by Zoey Parker
Tears came to my eyes, and I brushed them away carelessly. I knew that I couldn’t start crying in public like this. Photos would be all over the tabloids if anyone caught me. Still, I felt hurt and angry and frustrated. Not to mention alone. Anya was always the person I’d confided it, and now that she wasn’t listening, I didn’t know where to turn.
“You don’t care,” I said miserably. “You don’t care about me or what I want. What if I just fired you, Anya?”
Anya shook her head. “That wouldn’t be wise. And Katia, I do care about you. But right now, I don’t think you’re in the best mindset to make decisions. You’re stressed and upset. It’s understandable. Do you know anyone who’s been stalked before? Maybe one of your friends from the pageant world?”
I sniffed. “What friends?” I mumbled. It was true that most of the other girls I’d competed against hated each other. Sure, no one acted like that; everyone was all smiley and friendly, at least until you turned your back.
I remembered at my first big pageant, I’d been so happy when one of the girls cozied up to me immediately. Then, my formal dress went missing and appeared on stage on her twig frame. I’d lost the pageant, obviously, but I never forgot the sting of how it had felt to be played like that. And ever since then, I hadn’t gone out of my way to make friends in the pageant scene. I’d only been the requisite amount of nice.
“What about that one girl? What was her name? Jenna?”
“Gemma,” I said automatically. I frowned. Gemma Roberts was one of the girls who had advanced at roughly the same time I had. She’d been into ballet and baton-twirling, which had usually scored higher marks with the judges than my singing. But she wasn’t a natural blonde. She was a dusky, dirty-brown brunette, and my hair had always given me the advantage. After all, I embodied the All-American girl; everyone had always said so.
“Well?” Anya prompted me. “Didn’t something happen with her?”
I sighed and closed my eyes. “It was a long time ago,” I said curtly. “And I think she made it up for attention.”
“Katia, listen to yourself,” Anya said derisively. “You’re so narcissistic! Everything is just all about you, but whenever someone’s been through the same shit, you just think they’re lying for attention!”
I blushed and frowned. I didn’t exactly like her characterization of me like that.
“I don’t think I do that,” I said carefully. I reached across the table and broke the last of Anya’s scone into two small pieces. Taking the bigger pieces, I gnawed thoughtfully. The sugared blueberries weren’t enough to kill the sting of my assistant tearing me into like that, though.
“I think you do,” Anya said, more level-sounding. “Your friend. What happened to her?”
“She said some guy was following her around. I don’t know!” I waved my hand in the air. “What? You want me to call her?”
Anya blinked. “Maybe that wouldn’t be a bad idea. Ask her if she wants to come here and talk with us. Katia, it might be a good idea for you to meet someone who’s been through this before. She might be able to tell you how to give the police more of a clue to catch this guy.”
I didn’t like the idea, but I was sick of fighting with Anya. Besides, maybe she’d be nicer to me if Gemma came and sat with us. After heaving a gigantic sigh, I pulled out my phone and looked up Gemma in my contacts.
“I have no way of knowing if her number is even the same,” I said pointedly. “I might look like a total ass calling some stranger.”
“And just how often have you changed your number?”
“Once,” I mumbled. “In six years.”
I hated how smug Anya looked in the seconds that followed.
Gemma answered on the first ring. “Hello?” She sounded exactly as same as she had before—bitchy and kind of suspicious.
“Gemma!” I cooed. “How are you? This is Katia—Katia Reynolds.”
There was a pause.
“Hello?” I frowned. “Are you still there?”
Gemma sighed. “I’m here. What do you want?”
Anya looked at me with an encouraging nod. I sighed again.
“I’m downtown at The Coffee Shack,” I said with false brightness. “You feel like coming down here and having an espresso? My treat!”
“Katia, I don’t know. What do you want to talk about? Can’t we just talk about it over the phone?”
“No,” I said emphatically. “It’s—It’s about what happened during Miss Orange County, back in 2013.”
There was a sharp inhalation of air, followed by another aggravated sigh.
“Fine,” Gemma said. “I’ll be there in ten.”
I turned to Anya with a smug look. “She’s coming. I was able to convince her.”
Anya snorted. “You didn’t exactly have to do very much convincing,” she said dryly. “Come on, Katia. I know you better than that. You can’t take credit for everything, you know.”
I smiled, ignoring her. “I’m going to get another latte. Want anything?”
Chapter Thirteen
Katia
Thirty minutes later, Gemma slid into The Coffee Shack looking great. Her brown hair was pulled back in a perfectly messy fishtail braid, and she was wearing brand new clothes with a designer bag I’d been eyeing the week before.
As she approached, she didn’t bother taking her sunglasses off. I noted with envy that her waist was still as small as it had been over three years ago, while I felt bloated and disgusted from having eaten Dante’s buttery omelet and most of Anya’s scone.
“Hi, Katia,” Gemma said coolly. She sat down to my right. “How are you?”
“Fabulous,” I gushed. “I’ve been keeping up with all of that exhausting charity work. I’m so tired I feel like I could faint. But it’s been so good at keeping my appetite down. Now it’s like I forget to eat!”
Anya rolled her eyes. I ignored her.
“I’m doing well, too,” Gemma said. She leaned over and reached into her bag for a bottle of European mineral water. “You can tell, I’m sure, but I’m not drinking caffeine right now. I’m trying to land a part, and they only want me drinking water for the time being.”
“Your skin does look nice,” I replied. I had to admit that her skin looked absolutely fantastic— like she was glowing from the inside out.
“So,” Gemma said. She flipped her messy braid over one shoulder and finally took her sunglasses off, revealing purple eyes that had to be contacts. “What did you want to talk about?”
Anya cut in. “Gemma, it’s so good to see you,” she said. I groaned. Her ability to sound effortlessly warm was so thirsty, I could barely stand it. “Thank you for coming by. Katia’s in the middle of dealing with a situation, and we’d really like your advice.” Anya leaned closer, glancing around to make sure that no one was eavesdropping. “Katia’s got a stalker.”
Gemma turned to me with her eyes wide. “Oh, you do?”
“I don’t know exactly,” I told her. “I mean, yeah, someone’s being creepy.” I shuddered at the memory of the heavy breathing over the phone. “I keep getting weird calls, and someone’s been taking pictures.”
“It’s serious,” Anya cut in again. “Someone snuck into Katia’s condo and took photos of her in bed this morning.” I glanced at her waiting to see if she’d mention Dante. Thankfully, she kept her mouth shut.
“Wow,” Gemma breathed out. She sniffed. “So, kind of like what happened to me.”
I cringed.
“Yeah,” I said. “I mean, no one ever snuck into your house to take pictures.” I tossed my hair. “I mean, mine is probably worse, right?”
Anya and Gemma both glared.
“Katia, can you get over yourself?” Gemma snapped. “Some creepy guy started following me around L.A. He saw me when I was out promoting one of those stupid pageants.”
“Miss Orange County,” I added helpfully. Anya’s icy look made me fall silent once again. “I mean, that’s the one it was. Right?”
“Does it matter?
” Gemma frowned. She threw her hands up in the air. “He followed me around the whole goddamn city. That’s why I quit being in those things. I knew he was always in the audience.” She realized people were staring and lowered her voice to a whisper. “It was horrible,” Gemma said. She sniffed. “I was afraid everywhere I went. I couldn’t even go outside without shaking. I didn’t have anyone. My parents hate the fact that I live in L.A. and they wouldn’t come visit, and my assistant was on vacation.” She turned to me, and I winced. “And all of my so-called friends just made fun of me and told me I probably deserved it.”
I looked down at my hands in my lap. It was true. I’d behaved horribly towards Gemma. It didn’t seem like much of a big deal now, but I regretted every moment.
“I’m sorry,” I said gently. “You’re right. I was a total bitch.”
Gemma rolled her violet eyes. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s not like you have any friends either.” She turned to Anya. “What do you want?”
“How did you get the police to take your case seriously?” Anya pressed. “How did they know you weren’t just lying?
“Someone broke into my backyard and killed my dog,” Gemma said flatly. “I called the cops, and they found fingerprints on the door like someone had wanted to break in but hadn’t been able to. They ran the prints through a database and caught the guy the same afternoon.”
“Fingerprints,” Anya repeated. “That’s genius!” She turned towards me. “Katia, I bet the outside of your condo could be checked for prints, too. Don’t you think that would help?”
“Yeah,” I replied. I leaned forward in my chair. “Anya, can you call them? Maybe they can come by this afternoon.”
She nodded. “Okay. We need to get Dante in here and tell him everything, including the pictures.”
Gemma looked at me curiously. “Do we have to?” I asked quietly. “I mean, does he have to see the pictures?”
“Katia,” Anya said in exasperation. “Yes. We have to. Dante is your bodyguard! He has to know.”
I slumped down in my chair. Gemma grinned, and I could tell she was enjoying this way more than she needed to.
“Okay,” I mumbled. “I’ll call him.” I kept one eye on Gemma as I rummaged through my bag for my phone. When my fingers wrapped around it, I pulled it out and glanced down. “Are you staying?”
Gemma snorted. “Obviously not. I have a meeting with a production team anyway. I have to go.” She stood up, and I leaped out of my chair, noting with satisfaction that even in heels, she was still much shorter than I was.
We leaned in and air-kissed each other’s cheeks, then she sashayed out of the shop. I watched as she eyed Dante up and down almost like she could tell he was working for me. I waited for him to turn around and look at her with the same level of interest. But thankfully, Dante’s eyes didn’t leave the road. Finally, Gemma huffed in frustration and walked away.
Inside, it was like I’d never stopped being anxious and scared of my would-be attacker. I couldn’t tell Anya how badly I felt about brushing Gemma off in the past. I’d been such a bitch. No wonder she hadn’t exactly been thrilled to hear from me. I wished that I could go back in time and slap myself for being so inconsiderate. After all, Gemma had dealt with the same horrors that I was living.
It wasn’t just that, though. I hated the conversation I’d had with Anya prior to calling Gemma. It irked me that Anya was so dismissive when I talked about Dante like she thought I was a little kid, too immature to really know what love meant after all. It bugged the hell out of me.
“Katia, hurry up and call him,” Anya said nervously. She looked at me, narrowing her eyes. “We’ve still got to call the cops!”
I sighed. “Fine.” I dialed Dante, watching him through the window. For a few irritating seconds, his phone rang, and he didn’t even reach for it.
Finally, he answered in a gruff voice. “Yeah?”
“Can you come in here?” I asked delicately. “We need to tell you something.”
Dante hung up without agreeing or even saying anything at all. I watched as he shoved his phone in his pocket and shuffled along the sidewalk. As he entered The Coffee Shack, every head snapped up to watch him. I snickered because some of the looks people were giving him were completely ridiculous.
“Sir, our bathrooms are for customers only,” a teenaged employee said snidely to Dante as he crossed the room. “You’ll need to make a purchase in order to use them.”
“He’s with me,” I snapped, standing up and striding across the room to where Dante stood, looking confused. As soon as he saw me, his face broke out into a wide, heart-melting grin. My mouth went dry, and my heart fluttered in my chest.
Damnit, Katia , I thought, channeling Anya. You can’t go to pieces right now. You have more important things to do.
“So,” Dante said once I’d led him back to the small table with Anya. “What can I do?”
Anya slid the folder across the table. “These photos were taken early this morning,” she said in a strained voice. Together, we watched in silence as Dante opened the folder and pulled the pictures out. He shook his head in disgust.
“Who the fuck would do something like this?” Dante growled. “This isn’t fucking funny, Anya. Do the cops know?”
“I’m going to call them soon,” Anya promised. “First, we all need to go back to Katia’s condo. I think there might be some fingerprints outside that the cops could find, and maybe even match them up with someone else in the database.”
Dante growled again. The sound of his displeasure made the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I had to look away so I wouldn’t be distracted by his handsome face. He was a little wind burned from standing outside for so long, but I’d never seen him look better. The sun had put some pink in his cheeks that contrasted beautifully with his dark hair and the touch of scruff along his sculpted jaw and chin. His blue eyes were watching me as intently as a hawk, and I knew him just well enough to know that he was incredibly angry.
“Good,” Dante snarled out. “I’ll call Troy and see if he has any idea who this stalker asshole is by now.” He checked his watch. “It’s been long enough. We should already have that fucker behind bars.”
“Right,” Anya said pleasantly. She’d morphed right back into her strict manager mode. “Well, let’s all go back to Katia’s. We can discuss it there.”
# # #
When we got back to my condo, I realized that I didn’t even like walking down the hall without Dante by my side. The pictures Anya had shown me had driven my fear and paranoia to new heights, and I hated turning my back to the door of a room. Dante, Anya, and I patrolled every inch of the space. We looked in all the closets, all the rooms, and under my bed three times. Even so, I still didn’t feel safe.
“So,” Dante said, sitting down at the dining room table and kicking his feet up on it. “What’re we gonna do?”
“You should call Troy,” Anya said. “Katia and I have some business that we need to take care of in her closets.”
I shot a quick look at Dante. “But you’re not going to leave us, right?”
Anya sighed. “Katia, we know there’s no one inside,” she said gently. She reached out and touched my arm, but I shook off her fingers. “You know we’re safe in here. We just checked. Dante will do a better job of watching from the outside; you know that.”
“If Katia wants me to stay, I’m staying,” Dante said. He planted his feet shoulder-width apart and glared at Anya. “You’re not my boss. She is.”
His comment made me swell with pride, even though I knew I shouldn’t take anything he said to heart. But somehow, his defensive behavior made me feel much more confident than I had initially.
“It’s okay, Dante,” I said. “You can walk around outside, if that’s what you think would be most effective.” I flashed him my biggest smile and was pleased that he winked back at me. “Anya and I won’t be very long. I just have to pull some things from my closet for charity.”
Dante grunted. Anya and I watched as he slumped down the hallway, then stepped out front and slammed the door behind him. As soon as he was gone, she turned to me with a clipboard.
“Okay,” Anya said professionally. “We don’t have too much time, but we do need to make a huge pile of things for your donations this month. And you should think about signing some of your shoes. I was thinking we could auction them individually, and then donate all the proceeds to the Children’s Hospital, what do you think?”
I gaped at her. “You’re seriously still thinking about this now? Anya, what about my stalker?”
Anya sighed. “It’s going to be over soon. Now, Katia, I doubt you’ll hear anything from that asshole again. Everything’s going to be fine. Dante’s keeping a close eye on your condo, and we’re inside.”
