Chased by the Mountain Man

1

Jasmine

I tap away on my keyboard, my wrists aching. It’s been another long day working at the bank. Usually, I can get through the hours of boring data entry by joking around with my colleague, Sharon. She’s hilarious and the only thing that keeps me awake at this job most days, but she got a call just after lunch that her son broke his wrist in PE, so now it’s just me and Danny in the office.

AKA my worst nightmare.

Danny started working at the bank a couple of months ago, and at first, he seemed like a nice guy. Sure, he was immature and came in with a hangover most days, but he was easygoing and friendly with a cheeky grin and shaggy blond hair that he was constantly shaking out of his eyes. I figured we’d get along fine as co-workers.

Then everything changed.

Two weeks ago, Sharon and I invited Danny along for a drink after work. We all had a great time together, and after Sharon left, I decided to stay at the bar with Danny for a little while longer. I thought it was totally innocent: just two co-workers bitching about our jobs. But then Danny’s rum and coke turned into a round of shots which he knocked back one by one, getting rowdier with every drop of alcohol. He suggested we head for a nightclub, even flashing me a small bag of white powder he’d been hiding in his pocket, winking at me suggestively like he thought I’d be impressed.

That’s when I decided it was time to go.

He begged me to stay, but I made some excuse and we went our separate ways. Even though he was drunk out of his mind by this point, I still gave him a friendly wave and said “See you tomorrow!”.

But ever since that night, Danny’s been acting…weird.

He stares at me all the time in the office, his eyes boring into me, making me cringe with discomfort. The job he found easy before is now the hardest thing in the world, and he’s constantly finding excuses to ask for my help. Nearly every day, he sidles up behind me and peers at my computer screen, asking questions about what he needs to do. He gets so close that I can feel his breath on the back of my neck, my nose clogging with the industrial-strength aftershave he wears to hide the smell of alcohol. He also touches me at every opportunity, his hand resting on my shoulder or rubbing my back.

It’s so uncomfortable.

He always waits until Sharon is busy or out of the office before acting like a weirdo. When she’s here, he’s pretty normal, which always leaves me feeling like I’ve been exaggerating the problem to myself. But since Sharon has been gone all afternoon, Danny has been worse than ever. I’m surprised he hasn’t burned a hole in my tits with the way his eyes have been laser-focused on them for the past few hours.

With a sigh, I turn my chair slightly, trying to keep Danny out of my peripheral vision.

This sucks.

I wish I was the kind of badass bitch you see in the movies: the girl who always has some clever, devastating comeback every time a guy disrespects her—a mic-drop moment that leaves the creep looking like an idiot. But I’m not that girl. I’m way too shy and anxious to say anything to Danny, especially right now when we’re shut up in the office alone together. It’s easier just to turn my chair, ignore him, and pray that five o’clock comes sooner rather than later.

“Hey, Jasmine,” he calls, making my gut sink like a stone, “how about we grab a drink after work?”

“No, thank you, I’m busy tonight,” I say automatically.

“You say that every night.” Danny crosses his arms. “What are you so busy with, anyway?”

My mind goes blank. “I need to…uh…visit my grandpa. He’s sick.”

He’s so sick that he died about ten years ago, but Danny doesn’t need to know that.

“Well you can’t keep saying no forever,” he says with a smirk. “I bet you secretly know how to party.”

“It’s not really my thing.”

“Well, I’ll take you out to dinner instead then.” His voice is triumphant, like he’s found a loophole in my rejection. “We’ll get pizza.”

“I don’t like pizza,” I lie.

Danny gives me a look and opens his mouth again, no doubt to suggest some other type of food we can get, but I cut him off. This is getting way too painful, and I’ve finally hit breaking point.

“Danny, I don’t want to go out with you,” I say quickly. “I…I just want us to be friends, okay?”

It’s not exactly a badass bitch movie monologue, but it’s the best I can do right now. My heart pounds as Danny cocks his head at me, his expression darkening.

“You don’t want to go out with me?”

“No.”

“Why not?” he demands.

“I just don’t think we’re right for each other,” I say, my voice wobbling slightly.

Badass bitch. Channel your inner badass bitch.

“You don’t think we’re right for each other,” Danny echoes, looking at me incredulously. “Are you saying you think you’re better than me? Is that it?”

“No—”

He cuts me off, laughing harshly. “Because I’ve got news for you, Jasmine, you should be flattered as hell that I’m asking you out! You have any idea how many girls want a piece of this? I get asked out all the damn time by girls way hotter than you.”

“Well—”

“And for the record,” Danny continues, a vein in his forehead throbbing as he shakes his hair out of his eyes, “I was only asking you out because I felt sorry for you. Figured I’d take one for the team and ask the fat girl out. Save another guy the trouble.”

Okay, screw this.

There are a million things I want to say, but right now, the most important thing is that I get away from the asshole sitting across from me. Putting some distance between us seems way more appealing than sticking around to think up some witty comeback, so I get up from my chair and storm out of the office, heading for the employee bathroom.

Angry tears burn in my eyes.

The fat girl.

It’s not the first time I’ve been called that. High school was full of jerks like Danny trying to make me feel bad about my curves, and for a long time, it worked. I’ve come a long way toward loving my body since then, but still, Danny’s words struck a nerve.

Which is exactly what he wanted, I think to myself bitterly.

But I’m not going to let him get away with his behavior anymore. He’s been making me uncomfortable for long enough, and after his outburst, I know for sure that Danny is the problem. I’ve been racking my brains ever since that night at the bar, trying to think of anything I did that led him on or made him think I was interested, but I’m done blaming myself for his gross behavior. It’s not me. It’s him. And tomorrow, when Sharon is back, I’ll tell her everything. With her by my side, I’ll go and talk to our boss, and then hopefully I’ll be free of Danny once and for all.

Now that I’ve decided on a plan, I dry my eyes and point at myself in the mirror.

“You are a badass bitch,” I say firmly.

“Uh, thanks!” a woman’s voice echoes from inside a nearby stall. “So are you, girl!”

I press my lips together to stop myself from laughing. “Thanks!”

Feeling better, I head out of the bathroom, determined to grab my stuff and go home. It’s a little early, but I’m not spending another second with Danny.

I don’t look at him as I enter the office, but I can hear him breathing hard, almost like he’s been running. He doesn’t say a word as I turn off my computer and grab my things, reaching into my bag for my car keys. I panic a little when I can’t find them in their usual pocket, but after rifling around, my hand closes around the fob. Without a backward glance, I turn on my heel and head for the parking lot.

I get in my car and take a deep, relieved breath as I start the engine and drive away from the bank. My apartment is on the other side of town, and I make a right, beginning the familiar route back home when a siren starts to whir nearby. Suddenly, I’m bathed in the blue lights of a cop car behind me, and I pull over, expecting it to drive right on past. But to my surprise, the cop car pulls up too.

Dammit, did I run a red light or something?

“Like I need this day to get any worse,” I groan to myself, opening my window as two burly cops get out of their car and approach me.

“Hello, ma’am,” one of them says, his eyes sweeping the interior of my car. “I’ll need to see your vehicle documents, please.”

I hand him my license and registration, still trying to think what I could have done wrong. “Is there a problem, officer?”

The cop doesn’t answer, just peruses my documents. The second cop stands beside him, peering into my car. Then he nudges his colleague, muttering something I can’t hear. Both cops snap to attention, focusing intently on my passenger seat.

“Please step out of the car, ma’am,” the first cop says.

I shakily remove my seatbelt and get out, wondering what the heck is happening. The second cop pulls on a pair of latex gloves before circling my car and opening the passenger-side door, grabbing something I can’t see. Then he holds it up and my heart lurches.

It’s a bag of white powder.

“We got a tip-off a few minutes ago that there were drugs in your vehicle,” the first cop says, looking down at my documents again to check my name. “Do you have any explanation for why this substance is in your car, Ms. Phillips?”

Blood is pounding in my ears, pooling in my head. I’m struggling to breathe as I stare at the unfamiliar white powder that the second cop is still examining.

“It’s not mine,” I say, my voice squeaking. “I’ve never seen it before, I swear!”

My mind is racing, shock rooting me to the spot. The cops exchange a knowing look.

“We’ve heard that one a few times, Ms. Phillips,” the second cop says wearily. “Why don’t you tell us the truth? It will make things easier for us all.”

I can see the disbelief and impatience on their faces, and I feel like I might throw up. And then it hits me like a freight train, my thoughts finally catching up with my panic.

Danny.

He must have stolen my car keys out of my bag and planted the drugs while I was in the bathroom. It wouldn’t be the first time Danny’s had drugs on him, I think to myself, remembering how he showed me the white powder in his pocket at the bar. Then once I left the office, he must have called the police and tipped them off.

I can’t believe it. All this because I wouldn’t go out with him?

“Possession of illegal narcotics is a serious offense,” the first cop says, pulling me from my thoughts. “Things will go a lot smoother if you cooperate. Are there more illegal substances in your car, Ms. Phillips?”

“No!” I cry. “I swear it’s not mine. It’s this guy at work, he put it there! He’s trying to get me into trouble.”

The cops share another look—the look of two people who have heard it all before, every possible excuse and explanation. It’s obvious they don’t believe me. And heck, for all I know, there are more drugs in my car. Maybe Danny has hidden a whole stash in there.

The first cop steps forward with a sigh, reaching out for me. “Ms. Phillips, you are under arrest for the possession of—”

I don’t wait for him to finish the sentence. Adrenaline shoots through me, my body springs to life, and suddenly, I’m running. It’s automatic: fight or flight. My legs move of their own accord, and I run faster than I’ve ever run before, heading for the tree line on the other side of the road. The cops shout, and I hear their heavy footsteps pounding the tarmac just behind me. But I’m like a hunted animal, flying through the lanes of traffic with only one thought racing through my head:

Run!