“One second. Let me see ...” I opened up my laptop and searched for Harley models again, to refresh my memory. “It could’ve been an Ultra; only, there was no accent color and no chrome trims. Everything was black.” I stopped for a moment while he jotted his notes, mumbling quietly, and closed my eyes, trying to remember every detail. “Oh, it had an antenna or something at the rear, behind the seat.”
“How big of an antenna?”
“About two feet.”
“How about him? What else can you tell me?”
I’d thought the photo was going to be enough. “About six-three, really muscular, short hair, Caucasian. Thick neck and bulging muscles, like you see on television.”
“What do you mean?”
“I nicknamed him Jack. He kind of looks like the actor who plays Jack Reacher on TV.”
A beat of silence passed, where he was probably wondering if I wasn’t crazy. “All right, let me see what I can do.”
The call ended, and I immediately started obsessing over what I was going to wear for my lunch date with Winston. A couple of days ago, I’d picked up a white summer dress from Moncler on a whim. It was sleeveless and breezy, with top stitching reminiscent of a corset, and tie straps over the shoulders made of thin, braided strands. The midi-length skirt flowed around me as I walked. Winston had set the tone with the white rose and white silk ribbon. I planned to respond in kind, accessorizing the dress with white strappy heeled sandals and a simple diamond bracelet on my wrist.
My instincts told me I was dressed appropriately for the occasion, so I smiled to my own image in the mirror as I twirled and stepped in place, running my fingers through my hair until the long, wavy strands flowed just right.
I was almost ready when the phone rang, startling me with its loud volume setting.
“Ms. Taylor?” It was Brad, his voice a pitch higher than usual.
“Yes?”
“I can’t work for you anymore,” he said, and I could tell he meant it. “All right? You don’t owe me anything.”
His words hit like a sudden drop, knocking the air from my lungs. My stomach tightened, the conversation shifting so fast I couldn’t catch up. This wasn’t just a change of plans. It was an ending. “Wait, what happened?” For a moment of silence, I held my breath, afraid he’d hang up.
“I don’t know what you’re involved in, who you really are, or what’s going on in your life, but I can’t afford to have any part in it. I have a family to think about. Sorry.”
“What are you saying?” I rubbed my creased forehead with the tips of my fingers, pacing the floor back and forth.
“That man you said is stalking you?”
“Yes?”
“He’s connected.”
“What do you mean,connected?”
“Jeez, lady, under what rock have you been living? He’s associated with the biggest crime family here in Vegas. He’s on their payroll.”
“What, like the Mafia?” I chuckled derisively. “Come on ... It’s not the fifties anymore.”
I heard him mumble a curse. “No, and the Mafia isn’t what it used to be in the fifties. You’re right. But who do you think handles drug dealing and human trafficking here in Sin City? Walmart?” he scoffed, obviously frustrated with my naivety.
His words started to sink in. I got dizzy for a moment and grabbed the edge of the kitchen counter, feeling as if I was about to faint. “You’re saying, someone like that sent him after me?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying, Ms. Taylor. And I’m saying goodbye.”
“Wait!” I shouted. “Please, give me one more day. Today. And I’ll pay you everything, just as we discussed. But I need your help with one more thing, all right? It has nothing to do with this guy, I promise. It’s ... the other thing I asked you to do. The pictures.”
At first, I could only hear his heavy breathing. “All right,” he eventually said. “When do you need me?”
“Now. I need you to follow me everywhere I go. You’ll understand why.”
“Okay. Bring cash.”
