AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Ew. Candy sat, rigid with discomfort. Impossible to make any conversation now. The rest of the bar had grown gradually quieter, but a few giggles were heard after the last outburst, and someone shouted out, “Go for it!”
The male voice swore quietly behind the privacy curtain.
“Come home with me!” She was almost screaming. “You have to be with me.”
Two burly male restaurant employees crossed the room quickly, flung open the curtain. “What’s going on in here?”
“He tried to rape me!”
The crowd started laughing.
“Maybe the other way around!” some guy shouted.
More
laughter.
By now Candy was feeling sorry for the guy Psycho-Woman had trapped in there. Sorry until the male voice sounded again.
“I don’t know her at all. I came alone tonight.”
Candy twisted to stare at the doorway to the little room.
No. No way.
A shriek, then a scuffle; the man’s head showed briefly around the open curtain where he’d apparently been shoved by Ms. Demon Fury.
Justin.
She no longer felt sorry for him. In fact, call her Ms. Demon Fury ii.
What the hell? Why was he here when he knew she would be? Had he followed her? Was he spying on her? Was he some weird stalker? Candy would like to think she’d be able to tell if a guy was missing that many screws, but she’d heard some psychopaths appeared normal and trustworthy in every way until it was too late.
She could barely think for the horror and confusion, afraid she was going to be sick. Around her the crowd laughed and jeered, competing with shouted off-color jokes at Justin’s ex-pense.
Calm down, Candy, think this through. Stalker-guys usually showed up after women rejected them. But in this case Justin had done the rejecting. So that didn’t fit the stereotype at least.
But if Justin didn’t want her, why would he follow her here tonight? It couldn’t be a coincidence. He’d asked her where she was going on her date; his presence here was deliberate.
Wauwatosa police arrived; the woman, who looked like a man in drag, and Justin were escorted out of the bar. Candy shrank back against the wall as he passed; he barely glanced at her. Conversation gradually returned to normal around them.
Candy didn’t think she’d ever return to normal.
How she made it through the rest of the date, she had no idea. She could feel burning spots of color mounting on her cheeks as she drank her third glass of wine and recklessly ordered a fourth. Sam was driving, Sam was paying, who cared if as “the Professor” she shouldn’t be much of a drinker? Who cared about anything except how furious she was, and how forcefully she would give it to Justin when she got home. As soon as Sam’s car was out of sight, she’d be crossing the street to jab his doorbell all the way back into the woodwork.
An hour later, she was able to attempt exactly that, pushing again and again, so hard she nearly hurt her thumb. The damn thing kept popping back to glowing orange, ding-donging inside as if she were announcing happy news with a pealing of bells.
If he wasn’t in jail, if he had the balls to open the door to her, knowing she’d most likely attempt to rip his head off, she was going to…attempt to rip his head off.
The door opened. Justin stood there calmly. A long scratch traveling from his cheek close to the outside of his eye looked as though it would sting and make sleeping difficult.
Stop. She did not care if it hurt him. She did not care if he had trouble sleeping.
“Candy.” He spoke quietly, didn’t look surprised or guilty.
“What are you doing here?”
“It’s
my turn to stalk you.”
“Come in.” He stood back from the door. “I doubt the neighbors want to hear this.”
She flounced in, turned to face him with her hands on her hips. No worries about him seducing her tonight. She’d worn 152
her glasses and was covered from under her chin to the tip of her toes in thick, sensible earth colors. “What were you doing at that bar?”
His eyes were almost cold. “I was watching you play with your latest victim.”
“My
what? ”
“The guy you were with tonight. Who did he think he was dating?”
“What are you talking about?” This was her rampage to go on, not his. “Sam and I were having a nice time until you and your one-night-stand wannabe hijacked the whole bar.”
