“Don’t come closer,” I warn. I raise the ashtray.
He starts laughing. “Don’t be such a stupid bitch, little Evie. I’m not here to hurt you.”
Anger and fear clog my throat. “Then go.”
“Why? I just came in. Won’t you offer me a drink?” He steps closer and my grip on the ashtray tightens. “Won’t you offer me hospitality? Don’t I deserve it more than the bums you call your friends?”
“Shut up.” I want to smash his hated face in. “Leave, Blake. Now.”
“This isn’t your apartment, and Joel isn’t here to tell me to go, so…” He shrugs.
What a douchebag. “I’m not staying here to listen to your bullshit. I’m calling Joel. He’ll tell you to leave me alone.”
“Will he now? Joel thinks the best of me, and why shouldn’t he? I’m only looking out for you.”
“Looking out? You had Seth beaten up. He’s lucky he’s alive. Did you take part in it, or did you send your buddies to keep your own hands clean?”
He tsks. “Seth. Who cares about him? I warned you, baby. Told you to stay away from those streetbums. My buddy Alex lent me a hand, but honestly? I enjoyed kicking the shit out of Seth. I hope he pisses blood for days.”
I gasp, a chill going up my spine. I expected it, but hearing it from his lips, seeing his satisfied face in front of me, is terrifying.
“Just go,” I plead.
“I look out for you,” he mutters, stepping closer still. “I even asked Alex to keep tabs on you when you work from across the street.”
Shit. “I don’t need your help.”
“You need it. You just can’t stop hanging out with these bums. I gave that stupid motherfucker a hands-on warning to keep away from you. He won’t be bothering you again.”
I shake my head, confused. “Seth? You talking about Seth?”
“Seth is out of the picture already.” He snorts as if he said something funny. “You think I don’t watch you? I don’t see you with him? That blond dickbag you hang out with. You’re probably convinced he’s your boyfriend and that he’ll take care of you. Well, he won’t.”
I don’t want to understand what he’s saying. “You make no sense.”
“Micah. That’s his name, isn’t it? Pansy-ass name. Pansy-face. Dirty streetbum.”
“What’s Micah got to do with this? He’s not—”
“Homeless. But he was a few months ago. You looked after him, didn’t you? Called the ambulance for him when he was sick.”
Oh no. Oh God. The ashtray drops from my hand and hits the thick carpet with a dull thump. It was him? All those times I thought he reminded me of someone, all those times I heard him cough and thought of the young man I lost… that I thought I lost.
It was him. Why didn’t he tell me?
Why would he? People like to put the dark days of their lives behind them, not talk about them. And today he was trying to tell me something over coffee…
“Blake.” I try to make my voice strong. “You can’t hurt Micah.”
“Can’t I?” He winks.
I feel sick. “I didn’t remember him from before. I didn’t know, and he didn’t know he shouldn’t be talking to me, either. Blake—”
“No, enough. Shut your fucking mouth.” He’s suddenly pushing me back, and I fall into the sofa, my breath knocked out of me. “This is all your fault. Fuck knows I tried to stop you from wandering around the town and talking to trash. My girlfriend isn’t talking to low-lives and that’s that.”
“I’m not your girlfriend, and keep your hands off me.” Then the meaning of his words hits me like a punch to the chest. “Tried… Tried to stop me? What do you mean?”
He shrugs, his mouth twisting. “I followed you on my bike all those months ago. I thought I’d scare you so you’d stop. But you’re a clumsy little bitch, so you fell, and you broke your leg, and I thought, even better. More time for you to be away from the streets and stop obsessing about every single homeless person. But no, you don’t give up, do you? You just don’t give the fuck up!”
I’m gasping for breath, horror making me light-headed. He did this. He hit me with his bike, and as I lay there unconscious, my leg broken, he called 9-1-1 and played the role of the savior. He slept with me, kissed me and pretended to care. All that and now he’s leaning over me, gloating, cornering me.
I think I’m going to puke.
Instead, I scramble sideways to get away from him. He laughs again and catches me as I reach the end of the sofa.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, a hand gripping my wrist, leaving bruises.
“Take your fucking hands off her,” another male voice says from behind us, and I see Blake’s face go still.
He releases me, and I twist to look at Joel, who is standing at his bedroom door in his PJs, his hands curled into fists.
Oh thank God. “I thought you were out,” I breathe, a sob caught in my throat.
“I was asleep. Missed practice because I wasn’t feeling too hot. Then I heard the voices. And then I heard Blake here confess he was behind the so-called accident.” Joel pushes off the doorframe and strides toward Blake who takes a step back. “You hurt my sister. And pretended to care for her. You stalked her, and hurt a guy on purpose.”
“You have no proof,” Blake bites out.
“Don’t I?” Joel lifts his cell phone. “I filmed every second of it.”
I want to grab Joel and plant sloppy kisses on his cheeks.
Then I remember what he said before confessing about the accident.
“You won’t touch Micah,” I say and jab a finger at Blake. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Blake sneers, and my stomach takes another nosedive. “Too late for Micah.”
My stomach drops again. “What do you mean?”
“I sicced Alex on him. Told you not to hang around such men, Evie.” He clucks his tongue.
Oh no. I stand frozen, my muscles locked.
Joel’s face darkens with anger. He pulls his fist back and punches Blake in the face. Blood sprays. He broke Blake’s nose.
Good.
“Call the police,” Joel says. “Now, Evie.”
I nod, my eyes burning. “Yes. Okay. Then I’m going to find Micah.”
“Evie, stay here!” Joel is holding Blake by one arm, making sure he isn’t going anywhere.
Grabbing my jacket and cell phone, I head out. On the stairs down, I make a call to the police, directing them to the apartment, and then call Micah’s new cell. I call and call, but get no answer.
Dammit. I call a taxi and jump inside when it arrives a few minutes later. I keep calling Micah, refusing to read anything into his lack of response.
I need to find him, need to make sure he’s okay. Nothing else matters.
Damage Control is closed and dark. So I climb back into the cab and head for his apartment. I ring all the bells until someone lets me into the building, but when I go up, nobody answers the door at his apartment. I bang on it a few times, but I know it’s useless. He’s not here.