There would be such satisfaction in playing both sides of their rivalry. Dating the virginal queen while indulging my baser instincts with the impoverished beauty.
It’s what my kind are born to do.
Instead of getting into bed, I put on my sneakers and grab a hoodie. My fingers close tight around my car keys as I slip silently downstairs.
I’ll just do a drive-by. Maybe mount a cheap camera on the lamppost across the road to keep tabs on her.
Something to watch while I meticulously plan what I’ll do once my leverage falls into place.
CHAPTER FIVE
OPHELIA
Thursday night,Bryan drops me at the corner of the local shopping centre just before seven-thirty. The bully support group meets in behind, and I walk along a row of shops to reach the alleyway shortcut, every second store featuring the word ‘bargain’ or ‘discount’ in their name.
My steps are slow. My eyesight’s always worse at night, and I navigate the dark lane with sideways sweeps of my cane, but that’s not the only reason for my lethargy.
A bad day is coming. The kind where I can barely drag myself out of bed, and my bones ache in anticipation.
Stepping out of the alley, the streetlamps turn into kaleidoscopes where they hit the crack in my glasses. After days of adjusting the broken arm, they still pinch, and my blackmail agreement hasn’t borne any fruit.
Following Tuesday morning’s ambush at my locker, Damien has stayed well away.
Awareness tickles my neck, and I pause, listening intently. Is someone watching me? I fold the cane into my bag, fingers closing around the pepper spray canister inside.
“Phee!”
I startle at the voice, then exhale as Philip’s burly arms embrace me in a hug, his bushy beard tickling my cheek.
“You’re cutting it close tonight,” he exclaims. “I’d almost given up on seeing you.”
“Bryan got a phone call just as we were leaving,” I say, though my internal clock tells me it’s not as close as he’s making out.
Inside the community hall, I choose a hard plastic chair. Far from the kitchenette sink where the scent of rot rises from the fifty-year-old plumbing. I close my eyes against the shrill fluorescent lighting and dump my bag on the floor, squeezing it between my calves.
Around me, regulars introduce themselves with their gait long before they speak, the thud of work boots versus the tap of high heels and the soft rustle of a skirt.
Then Philip booms another greeting outside, and an unknown stride enters the room. Confident. Masculine. Trailing a cloud of expensive cologne, and I inhale a greedy sniff, confused when my pulse thuds in warning.
Opening my eyes, I lean forward, trying to make details appear from the fuzz. But my eyes are tired and he’s across the room, nothing but a dark shadow lost in a snowstorm.
“Welcome everyone,” Philip chirrups, clapping his hands together. “Why don’t we start by going around the group? Everyone say their name and tell us a little something about yourself.”
It’s the usual routine for a new member, and I slump in my chair, wriggling as the hard plastic numbs my arse. I tune out the droning voices, only listening for my turn.
“Hey,” an unfamiliar voice rumbles. “I’m new here, but I guess you figured that out already.”
His tone is deep and rough and too damn sexy for this early on a Thursday evening. The low timbre draws a prickle up my arms. No hint of nervousness, though unknown faces will be turned in his direction.
Bullshitthis new member has issues with bullying or self-esteem. It’s the voice of a man with no issues at all.
Introductions continue and I join in on my turn, smoothing my brow because a frown gets noticed, pulling my hair across my taped glasses because I’m suddenly nervous about sharing tonight.
“Now, Phee,” Philip says, always observant at the worst times. “Would you like to—”
“Actually,” the new guy interrupts. “Would you mind if I went first? I spent ten minutes gathering my courage in the carpark and want to say what I need to before it slips away.”
He gives a self-deprecating laugh and I say, “Go ahead,” before Philip can interfere. Curious what could frazzle this confident man.
