by Terri Lane
“Stop. I’m not going to let you guilt trip me into doing something just because it’s a good cause. I’m not doing it. I’m sorry, but you have to find another girl.”
He mumbled under his breath, but Kayla didn’t hear what he said. He tossed a few bills on the table and Kayla gasped when she saw that all four bills were hundreds.
She opened her purse and he scowled at her.
“Don’t you dare,” he said, a clear warning in his tone.
“You don’t own me.”
“I don’t, but you’re not going to spit on my generosity by embarrassing me in my own restaurant.”
She was taken aback by the anger in his tone. Over the course of the last fifteen minutes of their very uncomfortable conversation he hadn’t even sounded mildly annoyed. But now, he was clearly angry, and she couldn’t figure out why. Was paying for her own meal so bad? After all, he was the one that had tipped her enough to afford it.
“Let’s go before I say something I’ll regret,” he said, standing and pasting a smile on his face.
The waiter rushed forward, his face etched with concern.
“Can I assist you, Sir?”
Dylan waved him off.
“The food was delicious, Maurice. My guest has a headache.”
“Thank you for the lovely food,” Kayla said quickly, smiling weakly and following Dylan out the door.
***
The alarm blared early Monday morning, but Kayla was already up. After a fitful night’s sleep after dinner Saturday, she had spent most of Sunday dragging herself around the apartment in a daze. She had finally given up and gone to bed around seven that evening and had woken up thirty minutes before her alarm was set to go off feeling completely rested.
She got up, walking past the mirror and avoiding her reflection. She was still angry at herself, and at circumstances that made her even consider taking Dylan up on his offer. She shook her head, still angry at his assertion that her job was crap and that her hard earned savings wasn’t as good as his easy money.
And now, the dreaded day had come, and she wouldn’t be able to avoid Dylan any longer. If he showed up to the diner, she would have to wait on him. Her stomach was in knots just thinking about it.
She got dressed quickly and ate breakfast, perusing the magazine one of the customers had left behind on a table during the week. As soon as she was done she washed the single dish and put it in the dish drainer. Looking at the clock, she realized that she was running out of time to procrastinate. She might as well head to the diner.
It was dark when she headed down the street, following the sidewalk she had walked for over a year. But everything looked different. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she wasn’t a fool. She was regretting turning Dylan’s offer down, even if she didn’t want to take it. All this time, she had been doing anything it took to get the money she needed to fulfill her dream. But when a real chance to live out all her dreams came up; she ran away like a frightened child. She could have at least tried it once to see if it was something she could do. It would have taken her a year and a few months to save up what she needed for college and medical school. With the kind of payment Dylan was offering, she could start college in the spring and still work for him until she had enough to live comfortably off her savings and finish school.
She was almost to the diner when she realized that something wasn’t right. She slowed down, looking around at the deserted street. But it wasn’t the street that had caught her attention, she realized.
Running now, she closed the half a block distance quickly, heart in her throat.
The diner was completely dark, and there was a note on the door with her name on it. She grabbed the envelope, looking at the piece of printer paper with Nick’s handwriting on it that was taped to the door.
Closed Permanently.
Tears were already running down her face, her hands shaking as she fished her cellphone out of her pocket in the still dark morning. She texted Nick, and was shocked when he immediately answered her quick text asking what was going on.
I’m sorry, Kayla, the text said.
Kayla push the call button, but the call went straight to voicemail. He had responded to her text and turned his phone off.
Face pressed against the window, her heart sank when she saw what was inside.
Nothing.
The tables and chairs were gone, the register missing and the counter ripped out. The place had been gutted, and Kayla was already shaking in anger.
She opened the envelope, not even noticing the tiny cut she gave herself. She read the note over and over again, but nothing would change the truth.
Nick had closed the diner and sold everything that he could. He wasn’t opening the diner back up and Kayla wasn’t going to see the rest of her check, nor the money she had made over the last week. Her lip trembled. He owed her four hundred already, and the last week she had worked enough to make almost eight hundred dollars in one week when she factored in credit card tips.
He’d cheated her out of twelve hundred dollars in money she had earned, and left her without a job and no way of getting a reference for another job.
She was screwed.
In a panic and feeling numb, she turned around and hurried home. She didn’t know what she was going to do about her job, but what she wasn’t going to do was sit in front of an empty diner and cry her eyes out. She was stronger than that.
She would figure out the next step and she would go from there. This wasn’t going to break her, even if she felt herself tearing apart with every step.
***
The sun was shining through the single window in her bedroom when she woke up hours later. She rolled over, eyes puffy, head aching from crying for almost an hour before she had finally fallen asleep. She looked at the clock, groaning at the time. It was after lunch and she was still jobless. It was time to end the pity party and find a job. She didn’t want to dip into her savings if she could avoid it, but there was a twelve-hundred-dollar gap in her life that wasn’t going to be easy to fill.
She dragged herself into the bathroom, turning the shower on the hottest setting in hopes of taking something close to a tepid shower. Gathering up her clothes for the day and tossing her work uniform in a pile on the floor, she returned to the bathroom to find the mirror steamed up and the room hot.
Her buzzer interrupted her thoughts, and Kayla rushed to turn the water off, hoping that it would still be blissfully hot when she returned after answering her buzzer.
She pushed the intercom button roughly, not in the mood for visitors.
“Yes?”
“It’s Dylan. Can I come up?”
“No,” she said angrily.
“I’m sorry about what I said the other night, but I think we need to talk, and I think you know why.”
She stared at the intercom for a long while, debating what she should do. She didn’t want to concede that she now needed the job he had offered, but she knew that there was no way for her to make up twelve hundred dollars, and start working this week at a new job. No. She was out of other options. The only option she had left was sitting in the lobby, waiting for an answer.
“You know what, you can come up.”
There was silence. She hit the buzzer, opening the door that lead to the stairway. She heard his footsteps in the hall moments later, opening the door and letting him in.
“Hi,” he said, his face full of concern. “I saw the diner was closed. Are you alright?”
She shrugged.
“I’ve been better, but I guess it worked out for you.”
“I don’t get your meaning.”
“I’m desperate for a job now, so I’m right where you want me. Aren’t I?”
His expression softened.
“That’s not why I’m here. I’m not here to ask you to take the job I offered when you’re down and desperate. I just wanted to make sure that you were alright. It didn’t look like a planned closing, and I was thinking-”
“He didn’t pay me on Friday, well, he paid me half. And now, I’m out twelve hundred because he just closed the diner. Who does that without warning people?”
“Lots of people do, unfortunately.”
“Look, it doesn’t matter why you’re here, the fact is that I am desperate. My rent has gone up and I don’t want to touch my savings if I don’t have to. Even if I do need to use it, I don’t really have that much. What if I can’t find a job and-”
A knock on the door interrupted her. She threw her hands up in exasperation.
“It would figure that I would get two visitors in one day and none the rest of the year.”
She went to answer the door, her tone abruptly changing when she saw the old lady at the door.
“I got your mail by mistake,” the woman said, handing Kayla and envelope and walking away without another word.
Kayla shook her head in disbelief, closing the door and holding the envelope in her hands. She opened it absentmindedly while she spoke.
“What if we compromise? I’ll go to one event with you, and we can go from there. That way, I’m not committing to something, but I can make money while I look for another job.”
“Are you going to be looking for a waitressing job?”
“Of course. That’s all I know how to do.”
“Then my answer is no. You’re too good to keep working at places that can’t afford to pay you what you’re worth. I watched you for a long time; you were the only thing holding that place together. You should be managing a restaurant, not working in some mom and pop place.”
“So, what then? If I look for a job, I can’t work for you?”
“Basically.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Life isn’t fair.”
She was frustrated, but she could already tell where this was going. He was going to win because he had all the power. He knew it and so did Kayla. She was angry, but she didn’t know why. It was what amounted to twelve or so parties a year. Why was she so against it?
She was trying to think, to figure out a way to gain control when she finally worked the envelope open and pulled out a stack of pictures. She looked down, staring at the full roll of film developed in her hand and then blinked in shock.
Dylan was talking, but Kayla was looking through the pictures, slowly at first, then flipping through the stack of at least twenty-four pictures. She felt sick, and she jumped when Dylan’s hand touched her shoulder.
She dropped the pictures, but she didn’t move to pick them up. She rushed to the door, throwing the deadbolt that she never used during the day and engaging the chain. When she turned around, Dylan was squatting over the pile of pictures, flipping them over one by one.
He looked up at her.
“What’s this?” he asked quietly. “Why are there all these pictures of you and me at dinner and in the rain?”
“I don’t know,” she said, her voice shaking.
Dylan shook his head.
“You can’t stay here.”
“What?”
“You can’t stay here. It’s got to be James, right? The man was obsessed. But it doesn’t matter who it is. Someone is following you and there’s no way I’m leaving you alone.”
She was still standing there, in the doorway, shaking like a leaf. There were so many pictures, some of them from close up. How had he gotten so close?
“I know what you’re thinking, but you can stop. These look like he took them a few feet away, but it’s a telephoto lens. He wasn’t close. But he has your address. I know you don’t want to do this, but you have to leave, and you need to leave now.”
“I need to call the police.”
He shook his head again.
“They’re aren’t going to be able to do anything. There’s no threat and nothing else with the pictures. They won’t see anything other than pictures of us in public. Something more has to happen before anti-stalking laws take effect, and I’m not putting you in danger like that.”
He was in front of her, lowering himself so that his six-foot frame was eye level with her much shorter one.
“We can talk about everything else, but I really need you to trust me on this. He’s not going to just go away. I saw the look in his eyes. He’s obsessed with you.”
She shuddered then blinked as if seeing Dylan for the first time.
“You’re right,” she said softly. “I need to pack a few things.”
“Just the essentials. I’ll take care of the rest.”
She nodded again, shuffling down the hall and taking the single suitcase that she’d had since she’d walked into her first group home waiting for a foster family to come pick her up. It was one of the few possessions she had been allowed to carry through the years. She put it on the bed. As quickly as she could, she packed what she needed before following Dylan to the car.
***
James sat in the car across the street from Kayla’s apartment, body trembling with barely contained rage. The man from the diner emerged from her building, carrying a single suitcase with Kayla right behind him. The man tossed the suitcase in the back of his Porsche Cayenne and opened the door for Kayla. The man lingered for a moment, obviously hoping for a kiss or something. James smiled when Kayla shunned the man, sure that her act in the diner had been just that…an act. Kayla wasn’t afraid of him, but he understood. She couldn’t play favorites with the patrons of the diner and still be a good waitress. Until she realized how good a provider James was, she would never understand that she didn’t have to worry about working at the diner anymore.
The Cayenne pulled away from the curb. James waited a few beats before he followed. He didn’t want to get caught tailing them, just in case that man was a danger to Kayla. James couldn’t be too careful when it came to her safety. There were a lot of crazies in this world.
The man got on the highway, making his way towards Seattle, then passing the off ramp and heading out of the city. James scowled. The traffic was still heavy, but not as heavy as it had been on the highway. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself, and he was forced to hang further and further back as the miles passed by.
When the Cayenne turned down Wicker Lane, James was intrigued. It was known to the locals as Billionaire Lane, and there was nothing on the other side of the exclusive neighborhood that would lead the average person to drive through it.
James slowed his car, mentally taking down the license plate and turning down Hillsboro Drive. He had everything he needed to look up this mystery man that was so obsessed with his Kayla. He didn’t need to follow them. He would find out soon enough who she was with and go from there.
Satisfied that he had done everything he could while avoiding detection, James wended his way through the neighborhood until he came out on a main road. From there, he headed to the nearest shopping center with multi-tenant parking and pulled into a parking space on the edge of the lot.
He pulled his laptop out of the case, typing in the license plate and entering his investigator ID number to gain access to the system. There were plenty of perks to being a private investigator by trade, and James wasn’t against using his skills to save the woman he loved.
The search results came back quickly; one of the benefits of tailing a man who owned a vehicle that cost six figures. Unlike the more popular vehicles, the search only had a handful of owners.
A name popped up on the screen along with the most recent DMV photo.
“Lane Dylan Robertson,” James read out loud, eyes widening in shock.
He double-checked all the information, then began laughing. His laughter was soft at first, growing with each passing moment until he was shaking from the force of his laughter.
“Dylan freaking Robertson is stalking my girlfriend,” he said, laughing still. “Doesn’t that beat all?”
He closed the laptop, eager to get home and do more digging. There wasn’t a person in the Seattle area with cable television that didn’t know who this man was. A billionai
re at only twenty-five, he had his hand in several business ventures. It was no surprise that he was now involved in Kayla’s life. Men like Dylan took what they want without worrying about the people that they hurt, and Dylan Robertson was no different.
But Kayla was. James wasn’t going to see her hurt, and Dylan didn’t know who he was dealing with. By the time he was finished with Dylan, Kayla would run into James’ arms, thankful that the man that she had shunned in public knew her well enough to know that she had been bluffing.
Her behavior at the diner the other day was a cry for help, and James was man enough to step up and answer that call.
“I’m coming for you, Kayla. Just hold on a little longer.”
***
Kayla stepped out of the car, staring in awe at the sprawling mansion before them. The entire neighborhood was about the same; massive front yards filled with trees and protected by a mechanical gate. Kayla couldn’t see most of the houses, but the fancy mailboxes encased in bricks told her that there was a house for at least every city block.
Dylan’s house was at the end of the street, taking up the entire cul-de-sac. It was at least twice as big as the other lots, and according to Dylan, it went straight back until it reached the edge of a small forest.
“We can hike as often as you like,” he said when she asked about the forest. “It’s beautiful back there, and I would love to show you around.”
He carried her things into the house, handing them to an older man that met them at the door. Dylan spoke to the older man quietly. He smiled and nodded, rushing away with the suitcase in hand.
“You have servants?” she said, shocked.
He sighed.
“I don’t call them servants. They practically raised me. I call them family.”
Kayla’s face immediately felt heated with embarrassment.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Don’t be. Most people who have house staff treat them like lesser than. These people were here long before my parents died, and when I was eighteen and found myself in this home with no one to care for me or help me figure out how to manage my father’s vast holdings, I had Vincent and Maggie to help me keep my head above water.”
