“I’m having a smoke. I’ll keep an eye out.” And he shuts the door with him on the outside of it.
Thank God for construction workers. I lean back against the wood. It’s dusty, but who the fuck cares? My chest heaves in and out. Did Jake see me come in here? I tilt forward and put my hands on my knees, sucking in a deep breath. Muffled voices reach me from the other side of the plywood, and I almost stop breathing altogether.
“Did you see anyone come down this way?” a voice says.
Jake.
“What?”
“A girl? Running?”
“Just come out here two seconds ago for a smoke, man. Not seen no one.”
Silence.I slowly breathe out. I don’t want to go back to Des’s apartment now. I really don’t want to risk Jake following me and discovering where I live. I want to groan out loud. Why the hell has he turned up again? If Jake spent more time working and less time harassing me, he could earn enough money to pay off whatever this bullshit debt is he’s got himself into.
The door opens beside me, and the guy in the hard hat comes back through it.
“He’s gone off down the street,” he says, gesturing to his left.
“Thanks,” I say, pressing my hand to my chest. “I really appreciate it.”
“You okay?” he adds, eyes scanning my face.
“I’m fine,” I say, and he narrows his eyes on me for a second then shrugs and disappears into the site. Probably assuming I’m another Manhattan crazy he doesn’t want to get involved with. I stick my head out of the doorway. A few office workers are heading along the sidewalk, but there’s no sign of Jake. I stand for a couple of minutes peering down the road before stepping out.
Perhaps James would be sympathetic. At least he’s met my stepdad and has some idea of what he’s like.Whatever, Sadie!I need to quit worrying. It’s not like I can impress James now—the thought is almost laughable—we’re way past worrying what the other person thinks. I think we’ve both seen each other at our worst. I scuttle back toward the office along a different route, checking behind me every few seconds. Once I’m back on Water Street, I dart under an overhang a couple of doors down and scan around. The entrance is tantalizingly close. I pull my phone out of my pocket and turn it over in my hand:
Hi James, a bit of an odd request. Could you look out of the window and see if you can spot my stepdad anywhere?
The response comes back immediately:
What? You think he came back here?
I can’t tell him I know damn well he came back here and he’s just chased me down the street, now can I?
Yeah. I want to make sure he’s not staking out the office.
I hope he is because I’ll call the cops.
Oh, shit!The dots appear again:
Where are you?
Outside Duane Reade.
I’m at the main door.
Already?
On my way.
As I hurry along the sidewalk, James is standing there, arms folded on his chest, glowering. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him glower. His eyes scan me up and down.
“What made you think he’d come back again?” he says, looking up and down the street. He turns and opens the door to the building and gestures me inside. I don’t fully breathe until the door clicks shut behind us.
“He was across the street when I left.”
He comes to an abrupt halt. “He was waiting for you?”
