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VALENTINE
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said to Mindy the next night, blissfully happy, even though I haven’t heard from any of the guys that day. I’d seen them in the crowd, but it was only for a few minutes and then they were gone. I would hear from them, when they were ready.
“Girl, you’ll still be here tomorrow night from the looks of your tires,” Mindy said as she walked by the other side of my car. Hers was parked behind and to the right of mine, so she had to walk on the passenger side to get to it. She wasn’t looking at her car though, she was looking at my tires in the well-lit parking lot.
“What?” I asked and walked over to see what had her so horrified. I stared down at the tires, blankly. There were slashes on the front and back tires. I could have handled one tire being slashed, but two meant I needed another spare. “What the fuck?”
“Somebody is pissed at you, girl. What’s going on?” Mindy leaned against her car, staring at the tires then up at me, her confusion obvious from the slackness of her face.
“I don’t know what’s going on. I haven’t pissed anyone off and I’m not sleeping with anyone,” I answered the first thing that came to mind. I was panicking inside, knowing this had to be from the crazy guy that followed me home every night. Fear clutched at my throat but Mindy came up and put her arm around my waist.
“Don’t worry, I’ll call a guy I know. He can get you two new tires put on in the morning and we’ll get you an Uber when that’s done.” Mindy squeezed me softly, then let go to dial a number.
She had the arrangements made for my car to be towed away and an Uber on the way before I could say too much. “Do you want me to come home with you? I can cancel the Uber and drive us over.”
“No, I’ll be fine,” I said, still dazed over someone cutting my tires like that. I bent down to look at the tires, the flashlight on my phone on. “Yeah, that’s definitely cuts.” The sight covered me in shivers. Did someone hate me that much?
“It is, yeah,” Mindy agreed, looking at the other tire. “Too bad the cameras out here don’t work, we could have found out who it was.”
“I know, we’ll have to talk to somebody about that tomorrow.” I’d been meaning to do that, but I’d forgotten, and now I wish I had. I kept looking over my shoulder, finding myself slightly shaking that someone did this to me.
The tow truck guy showed up and took my car away. I watched it go, wondering what was taking the Uber driver so long. I didn’t want Mindy to have to spend all night with me out here and she wouldn’t go until I got in the car.
“Do you want me to take you to the police station tomorrow?” Mindy asked, but I shook my head no.
“It won’t do any good.” I sighed, leaning against her car. “I’ll get another Uber tomorrow when my car is done and then come in early to yell at whoever was supposed to get the cameras fixed.”
“That sounds like a good idea. Oh, there’s the Uber driver.” Mindy waved and the white sedan came towards us. She read the license plate to be sure it was the driver and then waved me into the car. “Call me if you need anything else. Anything at all.”
“Thanks, honey.” I blew her a kiss and closed the door.
“Tough night?” the female driver asked, putting the car into gear.
“Yeah, you could say that,” I answered and leaned my head against the window. I was tired and just wanted to go to bed. “At least it’s almost done, and I can go to sleep soon.”
“I hear that,” the driver said and put on some music at a soft volume that wasn’t too much.
I was almost asleep by the time she pulled into my driveway. We sorted everything out and I thanked her for the ride with the promise to leave her a good review.
I sighed when I stuck the key in my door, thinking about crashing out on my couch. I flipped the light switch on and froze. My house was ransacked. The couch cushions were shredded, my TV was on the floor, the table in front of the couch was busted up into little more than firewood, and there was cleaner all over the floors. I knew it was cleaner from the pink color of the puddles.
“Hello?” I called out, hoping I didn’t get an answer.
My first instinct was to close the door and call the police. But you don’t call the police in my world. That was just inviting them in to see what they could charge me with. I’d learned that lesson long ago when my dad’s sister called the cops on her abusive boyfriend and ended up going to prison for a crime she didn’t commit. We knew she hadn’t because she’d been with us when that bank was robbed, but that hadn’t mattered. She was still sitting in a prison at the other end of the state. I’d lived with that as a motto ever since.
I could call my dad or one of the guys, but I didn’t want to involve any of them in this. I’d have to explain that I hadn’t told them about my stalker or about the problems I’d been having lately. And that I slept with a loaded gun in my bed. I picked up a baseball bat I kept hidden behind my porch swing and pushed open the front door again. “If you’re in here, I’ve called the police. They’re on their way.”
I lied, edging further into the house. I flipped on the light in each room as I passed. The kitchen was destroyed too, and a pane of glass had been busted out of the back door. That’s how they got in then, I decided. My bedroom was untouched, thank goodness. The bathroom was free from damage too, I discovered when I went in there. I was glad I always pushed the shower curtain back when I turned the light on in there. I didn’t have to battle with myself to open the curtain, since it was already pushed back.
My phone going off made me jump. I raced back into the living room where I’d put it down with my bag to see who had texted me.
“I hope you made it home alright. Let me know-Mindy.”
I smiled a wobbly smile, seeing her message. She’d be my friend, if I’d let her. I looked around the mess that was my living room, thought about the broken window in my kitchen and felt tears sting my eyes.
“I’m home and fine, thanks. See you tomorrow.” I typed back, not wanting to involve her either.
Nobody needed to deal with this but me. I didn’t know how to deal with it, but I’d figure something out. I started by finding a hammer and some nails. I’d buy my landlord a new door later. For now, I was nailing that door shut. Once that was done, I taped some cardboard over the empty window and then made sure my front door was secured too. After that, I checked the locks on all the windows then went into my bedroom. I drug a kitchen chair in with me and shoved it under the door handle.
I’d showered at the club so changed my clothes and climbed into bed, the gun a reassuring weight in my hand.
Call one of the guys, my brain said, but I couldn’t. They’d get all manly and demand I come stay with them, or they’d all barge in here ready to kill the first guy that even looked at me. I could just imagine them, and my dad, going off half-cocked, ready to murder someone over this like he cared.
I thought about Johnny Ray, an old friend of my dad and Derek’s, sitting in a prison cell for the rest of his life. Old Johnny had a pretty little girlfriend back then, a beautiful girl that had even made me gasp with how pretty she was. A rival club member had started following her around and asked her out more than once. Johnny lost his shit and beat the guy to death. He’d ended up with life in prison and the girl? None of us ever heard about her again. That’s what would happen if I called the guys tonight. I remembered how Derek had beat down that guy that rushed the stage the other day. If someone did more than rush the stage asking to talk to me, there’d be blood on the walls. They’d end up facing life in prison.
I couldn’t handle that, so it was best to just not tell them.
Are they in danger too, I had to wonder. Would this asshole seeing a man come over to my place get bent out of shape? Was that what had happened? He’d seen Diesel at my place late last night and it had set him off?
Maybe I should go stay in a hotel for a while, until I could figure out who this was and have it taken care of. But how would I have it taken care of? And was this guy the threat Diesel didn’t want to elaborate on but insisted I needed protecting from? It had be the same guy and I’d just assumed he was a weirdo stalker. But what had happened to make him follow me home every night? Why wasn’t Diesel talking?
Frustration grew within me, and I ended up not wanting to talk to any of the guys because…dammit, I was pissed off now. How are you going to tell someone they’re in danger, but not tell them why, or who it is, or what they should be looking out for? And then expect them to take you seriously? Although, the guy that had broken into my house was real enough, definitely.
