He has been on his phone all morning, talking in low tones and casting regular glances my way. What are you up to? Ever since the gunfight in his apartment, he has been distant, cold. If it wasn’t for Makayla, the bulldog, I would feel completely alone. She’s nuzzled beside me, panting happily and displaying the jutting shelf of her lower jaw proudly. I rub the folds of skin on top of her head, sighing.
How did this all happen? One day, I’m living my life like normal, completely tunnel-visioned on my goals, occasionally daydreaming about the guy who let me go. The next? I’m wondering how everything fell apart so quickly, and why someone would want to hurt me. I’m no saint, but I can’t think of anything I’ve done that would make someone want to hurt me, let alone kill me. The masked man’s words from the café come back to me. Someone I trust. Who do I even trust? Kennedy? Jesse? My stepfather?
Jesse obviously doesn’t want to see me hurt. Kennedy would have no reason to want something bad to happen to me. That only leaves Hubert. I can’t buy that either. He has always been like a collector of people and things, gathering what he considers to be pretty and valuable and then hoarding it for his own satisfaction. I’ve never known him to give up the things he prizes, and as far as I know, he prizes me. So who then? All I can think of is that the man in the golden mask was wrong. After all, is that so hard to believe?
Jesse hangs up the phone and stalks toward me. He looks gorgeous in a gray suit and crisp black undershirt. He looks deadly.
He is deadly.
The thought bubbles up without warning, turning my stomach. Why does that draw me to him so much? I hate violence, yet seeing how brutally effective and competent he is does things to me I’m not proud of. It makes me feel safe, cared for, and prized in a good way, not in the selfish kind of greedy way that Hubert prizes me.
“I’m going to check the perimeter. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
I frown, already so dependant on his presence that I don’t like the idea of being left alone. I watch him walk across the stage and exit out the back.
After ten minutes go by, I start to worry. I get up and move to the exit, carefully stepping out so his dog doesn’t follow me. Just as I’m leaving, I see Jesse leaning over a car and talking to two men in suits. They nod as he walks away and step out of the car. My heart stops. What’s going on? I watch Jesse get in his car. I see him punch the dashboard and yell something I can’t hear behind the closed doors before he drives off.
Jesse… What are you doing?
I watch the two men approach with a creeping dread, knowing there’s no point in running. The taller man holds a calming palm to me when he notices me. He’s freakishly tall with a bald head and a long face. The other is shorter with thick lips and protruding ears.
“We’re your new protection,” says the tall man. “I’m Edwards.”
“Rosenthal,” says the shorter man.
I realize I’ve backed up until I’m pressed against the door. I force something like calm to come over my face, but my mind is racing. New protection? “Where’s Jesse?”
“He has been reassigned,” says Rosenthal. From their demeanor, I gather that Rosenthal is the more serious of the two. Edwards has a calm ease about him while Rosenthal looks like he doesn’t know how to smile.
“Why didn’t he say anything to me about it?” I ask. I feel like I’m on the verge of absolute panic. My pulse pounds in my head, breaths coming shallow.
“We’re not at liberty to say,” says Rosenthal. “Miss, we should really get inside. It’s safer.”
I feel a cloud of anger settle over me. Edwards has the decency to flinch a little. Some professional, I think. “I’m not taking that for an answer. I paid a lot of money for Mr. Slade’s protection. He can’t just--”
“Your money is already refunded,” says Rosenthal. “Mr. Slade also paid our fees for you. Everything is taken care of. Now, can we please step inside?”
“Not until--”
Rosenthal manhandles me, wrapping my arms in front of my chest and pushing the door open. He leads me inside and lets Edwards in before slamming the door behind us. “Let me make one thing clear. Your protection is my top priority. If I have to displease you or upset you to keep you safe, I won’t hesitate.”
Edwards looks at me apologetically, spreading his big hands and shrugging.
I pull away, straightening my clothes and glaring.
Two weeks. Two fucking weeks and I haven’t heard a word from Jesse. Instead of the immediate, heart-crushing pain I felt when he left me ten years ago, all I feel now is a creeping sort of finality. It’s like I’m walking on a frozen lake, watching the cracks spreading beneath my feet, threatening to give out. And here I am, ignoring the chilly promise of oblivion just beneath the ice.
I go to work. I read my lines. I spend time with Kennedy. I even met with Hubert once. All the while I ignore the two men who shadow my every move, unable to avoid constantly comparing them to Jesse, to marvel at how much safer I felt in the protection of one man than I do with these two. I keep thinking I see Jesse. In the corner of the coffee shop, looming behind the crew while I’m on set, waiting in a parked car outside the safehouse, or mixed in with the crowd on the street. I see him everywhere, and I can’t stop thinking about him.
I’m trying so hard to hate him for leaving, but I can’t. All I can do is miss him and think about what I would do differently if he came back. I’m definitely still pissed, and if he has the nerve to show his face, he had better get ready to be slapped. But beneath the shallow layer of anger is a deep need to be with him again. I already crave his touch and his smell, wishing I could have his strong arms around me again, protecting me and making me feel safe.
I pace around the stupid abandoned stage that has become my prison. I feel like a maniac, waffling between hating and missing Jesse, wondering if leaving his dog with me means he plans to come back. I don’t want to be weak, waiting around and hoping he comes back. Even if it’s slightly artificial, I decide to stop letting myself miss him. I won’t waste my time again. I’m not going to go another ten years secretly hoping he comes back. I’m moving on. I’m going to live my life for myself, and I’m going to shut him out of my thoughts as much as I can. It won’t be easy, but I’m going to move on.
37
Jesse
I rip the golden mask from his face and punch him across the jaw, leaning in so he can see my face clearly. He blinks through the pain, wincing and working his jaw, struggling against the ropes that tie him to the chair.
I prowl around him like a restless animal, hungry for blood and on the edge of losing myself. How long has it been since I walked away from her again? Two weeks? Three? It has all been a blur of too little sleep and far too much blood. All I have to do to find these gold masked fuckers is tail Makayla. It’s like a small army of the worthless pricks is out there, creeping around. The toughest part is sifting through the pretenders and the real deal. Ever since the news picked up the story of the “Gold Stalkers”, there has been an explosion of activity. Celebrities are being kidnapped, beaten, and even killed.