Stalkers: A Dark Romance Anthology

by Ally Vance

  A good brother would say something about the day drinking, but then a good brother wouldn’t have pissed away her inheritance. Having polished off Townes’s whisky, Murray wasn’t really in a position to comment on the boozing either.

  “Tallulah?”

  “Hmm?” She turned back to face him and he took a breath. He’d just blurt it out, confess everything and let her rage. She’d spin down eventually and having his transgressions out in the open would be a weight off his weary shoulders.

  “Don’t worry about Visa. I’ll call them right now.”

  Working as a hostess, while pedestrian and annoying, supplied plenty of story fodder. Lucy had the owner wrapped around her finger, so she could set her own schedule. The time she did at La Boheme bridged the cost gap that her scholarship and financial aid didn’t quite cover. Her paycheck kept her fed, but cash handshakes with self-important men seeking a table with a view paid for cute shoes and beer.

  Lucy had just finished seating one such customer and was sliding a ten into her sleeve when she felt the cool breeze of someone entering the vestibule. She looked up and sucked in an audible breath as Murray Layhe crossed the distance between them. Devastatingly handsome in a perfectly tailored camel dress coat, his careless hair and a near-beard were a rugged contrast to his regal clothes. Recalling everything underneath the expensive layers sparked a fire between her legs.

  “Good evening, Mr. Layhe.” She sounded breathy. Uncomfortable with her own reaction to him, Lucy cleared her throat. “Table for one?”

  “That depends.” His eyes undressed her, his voice rich, like Belgian chocolates or imported schnaps. “When is your next break?”

  “That depends. Do you have my notebook?”

  Full lips curled, and he produced the precious cargo from his inside pocket. When she took it, his fingers grazed hers, and she shivered.

  “Did you read it?”

  He shrugged, but he didn’t meet her eyes. “I skimmed it a little. Only to see what it was.”

  She absorbed the violation, making peace with the innocent mistake. “And?”

  “Pipe smoke. I love it too. Granddad had a collection, pipes in all shapes and sizes.” His navy eyes drifted, as if unearthing memories long buried. “One looked just like a dragon claw. When my mother auctioned them off, I cried.”

  His unexpected boyish charm chiseled holes in her freshly restored walls, but the incessant prank calls from an unknown number she’d received in the last day or so weren’t something she could entirely overlook. Tapping the pads of her fingers on the notebook cover thoughtfully, Lucy gestured toward the dining area.

  “Right this way.” She escorted Murray through the maze of linen tablecloths and candlelight, straight to a booth she saved for high rollers, or surprise VIPs. She could feel the very real caress of his gaze on her bare shoulder and silk-covered backside as he trailed behind her. She handed him a menu and took his coat.

  “I’ll be back.” Lucy rushed off and after sacrificing the newly acquired ten-dollar bill to a waitress she couldn’t stand the sight of, Lucy secured a replacement for herself out front. By the time she got to Murray, he already had a cocktail in front of him. He looked up from his menu as she slid into the booth opposite him.

  “Pumpkin bisque. I love seasonal menus, don’t you?”

  “Life’s too short for small talk, Murray. Got something real to say?”

  He huffed, clearly amused rather than offended. “I have plenty to say. How long have you got before you’re due back?”

  “How long do we need?” She picked up a water glass.

  “Do you work tomorrow?” He set his menu aside, and his undivided attention made her pulse race. She sipped her water a little too greedily. Her mouth was painfully dry in the intimate setting, and his cologne triggered all kinds of nasty ideas.

  “Not if I don’t want to.” She sat back against the worn leather and crossed her arms. “Why do you ask?”

  He picked up his cocktail, and a hint of his dimples appeared. “I thought we’d take that trip to Marion I promised you.”

  Her head tilted, and her fingers found the gold chain around her neck. Catching herself, she consciously didn’t fidget. Granny used to slap her with the fly swatter when she caught her doing it. “Marion’s what? Forty minutes from here? That’s not an overnight trip.”

  Murray leaned a little closer. His gaze darkened, glittering with promise. “The way we go about things, it is.”

  Lucy felt a charge and was pissed at herself for even speaking to him. “Before I agree to anything, do you have a girlfriend…or a fiancée I should know about?”

  “No.” He seemed genuinely stumped by her question.

  “Huh.” She pondered the calls again, nothing but heavy breathing and a dead line. Then there was that lipstick warning.

  He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t believe me?”

  “No, that’s not it. I’ve just gotten some hate and I don’t know who from.”

  Murray stood and took a seat beside her in the booth. “Tell me.”

  She gave him the highlights. Confusion and anger contorted his handsome face.

  “You called the police…” He brushed her hair off her bare shoulder.

  She snickered, a cynical attempt to disguise her visceral response to his touch. “No.”

  “Why not?” Perplexed, he set his drink down and studied her.

  “What would they have done?” She picked up his glass and took a sip, hoping no one would see it and that the fiery liquid would calm her nerves. Murray’s concern reinvigorated her own. “Bring in a handwriting expert?”

  “Dust for fingerprints, maybe?”

  “Do you really watch that much CSI, or is that just your privilege talking?”

  Lucy smirked, but before Murray could respond, a couple arrived at the table.

  “Fancy meeting you here! Look who it is, Townes!”

  The intrusive woman looked familiar, but Lucy definitely knew Townes. Jarred by his arrival, she forced a bright smile.

  Murray seemed unpleasantly surprised to see them both. “This is unexpected, Tallulah. You told me you’d never set foot in this hellhole again.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Murray. I’d push a Girl Scout into traffic for crème brûlée. Francophilia, that’s my jam.”

  The woman turned a bright smile Lucy’s way. “My brother’s forgotten his manners. I’m Tallulah Layhe.”

  “Lucy. Fagan.”

  Townes smiled and offered his hand. “Reverend Townes Hildebrandt.”

  “I’ve heard you in action.” Lucy maintained her cool, but inside she was throwing a screaming fit. “You’re very good.”

  “What are you two doing here? Hot date?” Murray’s eyes locked onto Townes, who turned a rosy shade of red. Lucy wasn’t sure what she’d stepped in joining Murray at the VIP table, but she knew she didn’t like the smell of it.

  “If you’ll excuse me—”

  “Where do we put our coats?” Tallulah’s gray eyes fixated on Lucy’s as Townes helped her out of her leather coat that probably cost more than Lucy’s car.

  “I can take them,” Lucy offered, and by the look of satisfaction Tallulah wore, Lucy understood she was being reminded of her place. Murray, whose deep frown lines didn’t disguise his distaste, stood so she could extract herself from the booth.

  “Lucy, my sister used to work here. Small world, right?” He was talking to her, but his eyes were on Tallulah’s. “They kept her in the back of the house though. She isn’t exactly a people person.”

  “I need to check on Christine.” Lucy took the coats from Townes, who to his credit looked like he wanted to flee with her. “Raincheck, Murray?”

  “In that case, mind if we join you?” Tally slipped into the seat where Lucy had just been. She picked up her glass like it was toxic waste. “We’ll need a clean glass please.”

  “I’ll get right on that.” Lucy scurried away, making a beeline to the waitress who she’d shanghaied into cove
ring for her.

  “’Bout time,” Christine snapped when she saw Lucy.

  “Trust me, I’d rather have kept the cash. Go take care of the VIPs. Tell the kitchen they can spit in whatever that lady orders.”

  About thirty minutes later, her relief arrived, and Lucy ventured back to the restrooms. She saw Murray and Tallulah alone at the table, and they seemed stiff and perturbed so she passed with only a tiny nod in their direction. After a quick nose powdering, she exited the restroom and bumped directly into Townes, who was on his way back from the men’s room.

  “Townes!” She looked over her shoulder to confirm they were alone. “Thanks for playing along out there.”

  Townes nodded, but he didn’t let go of her arm. “Murray doesn’t need to know we’ve met.”

  Met? How about dated for three months? The first time she’d seen Townes at a Layhe and Sons funeral, she’d gone to make Townes miss her. But Murray was more than she’d bargained for. “Fine by me.”

  “Lucy…about Murray…”

  “Let me stop you right there, T. You lost the right to weigh in on my love life when you walked away from me.”

  “That’s not fair. I was just—”

  “No need for a recap. I was there.” Her cheeks flushed, her heart straining at its patched-together seams. But she’d been naïve then, a silly freshman flailing around in the big bad world. Just when she thought things were getting serious, Townes dumped her because she wasn’t wife material.

  “Murray isn’t who you think he is.” His earnest brown eyes infuriated her.

  “How do you know who I think he is?”

  “If you’re after his money—”

  She stepped back from him, looking him up and down like she’d never seen him before. “How dare you—”

  Contrite, he released her, hands up in defense. “I’m only saying there isn’t as much as you think.”

  “Looks like he’s short in the ‘true friends’ department too.” Lucy spun on her heel and strode away. Murray saw her coming and scrambled out of the booth.

  “Lucy—”

  “Sorry, I’m busy.”

  He gently took her elbow and steered her into a dark vestibule. “No, I’m sorry. My sister is…”

  Lucy waited, chin up and arms folded.

  Murray took her face in his hands, and the gesture was so sweet and his eyes so sincere, she melted. “…she’s having a hard time right now and it’s about to get a whole lot worse. Text me when you’re off. Pack a bag. Please?”

  When Murray arrived at Lucy’s front door, he was greeted by the tallest woman he’d ever met.

  “Murray Layhe.” The baritone voice explained everything at once. “The hearse makes so much more sense now.”

  Murray squinted, as if he could see past the layers of make-up and false lashes. “Have we met?”

  She smiled, allowing him entrance. She had lipstick on her teeth, but Murray elected not to disclose this. “Not when I was dressed like this, though. Michael Beauregard. We were in the same class.”

  “Yes. Tony in West Side Story.” Murray remembered the outspoken kid who’d been the leading man in almost every school production. He’d have never guessed Michael to have such proclivities. He’d been a better actor than anyone realized. “How’ve you been?”

  “Still putting on a show.” She shimmied and her tassels responded. “Lucy! Your dark prince has arrived!”

  Lucy appeared, backpack in hand. She’d changed into jeans and a navy sweater, hair piled in an intentionally messy updo. She looked demure and tiny compared to her housemate.

  “Ready?” Murray asked, and she nodded.

  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” her roommate called.

  “I’m glad you texted. I wasn’t sure you would.” Since my sister is such a raging bitch.

  I heard that.

  Good.

  Lucy glanced his way. “I wasn’t sure I would either. I found another note on my windshield at the restaurant.”

  She handed him the note. Straight out of a movie, the letters had been clipped from magazines or newspapers.

  StAy aAaWy frOm hiM

  “I’m taking you to the police station.” Murray slowed the car and whipped the wheel around.

  She put a hand on top of his. “No, just drive.”

  They’d been in the car for about ten minutes before Lucy spoke again.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Marion, as promised. We have a family cabin along the way. Since I live with Tallulah and you have a roommate—”

  “Did you bring condoms this time?” She seemed resigned that sex was an expectation.

  He blew out a breath. “We don’t even have to sleep in the same room. I want to get to know you better, Lucy.”

  “What do you want to know that you couldn’t learn from my journal?”

  Touché.

  Fuck off, Tally.

  “Where you come from. What brought you here. What makes you tick.” He felt a headache forming behind his left eye and willed it away. He had brought condoms, and he intended to use them.

  “College brought me here, but you knew that. I’m a writer, but you know that too.”

  “How’d you get into it? And how’d you get so good at it?”

  She looked like he’d pulled the rug out from under her, but she seemed to give his question thorough consideration. “I couldn’t go straight home after school. Granny worked until five, and my uncles…” She trailed off, but the heavy look she gave him explained enough. “…I didn’t want to be there. The public library was free. Those ladies were nice to me. They snuck me graham crackers and steered me to the classics once I’d burned through Hardy Boys and Sweet Valley High.

  “I was reading Hemingway and Wolfe in the sixth grade. They transported me…let me escape for a time. I told myself I’d live in Berlin when I grew up. I thought if I could write one book with half the wisdom Wolfe captures in one sentence, then I’d never have to set foot in that shithole town again.”

  “You’ve got that book in you.”

  “Maybe. They say to write what you know, and I find myself going back there all the time, metaphorically speaking. No one wants to hear sob stories about absent moms and jailbird dads and being so poor that breakfast is stolen rhubarb from the neighbor’s garden and dinner is saltines.”

  “I disagree. That’s provocative stuff, Lucy.” She looked doubtful.

  “I had to get out. See something besides the backside of a mountain. Gain some life experience, so I have something else to write about besides the shit I was trying to escape.” She turned on him, like she’d flipped a switch. “Your turn now. Did you always want to be in the family business?”

  “No. I still don’t, but here I am.”

  “Then what do you want to be when you grow up?” Lucy asked, adjusting the heater in his Cadillac and removing her coat.

  “To be left alone. No expectations, no drama.” Murray frowned. Chasing good times had cost him dearly. His future was more uncertain than ever.

  Hours later, after they’d tangled the sheets in the master bedroom at the cabin and were having a soak in the hot tub, Lucy revisited the topic.

  “What about your sister? Can’t she run the business?”

  Murray, who was stroking her bare spine, paused. “My parents would spin in their graves if I handed Tallulah the keys to their kingdom. They didn’t want her to have it. They only left her china and silverware.”

  Murray remembered the look on Tally’s face at the reading of the will…she’d have been happier if they hadn’t mentioned her at all.

  You’re goddamn right about that.

  Lucy relaxed back against Murray. “No offense, but from what I’ve seen of her I can’t say I blame them.”

  “She wasn’t always like that. Tally’s had a hard go of it.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Seriously. She was a bit of a mean girl in school, the prettiest, the smartest.”

  Lucy s
norted, combative eyes on his. “Poor baby…”

  Murray climbed out of the hot tub and started to dry off. “When the bandwagon turns on their ringleader, it’s ugly.”

  “She clearly means a lot to you,” Lucy conceded, her nipples puckering as the cold air hit them. “I wish I could see her through your eyes.”

  Murray wrapped a terrycloth robe around her and led her into the cabin’s small kitchen. He reached for the tea kettle. “Our senior year she went with a group of friends to Black Mountain. They take Halloween very seriously up there…haunted houses, spook walks, stuff like that. Tallulah had been messing around with a friend’s boyfriend on the side. They were several miles out of town when all of her friends turned on her, and once they’d said their piece they kicked her out of the car and left her there in the dark.”

  “Jesus.” Lucy wore a sour expression.

  “It gets worse. She walked for an hour before anyone would stop for her. Then finally, a van full of thugs pulled over. When they finally tossed her onto our front lawn the next morning, she wanted nothing to do with her friend’s boyfriend anymore…or any guys for that matter.”

  “Did they ever catch the guys who did it?”

  “No. Like you, she didn’t report it to the police.”

  Lucy looked away, blowing the steam off her cup of tea. Murray wondered then if the reason Lucy didn’t want to report it was because she was manufacturing the entire situation, perhaps for attention. He was not sure why she’d do something like that, but he couldn’t understand why she wasn’t more concerned about it.

  He could totally understand why Tally hadn’t gone to the cops. That, he got.

  At the pawn shop the following morning, Murray let Lucy haggle the price. She wanted to, for her writer’s “been there done that” list, and he was too distracted to argue. Lucy walked out of the pawn shop with three times what he would have taken, and he took it as a sign.