I jerk the phone away from my ear and watch as Sloane replies to me.
Sloane
Are YOU drunk, Stormy?
I roll my eyes but it doesn’t abate my fear.
Should I go to her apartment?
She moved into a place by herself since Remi moved out last December. So she’s alone if she’s notout.And someone knows about her. Knows right now, I’m texting her.
I don’t even know how the fuck that’s possible but I know better than to question it. Nothing in tech is ever secure. It’s the first rule of the work I do.
I call Sloane instead of texting her back.
She answers on the second ring, and I can tell from her voice she’s at least tipsy. “You called me,” she says, a laugh in her words.
I turn in the woods, eyes darting around every corner, but it’s hard to see anything at all. “Surprise, surprise,” I deadpan. “Are you home?”
“You wanna come over?” she asks me, giggling a little. There’s a hiccup at the end of the question.
I close my eyes tight and don’t let her innocence affect me. I will not fuck up her life. “So you are home.”
“Yes, Stormy.” She laughs again.
I smile despite myself. “Is your door locked?”
“Why? Do you want to come through it?”
This fucking girl. “Answer me, Sloane. Is it locked?” I speak each word coldly, enunciating every single one.
There’s a pause, like she knows this is serious. Then she says, “Yes, of course.” And there’s no breathless giggle or slurred intonation.
“Good. Don’t open it for anyone.”
Then I hang up.
I text the unknown number back.
If you come after her, your spine is going through your fucking heart.
“Havefun playing in the woods again all by yourself?” Cortland asks me as we sit side by side on the couch in the living room. Remi and Lyle are sleeping upstairs and I put on a horror movie out of habit. It’s Remi’s favorite genre and I blank out when I watch anything. I never pay attention, which is a secret neither of my housemates seem to have caught onto. It’s like scrolling through your phone but better. No rush of dopamine. Just sitting and staring off into space but it looks like I’m doing something normal.
I blink at Cort’s question and see on screen a man with a butcher knife lurking in the doorway of a black and orange lit house. So long as it’s not a hotel room, I’m good.
No problems here.
“Did you wanna come, Cort, baby?” I ask him, my voice sweet.
He laughs and I see the pillow he threw at me right before it can hit my face. I reach out and grab it with one hand and draw it in toward my lap, curling my fingers in the plush orange velvet. Remi’s doing; velvet pillows didn’t exist in this house until she moved in.
“Nah,” he answers me. “I’ve had enough of your weird games to last me a lifetime.” Before he can get anything else out, he stifles a yawn with the back of his hand.
I glance at him as eerie music starts to play from the butcher knife movie, a crescendo of piano and organs. The instrument, not the…you know.
Cort has circles beneath his eyes and he swipes his tongue over his lip ring before letting his eyelids drop closed. Lyle is kind of sleeping through the night; five hour stretches, which is much better than the ninety minutes before. Cortland takes turns with Remi, then he gets up at dawn to work. It’s different every day but lately he’s been laying concrete and relishing in the cool dip the October temperatures have taken. His shoulders look broader, the veins in his arms beneath his gray T-shirt more pronounced.
“You love my games. But you should sleep while you can,” I say, turning back to the movie and feeling the need for rest taking over me, too. But I wouldn’t be able to drift off even if I laid down. I want to check in again with Sloane. The unknown number hasn’t texted me anymore and I start to wonder if Remi Ocean herself is fucking with me upstairs, bored with Lyle. Anonymous texting is not really like her but she’s become more comfortable since she’s lived here. Stronger, too. Then again, she takes all the sleep she can get. I don’t think she’d spend any of that time fucking with me.
