As I idle at the single blinking red stop light in the center of town, I drum my fingertips on the steering wheel. Chad pulls up to my right in his Cutlass. Didn’t Jake say he had expired tags or something? I glance at the front plate, but from this distance I can’t make out the date. It’s orange. Is that this year or last year’s color?
I ease through the intersection. Maybe he renewed them.
When I get home, I need to call Jake and let him know that Chad is back to driving his car in case it isn’t legal. I grip the steering wheel tighter, and Chad turns, following behind me. The hair on my arms stands as my gaze flicks back and forth from the view out my front window and the one out the rearview mirror.
Thankfully, he remains at a safe distance. Back in high school, Chad made all the underclass people’s lives miserable. We’d come around corners on the way downstairs, and he’dshove out his foot from the other side of the wall, causing us to flail forward.
If we were lucky all we’d do was drop our books on the floor. On the not so lucky days, someone would fall face first onto the floor.
He de-panted middle school boys, gave wedgies to the freshman, and put castor oil in the teacher’s salad dressing. By his senior year, we were saved. He was kicked out of school. At least while we were in school, but he’d still lurk around town, fucking with people.
I’m two blocks from my apartment building when I notice Chad turning onto my street. My heart skips a beat. Is he following me? The baby whimpers as if it senses my heightened anxiety. “It’s okay, baby. I’ll keep you safe.”
What does he want? Does he know this is Mackenzie’s baby? Does she want her back?
Chad flips on his blinker and eases into a spot a block away from the apartment building. My shoulders drop. Girl, you’ve lost your mind thinking that Chad is following you. He’s never given you the time of day.
I ease into my parking space, gather my gear, and jump out. The warm sun beats down on my head and causes my eyes to squint against the intrusion. I swing open the back door to find Grace’s deep brown eyes watching me.
Or at least she’s somewhat watching me. At this point, I’m probably a big blob to her.
“It’s a beautiful day, baby. Let’s go inside so you can get used to your new home.” I pop out the car seat, hook the carrier over my arm, and turn on my heel.
“What do you have here?” Chad stands on the other side of the door. “Little Miss Goodie Two Shoes and a mutt.”
I scream and jump, jostling the car seat which causing the baby’s arms to flail out as a wail emits from her lips. Thanks, asshole. I narrow my gaze, taking him in from his crossed arms to his feet braced a couple of feet apart. Greasy hair. Tattoos. Grime covered shirt. Jeans that look like they’ve never been washed. Pit marked face. Beady eyes that leer over me sending a shiver along my spine.
He’s a pathetic bully, but I’m not about to let this loser ruin my day. “What do you want?”
On some guys the black ink looks hot. On Jake? It’s sexy as hell. On Chad? He looks like a loser trying to be cool.
“I heard you were dating that pussy boy, Jake Thompson. I want you to tell him to leave me alone. I’ve not done anything to him. If he minds his own business, I’ll mind mine.”
I swing the car seat behind me, putting as much distance between Chad and Grace as I can. If needed, I’ll sprint out of here, go to a neighbor’s house and call Jake. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Angel.” He winks as he runs his finger under my chin, shoving my head upward and back. “You know exactly what that means.”
Bile rises in my throat, but I manage to hold my ground. I’m not backing down over this guy.
His jaw flexes as he pops his neck and drops his hand back down to his side. “People who fuck with me pay the consequences and clearly, your pretty boy boyfriend has been gone too long to remember how small towns work. Around here, we take care of our own. And while you’re at it. Tell that fucking prick to quit messing with my sister. She isn’t interested in some do-gooder cop.”
Grace’s whimper subsides as one of my neighbors steps outside her apartment door. “Emily, do you need help?”
“I’m fine. Thank you.” I wave dismissively at Mrs. Logan as my heart sputters in my chest. The last thing I need is for an 80-year-old woman to get caught in the middle of this.
“Do you want me to call the police?” Her voice wavers as she speaks but her chin remains tipped up.
Chad growls as I raise my hand palm facing outward toward my elderly neighbor. “No, it’s fine. I’ve got this. You go back inside.”
“Fine.” Her eyes remain narrowed as she tilts her head and looks Chad up and down. Her face is lined with wrinkles, her shoulders are curved with age, and she’s wearing a faded floral housecoat with tan stockings pulled up to her knees. But she doesn’t back down either. “Yell if you need me. I’ll be watching.”
Mrs. Logan shuffles back inside with one backward glance. When I’m her age, I want to be a bad ass like her.
“Good thing you were smart enough to get rid of her. I’d hate for you to feel responsible for Mrs. Logan having a little accident. You get what I’m saying?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He takes a step back. “You keep being a good girl.”
