by Brenda Novak
After breakfast, she hurried upstairs to shower, but while she was getting ready, she couldn’t help checking her phone every few minutes. She told herself she was looking to see if there was any word from her attorney, the station, Ethan or Tommy. And she was. But in her heart she knew she was also hoping to find a text from Dallas.
Something that would make what happened last night go away.
Something that would enable them to continue on as they were, at least until one of them left.
But he hadn’t texted her, and he probably wouldn’t.
She frowned as she read over their exchange last night.
You coming down?
Soon.
How long do I have to wait?
At least until your mother goes to bed.
I’m dying for a taste of you. We’ll just close the door.
No way.
She’d felt giddy, breathless, waiting for the house to settle. And then, only two or three minutes later, he’d written.
Now?
She’d sent a laughing emoji, but she’d been every bit as impatient.
And then, only a few hours later, it was over.
Just that quickly.
She was ready for work by eleven-thirty and drove to the cookie store right away. She refused to take the chance that Dallas might return before she could leave. She knew she wouldn’t have the strength to resist him if they had the house all to themselves.
Once she arrived at the shop, she sat in her car, waiting until it was time for work. She didn’t get off until ten tonight. She was going to be at the store long enough as it was and figured she might as well reserve this last twenty minutes for herself.
Still determined to avoid social media, she read some news articles on her phone. Then she checked her email again. Her attorney had written to say he couldn’t get Tommy to respond to him. He wanted her to reach out to him again, but she didn’t have a lot of hope it would make any difference.
Just in case, she sent Tommy a text.
Really? You won’t respond? Come on, Tommy. I’d be there for you.
She switched back to her inbox to let her attorney know she’d tried and would notify him if she heard anything—and found an email from an address she didn’t recognize. She was half-convinced it was spam disguised as personal correspondence, except the subject line read: Emery, I loved it, and I love you! Since it had her name, and a positive subject line, she opened it just to be sure it wasn’t something from an old friend.
It contained the picture of a man, naked from the waist down. His face was blocked out but he was wearing a Santa hat and showing off an erection so large it didn’t look as though it could be real.
“Ew!” She was so shocked she dropped her phone, then had to twist and bend to scoop it up so that she could delete the picture. Her spam filter was usually better than this. Figuring it had to be some porn site that had found a work-around to the latest firewalls, she sent it to the garbage.
But as it disappeared, some of the words above the picture registered in her mind. There was something personal in the message, too.
How could that be?
She retrieved it from the trash and, her chest rising and falling as her breath came quicker, read it carefully.
How would you like to work in the porn industry? It’s not the nightly news, but I’d be happy to give you a ride you’ll never forget—and we could capture what a real climax looks and sounds like. With the proper lighting, maybe viewers will even be able to see that little heart-shaped freckle on your thigh when I spread your legs.
She looked around as though she expected someone to jump out from behind one of the dumpsters in the alley and start pointing a finger and laughing at her. What was going on? Who had done this? And how did whomever it was get her email address?
She studied the sender’s address: majorhardon. This wasn’t spam. Whoever had sent the email had targeted her. Not only did he know her email address, he knew her name, her past occupation and about that sex video. She wrote back:
Who is this?
The answer came right away.
If you really want to know, meet me at the Blue Suede Shoe at midnight tonight. Then you can see the size of the woody you give me in person.
There was a knock on her window.
Startled, she screamed, but it was only Susan. Quickly shoving her phone in her purse so that her boss wouldn’t look a little closer and see that obscene picture, she opened her door a crack.
“Aren’t you coming in?” Susan asked, perplexed. “It’s ten after twelve, and you’re just...sitting here.”
“Oh. Sorry,” she said, and scrambled from the car. “I was reading a good article and must’ve lost track of time.”
“No problem. What was it about?”
“What was what about?” she asked as she slipped past Susan to go inside.
“The article.”
“Oh. It was about...it was about how...some guy mugged one of those bell ringers for the Salvation Army and stole all the money in his bucket,” she said, grasping at anything she could think of.
“You’re kidding!” Susan sounded horrified. “I haven’t heard about that.”
“It wasn’t around here,” she said, and hoped her boss would let it go as she put down her purse and moved into the front.
Fortunately, they were busy from the moment she put on her apron. Susan didn’t have the chance to ask any more questions about that nonexistent article or anything else.
Emery was grateful that she couldn’t dwell on Tommy’s lack of response, that strange and upsetting email or how things had ended with Dallas last night. She was tempted to contact him, to tell him about the email she’d received, but she couldn’t allow herself to lean on him. That wasn’t fair.
He’d gotten her back on her feet. She had to navigate from here.
But as she closed up that night, she had to ask herself—was she going to the Blue Suede Shoe?
22
Emery felt self-conscious entering the bar alone. Because it was always busy on the weekend, and she couldn’t imagine she’d be unsafe with so many people around, she’d decided to go. She’d once reported on a story about a spurned lover who’d impersonated his ex-girlfriend online and provided her personal information to men hoping to connect with women seeking a rape fantasy experience. Strange men had come to her house at all hours of the night, thinking she’d requested a sexual attack. Fortunately, nothing truly terrible happened to her, but it was frightening and sometimes difficult to convince her would-be “attackers” that her refusal wasn’t part of the game.
Emery had to wonder if Ethan had posted her email address in a similar forum, hoping the men there would begin to harass her. If so, and she could prove it, the police would have to get involved. Setting her up went well beyond loading a sex tape onto the internet. Something like that could potentially result in physical harm.
She hadn’t gone home to shower and change after work—she’d sat in her car and read for over an hour to pass the time—so her hair and clothes smelled like fresh-baked cookies. But at least most people liked the scent of vanilla. She’d been reluctant to return to Aiyana’s for fear she’d bump into Dallas. She knew he’d ask about Ethan and if she’d heard anything on the lawsuit—they’d talked about that almost every day—and she’d decided not to tell him the latest. Not only was she determined to do a better job of handling her own problems, his brothers were coming into town today—she’d been hearing about their arrival all week—and she didn’t want to get in the way of the family reunion.
After slipping through the crowd to reach the bar, she ordered a Sprite with a wedge of lime before picking her way along the wall to the far corner. She was hoping to find a vantage point from which she could view most of the people, but there were too many alcoves. She’d have to move around, actively
search for whoever had suggested they meet here, even though she preferred to keep a low profile. After what’d happened the last time she’d visited the Blue Suede Shoe, she’d become a hot topic in town for something other than the video—or in addition to it—and this time Dallas had been drawn into the conversation.
Were they a couple? Had Dallas reacted in a jealous rage? Was he still the angry youth he’d once been?
But Aiyana claims he’s gotten over all that... Aiyana must be beside herself... How can someone like Emery Bliss be good for him when she doesn’t have any moral fiber herself?
Most of those comments hadn’t been said to her face, but Susan had mentioned a few things, and she’d overheard others. Everyone seemed to be interested and hoping to learn a bit more so they could contribute to local gossip.
Her ears burned as people stared at her. She stood and sipped her Sprite, longing for the moment when everyone would just go on about their business. If she was lucky, she’d be able to blend in at some point.
No one else appeared to be out of place or expecting someone. But it was early yet. She had half an hour to wait. She’d just gotten tired of hanging out in her car, hadn’t been able to concentrate on her book with so many other things on her mind and had wanted to be the first to arrive, so that she could get into position and, hopefully, be able to figure out what was going on.
As the time passed, she turned away a few offers to dance and watched as several groups of people played darts or pool and still more danced or hung out, talking and laughing at the bar. But even at midnight she didn’t see anyone who might be alone and hoping to meet her.
It was almost twelve-thirty when she began to wonder if that email had been a prank. Maybe Ethan had downloaded that picture from a porn site and sent it himself as a way to intimidate her—and to remind her that he could still hurt her and it would be hard to stop him.
That made sense. How would some random guy who’d received her personal information on the internet—meaning he could live anywhere in the world—reach Silver Springs the same day they’d exchanged emails? And how would he be familiar with the Blue Suede Shoe?
On the other hand, maybe that wasn’t such a stretch. After all, there was nothing to guarantee he’d only received her information today. That exchange could’ve happened a week ago. Or... LA was only an hour and forty minutes from Silver Springs. Any online forum large enough could easily have members in such a huge metropolis, especially if Ethan had used some kind of filter to reach only those who were close enough to scare or harm her.
As for being familiar enough with the area to know of the Blue Suede Shoe? That would only take a Google search.
She spotted someone who looked like Cain and almost walked out. He was the last person she wanted to see—except for Ethan, of course. But before she could take one step toward the door, the person turned. It wasn’t Cain.
Thank God. Still, it was time to go. She’d done all she could here. Whoever it was hadn’t shown up. Perhaps he was having a good laugh from across the country over the fact that he’d probably sent her on a wild-goose chase.
She’d just stepped away from the wall when a tall, blond man in tight jeans, cowboy boots and a cowboy hat approached.
“Howdy,” he said, tipping his hat.
It always surprised her when she found a true cowboy in California. That didn’t happen very often in LA, but other parts of the state were quite rural. Cal Buchanon, the man Aiyana was about to marry, was a case in point. There were a lot of farms and cattle ranches up and down the Highway 5 corridor, especially between LA and Sacramento. “Hello.”
This couldn’t be her man. Any identifying details on that picture had been fuzzy and dark—the face intentionally hidden—but he didn’t resemble the body type. Besides, he was only about twenty-three and came across as too young and too polite. She assumed he’d walked over to ask her to dance and was already formulating her refusal when he said, “A man over there said he’d buy me this beer if I let you know he’d meet you around the building in back.”
Emery’s heart skipped a beat as she began scanning the people in the area indicated. “What man?”
He turned to look. “Hmm. I don’t see him. Must’ve gone outside already.”
“What’d he look like?”
“I don’t know,” he replied with a shrug.
“You didn’t see him when he bought you that beer?”
He seemed at a loss. “I saw him, but... Let me think. He was about this tall—” he lifted his hand to signify a height a few inches shorter than his own “—and had dark hair and dark eyes, I think,” he added uncertainly. “The lighting in here isn’t the best, and I don’t come for the guys, so I don’t make it a habit of looking at them too closely.”
He chuckled, but she was too focused on what he’d told her to even smile. Dark hair, dark eyes, average height. That could describe Ethan. But it could also describe millions of other men. “What nationality was he?”
“White, I guess.”
“Can you give me an age?”
“Thirties? Forties? I can’t really say. Why? This comes as a surprise? You aren’t here to meet anyone?”
“Not outside,” she said.
“I’m sorry. I assumed the dude was a friend of yours. But I’ve done my part, so... I’ll leave you alone.”
She stopped him from walking away. “Are you familiar with Ethan Grimes?”
“Ethan who?”
Apparently not. “He’s a newscaster on KQLA in Los Angeles.”
“Never heard of him.”
She used her phone to pull up a picture of him. “This guy here.”
He reached up to scratch his head under his hat. “I don’t think so.”
“Well...did the man seem friendly to you?”
“Friendly enough to buy me this beer,” he said with another laugh.
She got the impression he was slightly drunk and felt a twinge of irritation. This was serious. But only for her. He was just out having a good time and trying to be accommodating.
Emery hitched her purse higher on her shoulder and checked her phone as she tried to decide what to do. She couldn’t leave the safety of the crowd to meet some stranger who could be dangerous out behind the building. Anything could happen back there. People had been mugged, kidnapped—or worse—in parking lots that were far better lit than this one.
“Well, thanks for passing the word along,” she said. “But I won’t go out there alone.”
He finished his beer and put the bottle on the closest table. “I’ll walk out with you, if you want.”
She hadn’t been hinting, but after what she’d said she could see why he might offer. “No, that’s okay. I don’t want to put you to the trouble.”
“It’s no trouble.”
She was so curious about who’d sent that photo and whether she’d be able to tie it to Ethan that she was tempted. But she’d never met this cowboy before. “Really, I’m fine.”
“Okay. Well, if the guy who wanted to meet you is out of luck, maybe you’ll dance with me,” he said and held out his hand. “I’m Terrell, by the way.”
She just wanted to go home. But if there was someone waiting for her out back, who might be dangerous, she decided now probably wouldn’t be the best time to leave.
With a smile she hoped did not appear as reluctant as she felt, she gave him her name and agreed to dance, and they danced several more times over the next hour. Terrell seemed a little immature, but being with someone was better than hanging out at the bar alone, waiting until she felt it would be safe to leave.
Just after one, she finally told him she had to go home.
“Can I get your number?” he asked.
There was an awkward moment during which she felt as though she had to give it to him, that maybe she’d misled him by allowing the friendship. But she kne
w she’d never be willing to go out with him, so she decided to be honest. “I’m sorry. It’s been fun getting to know you, but I’m not open to a relationship right now. My life is...crazy. I need to figure out a few things first. Besides, I’m too old for you,” she joked.
“Age doesn’t matter,” he argued.
She smiled and touched his arm to soften her words. “It matters to me.”
He scowled and pressed a hand to his chest as though she’d just wounded him but seemed to take it good-naturedly. “Fine. At least let me walk you out to your car, make sure you get there safely. You seemed pretty leery of the dude who sent me over to talk to you. It might be smart to have someone with you when you go outside.”
What he said made sense. And since he was willing, why not? “You’re sure it won’t be an imposition?”
“Absolutely not. As a matter of fact, I’ve going to take off now, too.”
She peered closer at his face. “Are you sober enough to drive?”
“I think so, but I’m going to call an Uber, just in case.”
He focused on his phone for a few seconds before shoving it back in his pocket. Then he jerked his head toward the door. “You ready?”
Grateful for his company, she left some extra money on the table for the waitress and walked out with him.
“I’m going to see if that guy who approached me is still waiting,” he said as soon as they were outside and started toward the back.
She didn’t think whoever it was would stand an hour in the cold and dark. More likely, if he knew what she drove, he’d be lurking around her car. So she followed Terrell.
It was dark in back. Only one dim light bulb hung over the back door so that employees could see well enough to haul the trash to the receptacle. Emery could see nothing else—just a fence and, behind that, raw land.
“There’s no one here,” she said peering toward that door from the corner of the building. She wasn’t about to walk down there even with Terrell. The email invite had to be some sort of game, she decided—but the next thing she knew, Terrell grabbed her arm and jerked her out of sight so quickly she didn’t even have the chance to scream.
