort of soft tote bag, but lifts his arm and points the bag to my stomach.
