by Jillian Dodd
He and the old man have coffee on the deck—the old man using his binoculars to watch what he calls “the pretty young things that jog half naked on the beach” every morning. He borrows the binoculars occasionally, using them to determine when she steps on the beach.
Then he walks down the beach to join her.
She’s by herself, no surfers in sight. He stops and watches her.
She’s skipping happily, a broad smile on her face.
The smile that causes his insides to stir. Fighting an arousal, he continues down the beach, watching her do cartwheels in the waves. She’s in a good mood today. She’ll feel even better once we are together for eternity.
Brooklyn isn’t on the beach yet, but I’m feeling so happy that I skip up the beach and start doing cartwheels in the surf. These next few days are going to be practically magical, I’m just sure of it. And it could be months before Brooklyn gets everything together and actually leaves.
A big wave comes in and knocks me down into the sand in the middle of my cartwheel.
I laugh, get up, and do it again.
“I might have to add a scene like that to our movie,” I hear a voice say. I turn around and see Vincent. He’s dressed casually in a Ralph Lauren swimsuit and a white t-shirt.
“You seem awfully chipper today.”
“Of course I am. Today’s my birthday.”
He walks closer to me, pulls me into a hug, and kisses my cheek. “Well, happy birthday.”
We sit down in the sand.
“Thanks. Sooooo . . . you’re here on the beach in a swimsuit. How come?”
“The guy I’m purchasing the property from is an older gentleman. He wants to teach me everything. The funny thing is, I don’t think he knows. From what I can tell, he hires everything out. I think he’s lonely. He also gets up at the ass crack of dawn. I’ve been here since six-thirty and had four cups of the worst coffee of my life. Honestly, from what I can tell, his big excitement of the day is watching the women jog down the beach in the morning. I’m pretty sure that’s why he gets up so damn early.”
I laugh at his story. “That’s funny. You’re sweet to do that. Spend time with him like that.” But then I think about what he just said about the guy. How my mom often jogs on the beach in the morning all by herself. Could an old guy like that be the one creeping on her? I make a mental note to tell James about him.
Vincent rolls his eyes. “It’s not really sweet. I just don’t want him to back out of our deal. So we didn’t get to talk much the other day. How was being in Europe all summer?”
“I think we should talk about the rest of your afternoon. You stayed at the bar for a long time. Anything happen after I left?”
He gives me a sly grin. “That’s none of your business.”
“That means yes.”
“You were going to tell me about your summer?”
“Oh, yeah, it was great! Brooklyn and I surfed what are supposed to be some of Europe’s best waves. Then we hung out with Twisted Dreams on their tour. Remember, you were at the Undertow the night of their farewell concert? The lead singer, Damian, is one of my best friends. I’ve known him since I was little. Really, it was the best summer of my life.”
I realize Vincent isn’t really paying much attention to what I’m saying. He seems to be lost in thought.
“Earth to Vincent,” I say.
He blinks his eyes quickly. “Sorry, we’re here on the beach. My mind is going. I’m picturing scenes. Stand up for me, would you? In front of the ocean.”
I stand up between him and the ocean.
“Smile,” he says.
I give him my biggest grin.
“Let’s see how you look on film.” He holds his phone in the air. “Do you mind?”
“I don't mind. What do you want me to do?”
“You’ve seen A Day at the Lake?”
“A few years ago, yeah.”
“You know the poster where she's blowing a kiss?”
“Yeah. Lame.”
“Lame? That poster sold millions of copies.”
“I know. I just thought it was more about her boobs. She basically stood like this and blew a kiss.”
I mimic Mom’s poster.
“So what can you do, besides cartwheels?”
“I told you before, I’ve taken dance classes since I was three. I’m varsity soccer. I’m decent at kickboxing.” I lower my head and confess. “I broke a girl’s nose at a party. I’m not proud of it or anything, but I did.”
“Show me.” He slides his phone into his pocket and holds up his hands the way Tommy’s trainer does.
I punch them gently.
“Come on, you’ve got to have more than that.”
“Maybe I don’t want to hurt you,” I tease. He grabs my wrist. His grip is quite strong. “Wow, you’re stronger than you look.”
He looks hurt. “I don’t look strong? Wow, way to punch a guy’s ego.”
“Well it’s hard to tell with that loose T-shirt on. You know, guys your age can take their shirts off and be all flabby, or they can be all ab-a-licious . . . ”
Vincent pulls his shirt up over his head.
OMFG!!
My mouth falls open as I stare at his perfectly sculpted chest, his strong pecs, his thick ab muscles, and that sexy little line of dark hair trailing down into his swimsuit.
“What?” he says with a laugh.
I manage to close my mouth. “I’m guessing you work out a bit?”
He tilts his head and grins. “You could say that. So, back to our video. Do some cartwheels or dance for me. No, I know. Blow me a kiss. Do it your way.”
I think about it.
I turn my back on him and prance into the ocean. I reach down, grab a handful of water, and then swivel my upper body back toward him, naughtily tossing the water out of my hand as I blow him the sweetest kiss.
“That’s perfect,” he says. “Sweet, but naughty. Exactly how we want your character to be. So I take it you’d rather have people looking at your ass on a poster than your boobs?”
“Uh, I never thought of that. I was just playing around.”
He replays the video, studying it intently.
Eventually he says, “The camera loves you. Meet me at my studio tomorrow.”
“I can’t. Today I have birthday stuff, tomorrow too, then Saturday is my big birthday party.”
“Did my invite get lost in the mail?”
“Oh, no. I didn’t—um—do you want to come? I could get your name on the list.”
“Of course I want to come.”
I see Brooklyn wandering down the beach toward us.
“What’s up?” Brooklyn says to Vincent.
“Just telling Keatyn that getting the house has been tougher than I thought it would be. So, I was looking at surfboards the other day and felt a little overwhelmed. Do you have any suggestions?”
Brooklyn says, “Go to Davey’s, tell him I sent you, and tell him to fit you for a board. It’ll be perfect for you. The guy’s a genius.”
“I’ll do that. Thanks. So good to see you both, but I have to get going.”
He watches the video repeatedly. It’s clear Lacy is in love with him. He could see the desire in her eyes when he took off his shirt.
Her birthday party will be perfect moment in the script of their life for he and Lacy to make their escape. The guest list will be long, and the venue will be dark. And the venue’s name. It’s like it was named just for his script, because they will slip out a side door and no one will be the wiser. But he must be meticulous in his planning.
He works arduously for the next few days, making sure everything is perfect. Since the old man hasn’t yet cooperated, he goes back to the large gardening shed on his grandmother’s property. He hasn’t been here since he trashed the place. He carefully picks up all his mementos of Abby and the stills of Lacy, gently smoothing them out and placing them into a neat pile. He cleans the space thoroughly, wanting her location to be pristine. The
n he sets out to decorate it. He goes into his grandmother’s house, even though it is difficult for him. The grief he feels is still fresh. He had hoped she would live long enough to see this movie come to fruition.
When he is in her bedroom, he feels her presence. She speaks to him, helping him choose just the right pieces from the house to take out back. To create a dressing room worthy of a star.
He spends a full day moving furniture, washing linens, and hanging artwork. He and Grandmother take a moment to survey his handiwork. “All that’s missing is a star on the door with her name emblazoned across it,” Grandmother tells him.
He kisses his grandmother on the cheek, bids her goodnight, and goes home.
His penthouse is much different than the warmth of his grandmother’s house. It’s modern and slick, pristinely organized, with not so much as a speck of dust out of place.
He heads to his office, pours himself a stiff drink, then sits down, leaning back in his leather chair and daring to put his feet up on his desk.
He has the invitation. The stolen rental van is in place and could not be traced back to him. And although he hopes she will go willingly, he has duct tape, zip ties, and drugs available to ease her transition. This is simply his Plan B, though.
He closes his eyes and daydreams about how it will all go down.
Lacy is on stage. A band is playing ‘Happy Birthday’ and everyone is singing along. Her eyes find his in the crowd, and her smile grows into the mega-watt grin that both brings him to his knees and fills him with unbridled passion. She holds her hand out toward him, and he joins her on stage.
They share a kiss then as the party continues around them. “Let’s get out of here, Vincey,” she whispers in his ear.
Hand in hand, they slip out of the party together.
His Porsche their chariot.
They lean across the console toward each other, coming together in a movie-ending, epic kiss.
Then they drive off into the sunset. The words And they lived happily ever after slide onto the screen.
Security is tight at her birthday party, something Vincent had planned for. He purposely wore a black suit and brought a pair of dark sunglasses. When Lacy doesn’t invite him onto the stage with her, he has no choice but to put Plan B into action, which he starts by creating a simple diversion, letting a guard know about a possible threat to the whore.
All of a sudden someone rushes past us.
Then a couple more people.
Then someone bumps into me and almost knocks me down.
Black-suited, sunglass-wearing security guards rush by in droves.
Brooklyn gets off the couch, and we both look in the same direction to try and figure out what’s going on.
“Someone probably just crashed the party or got drunk or something. There’s plenty of security here. They’ll get it all sorted out,” I tell him.
But then I think about Mom’s stalker. About how worried James has been about the party. How he promised to keep her safe.
I panic.
Oh my God, I’ve got to find Mom.
“Brook—” I start to say, but I’m interrupted when one of the security guys practically picks me up off the ground and carries me away from Brooklyn.
The security guy yells at me. “We’re getting you out of here now!”
“Why?” I pull back. I look for Brooklyn, but he’s lost in the crowd behind me.
The security guy drags me to the other side of the dance floor, opposite the commotion, near where I made out with Cush.
I’m scared, but I don’t want to leave. Where is Tommy? Where is Mom? And why do they have to get me out of my own party? What’s happened to Mom?
Everyone is heading toward the commotion. The area he’s dragging me to is almost completely empty.
“Stop it!” I yell. “I need to go check on my mom! Is she okay? Tell me what’s going on!”
The security guy stops moving and wraps a strong arm tightly around my waist.
“The whore is fine. I told her I was moving on. Bet she never guessed it was with you.” He lets out an evil chuckle.
Oh my god!
He’s not security.
James was right! It’s the guy!
The stalker!
“Let go of me!” I struggle to get away from him, but he’s still dragging me like a rag doll toward the exit.
“I’ve got a van out back. We’re going to do great things together.”
How do I know that voice? Why does it sound familiar?
Wait. He’s taking me to a van out back?
What. The. Fuck.
I scream bloody murder. “AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
But no one can hear me.
Except the stalker.
“Stop screaming. No one can hear you over the music,” he says coldly.
I realize he’s right. I don’t stand a chance. No one can hear me.
Something I see out of the corner of my eye catches my attention.
It’s the stalker’s arm.
I see the end of a scrolly tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve.
I know that tattoo. How do I know that tattoo?
Oh my God.
Oh my God.
It’s the Y on Vincent’s Abby tattoo.
It’s Vincent.
Vincent’s tattoo.
Vincent’s voice.
Vincent, who thinks I look just like my mom did when he fell in love with her. Vincent, who wants to make a movie with me. Mom’s movie.
Vincent is the stalker?
Could that be right?
I wriggle myself around so that I’m facing him.
“Vincent! What are you doing? Stop it! Let go of me!”
I make my body go limp, so that it will be heaver, and I drag my feet behind me. But he’s strong, and all that happens is that I lose one of my gorgeous shoes.
He says coldly, “Don’t act so surprised. I told you the other day I was going to get you locked in. We’re going to make a movie together and have all sorts of fun. I know you want it as much as I do.”
I start to shake as I think about all the things he told me. All the things that felt flattering. I see them in a new light. And in that light, they are not pretty. I’ve never been so scared in my life.
The music is still playing loudly.
There’s no one to save me. No one to help me.
Tears start streaming down my face.
What am I going to do?
The locket James gave me swings in front of my face, and I hear a quiet voice speak to me.
A voice that I haven’t heard for so long.
My dad’s voice.
It’s both soothing and serious.
You can’t let him get you out the door. Whatever you do, don’t let him get you out the door.
Vincent grabs my wrist tighter and pulls me in closer to his body. Like he’s shielding me from what’s behind us.
The door keeps getting closer.
You don’t have much time.
I have to get him to stop.
“Stop. Please, Vincent. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll do it. I promise I’ll make the movie with you. Just please don’t do this. Please.”
He doesn’t stop.
And he doesn’t reply.
He just keeps dragging me, closer and closer to the door.
When we’re almost to the door, he says, “I want you, and I’m going to have you. All to myself.”
We’re right in front of the big black exit door.
He stops to push it open.
This is your last chance. Remember P.E.? The defensive move they taught you.
Use it.
Do it now.
A rush of adrenaline suddenly courses through my body. I pick my foot up then smash the heel of the shoe I’m still wearing into the top of Vincent’s foot with as much force as I can muster.
It’s a stupid defensive move we learned in Freshman P.E.
But it works.
Vincent’s
grip loosens.
Just enough.
I quickly pull away.
Run.
I break completely free of his arms, turn, and run as fast as I can. I run straight into James and another security guy.
“That’s the stalker! He’s trying to kidnap me!” I turn around and point at Vincent.
His glasses are still on, and he’s racing toward me.
James hands me off.
Then he and Vincent come face to face.
Vincent holds his hands up in protest and starts to say something, but James punches him in the face, knocking his glasses off.
I watch Vincent and James trade punches.
James falls back for a minute, but then his training kicks in.
In a fury of fists and kicks, Vincent is down and out cold.
James flips him over and wraps his wrists together with zip ties.
I drop to my knees.
And throw up my birthday cake.
Vincent comes to and find his hands tied together with zip ties and unable to move.
He was so close.
So close.
He didn’t really expect her to fight back. He didn’t expect to fail.
But luckily when he’s taken to the police station, his case is handled by a female officer, who responds to his subtle charm.
He has nothing to hide. His Porsche is parked in front of the club where he left it. He wore gloves and a hat when he drove the van, which he doubts they even know about yet.
The officer asks for his story.
He tells her the truth. That Keatyn personally invited him. That they are friends. That there was a commotion, he was worried about her safety, and was trying to keep her away from possible danger. That she misread the situation, which isn’t surprising as she had been drinking. He’s also sure to apologize for the misunderstanding. He even touches the officer’s hand gently when he asks her to pass on the message to Keatyn’s family.
But then the bitch asks about his Abby tattoo. He remains calm. Tells her about his high school girlfriend. Tells her it was young love and expresses sorrow and a broken heart when he tells her the tale of how she left him but couldn’t take the tattoo with her.
The officer checks out his story and confirms that his name was on the guest list. The guy is good looking, rich, a business executive, and could get any woman he wanted—including her. No way he’d be trying to kidnap some girl. It didn’t make sense.
