21. Chloe
Thursday
When lunchtime hits, Adam knocks on my door and pushes it open.
I turn around to face him.
“Hey,” he greets excitedly.
“Hey,” I return.
He sent me a text message half an hour ago asking me to not interrupt until he said so. He said he had to do a video call. A week ago I’d be asking right now how that call went. But today, I’ve got other things on my mind.
Alannah tried to get me to meet her for lunch today, but I’ve made an excuse. She knows me so well, so she’s going to know things aren’t okay when she talks to me or heaven forbid, sees me, and I’m not supposed to tell anyone what’s going on. My brain has been working in overdrive and not giving me answers.
He scratches his temple thoughtfully. “I, uh… got a last-minute assignment to cover a story in Bowling Green.”
“Oh?”
“Uh huh. I told them at work I have wheels now and said I’d wanna be considered for more assignments where it’s accessible, you know, and they had someone interview me just now on the fly through video call for their morning show tomorrow, which is why I asked you not to come in for a while. And that’s done and they’re running a clip tomorrow on the local news about how that fundraiser got me mobile even though it didn’t hit the goal. They’re adding the link to the story so it might even go viral and help cover the rest of the cost.”
“That’s great,” I say, and my mind flashes to how much of the costs Derek covered.
Both directly and indirectly. And also… the fact he told me he dropped a hundred thousand dollars in my bank account. I’ve been afraid to look.
“The magazine wants to do a trial run on a new accessibility column, so part of it means me covering a story up there, attend a town hall where some issues are being brought up and… I wasn’t sure I wanted to become the poster child for it but… I figure it’s an assignment. A lot better than the crap they’ve handed me the last few months since I’ve been housebound. The column could take off. Could help me get my book published, too. When it’s ready, I mean. Who knows?” He shrugs.
“That’s great,” I say, genuinely pleased for him. “Exciting stuff.”
But he looks uncertain. His mood has been great the past few days with his newfound freedom that came with the new van.
“I don’t want to get too excited,” he says.
“Get excited, Adam. It’d be good to get excited about work again.”
“Yeah. I guess. So, I won’t be back until tomorrow night. The company is gonna have assistive tools sent to the hotel in Bowling Green for me. Things I can use going forward. I told them I need portable stuff to help me when I travel, so they’re footing the bill for that. And they’re talking about sending me to do a story at a related expo in Cincinnati next week, too.”
“That’s great. Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” he says, not seeming overly thrilled.
“Are you not happy about this?” I ask.
“I am, I think. But, I don’t know if I should be. Catching a break on this new column and doing away assignments when they’ve only had me covering local just because I lost use of my legs seems a little strange, doesn’t it?”
“If they didn’t think you could do it, they wouldn’t give you the opportunity, would they?”
He shrugs. “Maybe.”
“If you do a few assignments and it’s not for you, you don’t have to keep doing them, do you?”
“Don’t know. Don’t know if I wanna be known as the paralyzed journalist. Not sure if this’ll mean they start pigeonholing me.”
“Don’t let them. And I say for now, be open-minded. This could be good for you. You’re new to this world but that doesn’t mean you can’t use your voice and your writing skills to be a champion for others in your position, right? It doesn’t mean you only need to write about accessibility issues. It’ll increase your audience, too, won’t it?”
He smiles. “Guess so. Yeah.”
He used to be so confident.
“And you can make the most of it. Seize the opportunities that come and don’t let them pigeonhole you. When do you need to leave?”
“Soon.”
“Need help packing?” I ask.
“That’d be great. Thanks, Chloe. This helps.”
I’d be relieved about having the house to myself tonight if not for the fact that I’m being watched. I don’t know if Derek watches recordings of everything happening here, if he’s watching a live feed, having someone else watch it and report things to him, or if he just watches me when he feels like it.
I do know that I know a little more about him than I did before, but it’s still not much. Because I’ve been doing internet searches about him and his family. He probably knows about that too, or will if he’s got someone watching my internet browsing history.
One of the stories I found online was one Adam wrote before we met. Derek’s father Michael Steele wasn’t painted in a very positive light. It was the last article in a series about the wealthiest men in the state. In fact, there were undertones that eluded to organized crime ties. Derek’s father’s self-made money comes from real estate, mostly, but his father was a wealthy shipping magnate.
The organized crime accusation wasn’t blatant, but there were seeds planted there about not only Michael Steele, but also his sons Elijah and Thaddeus as well. Reading it left me even more unsettled. Michael Steele’s older brother did two years in a minimum security prison over tax evasion a couple of decades ago.
I’m sure, though, that Derek’s obsession with me has got to be about more than the article Adam wrote because Adam certainly isn’t the only journalist in town that has written negative things about his family.
And there’s a lot of negative stuff out there about Derek’s recently murdered brother. And gossipy stuff about an ugly divorce happening for the oldest sibling, Elijah. The now-dead Thaddeus was second-born. Derek is third. He has brothers named Jonah and Asher as well as two sisters, Naomi and Grace.
Grace Steele, who I know now is the blonde I saw in the elevator the other day, got some tabloid coverage not long ago as she dated a guitarist in a mid-level rock band.
I couldn’t find much about Derek, other than pictures of him with some of his family at charity and other press events. Derek’s mother is a retired supermodel and was a TV actress for a while. I recognize her, remember watching a sitcom she was in when I was in grade school, but there isn’t much press about her.
Adam’s announcement about work interrupted my sleuthing, so after I pack his suitcase for him while he showers and shaves I think about getting out of the house this evening.
I’ve pondered reaching out to Coraline or Maddie for a night out, but it’s a weeknight. I’m too gun shy to meet up with Alannah because she will see everything the minute she sees me. But after turning down her lunch invite, if she finds out I met up with Cor or Maddie, she’ll march her fine ass straight here to confront and interrogate me. Finally, after Adam leaves, I decide to go to the gym and then to the soup place and bring the shifter romance Derek bought me.
I can’t figure out what to do about him at the moment. I don’t know what to make of the way he dressed me up like his own personal sex doll with that lingerie, presented me with an elaborate meal, and then just let me leave.
He seemed pretty blasé about the fact that I again didn’t fawn over his efforts to woo me.
I could call his bluff by breaking his rules and telling people, but everything in me is telling me not to do it. If he’s gone to these extremes financially as well as having me followed and installing cameras in my house, I need to be cautious.
I’ve told myself I can hope he loses interest in a way that won’t end in my disappearance without a trace, but I’m beyond stressed out. Because if he gets bored, aren’t I a loose end?
When I leave the house, the blue SUV follows me.
After the gym, the donut shop is busy and I’m grateful there’s no small talk with Mr. Nguyen or his wife because I’ve been worried they’d ask me questions about my last visit, about Derek, who they seemed fond of.
I eat my soup from the corner table, facing the window and doing my best to pretend I’m not being watched by some guy out there named Kenny in a blue SUV. I don’t see it, but I’m sure it’s out there. I surprisingly get hooked into the book I’m reading. Before I know it, I’m a few chapters deep and my soup bowl is empty. I didn’t get an éclair this visit since they’re sold out, but got a cherry cruller for later.
Once home, I take a hot bubble bath with the curtain closed tight (just in case) and then I change the sheets and get into a fresh bed with the book and my treat and a grateful feeling that I haven’t heard from Derek today.
I’m feeling strange being alone, but it doesn’t take long for the book to hook me again and make me forget about the fact I’m likely being recorded or watched. After a few more chapters that get pretty steamy and leave me feeling a certain kind of way, I shut the lights out and then under covers, I stealthily fetch, then start to use my vibrator. I work at it for a while, but release is elusive. Probably because Derek’s face keeps showing up behind my eyelids. His face. His body. His voice.
I try to send my fantasies in the direction of the erotic scenes in the book I’m reading and very nearly get there, but then the character morphs to Derek, the cruel visions of him dancing in my mind like a cruel prank, so I stop, toss the vibe to the side refusing to come with Derek Steele’s face, mouth, hands, cock, or other body parts playing in my mind.
An hour and a half later, I slip into the bathroom and take sleep medicine that I use once in a while when a bout of insomnia hits me. Mercifully, it works quickly.