by B. B. Hamel
I was meant to be an excuse for the existence of Alexa. But now it’s becoming so much more than that.
I don’t blame Logan for this. There’s no way he could have known that Chester’s son is a total psycho. Nobody knew much about Spencer coming into this, since Spencer basically kept to himself. But it’s gone so much further than I ever imagined it would now, and I have to follow it through.
I feel like I should be wearing a trench coat. It’s one in the morning. Alexa is fast asleep, and I made sure that Logan has the baby monitor before sneaking out. If she wakes up, he’ll have to take care of her, even though he normally does anyway.
I don’t know why I feel compelled to leave the building for this. I head across the street and sit down on a bench at the park. I could easily do this inside, but there’s less of a risk of Logan catching me if I do it from here. I don’t want to hear what he has to say if he happens to overhear what I’m doing.
I dial the number and let it ring. I expected to leave a message, but he picks up before the machine can get it.
“Spencer here.”
I frown at his greeting. “Hi, Spencer,” I say.
He hesitates a second. “Everly?” he asks.
“It’s me.”
“I knew you’d call, sooner or later.” He sounds like he’s smiling, although his words are slightly slurred.
“You didn’t leave me much of a choice.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s true. I’m sure Logan is coming up with all sorts of schemes to get you out of this.”
I realize that he’s drunk, and I decide to be careful. “I want to do the easiest thing possible,” I say.
“Of course you do.” He sounds so damn smarmy and excited. “You’re a good person, aren’t you, Everly? Always willing to sacrifice for others.”
“Only people I care about,” I say pointedly.
He laughs into the receiver. “Of course, of course. Well then, what’s this call for?”
“You know what.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
I flush with anger. “I’ll go on a date withyou.”
“Good,” he says. “Very good. And what do you want to do on the date?”
“I thought you had something in mind,” I hedge.
“Of course I do, but I don’t think you’d like what I’m picturing.”
I make a fist and relax it. “If we’re going to do this, we have to have one rule.”
“Okay, what rule is that?”
“No touching.”
He pauses, and for a second I think I lose him. But he speaks up before I can check my phone. “That’s no fun,” he says finally.
“This is a date. I’m not a prostitute. I wouldn’t sleep with someone on the first date.”
“Everly, Everly, Everly,” he says and sighs. “Don’t you know what I want?”
“Just tell me,” I say, getting frustrated.
“I want to tie you down, blindfold you, and fuck you until you scream.”
I take a sharp breath. “If you can’t behave, this isn’t going to happen. I’ll let Logan do one of his schemes instead.”
He sighs again. “Okay, fine. You want no touching, you can have no touching. But we’re going on the date of my choosing.”
“Fine,” I agree.
“And I still want that money. You make sure he sends me that fucking money.”
He sounds angry, which doesn’t surprise me. “Fine,” I say. “You’ll get your money and your date. And you better uphold your end of the bargain.”
“I give you my word, whatever that’s worth,” he says. “I won’t ruin your plans.”
I hesitate for a second, not sure if I really want to go through with this. Before I can agree, I have one more question. “The other day,” I say. “Were you outside of our apartment in the park?”
He laughs. “Of course I was. Scared the shit out of you, didn’t I?”
“Why?” I ask him.
“I wanted to see how you live. I needed to prove to myself that you’re not really married to that fucking piece of shit.”
“Did you get your proof?” I whisper.
“No,” he says, sounding disappointed. “But it was fun, anyway.”
He’s a sick man, I realize. I really shouldn’t do this. But Logan and I can potentially help thousands of people in this city if we can get this shelter and community center built.
“Okay,” I say to him. “You have a deal.”
“Wonderful. I’ll call you again with the details soon.”
“Fine.” I want to get off the phone and head back inside. It’s chilly out and I’m starting to feel paranoid, like he might be hiding behind the bushes or something.
“And Everly? You tell Logan that you’re doing this. You make sure he knows.”
“I’ll have to, if I want to get him to pay you.”
“Good.” I can hear the sick smile on his face. “Good night, Everly.”
I hang the phone up, not wanting to say anything more to him.
This is probably a mistake. I can sense it. I should probably just give this up and let Logan find some other way of getting us out of this.
But I know there is no other way. Spencer is a disturbed fuck, and only playing into his twisted fantasy is going to work. Anything else, any sign that we’re not going to comply with that he wants, and he’s going to pull back.
I can’t let that happen. I won’t let Logan fail. He wants to protect me, but I want to protect him just as much. Maybe he can’t see that just yet, but he will soon.
23
Logan
Everly squeezes my hand and smiles at me as we walk down the block. The buildings on our left are all vacant and decaying, though they were once beautiful.
“I have a feeling I know why you brought me here,” I say to her.
“Shush,” she says, grinning. “Just look around.”
I sigh and do as she asks. We’re in the middle of the city, in a relatively bad neighborhood. The dilapidated buildings are all owned by Chester Winterfield, or at least they’re soon going to be owned by me. I’m going to knock them all down and build my shelter right here.
I’ve been to this spot once before, though briefly. It feels different today somehow as we circle around the block that I’m going to buy.
Most of these homes were built back in the twenties. Back then, these were beautiful, and people were proud to own them. Families grew up in these houses and prospered, at least for a little while.
Things changed in the sixties and the seventies. People began to move out of the cities and that only accelerated through the decades. Drugs and gangs and poverty moved in to replace the families, and in neighborhoods like this, the once-beautiful houses were all either foreclosed on or simply abandoned.
That’s how Chester ended up owning this entire city block. I suspect he had some grand plans for the land, but he just never got around to it, and since the neighborhood never improved on its own, he decided that it wasn’t worth trying to improve it himself. He likely bought all of these houses for half of what I’m paying from a bank, and he’s definitely making out like a bandit. Nobody would want to live in these structures, not anymore at least.
But I can still see the beauty in them. I can practically hear the kids playing in the streets, people sitting out on their stoops, neighbors talking, laughing, being together. That’s the whole point of a city. People that want to be around other people live in the city, even if it’s harder and less convenient sometimes. It’s everything I love about life, at least.
Local people eye us as we circle the block a couple times. Everly doesn’t say anything, she just looks at the buildings. I can’t see what she’s thinking, but I suspect it’s similar to what I have on my mind.
I keep seeing the shelter. I keep seeing the plans in my mind, and picturing how it’ll look in real life. It’s going to be beautiful, all gleaming glass and shining steel. It’s going to be a beacon of hope for everyone around he
re. Maybe people don’t even know they need something like this, but as soon as we build it, they’re going to come. I know it’s going to save this city, or at least it’s going to be a good first step.
“What do you think?” Everly asks me after we finish our third circle.
“It’s perfect,” I say. “Exactly why I want to buy it.”
“But what about all that?” she asks, gesturing at everything around us.
“What do you mean?”
She take my hand and bites her lip. I love that little habit. “Look at everything around this block. That’s what you’re doing this for, right?”
I nod my head slowly. The neighborhood is mostly residential, though some shops and corner stores still exist. Mostly though, it’s a food desert, and the nearest place that sells fresh produce is at least fifteen minutes by bus, longer if you have to walk. That’s practically the other side of the world for a lot of these people.
“You want this to happen,” she says simply.
“Yeah,” I say. “I really do.”
She steers me away from the sidewalk and we sit down on a stoop leading up to an abandoned house. Everything is boarded over, and I can smell musty air coming from the inside. It’s all broken and decaying, but I’m going to make it new again.
“Listen to me,” she says softly. “We’re so close, right?”
“We are,” I say. “But—“
“No,” she says, “listen, we can’t give up now. We’ve come so far. Are you really going to let a rat like Spencer stop you?”
“Of course not,” I say softly. “But what choice do I have?”
“I’m going on the date,” she says.
“No, you’re not.”
“I already called him two days ago. Last night, he left a message. We’re meeting tomorrow.”
I stare at her, not sure what to say. My first instinct is anger.
I can’t believe she went behind my back and set this up. I don’t know what the hell she’s thinking. Spencer Winterfield is fucking dangerous, and she shouldn’t ever put herself anywhere near that bastard. I don’t know what he’d do to her, and I don’t know if I can protect her if she goes on a date.
But my second reaction is different. I don’t know how to describe it. I think it’s something like admiration.
She knows what she’s getting herself into. She’s afraid of Spencer, hates him as much as I do. She doesn’t want to get anywhere near him, and yet here she is, willing to risk anything for me. I feel something deep and intense inside of me, pushing aside the anger, threatening to overflow.
“Why?” I ask her finally.
“Because of all this,” she says, smiling. “It’s always been about this, right? It’s not about us, Logan. I think that’s what you’ve shown me.”
I shake my head. “It’s about you to me too, Everly.”
“I know,” she says, smiling. She takes my hand and squeezes it again. “But you have to let me do this.”
“I can’t.”
“You can and you will. Because I’m going to make sure all of this happens. I’m going to make sure your dream of helping people comes true.”
Her smile is so beautiful and I don’t know what to say. Nobody has ever been so willing to do so much for me before, and it almost threatens to overwhelm me.
I pull her close against me and kiss her. I don’t know how to express how I feel in words, and so I hope she’ll understand. She kisses me back, a slow and deep kiss. It’s passionate and emotional, but not the kind of kiss that leads to something more.
We slowly break apart. She smiles up at me again and I kiss her softly on the lips one more time. “I don’t want you to go,” I say.
“I know. But you can keep me safe.”
“How?”
She grins at me. “Follow us. Obviously.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You want me to come on your date?”
“Of course. I mean, don’t let Spencer see you, but definitely come keep an eye on us.”
I laugh again and kiss her. “Okay,” I say. “I can do that.”
“Good.” She’s so fucking beautiful. “We’ll do it together.”
“Together,” I repeat.
We kiss one more time and I know this is the worst idea in the world. I hate even considering it. But if she’s determined, I doubt I can stop her, so at least I can follow along and make sure Spencer can’t hurt her.
24
Everly
I’m nervous as hell standing outside of the apartment building. I don’t know what to think or where I’m going, but I know that I’m going with Spencer.
Logan is sitting in a car halfway down the block, watching me. I know he’s there although I can’t see him. We discussed this plan in depth, and it all hinged on him being close to me, within screaming distance, but I shouldn’t be able to see him.
If Spencer catches Logan following us, this is all over. I know he’ll freak and go full nuclear on me if we get caught. I can already tell that Spencer is an immature, insecure little man, and any indication that I lied to or mislead him will cause him to flip and end this instantly.
He might even release everything he hacked off my phone to the public. I can only imagine that. All of my personal emails and texts, plus that sexy photo I took, which I now regret more than anything. The annoying part of that is, I didn’t even send it. I don’t know why I kept it. Probably because I thought I looked good, and I wanted to hold onto that.
I don’t want to risk any of that, but I need to know Logan is nearby. And so we have a system where if Spencer tries to do something too far, all I have to do is scream and Logan will come running. He’ll make sure nothing goes too far. He’ll keep me as safe as he possibly can.
I have to keep reminding myself of that over and over while I wait for Spencer to come pick me up. Logan is going to be nearby, and all I have to do is scream and he’ll come running. No matter where Spencer takes me, Logan will be nearby.
After maybe ten minutes of waiting, a car finally pulls up in front of me. It’s a red sports car with dark tinted windows. Spencer leans over the seat and pushes open the passenger side door.
“Get in,” he says.
Reluctantly, I climb into the car. He leans over me again and pulls the door shut before peeling out into traffic.
He’s wearing a tight black t-shirt and white pants. He doesn’t look at me as he drives way too fast through the crowded city streets.
“Where are we going?” I ask him.
“You’ll see.” He doesn’t bother glancing in my direction.
I have such a bad feeling about this, but I’ve come so far already. I can’t turn back and give up on this now. I have to be brave. Logan is following us. He’ll make sure nothing bad happens.
Spencer whips his car around a turn, speeding through a red light. I cringe and wonder if he’s actually trying to purposefully lose Logan. Maybe Spencer suspects our little ruse, and he’s trying to head us off already.
But no, I don’t think so. Spencer reaches into the glove compartment, still driving too fast, and pulls out a vial.
“Open that for me,” he says, tossing it into my lap.
I pick it up. “What is this?”
“My fucking cough medicine.” He grins at that. “Just open it.”
I twist off the top and carefully hand it to him. He taps a little white powder into his left hand and snorts it quickly.
“Oh, fuck!” he yells, grabbing the wheel with both hands and slamming down onto the gas. We scream forward.
“Spencer,” I say. “Slow down.”
“Fucking hell, I can’t slow down, girl,” he yells. “I feel so fucking alive.” He tears through a stop sign, making a right, our wheels screaming over the pavement.
I wonder for a second if we’re going to get pulled over. That would be ideal. Maybe they’d even arrest him on drug charges and take him away. That’d make my life so much easier.
But no, that’s just a fantasy. Of cour
se a guy like Spencer can do coke and drive too fast in a red sports car and not get pulled over. He flies around another corner and comes to a screeching halt in front of a club.
He opens his door. “Come on,” he says.
I follow him. A valet approaches and Spencer tosses the kid his keys. “Careful,” Spencer says to him then laughs and pats him on the back. The valet kid gives me a look before getting into the car.
“Let’s go,” Spencer says, and we head up to the door.
“There’s a line,” I point out. At least thirty people are standing there waiting to get in.
“They know me here,” Spencer says, grinning.
Sure enough, the doorman recognizes him. “Welcome back, Mr. Winterfield” the big guy says. “Head on in.” He opens the rope and we step past him. People in line complain, but I can’t hear them for long as a loud screaming bass line overwhelms everything else.
We step into the dark club. Spencer seems familiar with the place, because he makes a beeline straight for an empty booth in the corner. He sits down without asking anyone, and motions for me to slide in next to him.
“I’m a regular here,” he yells in my ear over the music.
“Oh, good,” I yell back.
He motions for a waitress, who walks over. He says something to her and she walks away quickly.
The club is dark, borderline too dark. The music is deep and booming, a pulsing rhythm that almost makes me want to move. The dance floor is packed with sweating people writhing against each other, and maybe under other circumstances, this place might look fun.
Unfortunately, I’m with Spencer. He reaches into his pocket, takes out that little vial again, and quickly snorts a little pile off his hand. He looks around, his eyes wide, before slipping it back into his jacket.
He yells something, but I can’t hear him. Maybe that’s for the best. Maybe I won’t have to actually talk to him tonight. He’ll just do his drugs and we’ll hang out at this little table until I can finally go home.
