Chapter 2 #2
As soon as she leaves, I get cozy in my chair and start scrolling on my phone. Friday night in Elko is pretty dull, so I don't expect too many customers to visit the place, at least not at this hour.
I scroll TikTok for ten minutes which turns into two whole hours in real life. I think I've only had two customers between all those thirty-second videos that threaten to burn through my brain. I just can't stop. They help me take my mind off Nick and off what exactly I'm doing with my life.
I usually read to pass the time, but the last fantasy book I devoured a couple of weeks ago left me with a bitter aftertaste, or more like a dreadful feeling that I won't get my happily ever after all. The main characters ended up going their separate ways, each ruling their own kingdom. I don't fear the ruling the kingdom part. That's definitely not going to happen, but the one of ending up alone . And I’ve been wondering too often lately if it wouldn't be the best way. As if to reconfirm those thoughts, I open my wallet to pay for a sandwich that I just took from the refrigerated display case. The $15 I had there yesterday is also gone. I should have figured.
Fuck you, Nick.
Now, if I don't make any tips, I'll be short on cashing in the morning, and judging by how many customers I've had until now, I'll probably end up embarrassing myself again. It's not like I can put back the half-bitten sandwich or the can of Coke I just opened.
“Fucking shit!” I curse out loud, but I don't get to manifest my fury. A weird sound, almost like a snarl comes from one of the aisles, instantly making a cold chill run its way down my spine. I know there's no one in the store, but there's that what-if lurking around in the back of my mind.
Even though the gas station isn't that large, it's big enough that I can’t see all the way to the back because of the shelves. I try to look at the cameras just to ease my mind, but of course, they're not working again. We've had this problem ever since I got this job. The damn cameras only work when they want to, and that means almost never. We always call the company responsible for maintenance, but every time they send someone in to repair them, they only seem to function for the twenty minutes the utility guy is here.
I keep telling my superiors that anyone could leave the pump without paying. The management doesn't seem to care or is too lazy to do anything about it. They just asked me to report it if it happens. Maybe I'll report the missing sandwich and the Coke today. It would spare me a lot of trouble.
I feel like I'm being watched, but I don't hear another sound for a good few minutes, and I’m starting to believe it’s all in my imagination. I do tend to drive off at times and hear or see things where they're not.
I decided to investigate anyway so I would ease my mind. It's not out of bravery that I do it, it's because of fear. I would probably have a heart attack by the morning, sitting here and waiting for who knows what werewolf to get me.
Internal note: stop reading fantasy books.
Searching my bag for my taser, I rise from my chair and head between the shelves to check the small deposit room out in the back of the store.
Shit, I still feel there's someone here with me, studying my every move, like a predator waiting to get close enough for it to snatch me.
I stop to take a large breath, almost too terrified to venture any further, but I wait for an extra second, trying to hear something else apart from the sound of my own breath.
There's nothing.
I listen for a good while, frozen between two shelves of chips while the tiger on the Cheetos seems to be laughing at me. Maybe with good reason since I must look like a fool by now—beads of sweat rolling off my forehead, and a taser in my hand ready to deep fry some chips or use it on some microwave popcorn. Now that’s an idea. I could use some popcorn because I feel like I’m starring in my own horror movie.
Still, I can’t relax. There's a scent floating in the air. Weak at first, but intensifying with each new inch of the aisle that I take. It's not something that you can easily ignore. It smells like something I remember from my dreams. The tantalizing melt-your-knees kind of dreams that I usually don't want to think about in the morning because they only show me how messed up my life really is.
It smells of cedar and bergamot and also something wild that does something incredibly twisted to my senses. I'm trying to calm down by telling myself how much of an idiot I really am for being so paranoid, but next thing I know, a squeaking sound drives a scream directly out of my lungs.
Clink
My head instantly turns to the door where a young couple just entered my store.
Jesus, the squeak was coming from the door. It does that sometimes when it opens.
I must look like a freak, and the muzzled smiles on their faces confirm it.
A pill would come in handy right now, maybe even two. One to calm me down and the other hopefully to make me disappear so I would stop embarrassing myself.
At least I'm not as embarrassed as the girl who just entered my store when her partner picks up a box of condoms and a bottle of vodka from the shelf, and hands them over to me to scan them.
Someone's getting some action tonight. Not me, that's for sure.
They leave as fast as they came, probably rushing to satisfy the cravings of their bodies. I wish I didn't want them to stay, but that fear is still here, even though I’m certain there is no one else here with me.
I must be losing it. I decide as I see another customer entering.
It seems business picked up tonight and after around an hour of client activity, I almost forgot about what got me so worked up.
At least I made enough tips to pay for my sandwich and the Coke, so I go bold and also take a bag of chips. Quite horrible actually, a new chili flavor that turns out to be straight jalapeno. I have to stop trying out every new thing, but I feel it's like an addiction for me to test them even if I sometimes end up suffering the consequences—pretty much what I did when I chose Nick, at least where the consequences part is concerned.
My bag of chips quickly goes under the counter as a new customer enters the store. I never eat with clients around. I find it rude, plus I think it's against company policy. I never got to read the employee rules brochure, but I think it's in there.
The Coke is in my line of sight and I can't help myself from taking a sip. Those chips were like trying to swallow lava. Placing the can back on the counter, my eyes point toward the window. My brain only recording the image, but not fully processing it.
It appears that someone was just looking in. A large silhouette—a man that's for sure gazing at me through the window.
A loud thump jolts in my ears—my heart.
No matter how hard I try, I can't see anything clearly because of the poor lighting. And just when I decide to go outside and check, the customer I already had in the store pushes a newspaper and a sandwich in front of me.
By the time I'm done, there's no one on the other side of the window. Despite how hard my eyes try to stare at the exact spot where I saw that man looking at me, there's only darkness marking the hollow space.
The last customer has left. That causes another wave of anxiety to wash over me. It's not like any of these people would help me in case of danger. They would probably flee even before I would get a chance to blink. It's just that damn false safety in numbers thing that makes us act like sheep at times.
Well, that safety is gone and I'm left with the decision—should I remain inside or venture into the darkness to investigate? I'm a sitting target either way and since the entry doors don't actually lock, there's nothing stopping whoever or whatever is lurking outside from coming in to snatch me.
Initially, I back into a corner of my cashier desk, looking after things that I could use for self-defense, just in case.
I know exactly where to go—to the camping shelf. We have some utility knives out there and if I remember correctly, even an axe. No one ever buys those things, so the shelf should still be stacked.
Without waiting to lose my courage, I storm from behind my desk and run all the way to the back as if I’m competing in some marathon.
The axe is here, just as I anticipated. I don't hesitate to pick it up and arm myself like a lumberjack. Next, my eyes fall on a hunting knife. That sure looks dangerous, but noticing all the safety’s it has on the packaging, I realize it’s impossible for me to use it without removing its wrapping. And the $150 tag tells me that there's no way I'm paying for that. Bankruptcy sometimes even exceeds the will to live. Plus, the axe seems dangerous enough.
Bring it on, motherfucker, I murmur so quietly that no one could actually hear me. It's more like a self-encouragement than some invitation for battle.
Now that I'm armed and not so dangerous, I begin reflecting on my next move. Everything within me tells me to stay inside. I'm not attracted to any kind of danger, I don't even watch horror movies, not even thrillers if it's too late at night. Otherwise, I get nightmares for weeks and anxiety that blows through the roof every time I find myself alone.
But suddenly, there's a flicker outside, like someone just lit a cigarette... at a gas station. Whoever it is must be insane, and I dread finding out if that's really the case. Does the person standing outside belong in a mental institute? That's not even what's worrying me the most. I'm fucking terrified that it might be the person I saw in the window earlier. The one that's been stalking me.
I'm as much of a scaredy-cat as it gets, but right now I have only two options as I see it. It's either I wait inside and risk having a heart attack, and from the way I feel my blood pumping, it won't be long before it happens. Or I go outside and try to chase whoever it is away before they blow up the place with that damn cigarette.
I have no idea why, but I decided on option B. If I'm going to die tonight, then at least I can go down with dignity.
Pushed by some unknown power, I venture through the glass doors to confront whoever it is watching me, while I pray to all gods that there's no one there anymore.
I'm not that lucky. I never am. The second I step in front of the gas station, I notice the same large silhouette somewhere in the corner. The orange light coming from his cigarette lets me know my mind isn't playing tricks on me by confusing a tree or something else with a man's shadow. At least I find some relief that it's not the werewolf or the monster I dreaded earlier.
Those creatures don't usually smoke, right?
Still, there is someone out there, and since he's been waiting for me, at least he should know I come prepared.
“I'm not afraid of you!” I scream with a shaking voice.
Nice one, Serena. I could punch myself for making myself look like a fool. At least I showed him I wasn't afraid. I was terrified.
To make things that much better, I swing the axe around, nearly landing it on my foot.
I might not be dangerous, but I sure am amusing. In fact, so amusing that I hear an ironic laugh coming from my monster.
If I can't hurt him, maybe I'll just make him laugh to death.
Treating things as a joke used to be an easier way for me to deal with stress, but this time, things are as serious as they get. There is someone out there waiting for me, and even if I don't understand his intentions just yet, I do understand that he wants me to know he's watching. That scares the living crap out of me. I’m not dealing with just a possible killer. I’m dealing with a psychopath who enjoys getting in people's heads, and he is already living in mine.
“I said, I'm not afraid of you!” I yell again, this time around with my voice much more in control because I just took out the taser from my pocket and zapped it a few times in the air.
In reality, I just hope there won't be any pee staining my pants soon.
Fuck, I’m terrified.
The man never flinches, but lets out a long Hmmm to break through the night's air and reach my ears.
It's like I’m testing out his limits and the taser I hold in my hand just got him even more intrigued.
Maybe I should keep my big mouth shut and stop saying things that would send me straight to the morgue. I have no idea what to do next, but my stalker quickly saves me that trouble. His lit cigarette bud flies straight through the air in front of me and lands right next to the gas pump.
My training skills kick in, mingling with some latent survival instincts, and I run to kill the still-burning butt. It takes me a moment before I realize I'm out in the open, right under the pump light, just like a deer caught in front of the headlights.
For a second, I can't breathe. He could be anywhere, maybe he’s even set me up in a trap and I walked straight into it.
I want to scream, but that would only show him how afraid I really am. I won't let him have this kind of leverage over me, even if I'm convinced that he already suspects he got to me by now.
Still, I can't spot anyone around anymore and after a rushed visual check, I run back to the store.
Right now a heart attack definitely sounds better than being chopped-up to death. Maybe even with my own axe!
Turning my head I notice my phone. I left it sitting on the counter like it was waiting for me to call someone to come to my help.
But who?
I could always call the police. But what should I report? That a guy was smoking in a gas station? I don't think they even have it listed as a felony.
Nick should be my next obvious choice. I'm just too afraid he won't pick up like he usually does. Still, I test out my luck, and for the first time in months, I actually reach him when I need him.
His tone is much more concerned than I would expect it to be when I tell him what happened. In less than fifteen minutes, he storms through the glass doors ready to blast to oblivion whoever might be after me.
Maybe he is my hero after all. At least that's what I allow myself to believe for the few hours that are left till dawn.
I don't even ask him about the $15, even if I should be throwing another fit. Not that he would ever learn. I know his kind. They only realize how much they fucked-up when it is too late.
Nick is lucky, it never seems to be too late for him. It's not even because I'm stupid enough not to see things for what they are. I'm just emotionally debilitated whenever it comes to him. It's like my brain dissolves at the thought of losing him. And I can't ever be sure if it’s because I'm too afraid he will walk away or that the time spent with him has all been in vain and I wasted a few years of my life. I'm just a rag doll that he can manipulate after his own will when in reality, I'm nothing of that kind. I used to be stronger than this.
Something else is bothering me too. He got here too fast. It takes at least five minutes longer to get to the gas station from our place, and even though he justified that it was night and the road was clear, it still doesn’t seem to add up.
I pretend to believe him, almost convinced that he discovered some new illegal poker room or maybe even a casino, yet when I hear his phone ring, my mind suddenly goes somewhere else.
Is he having an affair?
I've seen him rejecting calls at least a dozen times ever since he got here, but I imagine no sane woman could ever be so insistent. Still, I can't dismiss that odd feeling I get in the pit of my stomach. And despite his reassurances that it's just a friend, I feel I need to check for myself. I definitely can't do that with his approval, he would never willingly hand me the phone. So, the very next time the phone rings, I snatch it, prepared to answer.
Samuel is calling, but just as I’m getting ready to learn if the name matches the voice, Nick says something that makes me put down the phone. “For fuck's sake, don't answer. I owe him money.”
Why wasn't I surprised?
“Another one?” I ask. “Another fucking person that you owe money to?” I couldn't believe the nerve of this man. He probably owed money to the entire fucking city.
“It's not a lot. Just more than I have right now. I'll fix it. I promise.” If I had a dollar for every time I heard that before I would be a rich woman by now.
With Nick every day seemed to be a new adventure—in the Mad Hatter's house.
Of course, he has another explanation. “I needed to pay off the guy who told me about Seth Malvagio’s offer. You know how these things work.”
“Yes, I know. And I also know that money is wasted.” No way in Hell I'm going to accept that job.
But Hell might be just where I was going. I just didn't know it yet.
“Listen, babe. There's something I need to tell you,” Nick is preparing himself for another one of his confessions , while I am almost too scared to listen to it. “The guy you think was after you... I suspect he might be one of Luciano Moretti’s men. I'm afraid they might have learned our location.”
“Then let's fucking move!” I instantly panic. If that is true, we were in a shitload of trouble.
And it seems, Nick had been taking all angles into consideration. “Where? We don't have enough money for a deposit on a new apartment.”
Shit, he was right. It was either getting stalked by some psycho or moving into Nick’s car, because the one I was driving, I wasn't sure would even make it out of the city.
“Jesus, you're going to get us killed,” I grunt between my teeth while I could hear his phone ring again.
I could smash that piece of crap on the ground this very second. It's like a constant reminder of how deep is the shit we're really in.
Of course, he doesn't answer. There's nothing that he can say anyway, just keep a low profile until people either forget or give up. Sometimes even both.
I'm still pissed off with him. That doesn't go away that easily, especially since I let the acknowledgment of the danger we're really in, sink in. And the sad part is that I really don't see a way out of it.
By some miracle, the rest of my shift passes and I follow Nick home. I know today won't repeat itself and he won't come with me to the gas station every time I have to go to work. That freaking scares me to death. But what freaks me out, even more, is the scent. The fucking scent that invades my nostrils the second I open our apartment door. The same one I smelt in the store.
“Can you smell that?” I call out to Nick who looks at me like I've just landed from Mars.
“No. What?” he asks.
My sense of smell never fools me, especially since it's the fragrance that reminds me of my dreams . “That scent. I think it's cologne.”
However, Nick seems determined to confirm that I'm insane. “There's nothing here. I can't smell it.”
How could he after three packs of cigarettes a day?
I know better. It's here. The scent is here and I'm not taking a single step further until I make Nick check out the place.
The whole operation takes less than twenty seconds. And that's because he's been doing things in slow motion and taking his time. Like there's anything to be checked in our mansion .
“You're safe, babe,” he whispers, cupping both sides of my face between his palms in what seems like an attempt to seduce me.
For his own good, he'd better not be doing that. Yet before I even get to think about it, his lips merge with mine, making a promise I know he can't keep. “I'll fix everything.” I do hope by everything he means the mess he created, and doesn't think he would settle my wrath with his magic dick. But the more his hands find their way to my body, the more I realize that’s exactly where he’s heading.
He's got another thing coming if he thinks he can fuck his way out of this one. “What do you think you're doing?” I ask before it’s too late and his spell would actually work on me, making me fall prey to his charms. Because when he puts on his I will love you till the end of time facade he can be really convincing. And who could blame me? With everything going on, we haven’t had sex in ages.
“Just trying to make you relax,” he answers, claiming back my lips and moving against them until they stop opposing.
Okay, maybe some innocent sex won't hurt anyone. It's not like I can't be mad at him a little later.
Without any idea how my arms end up wrapped around his neck while his fingers are already testing the hem of my t-shirt. I just wish I wouldn't be so impatient to have him. He's got to pay somehow for what he's done, but the intensity of his tongue moving against mine is so much different today. It's like he can't breathe without me, trying to claim every piece of me as his.
“I meant what is said about wanting to marry you,” the reinforcement of his promise breaks through the silence of the room just like the sound of a bullet heading straight to my heart.
I want to say something, I really do, but I can't think of a single thing. I know I should be happy. Maybe I even am and the events that happened lately momentarily numbed my senses. Being his wife is something I've been wanting for a long time, I just don't know how to react. And for now, there's no need to. His hands lock onto my waist, drawing me so close to him that I can feel his erection poking me through his jeans. The gesture leaves me excited, but not as excited as when I feel it twitching to have me.
My legs press together, trying to contain the throbbing that's been getting my panties to dampen when I feel another twitch.
Jesus, he's turned on, I reckon when I sense his hand loosening its grip on my hips.
Another twitch, longer and much more intense, almost like a vibration. That's when I realized it. Nick was taking his phone out of his pocket, trying to read some text messages between our kisses.
“Fuck, no.” I hear him curse right before I get to say anything about how rude that really is. Not that I even get a chance to open my mouth before he's three feet away from me and almost at the door. “Baby, I'm so sorry, I have to go.”
No explanation, no fucking nothing. He just leaves me like that, without having a clue of what the hell just happened.
If this isn't a sign I should leave him, then I don't know what is.
“Fuck you, Nick!”