She draws lines, connectingTheo’sname toEamonand theStalker. I chew on my lip as the story unfolds, right before myeyes. It’s just all loosely based associations. None of it makes any sense. Nothing related. Who are we missing?
“Can you add two more names?” I suggest. “Garron and Dax… they’re like Eamon's right-hand men or friends, not sure what to call them.”
She adds the two names with two shorter lines, connecting them toEamon. The toothpick I found… could the man behind the mask be Garron?
Andrea finally sits down in the chair beside me, as we both study the board with what can only be described as a disorganized collection of acquaintances. What are we doing here? Figuring out what happened to my brother, surmising who my stalker is, or cataloging my questionable choices. Perhaps all three?
My roommate turns to me after a long stretch of us staring at the board, trying to make sense of this perfectly illustrated chaos I call my life. “Has your stalker ever made contact with you, beyond using technology?”
Shit. I knew this would come up. I think it would have been easier to tell her I was fooling around with Eamon, who she clearly has a distaste for, rather than disclosing I’ve been intimate with a masked man, whose identity is still a mystery even to me! Getting ready to say it out loud made me feel stupid, for engaging in such a potentially dangerous activity. When I was with my stalker, it just felt right.
I speak my truth. As it turns out… She listens, no judgment. No snide remarks. Just hops up from her seat, pulling the easel closer, and changes to a different colored marker. She has to be part machine.
“We should list the songs he’s played for you. There may be some kind of message there, that helps us.” She writes the wordsThe Stalker’s Playliston the top, right side of the board.
It takes me every bit of an hour, looking through my phone, checking calendars, and messages to recall everything. Racking my already, very tired brain, was a chore to list all of the songs he has played for me, up until this point. The list barely fits on the board.
“Cindel. All of this…” She motions toward the insane amount of information. “Goes deeper than you could possibly know.”
Here comes the power of reasoning. I hold my breath before she continues, worried she’s already made up her mind.
“But we're gonna figure this out. Together.”
Okay. I didn’t expect that.
“Cindel, I’ve only ever been concerned about your safety. I’m begging you… please stay away from these men.”
I can’t promise her that. Like a moth to a flame, I’m drawn to him. Drawn to both of them. Maybe for two separate reasons, but I can’t really explain it. My eyes sting, as exhaustion from this day consumes me. “I’m tired. Let’s continue this tomorrow.”
She caps the marker, then pulls me from my seat. My first real friend wraps her arms around me. I needed that. To know, we’re okay. Before closing the door to her bedroom, she signsI love you.With that, I know that if everything else goes to shit, at least I have her.
CHAPTER
THIRTY
CINDEL
Over the next week, Andrea is curiously home more than usual. Each night she and I go over our conspiracy board, accumulating notes, names, and songs. Puzzles were never considered ‘fun’ to me, but this one might as well have no image on display, identical shapes, and pieces lost to the vacuum. We even had to add paper taped on the sides of the board, because we’ve run out of room.Officer Fucking Kentwas one of the additions, withCreepy Craigbelow. We’re confident my boss's untimely demise doesn't have anything to do with Theo, but we want to list every possible variable.
Ironically, with my roommate back in my corner, Eamon has been scarce. Even the text messages aren’t more than a goodnight or emoji here and there. The subtle change only causes me to become even more anxious about our approaching dinner date. I can’t discern if the nerves are apprehension or something else entirely.
Andrea has gone all “Nancy Drew” on my ass and insists I should bewired,when I go on the date. Honestly, where doesshe get this stuff from? I agree to her plan, if only to put her mind at ease.
Jada came by the bar again, conveniently during the only time Eamon was there this week. Watching her forced laugh and idle hands explore Eamon’s shoulders and arms, while he attempts to work on his laptop, was a true test of everyone’s patience. It’s not like Eamon is mine or anything. I technically didn’t belong to anyone, so how can he? We haven’t even been physical with one another, aside from the one kiss and even that felt forced.
I’ve never kissed the masked man. Not on the mouth, at least. I wonder what his lips would feel like on mine. Once the mask came off and the games were over, would there be anything left? Anything real? Did I unknowingly accept terms when I took that earbud home? Was I… his? I can’t.
Committing to anything from here on out, will be kept at arm's reach. Too many unknowns.
Presently. I am fed up with Jada. She continues barking orders at me to bring her random things since she can’t move around easily. When she demanded a Cosmo and a tonic for Eamon, I was done. I may have accidentally put down the drink too quickly, splashing the pink liquid onto her phone and down her white miniskirt.
“Oops.”
As she shuffles off to the bathroom, muttering profanities the whole way, Eamon gives me a knowing wink paired with a devilish smile.
My lower belly somersaults. Fuck, this man confuses me. Cold for nearly a week, then undeniably smooth when he finally comes around me. I shouldn’t feel guilty, no one’s getting hurt. I’m simply having some fun, while also getting answers to questions I’ve had for years.
Eamon’s comrades seem to hang around The Black Sheep habitually. If Garron isn’t drinking or challenging a group of frat boys to a game of darts, he is distracting the new hires. It seems like each time the new girls, Leslie or Maya, deliver drinks; they go out of their way to pass by the boy’s table. More often than not, I find one of them sitting at their table passing the time. At first, I was easily able to redirect the girls by having them grab something from the backroom. However, after the fifth time, I realized the catalyst was Garron. Redirecting my focus, I warned him, if he didn’t stop monopolizing my waitresses' time… I would dress him in a low-cut top and have him serving tables.
