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Just as I was able to cobble a coherent thought together, Gabriel glanced down at the contents of my purse and dropped me on my barely covered butt. I would say it was undeserved, but I had just Tased him.
“What is that?” he demanded, pointing to the linen envelopes as I scrambled to my feet.
“You dropped me,” I pointed out.
“What the hell is that?”
“You dropped me!” I repeated. “On my ass, just then. You may not have noticed, which I’m starting to think may be part of our problem as a couple.”
Gabriel dropped to his knees to look at the envelopes. “Jane, answer me. What are these?”
“Letters,” I told him, plucking the papers off the concrete before he could grab them.
“She’s been writing to you?”
And there it was, confirmation. My concerned friend wasn’t just some crazy person with an affection for linen paper. She wasn’t making up her connection to Gabriel. Gabriel knew who she was, and obviously, he didn’t want me getting information from her.
I had two options here: calmly and rationally discuss my feelings of confusion and abandonment and encourage Gabriel to enter couples counseling with me … or pitch a tantrum, demand information, and make a giant ass of myself.
Any guesses about the route I chose?
“Excuse me,” I seethed. “But you don’t get to breeze back into my life, after weeks without a word, pin me to a wall with your penis, and then demand answers.”
“I’m not demanding answers. I just—”
“Who is she, Gabriel? Tell me what’s going on. This would be so much easier if you would just let me in.”
“I can’t. I can’t tell you. What has she— Do you believe what she’s saying?”
“I don’t know what to believe, Gabriel. I mean, she’s saying some things that sound pretty familiar. Her scent is what drew you to her. It’s what kept you close to her. That she was special. That you loved her. That you enjoyed her being so trainable and unpredictable, particularly in the sack. Do you know where I might have heard any of this before?”
“It’s not what you think,” he promised, edging away from me.>Frankly, it was at times like this that I missed Gabriel’s overprotective caveman tendencies. Even if it insulted my feminist sensibilities, it was sort of nice knowing someone was out there watching my back. Going through this without him made me feel incredibly alone, even though I’d told Dick and Andrea. Going home alone each night, being unsure of what was waiting for me there, was weighing on my nerves.
I muttered, “For a stalker, this chick is all over the place. She’s angry and focused in one letter and erotomanic the next. Or at least, I’m assuming she’s erotomanic for the sake of my pride.”
Dick’s face was blank. “Erotomanic? That sounds sexy in a way that’s … not.”
“It means someone believes they’re in a relationship with someone, but that person usually isn’t aware that their so-called lover exists. You have your basic I-want-to-become-famous-by-killing-someone-famous fellas. And there are the delusionals, the ones who think Ryan Seacrest is sending them secret love messages through the television. The most dangerous ones are the people who actually know you, whom you run across in your everyday routine, because the people around you really don’t know whether you’re lying when you say you’re not involved with your stalker. Hence my confusion. Gabriel could be the victim of a stalker, or he could be a plain old cheater. But since he’s acting more like a cheater than a victim … What?” I asked when I caught the befuddled expression on his face.
“You read up on stalking?”
“I had someone paint ‘Bloodsucking Whore’ on my car a year ago. It merited a Google.”
“I don’t like it,” Dick said, grimacing.
“I think the very word stalking implies that you’re not supposed to like it. Otherwise, it would be called ‘fluffy harmless observation time,’” I said, chewing my lip. “And, considering that this woman might be dangerous, I don’t know whether to warn Gabriel, which would mean I would actually have to talk to him. Or just let whatever’s going to happen happen to him, because a tiny part of me thinks he deserves it.”
“Well, you know my vote, Stretch,” Dick said, turning his attention back to his comic.
I think the stalking talk made Dick uneasy, because he didn’t want to leave the shop that night until I was safely tucked in Big Bertha. But he had what he would only call “special plans” with Andrea, and I needed to stay late to go over some Internet orders, so he had no choice.
Around one A.M., I put the stacks of letters in my purse and headed out the rear staff entrance. As I pushed the key into the deadbolt, I saw a dark male shape reflected behind me in the glass. Even if I hadn’t seen it, I would have felt him. My keenly developed sense of paranoia was a wide-open channel to the towering male presence.
I snaked my hand into my purse and ran my fingers along the leather stun-gun holster. I felt the body behind me advance, so I turned, whipping the stun gun out and proceeding to shock the ever-loving hell out of my ex-boyfriend.
“Gah!” Gabriel screamed as the current shot through his body, dropping him to the concrete like a sack of potatoes.
“What is wrong with you?” I yelled as the current made his torso arch off the ground. I may or may not have held it to his chest a teensy bit longer than absolutely necessary.
