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That can’t be a coincidence, can it?
I met Jonathan briefly years ago when Christopher and I started dating. Christopher was leaving his financial firm to make a real go at politics, and Jonathan had been his go to man in the world of stocks and bonds. They were close, or at least they used to be. I can’t remember Christopher talking about him in forever. Their worlds didn’t really intersect anymore, or so I thought they didn’t.
Now I don’t know what to think.
“Shit!” I’m late for work!
I rush back into the bathroom and haphazardly throw my hair into a bun and swipe some mascara and lip gloss on my face. As I run to the closet, I trip on the suit jacket Christopher left lying on the floor. I only barely catch myself before faceplanting.
Standing and cursing Christopher, I continue to the closet. I throw his suit jacket into the dry cleaner pile, and something falls to the floor. Bending to pick it up, I freeze in place when I see what it is.
His safe deposit key?
I only know about it because I was with him once when he had to make a stop. He said he keeps important papers and cash for emergencies in it. So why would he have this on him?
What is he up to?
I can’t be late, and I’m already so behind. It’s Thursday, and I need to open the studio because Tiffany is off today. I throw on the first thing I can get my hands on; a smart skirt, matching blazer, and silk camisole. I grab my heels and run out the door. The driver is already here and waiting.
As the car pulls away, Christopher calls. I know if I don’t answer, he will just keep calling until I do.
“Hello.” I can hear some papers being shuffled around as he speaks. “I need you to stay home today.”
No greeting past hello, just a stern order.
“Why would I do that? Tiffany is off today, and I have to go in.” I shifted in my seat, hoping the driver didn’t hear his ridiculous order.
“Well, I need you to stay home and out of the public eye right now. There will be news reporters everywhere, and it’s best if you lay low.”
I let out a breath of frustration. “What is really going on, Christopher? Do you know something about Jonathan? I saw on the news that he’s dead!”
The line goes eerily silent for a brief moment.
“Listen, I just need you to do as you are told!” he booms.
Click...
I drop my phone in my lap, turning my head to look out the window. The city street passing by in a blur. I pick my phone back up, my hands shaky and unsure. I start to type out Jonathan Swank and Christopher Gates in my search engine, but I stop myself before I press enter. Blowing out a huge breath, I bang my head on the car head rest. Uneasiness crawling up my throat. If I go down this road, there is no turning back, and I’m not sure if I’m ready for the answers I may find. I drop my phone in my purse as the driver pulls up in front of the studio.
The more I sit here and think about it the madder, and more hurt I become.
How dare Christopher call and bark orders like that! This is not the man I know and love, but it’s becoming harder and harder to turn a blind eye to what all this may mean.
I refuse to leave the one place where I feel peace and happiness right now. I exit the car with my shoulders pulled back and head held high. Let reporters come; let them ask questions. I don’t know anything anyhow.
Moving to unlock the door, I have a prickling sensation crawling up the back of my neck. Glancing around the street, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched. At first scan, I don’t see anyone, but the feeling isn’t letting up.
Continuing to search, I catch movement across the street. On the corner is a man dressed in all black, staring straight at me. Even from this distance, I recognize those eyes. I saw them just yesterday, and there is a cold, terrifying glint to them.
In my haste to get the door open, I drop my keys. Cursing, I bend down and snatch the keys back up. With my hands shaking, I slide the key into the lock as fast as I can before looking back over my shoulder.
My brows furrow as my eyes wildly search the immediate area.
Where did he go?
“Oh, shit. Come on, come on stupid key!”
The lock clicks, and I shove the door open as fast as I can. Rushing into the studio, I slam the door shut and turn the lock. For what feels like forever, I stand, staring out the window while looking all around the area I last saw him. There’s no evidence of him anywhere, but that chill stays with me.
