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“I think I’m going to run for a bit,” I said, looking forlornly at my treadmill. Maybe some weights after. Working out was one of the many things I did now to prepare myself for the potential fight for my life I might have to make one day. That and the self-defense classes I took with Izzy. I’d never been in better shape. My ass looked great—and nobody to see it.
“Why don’t you go hang out with the tree guy?” she said.
“Why would I do that?”
“Why wouldn’t you do that? What else do you have to do? You’ve got the urban equivalent of a lumberjack across the hall. And he’s single.”
“How do you know?”
“Bitch, I know. His friend is single too.”
“What? You didn’t even get his last name.”
“Women solve entire murders on their podcasts, you think I can’t find out all I need to know about some rando I met on the lawn?”
She had a point.
What was most disturbing was that, given all her detective skills, she still couldn’t locate the one person we needed her to be able to locate. Two months ago, George had violated his probation by failing to report to his officer. When they went to his house, he had moved. To where, nobody knew.
This wasn’t good. It was the same thing he did before he showed up at my last apartment, having a complete psychotic break, peering into my windows from the bushes at 2:00 a.m.
He’d had duct tape.
He got a slap on the wrist for violating my restraining order, because of course he did. One week in jail that I’d used to move, again, and then probation. He should have been locked up. But they never do anything until it’s too late.
“Seriously, go over there,” she said.
“He’s probably busy.”
“He’s probably not. He’s on temporary disability for the ankle thing, he posted about it on his Instagram a few days ago. He doesn’t work from home, and he can’t leave. You have a bored, captive audience.”
“My favorite kind,” I mumbled.
“Get UP. Go make a fucking friend. Knowing your neighbors makes you safer.”
She wasn’t wrong.
“Fine,” I grumbled. “He did say he needed coffee.”
“Perfect. And fix your damn hair. You look feral.”
I rolled my eyes. “Goodbye.”
I hung up with her and went to look in the mirror.
I did look feral. And tired. And pale.
He was cute, and I looked like someone who didn’t live in a country with sun.
I’d tried to make my pathetic little balcony nice enough to sit out there, but it was full sun facing and way too hot. My whole apartment was pretty awful, actually, which was sad considering how much time I spent here. I’d considered hanging things and painting, but again, what was the point? All that work and a lost security deposit for holes in the walls just to have to move again when George inevitably found me.
I’d read that stalkers usually stopped once they fixated on someone else. At least if he was still obsessed with me, he wasn’t doing this to another woman. Some other girl who would never be the same.
If I thought about it like that, it gave me a little peace. Like my sacrifice was saving someone.
Really, it was the only silver lining. That and I now had excellent marksmanship. I could put five rounds, rapid fire, into center mass from ten yards away while chewing gum and listening to an audiobook.
I splashed water on my face and took my hair out of the ponytail it was in. It was kinky, so I tried to brush it, and I succeeded in making it frizzy and kinky, so I got in the shower.
