Lethal Lover

22. Elena

His hands are rough and callused, but the way they move over my body is divine, tracing every curve and contour until he finds the spots that make me writhe beneath him. Liam is a god, drawing sensations from my nerves I never knew I could feel, and moving across me with stealth, leaving a rash of goosebumps in his wake. And the way he moves inside me—I’m breathless in anticipation of what comes next.

Until I’m screaming, running from him in a dark alley, being chased by my worst fears and subdued by a monster whose face I cannot see, but I can’t unsee it, either. Teeth like a bear, drool dripping from his muzzle, and blood. There’s blood everywhere, running down the walls, puddling at my feet, sticking to my skin. The wail of sirens grows closer now, both comforting and frightening me.

I jolt awake to the sound of my phone ringing. The dream was so vivid I almost feel like I should call the police and hide. My pulse is racing. I’m soaked in sweat. I almost can’t catch my breath. It’s too much. All of this fear is getting to me, and I feel helpless and alone.

Fumbling in the dark room, I reach to the end table for my phone. I can’t find it for a moment, and by the time I do, the ringing has stopped. I unplug it and hold it up, and it lights up to show me it was my mom calling. I let the phone drop to my chest and rub the sleep from my eyes. The blackout curtains make it seem like it’s the wee hours of the morning, but in reality, it’s after nine a.m. I haven’t been sleeping well, so when I can manage to rest, I let myself sleep without an alarm.

Nightmares plague me every night now, despite Mr. Monroe telling me he’ll take care of the stalker issue. He reported it to the police, and I feel a little better about it, but the letters keep coming. Mysteriously, they appear in my dressing room, and I want to ask him to put up cameras in the hallway so I can see who is dropping them off.

One thing I figure is certain. The threats are now outright and bold, and whoever it is must really want me to suffer. I’m careful every night, making sure I’m not followed by anyone. I take the long way to the subway entrance, and most nights, I’m alone when I board the train at the station. Whoever it is doesn’t know where I live.

That’s one small consolation I have in this whole thing. I feel like Liam was being honest with me when he said it wasn’t him. He knows where I live. He’s been here more than once, and if he wanted to hurt me, not only does he know right where to find me, but he has the means to do it without being found out. I think Warren is wrong. Liam isn’t stalking me, which means maybe he is telling the truth about other things too, like being sorry for not telling me who he is upfront.

My phone begins to ring again, and this time, I’m prepared. Mom always calls back right away when she misses me the first time, so I pick up the phone and swipe to answer, then turn on my speakerphone so I don’t have to hold it up to my ear.

“Hey, Mom,” I say, then yawn. We’ve talked a few times this week, each time ending with her begging me to come home, but I don’t want to. So far, Mr. Monroe has upheld his word to me. After what happened to Nina and then Mr. Flemming, not to mention his own mugging, he’s taking no chances. He even chased Liam away several times this week when I said I wasn’t accepting visitors. I’m sure Liam was pissed.

“I called to see if you”d reconsidered yet. Aunt Maggie says you can live there and rent out the apartment above the garage, so you don’t have to live with me and feel suffocated.”

Mom is awful. Involving her sister in the attempt to coerce me to move back home is just low. I know she cares about me, but I want to live my own life, even if it is a scary, bumpy ride.

“Mom, I appreciate your caring about me, but I’m not moving back. If you’re so worried, you can come visit. You’ll have to sleep on an air mattress and there isn’t much space, but it would be nice to see you.” I know damn well that she can’t visit. She’ll never get the time off work, and living paycheck to paycheck is what we Midwesterners do. Which is why I want to make this happen so badly.

The dream isn’t just for me. If I make it big and rake in the cash, I can support myself in a lifestyle that’s comfortable, but I can also help her so she doesn’t have to work so hard. Being a single mom isn’t easy.

“I just don’t feel safe with you there.”

“You never felt safe with my coming here to begin with, Mom. Trust me. I’m feeling so much safer now that the director is on the case. I’m sure things will calm down soon now. Besides, I’m starring again in the next show, and people love me.”

My cheeks warm at the slight lie. Yes, I’m starring again, but I don’t feel that much safer yet. Parts of me feel relieved because I feel like maybe I might try to work something out with Liam, after all. But I still need to worry about the creepy person who hates me for some reason.

And though things at the theater have gotten easier in some areas—like becoming actual friends with Trixie—some things have gotten worse. Like the fact that Warren is always on edge around me now because he doesn’t like the thought that I might actually try to find common ground with Liam. If he really wants me to see him for who he is, maybe he’s willing to walk away from his family to be with me.

“I love you too, hon.” I hear the disappointment in her voice, but this time, it’s tinged with pride. “I know you’re stubborn just like me. I just want you to know I’m here if you need me. You can come home any time.”

“I know, Mom. I love you. I should go. I need to eat breakfast and get to the station soon. We have rehearsal.”

“Alright, well, call me. I’ll be here worrying my head off.” She chuckles nervously, and I say goodbye and hang up.

As I shower, I think of the week’s worth of fan mail and gifts that have been sent. I haven’t touched a thing since I talked to Liam. They scare me too much now. When I thought it was Liam, there was an eerie curiosity to it, as if maybe he had no clue how to romance a woman and his strange letters were somehow code for something. But now that I’ve decided definitively that it’s not him, I can’t bring myself to look at them. I’m too scared.

I dry off and dress for the weather. It’s balmy outside as fall deepens and we near the holiday season. I dress in layers for the short walk to the subway and then from the train to the theater. This time of morning, the street will be packed with people moving about, so I have no fear or reservations about the commute. It’s just a routine morning, albeit a little late without my workout before starting my day.

At times, I feel like someone is watching me, but when I walk into the theater, I’m home. These are my people and this is my kingdom, where I feel safe and surrounded by only good things. I head directly to my dressing room to get ready for warmups, but as I approach one of the stagehands intercepts me. He hands me a stack of fan mail, tells me he left some gifts in my room, and against my better judgment, I begin opening the letters as I walk away.

A few of them are harmless, from cute guys who sent pictures of themselves. It’s weird but not alarming. Trixie said she met a guy like that one time who she ended up dating for over a year before they decided it wasn’t working. Her schedule was too busy and he wanted to do things on Friday and Saturday nights, but that is the height of Broadway! She dumped him.

When I get to a familiar pink envelope, I stop. I don’t really want to open it, but a sick curiosity urges me to do it. I glance up the empty hall and decide to tear it open. When I do, a picture falls out followed by the card. I bend and pick them up only to see the image is of me climbing into Liam’s car. He stands next to me with his hand on my back, but his face is blacked out and in bright red ink, it reads, Cheaters die.

The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stand on end and I feel goosebumps over all my skin. Does the stalker mean me or Liam? And why would they target a crime boss? Which means they have to mean me. I turn on my heel, looking for Mr. Monroe, but he’s not around. In fact, there’s almost no one here yet. I don’t even hear the same chatter that’s normal for before rehearsal time. I wonder where everyone is, or maybe I’m just early.

Yes, that’s it. I convince myself that I’m just early and nothing is wrong, and this is just my fear playing at my conscious thoughts. I’m safe. No one is harming me. No one can get to me here.

My feet slowly carry me toward my dressing room, but my heart races there. I want to feel safe. I want to hide and make the dizziness stop and the head spinning go away. But as I approach my door and see it standing open, I know something is off even before I walk in. I lock my room, and only Mr. Monroe and one stagehand whom I trust have a key to it—only to deliver my mail, costumes, and makeup. Someone is in my dressing room. Someone who’s not allowed.

I tiptoe to the door and listen, glancing up the hallway for any sign of anyone. Even Warren will do. Still, I’m alone, except for my could-be stalker who may be waiting on me. But the closer I get, the louder the sounds from inside my dressing room become. Except it doesn’t sound like a stalker practicing his bad-guy monologue. It sounds like choking.

I push the door open with a hard thrust and see Trixie lying on the ground, shaking. Her lips are purple, her skin light blue. Her head lolls to the side, and foamy drool drips from the corner of her mouth. I scream and rush over to her, dropping everything, and fall to my knees next to her.

“Help!” I scream, pressing my fingers to her neck. She has a pulse, but she’s choking on something. “Somebody help me!” I glance around the room and see the open box of chocolates on the table where my gifts and cards usually go, and then I see the chocolate on Trixie’s mouth. She’s eating my chocolate.

My God.

It’s poisoned.

Someone tried to poison me, and Trixie ate it instead.

“Holy fuck! Someone help!” I’m sobbing, helplessly waiting as the director and half a dozen other cast members rush in and surround us.

The rest is a blur.

What the actual fuck is happening now?

I need Liam.