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I wander into the living area hoping to see her sitting eating in the kitchen or relaxing on the sofa, reading or looking out the windows. All the usual places I expect to find her this early in the evening. But she’s not there. I turn around and walk down the hallway past my bedroom door and up to hers. It’s shut, but I can hear movement behind it.
“Allie? Can I come in?”
Her muffled voice comes back to me. “Sorry, Logan, I’m just about to jump in the bath … I’ve had a busy day and need an early night. We can talk tomorrow.” She sounds distracted and I know she had lots to do today. I guess everything is okay then. But still, there’s a nagging concern that it’s not all fine like she’d have me believe.
I turn away from her door, going back along the hallway to my home office. There’s nothing I can do to help her until she decides to tell me exactly what’s going on.
Chapter twelve
Allie
Today’s start was a lot smoother than yesterday. No more scary texts from nasty strangers, thank goodness.
Yesterday was probably a complete overreaction to a text that coincidentally had a combination of words that dragged up memories from years ago. Overnight, when I couldn’t sleep, I dissected and pulled apart the text in my head. Weighing up each word and looking at them with a less fearful perspective. Finally, I’ve been able to convince myself I was reading a lot more into it than I should have.
The fear has been put back into its locked vault and I’m slowly pushing it into the far recesses of my brain. Hopefully, it will be covered in the cobwebs of time before I have to think about my previous life again.
I plan to stay off social media for a couple of days, so I don’t have to deal with any more crazy, messed-up people. Sadly, the fashion industry does attract more than its fair share of them. I’ve never had a stalker, but I know some girls who have had to deal with one. If I get another text containing a veiled threat, I’ll reach out to one of my friends to see what she did to alert the authorities.
Logan is helping to distract me. I think he was waiting for me this morning in the kitchen. Then it was only after he’d asked about my plans for today that he made mention of my early morning meltdown yesterday. I think it was only to extract a promise from me to tell him if I get any more toxic messages. I can do that. It’s nice having somebody to share things with, little or big.
His caring, protective words are another surprising and irresistible revelation that bears no resemblance to the moody man I’d become accustomed to in recent years. It shouldn’t surprise me when from my first visit to the beach house with Katie, her entire family, including Logan, embraced me like I was one of their own. Logan’s father and Katie’s mother have shown me what it’s like to be a part of a real loving family. I’m always invited to family events, and every Christmas they insist I stand with the family to greet guests at the annual charity gala. None of the Carlson’s realize how important that has been to me. They have given me a base, an anchor to keep me from drifting aimlessly through life. I owe them everything.
Now Logan is taking that care further by showing me a side of him that I thought had long disappeared. When it turns out it’s just very well hidden behind a tough protective shell with more spiky needles than an echidna, which is one of those funny unique Australian animals. He’s been kind, and considerate. He shares jokes instead of taunts, and he smiles.
My crush from high school is being rekindled, but this time, my thoughts aren’t those of a naive teenage girl. I want to do adult things with him. Logan is damn sexy and I’m finding that I can’t look away. Which is why I think he just caught me staring when he was at the fridge. Well, I think he caught me, I’m hoping without his glasses or contacts he may not have noticed.
Anyway, we go our separate ways shortly after, him off to the office, and me to meet with my agent to discuss a schedule of in store promotions that is part of this last campaign.
***
A week later and life is back on track. Busy, but that’s the way I like it. If I’m not doing in-store promotions here in the city, I’m meeting contractors at my new studio to walk-through my plans for changes and get quotes like today.
I’ve just finished discussing the complete renovation of the bathroom with the contractor I’ve hired. He’ll be able to start in the new year once most of the main structural changes have been completed. Jason was able to give me the names of the guys he used for his renovations, which has made the whole process much quicker and certainly less stressful.
Clive, the contractor, wanders off in the direction of the bathroom to get some more measurements. Locking in this contractor means all the work in the studio will be done by the end of January, which is only two months away. I can’t believe how quickly everything is falling into place. I sit at the makeshift desk I set up to the side of the main room. This space has an industrial feel with high ceilings, making the smallish floor area appear larger. I look around the space and can already envision how amazing it will look when finished. At one end there will be a small seating area underneath the set of narrow high windows and storage cupboards to the side. At the opposite darker end will be where I set up to shoot. The wall is large enough for the backdrop frame and the three light umbrellas I have.
The contractor returns promising to have the final dimensions to me by tomorrow morning so I can order the tiles. I shake his hand and he goes.
Even before the renovations begin there is a lot to do. Windows need cleaning, cobwebs need clearing, and the old cupboard in the office area needs to be removed. I could leave it to the contractors but I’m so excited to get started I want to do these small jobs myself. I pick up the heavy-duty wide broom and walk into the old office to make a start. This area will become the makeup and dressing room once it’s fitted out with a wall of mirrors and new benches. I put my earbuds in, turn up the volume on my playlist, and start sweeping up what seems to be many months of dust and loose bits of paper left over from the previous tenant. I’m loving the physical labor which will bring me one step closer to achieving my dream.
After I’ve finished scooping up some more rubbish into the large bin, I take out my phone to snap a couple of pictures to show Logan tonight. Well, I’m hoping he’ll be in early again so I can show him.
Three little dots of an incoming message get my attention. It’s another unknown number text and my heartbeat quickens as the message appears.
I missed you yesterday but today I won’t. Soon everyone will know WHO YOU ARE!
Oh my God, not again. I look around the room. Suddenly the quietness feels very isolated. I run to flip the bolt on the front door. I never did that after the contractor left and now I’m kicking myself for being so careless about security. Twisting the old lock that needs replacing gives me little comfort.
What next? I try to think beyond the fear that is crawling slowly through my body. I go to the closest grubby high window and rub my hand across the built-up grime to look outside. Damn, the only place in this overcrowded city with no one around. I bang my hands against the dusty concrete sill.
Think, think, think, I yell in my head, Logan. I need him.
I scroll quickly to his number with shaky fingers but stop myself before I hit his contact. No, I can’t call him. He’ll just have questions I can’t answer. He already suspects something is wrong after witnessing my reaction to the first threatening text message. I could see it in his eyes, the effect one text had on me didn’t make sense. And it doesn’t, not without the context that only I have.
Instead of calling Logan, I dial an Uber to pick me up. With my back to the brick wall, I slide down to the dirty floor, hugging my knees tightly to my chest. I stare at the screen tracking the Uber’s slow progress through the city streets.
Finally, it’s here. I stand and peer through the window again. Yes, a black SUV. I let the driver know I’m coming down now, then quickly grab my tote. Unlocking the door, I cautiously poke my head out through a gap to check the hallway. There is another business in the building, but I’ve not seen anyone around on my few visits to the studio. The faint hum of a machine running in the distance is all I can hear. The hallway is empty. With a deep breath, I step out and quickly lock the door behind me, trying to keep my head focused on action rather than any possible danger.
