Katana

by Cole Gibsen

  “Rileigh!” He smiled and motioned me over.

  My heart pounded harder with each step I took until I was directly in front of him and I thought my rib cage might burst. “Why are you here?” I immediately regretted my choice of words.

  His smile melted. “Are you upset?”

  “No. That’s not—I didn’t—” I hung my head and sat down next to him. His arm extended along the back of the bench and grazed my shoulders. It felt nice. “I’m sorry. I’ve had a crazy day, and you just surprised me.”

  His smile returned. “I wanted to surprise you. I remember you said you worked a double shift today, so I thought I might be able to snag you on a break and take you to get something to eat.”

  Of course he did. It turns out Whitley was not only gorgeous, he was surprisingly sweet. So it was just my luck that after a semester of pining over him he’d show an interest in me at the same time I started hearing voices in my head.

  “So how about it?” He grinned.

  I said nothing. Even the dimples couldn’t cheer me up today. He continued to smile, forcing me to look away. If only he knew what I already did—our relationship was doomed. I was pretty sure most guys put “crazy” last on the list of qualities they look for in girls.

  “Rileigh? Is something wrong?”

  Not something—everything. Reluctantly, I turned to face him. “Whitley, I’m sorry. It’s so sweet of you to think of me like this. It’s just that … I already took my break. In fact, I better get back inside before I get into trouble.”

  “I see.” He didn’t bother to hide the disappointment in his voice. “In that case, I better not keep you.” He stood up and walked into the parking lot.

  I pressed my lips together to keep from calling him back. It would only complicate things.

  But as he reached the first line of cars, he stopped anyway and turned back to face me. “I have to ask you something.”

  I stood up from the bench and waited.

  His face remained blank. “Do you feel it too?”

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  His cheeks burned red and he ducked his head. His hair spilled across his face, forming a barrier between us. He hid like a ten-year-old who had just given his crush a dandelion and my heart melted a little, allowing warm stickiness to trickle down and heat my insides.

  Whitley cleared his throat before continuing. “I feel like there could be something between us worth exploring.”

  Something between us—as in Rileigh and Whitley? The mere thought made me feel weightless, and I gripped the back of the bench to keep from floating away.

  He tucked the curtain of hair behind his ear and looked at me. “Maybe I’m over-obsessing, but you didn’t technically agree to go out with me.” He held his hand up before I could protest. “What I’m trying to say is that I feel something when I’m with you. I just want to know if you feel it too.”

  I thought about the way my stomach fell into my knees when I first caught sight of him leaning against the bench. Was that the feeling he was referring to?

  Whitley crossed the asphalt with quick strides until only inches separated us. “I’m drawn to you, Rileigh. I don’t know what it is—but I’d like to find out.” He lifted my hand and rubbed his thumb across my knuckles, bringing goose bumps along my arm. “Do you feel it?”

  I opened my mouth to answer, but snapped it shut when I felt the girlish scream of delight thick on my tongue. After several more PAC-MAN impressions, I gave up and remained silent.

  Whitley smiled and it was nothing short of dazzling. “Can I take that as a ‘yes’?”

  I could only nod.

  “Cool. Then we’re still on for tomorrow night?”

  I nodded again.

  “I’m glad we had this talk.” He gave my hand a squeeze before releasing it. “I’ll see you tomorrow, and don’t even think about backing out.” He gave me a playfully menacing look. “I know where you live.”

  10

  Jeannine rapped on the wall of the storage closet where I stood taking inventory of hair dye. “You look like hell, honey. I know it’s early, but go home.”

  It took a moment for her words to register. As long as I’d been working at the salon, Jeannine had never let anyone go home early. Before she could change her mind I flung off my smock and scrambled for my car keys. I made a dash for the door, not even pausing with a snarky comeback when one of the stylists said something about me looking so haggard she could use my face as an anti-theft device.

  A whole night all to myself! I thought of the many things I could do as I made the short drive home: reality show marathon, repaint my chipped nails, or even a nap! What wouldn’t make the list: obsessing over the attack and the voice in my head. This night was a chance to get my head on straight and forget about all the drama that had recently infected my life. I wasn’t about to waste it.

  After pulling into my driveway, I practically bounced the entire way from my car to the front porch.

  Use caution. All is not as it seems.

  The reappearance of the voice caught me off guard, causing my foot to catch on the first step. My arms pin-wheeled, grasping for a hold as I stumbled forward. Luckily, my fingers found the door handle before I did a face plant in Debbie’s pedestal of long-dead marigolds beside the door. As I pulled myself back to my feet I loosened the storm door just enough that a folded sheet of yellow legal paper floated free from the crevice where it had been tucked.

  I couldn’t explain it, but I had the sudden urge to go back to the car and drive away. I shook my head. It was just a piece of paper. That didn’t stop my breath from catching in my throat as I reached down and allowed my fingers to hover over the note, too afraid to actually touch it.

  Five seconds passed with my breath held and fingers dangling centimeters away. Fifteen. Thirty. Nothing happened. “Rileigh, you really are a mental case,” I whispered as I snatched the paper. Despite the typical hot and humid St. Louis summer day, the notebook paper felt cool in my hand. I fought against the urge to tear it into a million pieces as my shaking fingers pulled the folds open, revealing the scratchy handwriting inside:

  I know your secret.

  I ran a fingertip along the edge of the paper and jerked it back when it sliced into my skin. A small bead of blood formed on the cut and I wiped it away on my shirt. Each biting throb was proof that I wasn’t going crazy—delusions didn’t draw blood.

  Still, I had no explanation for the note or the message it carried. The only secret I kept was padded and enhanced my chest by one whole cup size. Unless …

  Kim.

  The answer hit me like an overturned pot of boiling water straight to the stomach. I crumpled the paper up and shoved it into my pocket as I stormed inside my house. It made perfect sense. That jerk thought he could scare me. A little insurance on his part to make sure that I went running to his dojo.

  It was the last straw.

  My body shook as I yanked a tank top from a hanger in my closet and slipped it over my head. I kicked off the black ballet flats I had to wear for work and laced up my Adidas running shoes. Kim had messed with the wrong girl. He was probably counting on the fact that I’d show up afraid and crying, begging him to help me. Maybe that’s how he got his kicks. Maybe he staked out the hospital for vulnerable girls, hoping to seduce them by scaring them and then rushing in as the hero. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. Well, he was in for a big surprise. I was going to his dojo tonight, but not to ask for his help. I was going to tell him to leave me the hell alone … or else.

  The only problem? I didn’t know what the “or else” was. I brushed the thought away as I rushed out the door. I could figure that out along the way.

  11

  I was still seething after I’d entered Kim’s address into my phone’s GPS and climbed into my car, but the second I buckled my seat belt and turned the ignition, my confidence wavered. By the time I’d reached the highway my hands were shaking so badly I had to tighten my grip
on the wheel to keep from swerving.

  Was I crazy? What if this Kim guy turned out to be a psycho? I glanced at the phone in my cup holder, fingers itching to call Q—at the very least to let him know where I was going—but I didn’t. I didn’t need to drag anyone else into my mess.

  I considered turning my car around. I wanted nothing more than to forget this whole thing ever happened and move on with my life, but somehow I knew it wouldn’t be that easy. The threatening note proved that Kim wasn’t going to leave me alone. If I wanted this to end, I was going to have to confront him in person.

  Thirty minutes later I crossed the Jefferson Barracks Bridge that connected Missouri to Illinois and found myself in a town called Waterloo. I drove by several corn fields and a weathered-down shack that, given the neon beer signs, was apparently a bar.

  “I’m in hillbilly hell,” I mumbled.

  But soon enough, the fields gave way to housing developments and I realized this was one of those secret Midwestern treasures that the big-city dwellers devoured in search of a simpler life. Give it another couple of years and it was sure to have its own super shopping center.

  I located the dojo easily. It was right off the main drag, a simple stand-alone metal building with a brick apartment complex on one side and a lumberyard on the other. As I parked the Fiesta, I noticed several cars scattered around the parking lot. Interesting. Kim wasn’t alone.

  The metallic taste of fear rose up the back of my throat as I got out of my car. I managed to swallow it by the time I reached the building’s glass doors. An Asian girl roughly the same age as me frowned from behind a glass counter as I entered the reception area. Long black hair spilled over her shoulders, nearly hiding the image of a golden dragon on her red T-shirt. She folded her hands neatly on top of a stack of receipts, rubbing her thumb over her index finger.

  “We’re closed,” she said coolly.

  I didn’t realize I had squeezed my hands into fists until I felt the bite of my nails against my palm. “I’m looking for Kim Gimhae. He’s expecting me.”

  Her almond eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. “I wasn’t aware he had any private lessons tonight.”

  Kim appeared in the doorway directly behind her. “Sumi, that’s not your concern.”

  “Oh, Kim!” Sumi’s back snapped straight as her eyes widened in surprise. She shuffled the papers in front of her and spun to face him, her icy expression melting into lines of pleasant appeasement. “I’m sorry, Kim. I didn’t know she had an appointment.”

  He crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. His eyes glittered, the black pupils matching the color of his loose-fitting pants. My eyes drifted up to the hard lines of his bare chest.

  Kim smiled at me, but I wasn’t sure if it was in greeting or from noticing my staring. With burning cheeks, I pretended to study the Bruce Lee poster next to him with exaggerated interest. He’s a jerk, Rileigh, I reminded myself. He preys on innocent girls. But then, I wondered, with abs like that, why would he have to?

  Kim took the papers in front of Sumi and slid them inside a nearby folder. “Sumi, leave these for tomorrow.” He placed the folder under the counter. “Why don’t you take off early?”

  “But,” she said, lowering her thick lashes, “I was hoping to train with you tonight. My test is in a few weeks, and I want to be ready.”

  He set a hand on her shoulder and something flashed over her face. Adoration—or something more? It happened so fast it was hard to tell. “You’ll be fine,” he assured her. “You’re the highest-ranking brown belt and my best student. You’ll have no problem earning your black belt.”

  She beamed.

  “However, I have business to attend to tonight. It’s time for you to leave.”

  “I don’t understand. The others—”

  “Sumi.” Kim’s smile disappeared. “I am not asking you.”

  Her face wilted like a week-old rose. She snatched her car keys from the counter and marched toward the door I was still blocking. The anger that radiated from her prickled my skin as she stopped in front of me, scowling, as if sizing me up for a fight.

  I wasn’t sure what her problem with me was, but I wasn’t in the mood for any more drama. With my hands held up, I moved to the side.

  She still managed to bump my shoulder on the way out.

  “Nice girl,” I said as soon as she was through the door. “Very wise of you to have her as your receptionist—a real ‘people person,’ that one.”

  Kim laughed. “Sorry about that. Sumi has difficulty affording lessons, so I allow her to organize my class lists in exchange for training. She’s a good student, but can be a bit … abrasive.”

  “Uh-huh,” I answered, rubbing my shoulder.

  He laughed again, but this time there was a ring of familiarity in it that inspired a chill under my skin. There was something about that laugh, a clue of sorts, lying under the blanket of my subconscious. But that couldn’t be. I narrowed my eyes, comparing his image to the memories of people I’d met at events like football games and parties. Other than the hospital, nothing came to mind. So I asked, “Have we met before? I mean, before the hospital. Your laugh … ” I couldn’t put my finger on the weird feeling of déjà vu.

  He raised a single eyebrow.

  I shook my head. “No, that’s silly.”

  He tilted his head. “You know, you do look like someone who just woke up.”

  “What?” I smoothed my hands along the sides of my pulled-back hair. Maybe the rolled-down windows had done more damage than I thought. “I’ve been up all day.”

  The corners of his lips curled down in an amused upside-down smile. “That’s not what I was talking about.”

  I quit fussing with my hair. “Then what are you talking about?”

  “Follow me if you want to find out.” He swept his hand in front of him as a gesture for me to walk through the door.

  I shook my head. “Uh-uh. There’s no way I’m following you into that room.”

  Kim cocked an eyebrow.

  “I don’t know you. I don’t know what you want or why you won’t leave me alone. In fact, the only reason I came here tonight is to tell you to stop bothering me. No more phone calls and no more notes.”

  “Notes?” All traces of amusement left Kim’s face. “What notes?”

  I groaned. “Puh-lease. Like you don’t know. The one that said ‘I know your secret.’” I wiggled my fingers in the air to exaggerate the eerie effect I knew he was hoping for.

  “Rileigh, I didn’t leave you a note.” Kim’s voice was full of concern, with a hint of fear. He must take acting lessons.

  “Whatever. Just know that if you don’t leave me alone, as of this second, I’m going to … file for a restraining order.” Brilliant. I mentally patted myself on the back.

  Kim seemed to think about this for a moment. Finally, he said, “You want me to leave you alone?”

  Seriously, did this guy ride the short bus? “I just told you that.”

  “Fine. Then I have a proposition for you. Come with me into the training room. I only want to show you something. It won’t take long. After that, you can leave and I’ll never bother you again.”

  I eyed him skeptically. It sounded too good to be true. A couple of minutes and I would never have to deal with him again? “What’s the catch?”

  “No catch,” he said. “Do we have a deal?”

  I could sacrifice a couple of minutes if it meant never having to be bothered by Kim again. “Deal.”

  He smiled and disappeared through the door without waiting for me to follow.

  So this was it. The key to being left alone and getting my life back was a room away. I trembled in anticipation—or was it fear? It was getting harder to tell the difference. All I had to do was walk through that door. The door with who-knows-what on the other side. I turned and looked longingly at the glass door through which I had entered the building.

  Two doors. Two choices. Two outcomes. I turned away from the exit,
pushed my shoulders back, and stepped into the unknown.

  12

  I wrinkled my nose at the smell of rubber that permeated the room. A solid wall of floor-to-ceiling mirrors projected my wide-eyed wariness back at me as I cautiously stepped onto the giant jigsaw puzzle of blue and black mats that covered the dojo floor. Four punching bags hung from the ceiling along the left-side wall of the large room, and several more bags clustered in the far corner on floor stands. Two of the floor-stand bags had the shape of actual men from the waist up, with scowls molded onto their rubber faces. I found it funny that a designer would go through the trouble of making a punching bag appear menacing.

  Above the bags, a wooden shelf stuffed with trophies of various sizes looked like a miniature city crammed with golden towers. I was about to take a closer look at their engravings when a glint of metal reflecting in the mirror captured my attention.

  Kim stood across the room staring at various sharp weapons mounted against the wall.

  My throat went dry. I didn’t like where this was going. “So this is your dojo?”

  He kept his focus on the weapons. “For two years now.”

  “But you look so young.”

  He turned to me and smiled. “I am currently eighteen years old.”

  “Currently? That’s an odd way of putting it.”

  He gave a soft laugh and returned his focus to the weapons. There were more than a dozen of them, in all different shapes and sizes. Some I recognized from the martial arts action flicks Quentin and I watched, and others, with wicked sloping angles, looked like the blades of demons. Kim stopped in front of a small, slightly curved blade about the length of my arm. He reached for the wrapped black handle, but stopped short, allowing his hand to linger inches above it, fingers still. He closed his eyes and seemed to be physically straining against—what? I had no idea, and my tongue was too thick to ask. After what felt like an eternity, he snatched it from its resting place, nodded his head in approval, and turned to me. “Please forgive me for this. There is no other way.”