Now I’m definitely out of here. My mood is already funky, and I don’t need to make it worse. I turn on my heel and head to the dressing room where Rudy and Trixie are both changing after their last performances.
“I’m heading out early.”
Rudy looks up from powdering his face. “Why? Is something wrong?”
Shaking my head, I open my locker to pull out my street clothes. “No. It’s dead.”
“You know Jimmy hates it when you bail.”
“He’ll get over it.”
I change clothes quickly, twisting my hair into a low bun before using wipes to remove my makeup. As I gaze at my reflection, my thoughts wander. I love dancing, I was destined for it, I just never thought it would be in this kind of environment. I thought I’d be on stages around the world. But that was before everything went wrong.
I hate it when the dark thoughts slip in. It kills my vibe. A hot bath, a cup of tea, and some good music will set me right again. I throw on my coat, wave at the guys, and slip out the back door.
The freezing air is shocking after being in the warm, stuffy club, but it’s a reminder of just how alive I am. I scan the parking lot for trouble, and after not finding any, exhale slowly and walk to my car. Inside, I blast the heat and rub my hands together as I wait for the engine to warm up. Snow is coming soon, that’s for sure.
My phone’s playlist clicks on, and my favorite playlist of opera arias fills the space, instantly soothing my tired soul. I back out of my parking spot and begin the short drive home. I love the peace of my own cocoon after being in a noisy place for hours, and as I drive, the tension drains from my muscles.
As I turn onto my street, I notice a car in my rearview mirror that’s been with me for at least a couple of miles. It could be a coincidence—lots of people live and work in this direction—but the fact that I noticed means something. My survival instincts kick in and I sit up straighter, paying attention to the type of car—a black Lexus sedan with tinted windows—the license plate on the front, and the way the driver mirrors my every move. Because of the windows, I can’t make out who’s behind the wheel, but I know it’s not anyone I know.
When I reach my apartment, I make a left turn into the parking lot and the car keeps driving straight, reducing some of my stress. No one was following me. Still, just to be careful, I keep my eyes peeled as I pull into my parking spot. It’s quiet and I don’t see anyone walking around.
I exit the car slowly, then walk swiftly to my door, but I’m stopped in my tracks when I reach it. Sitting on my doormat is a stuffed hedgehog holding a small box. My blood immediately runs cold. Who the fuck knows that my favorite animal is a hedgehog? I’ve never told my coworkers. Hell, I haven’t shared information like that with anyone in years.
I spin around, scanning my surroundings, but I’m still alone. Kneeling, I study the item before picking it up. A small card tumbles to the ground, and I reach for it, filled with trepidation. Deciding on safety first, I unlock my door and slip inside, quickly closing and relocking the door.
Everything looks the same as when I left, so that helps me relax a bit. I toe off my sneakers and walk to the living room, clutching the stuffed toy and box. Before opening the box, I pull the card out of the envelope, and after exhaling slowly, I flip it over to read.
Roses are red, violets are blue. Everywhere you go, I see you.
My blood runs cold as my mind scrambles with possibilities. It could be anyone, and maybe they just got lucky on the hedgehog thing, but something about it feels personal, and that scares the shit out of me.
With trembling fingers, I lift the lid off the box, and my jaw drops. Inside are several pictures of me walking in and out of Segreto, my apartment, the grocery store. There’s something else in the bottom, and when I lift it, my eyes sting with tears. It’s my old ID card from when I was still in foster care.
My throat tightens with fear. This is definitely personal, but who, and more importantly, why? It can’t be anyone who knew me from back then. I made sure of that. Brushing hair off my forehead, I lean back against the couch cushions. Someone knows about my past, but what could they want? I don’t have money, which means… A shiver of pure terror runs through me. They want skin. My pain.
They know where I live, where I work, my routine. They could’ve been in the car behind me. They could be sitting somewhere right now, lying in wait for me. Blowing out a breath, I shake my shoulders out. Maybe they just want to scare me for some reason. That could be it. All I have to do is find out who it is and confront them. If they think I’m still the scared, weak kid I was years ago, well, they can fuck right off with that.
There’s no way I can relax with a bath now, so I flick on the TV and put on a baking show to soothe my nerves. As I stand to grab a piece of gum, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched. I creep over to the front window and peer through the blinds onto the parking lot below. I recognize all the cars as belonging to my neighbors, but as I scan the full length of it, I see a man standing on the sidewalk in front of the building. He’s too far away for me to get a clear view of his face, but he looks tall-ish, slim build, brown hair. It could be anyone, but I know he’s behind this. I can sense it. He wanted me to see him too. Well, if he wants to talk to me, then let’s do it. I leave the window, grabmy coat, and pull my stun gun from my bag before sliding my feet into my sneakers. Then I’m out the door and down the stairs, walking quickly in that direction, but it only takes me a few seconds to realize he’s gone. And I mean without a trace. Like he was nothing but a figment of my imagination. That’s fucking weird. I swing around, wondering where the fuck he went, and startle when a woman rounds the corner with her dog. She hesitates as well.
“Did you see a strange man down here?”
“There are a lot of strange men around here.”
“True, but I guess someone who stood out?”
She shakes her head. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I am. Thanks.”
“Stay warm,” she calls out as she passes me.
“You too.”
I start the walk back to my apartment, but since my nerves are so frazzled, I’m hyperaware of my surroundings, and I notice a car that isn’t usually here. It’s near the back of the lot, to the side of my building. It’s a deep, metallic gray color, noticeable in this neighborhood because it’s nicer than most, and something tells me it’s here because of me.
I can’t decide whether I want to stomp over there and confront whoever’s in it or return to the relative safety of my apartment, but the decision is quickly made for me when the window rolls down.
