I scrambled, following.
The air inside was stiff and musty, like it had absorbed the old tweed church pews and dusty Bibles. I slowly shut the door, doing my best to be quiet.
“…told you to leave her alone.” Calder’s voice drifted down the hallway.
Leavewhoalone? I tiptoed closer, trying to hear more.
This should probably be a deal-breaker, right?
If you had to stalk the person to find out the truth, maybe that meant it wasn’t the healthiest relationship. But still, I landed outside of an office with the door open, keeping my back pressed against the wall.
“See…” Calder spoke again, this time his voice clear, laced with an icy venom I’d never before heard. “I thought I was clear what would happen if you didn’t listen.”
“I signed the papers,” a new voice spoke, thin and whiny.
Papers? What papers? I leaned closer to the doorway, trying to figure out what they were talking about.
“You’re still in Utah?—”
A high-pitched, distorted, synth-pop guitar rang out in the hallway—“Toxic” by Britney Spears. What the hell? I spun around, trying to see who else was joining this, when it hit me.
Oh fuck.
Shit.
That wasEames’sringtone, and I had Eames’s phone.
What happened next was a blur. At the same time I scrambled to get the fuck out of there, someone emerged from the office.
We collided. Eames’ phone went flying and smacked against the wall—still playing the distorted, screeching melody.
Then I saw red.
Blood.
Was I bleeding? Did I somehow cut myself on Eames phone or my fake beard? Or was this some kind of divine retribution for being such a sexual deviant I was actively stalking my stalker?—
Red trickled down the painted white walls. The hand of the stranger who’d collided with me now impaled on…the Crucifixion.
Fuck. Shit. Fuck.
It wasn’t my blood.
The stranger’s eyes found mine, wide with horror. Blood poured out of his hand to the ground in a geyser as Britney Spears continued to sing.
“Oh my god,” I said. “I’m so sorry.” I spun around, looking for something to stymie the flow, and grabbed the first thing I saw, an old coffee-stained napkin on the ground. I slammed it onto his hand.
He screamed.
“I’m so sorry?—”
“Shay?” Calder appeared, frozen in the doorway as if his feet had stopped working when he saw me.
“I—I…” I pressed the napkin against his hand.
“This is so fucked,” he screamed. “I’ll go. I’ll go, just let meleave.”
A hand grasped my shoulder, tugging me gently away from the man I’d just accidentally crucified. Calder tugged my gaze to him.
