by Mia Kayla
Then, it hit me. Like a rock against my hard head.
Jordan wasn’t kidding; she was dangerous. This could only be her. His stalker had killed a living animal and placed it in my car.
I needed to call Jordan, but my purse was in the car, and I didn’t want to again see the blood and knife in that poor cat’s body.
But I needed to get to him. After I wiped my mouth with a paper towel and patted my face dry, I staggered toward the door when it opened and slammed against me.
“Sorry.” The voice was quiet but so high-pitched and screechy.
I had to lift my head to see if it matched the person it was attached to. It sounded like the voice belonged to a middle school girl.
“It’s fine,” I said.
When she didn’t move, I tilted my head and angled closer to meet her gaze. The world tipped on its axis, and I froze, unblinking.
I’d recognize her in my sleep because she haunted my nightmares.
The blood drained from my face.
It was Jordie Stein.
Every impulse in my body screamed for me to run, but my feet were bolted to the floor. I couldn’t move, paralyzed by the realization that this was her.
Jordan had made sure I’d know her if I saw her in any disguise, with any new haircut.
Of course, I recognized the dark-as-night irises—the signature crazy gleam in her gaze—and her dyed dark brown hair, her blonde roots showing.
My body snapped back to attention, awareness pushing to the surface. I forced myself to smile. “Excuse me.”
I sidestepped her, but she still didn’t move.
I evened out my features. Maybe if I pretended I didn’t know it was her, she’d let me pass, but she had to see the recognition in my eyes, notice the pause, the shock in them.
“Christene.” Her voice was no longer quiet, her tone firmer, as though there was no doubt it was me.
My pulse raced into overdrive, and I concentrated on steadying my breathing, though I wanted to gasp for air, swallow it in large, overwhelming gulps.
“Sorry?” I tilted my head, blowing out one silent breath. “Do I know you?” I locked my knees to stop myself from visibly shaking.
“No.” Her lips lifted into a menacing grin.
But what had my stomach turning was the vacancy in her stare, as though she wasn’t all there.
“Well, can I pass?” I asked with a bite. “My friend is waiting for me right outside the door.”
I begged for Cade to come to my rescue. After seeing the dead animal in the car, he’d have to know I was in danger, or, at a minimum, know something was wrong.
What is she doing here? Is she crazy?
Of course, she is!
She didn’t care if she got caught, and she didn’t give two shits if she went to jail. The unstable didn’t care about their life, only that they got what they wanted.
She took two steps farther into the restroom, and I automatically backed up. After she slipped her oversized purse from her shoulder, she took out a jimmy and then jacked it against the door, so it wouldn’t budge.
“What the hell are you doing?” Panic seized control of my lungs, and this time, I lost all focus, all composure. My whole body tensed, preparing to fight. I would not go down without throwing a few punches.
At one time, a long while ago, I had been that girl in the schoolyard, beating up anyone who picked on Angie. That was a long while ago, but here and now, I had to channel that girl to survive.
“You know who I am, don’t you?” She kicked her purse against the door. “I know you do.”
She waited for me to respond, but when I didn’t, she continued anyway. “Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you,” she said calmly, as though she were reciting the weather, but it was the eerie calm before the storm.
How could I tell? It was her semi-formed smile as she simply fed off my fear.
When I backed up two more steps, she advanced toward me.
“If that’s the case, why did you just lock the door?” My arms clutched my stomach, holding me upright.
“I just want to ask you a couple of questions.” She tilted her head to the side as though she had a crick in her neck. “Just a few questions.”
Her smile widened, and I swallowed down the bile forming in my throat.
My eyes searched the area for a weapon. Anything. But besides some paper towels and the soap dispenser, there was nothing that could protect me, and who knew if she had a gun or a knife with her?
She smiled, all teeth this time. “Do you love him?” she asked, her high-pitched, screechy voice reciting the words in a singsong tone.
I blinked, carefully picking my next words. “Who?” If I pretended and played dumb, maybe she would believe me.
“You know who I’m talking about.”
Her gaze flickered to the right above me, almost making me turn around to see what she was looking at, but I couldn’t afford to take my eyes off of her. Tiny spider-like tingles crept up my body, my arms, into my throat, choking me. She approached the sink, studied her reflection, and used her pinkie to swipe at the corner of her mouth.
“I love him, too, ya know? He thinks I’m crazy, but I just want him to realize I’m not.” She rapidly blinked at me and remained silent as if waiting for me to confirm that she wasn’t crazy.
I leveled my stance, planted my feet on the ground, and forced myself to calm down and think logically. Panic would not do me any good at this moment.
I didn’t know what to say. Any word could set her off, could be used against me, so I remained silent, biting my tongue and thinking of my next step. There was no way I could run past her, remove the jack, and get out the door without her stopping me first.
She flipped around, leaning against the sink. “I just want to talk without any disruptions.”
The eerie gleam in her eyes remained, and the hairs on my arms stood at full attention. She wasn’t taller than me, but she was twice my body size. I debated on whether I could take her down, and if it came to that, I’d do what I needed to.
I had to think of a solution, a way out of this situation. If I started to scream my head off, who knew what else was in her purse? Also, she’d jimmied the door. I could be screaming for several minutes until someone busted through it.
Maybe I was the crazy one, but I wasn’t afraid of her. I wasn’t afraid to die. Deep down, all that mattered was that everyone I loved was safe.
“I know he loves me.” She smirked, and I noticed the thick film of yellow on her teeth. “It just hurts when he works so much, and we have to be apart.”
I blinked, staring at her with no emotion on my face. This woman was delusional, not angry. But those were the worst kind of psychopaths because there was no distinction between reality and fantasy. In her mind, she and Jordan were together; they were one.
She fluffed up her hair, crossing her legs at her ankles. “The least he could do is pick up my calls. But I’m understanding.”
She peered down at her chipped, manicured nails, and then her stare turned icy cold when her eyes met mine. I felt the chill hit my veins and enter my bloodstream.
“It hurts to be the second choice, doesn’t it, Christene?”
Do not respond to this delusional witch.
I bit the inside of my cheek, and my hands clenched.
“For Jordan to love someone other than you, and no matter what you do, you can’t compete.”
In her fantasy mind, she was first, and I was second. I swallowed back the words I was going to say because I knew she couldn’t be reasoned with. She only saw what she wanted to see, what she believed to be true.
Seconds ticked by, and I prayed that Cade would bust through the door. It must’ve been at least five minutes since I’d been in here.
He would’ve called the police and then … shit.
Angie. He’d call her next.
Angie couldn’t come in here. I wouldn’t allow my sister to be collateral damage. I needed this to end. I was the queen of manip
ulation, and I needed to amp that power up now.
“I know he’s with you, but you’ll never be his first,” she repeated, her eyes taunting.
She wanted a reaction. That was it.
I lowered my head in fake resignation but kept my eyes on her the whole time in case she tried something. “It hurts.” I forced a desolation in my tone, and my voice quivered. “All the time. But I’ll take what I can get.” I decided to play the part, appease the crazy.
I saw sympathy register in her eyes, and when her shoulders slackened, I knew she believed me.
“I’m sorry.”
She stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on my forearm, and it took all my energy to stay stoic and still, unmoving when every fiber of my being screamed to jerk back from her hold and punch her, a closed fist to the face.
“I feel the same way. I love him so much.” Her breath stank as though she hadn’t brushed in a week, and I swallowed back the bile that crept up my throat. “But I’ll never compete with Candice.”
Candice?
My eyes dilated, and I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Shock registered through my system. How did she know about Candice? I shook my head to focus. Of course, she knew about Candice. I didn’t doubt there was anything this crazy lady didn’t know about Jordan’s life.
I staggered back, which forced her hand to drop.
“You have to know about Candice, his first girlfriend. His one and true happily ever after.” She rapidly blinked again, her telltale sign she wanted a response for me.
Ringing initiated in my ears. Beating louder, pounding harder.
“He has her name written on his heart.”
My breathing came in slower, shallower, hurt filling me up, confirming my doubts. Jordie’s smile widened, turning sinister.
She knew she was getting to me, twisting the knife, forcing all my insecurities to the surface. I pulled at the end of my ponytail, trying to steady my breathing, trying to school my features, trying to pretend her words didn’t affect me.
She could’ve found out about his tattoo anywhere, right? He’d been pictured shirtless enough, but to know what the characters stood for … who was etched in permanent ink over his chest …
She cackled, straight out of a horror flick. “You thought I was talking about me?” She placed a hand on her heart. “That I was his first love?” She swatted the air and laughed. “Not me, silly girl. Candice. Second best—that’s all you’ll ever be.”
I flinched as though I’d been hit. She’d hit a nerve, a nerve tied to history and all my insecurities about not being good enough, about having someone favored above me. The issues with my ex and my mother surfaced, and I couldn’t shake it. I couldn’t dim the anger, and sadness balled into one knot in the pit of my stomach, a knot that made me want to throw up because I wanted to scream … Not again!
“He’ll never get over his first love. I get that. I accept that. I can live with that, given the fact that she’s dead. But he still wears her chain around his wrist. He made it into a bracelet. Talk about obsessive.”
The irony of her words didn’t shock me as much as hearing her revelations about Candice.
I inhaled deeply, her words seeping into my skin.
She’s crazy. I pounded those words over and over and over in my head. A crazy lunatic who has a restraining order against her. Don’t believe her. Don’t believe anything that flows effortlessly out of her mouth.
But as hard as I tried to convince myself that she spewed lies, I realized I did. I believed her.
Because if she knew about his tattoo, the rest could be credible.
“He celebrates her birthday. Visits her grave and brings her flowers. Roses are her favorite.” She twisted her dead brown locks with her fingertips. “It means true love, after all. He’s not over her. Probably never, ever will be.”
She shoved the words in my face, each sentence like a jab in the jaw.
“Sometimes, he orders her favorite meal in addition to his when he’s alone. I wanted to be like her. Dreamed I was her.” She nodded rapidly, her head bobbing up and down as though she was a rag doll, her smile wide, her eyes still eerily blank.
Right then, everything clicked. I put two and two together, remembering seeing a specific picture of Candice on Jordan’s phone. Jordie’s blonde roots peeking out of her dyed dark locks. She had colored her hair to look like Candice.
“He still wears the same cologne she bought him in high school. Can you believe that? Talk about crazy.” Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she laughed hysterically.
My shoulders tensed at her reaction and because my favorite scent in the world wasn’t signature to him. It belonged to her.
Jordie shrugged and sighed, her animated self dying down. “But if this is all we get, we have to take it, right?”
I lifted both eyebrows, eyes steady on her, about two seconds from decking her. My cup was full of her shit, and I was about to pour that cup right on top of her head.
“Second best is better than no best.” She laughed, and all my composure disappeared.
All self-restraint gone.
She was placing us in the same playing field, the same sandbox. I was done.
“We’ll take it, though, right?”
She slugged my shoulder like we were pals, and I pushed her off.
“Get away from me, you crazy bitch!” I shouted, my inner street fighter coming out.
She flipped the loco switch, and she straightened to almost my height. “I’m not crazy.” Her voice dropped abnormally low, almost robotic sounding. Her eyes were unfocused, the look straight up from a horror film.
I didn’t think. I simply reacted. I maneuvered around her, but she gripped my wrist. I bit down hard on her hand, feeling my teeth dig deep into her soft flesh and sinking into her skin.
When she screamed and yanked back, I rushed to the door, kicked the jimmy, opened the door, and ran.
I face-planted into six feet of muscle, running right into Wyatt’s football frame. My breath came in and out in huge puffs. I was hyperventilating.
“Tene?”
One hand flew to my chest, and I pointed to the restroom. “Jord … Jordie.” I tried to catch my breath.
“What?” Then, Wyatt’s eyes widened with realization. He rushed past me toward the restroom.
A few seconds later, a few officers followed, and then Angie was by my side.
“Are you okay?” Her eyes scanned my body, looking for any proof of violence. Thankful there hadn’t been, in the next second, she pulled me into her, hugging me fiercely.
There could’ve been multiple weapons hidden in her bag. She could’ve conjured up different ways to torture me. But that didn’t affect me. What rocked me to my core was what Jordie had said about Candice.
“Okay?” I rested against Angie, her small frame carrying my body weight. I shivered as though it was below zero, the adrenaline now slowing. “No.” My voice shook. “No, I’m not okay.”
Angie tried to shield me when they walked Jordie out in cuffs. But she couldn’t hurt me. Not physically anymore.
But I still couldn’t get her words out of my head.
“He’s not over her.”
Chapter 27
It had been hours since the incident. It could’ve been worse. At least, that was what the police, Cade, Angie, and my parents had said.
I tucked my knees under me and rested against my couch, but even curled into a ball with my wool blanket wrapped around me, I couldn’t dim the chill that ran through me.
My mother paced my apartment in a fit of worry, and Angie was doing her best to calm her down. But I couldn’t hear anything other than the ringing in my ears, the ache in my chest, the weakness in my legs.
When my door flew open, and Jordan stormed my apartment, I shot up to a sitting position, blinking. His face was bloody and torn and wrecked. Panic rushed my insides, and I threw the blanket to the side and stood.
“Are you okay?” I touched his face, reali
zing it was makeup. The fear from earlier clouded my mind. Of course, it was makeup.
“Am I okay? Am I fucking okay?” His face contorted, making his wounds seem genuine, fresh, real. “Are you okay?”
I pressed a finger at the fake flesh at his brow as he scanned my face, down my body, touching every part of me, as though he was checking for damage.
Then, he began to strip all of the makeup off and wiped at his face with his sleeve. He cupped the back of my neck and kissed me, full-on, lips closed. A tremor passed through him, and then he brought me to his chest and wrapped me so tightly against him that it was as though we were one. A shaky breath escaped him, and he squeezed me tighter.
He held me for minutes. Long enough that the room cleared. Everyone had left us alone.
“I’m so, so sorry, Tene. I thought everyone had this mess under control. I thought the studio had located her.” Then, he pulled back, rubbing his thumbs at my jawline. “I was filming and didn’t have my phone on me. We were doing take after take, trying to finish up. I didn’t know what was going on until Wyatt rushed to the studio to tell me what had happened. I’m so sorry, baby.” His words broke at the end. “So sorry. I never—”
My fingers met his lips to silence him, and I gritted my teeth, afraid true tears would flow. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d cried about anything other than the latest episode of This Is Us.
“It’s fine,” I said, but it wasn’t fine. Everything was far from fine.
Jordie’s words rang loudly in my head as though she’d pounded it into my flesh. “He’ll never get over his first love.”
He’ll never get over Candice.
I bit the inside of my cheek long and hard as he held me. Pain. I wanted to feel physical pain. It was better than emotional pain. It hurt less.
“I swear, she’s not going to touch you. No one is going to hurt you. They have her at the station, and I’m going to make sure she goes straight to jail, where she can’t harm you.”
