9. Squeak
Two weeks later…
Unable to completely process the information Deacon shared the night he hijacked my plans to give Tinker Belle a hard time about dragging me to another motorcycle club, I’ve been avoiding Baxtown Iron and all its logistics. I have also been av?—
*bzz, bzz*
Tinker Belle:
You do know that this is childish right? The club is starting to worry about you, and I’m seconds away from giving them your address. Call me bitch.
Sighing, I burrow deeper into my blankets while moving the page up on the book I’m reading. I’ve been avoiding Tinker Belle by default because I don’t want to talk about Deacon or what he said. I also don’t want to look at him, and since she is capable of lying to me and then taking me to the clubhouse, she’s a casualty in my one-sided war. I’m generally not an avid reader, but I needed something to keep me busy while I ignore my best friend and the band of club members she calls her family. Unlike the day I stood in the dark in my kitchen, I have my lights and TV off in my apartment, so no one suspects me of being home. I’ve also been keeping my bike and car in the assigned garage, included in my rent. Moving strategically and like a spy for the past two weeks has me believing I obtained the wrong degree.
*bzz, bzz*
Shifting my eyes to my phone, I unlock it to see a new message that spikes my blood pressure while causing my pulse to race.
The Heathen:
You must have missed the part where I said there wasn’t a place far enough to keep me off your ass. Either you show your face or I show you my hand, Squeak.
*gif attached*
The gif of Judge Judy tapping her watch and pointing has me gritting my teeth at the message coming from Deacon. Unlike Tinker Belle, who has been relentless in her messages, this is the first communication from the culprit of my avoidance. Despite what he thinks, Deacon’s message only makes me want to change my location before he pops up. Allowing Tinker Belle to give the officers of Baxtown Iron my phone number might not have been a great idea at this point. The day after Deacon and I had the conversation that sent me running, I changed his name in my phone to a more suitable one. Hell, Deacon had practically called himself the devil, so my calling him a heathen is light in comparison.
What Tinker Belle has forgotten, and Deacon doesn’t know, is that I’m no stranger to hiding out while attempting to move discreetly. Chelsea’s killer had me not only fleeing the state but moving stealthily for ten years. I’m still unsure how he found my location, but this present period of moving in silence comes as second nature to me. I’m used to being by myself, and thankfully, neither of my parents has petitioned for my presence. I believe they, too, forget that I’m in the city where I was born. When the light on my Kindle dims, I tap the screen and resume the task at hand.
“Dang, Monica, you’re doing your good writing with this storyline. Hell, maybe Deacon ain’t the only heathen with some church affiliation.” Rereading the line in The Devil Goes to Church Too has me adjusting my position in bed while deciding to give Mrs. Monica Walters my undivided attention for the foreseeable future.
Until I’m ready to resolve my mind to what I’m willing to allow where Deacon is concerned, I guess I’m going to employ a new hobby. While researching, I discovered that a few other books go with the one I’m reading. Therefore, I should be able to occupy myself with something other than Deacon, Baxtown Iron, and the things they do for enjoyment other than partying. Also, to my absolute delight, Mrs. Monica has an extensive catalog of books that should entertain me until I no longer need to distance or distract myself.
The next day…
Of all the cities you decided to plant roots in, I’m happy as a mothafucka that it’s the one that’ll bring us closer together. I’m even happier that I’ll be able to reunite you with your ho-ass cousin. The thought of snatching your breath the same way I did Chelsea has my mouth watering and my dick hard as steel. I might have let you live, but every time I see one of your punk-ass family members around the city, it reminds me of you being a loose end for me. It’s cool, though. I’ll be seeing you soon enough.
Your Boogeyman
I begin to shake as the fearful images build in my mind after reading the new letter I found on my windshield earlier when I was heading to lunch.
“How the hell does this deranged nigga keep finding me?” I ask, despite being alone in my office.
No matter your city, it’s a mystery how a person can know your whereabouts. It’s also ridiculous to continue taunting me after taking my cousin from this world.
*ding*
Front Desk Security:
Good afternoon, Ms. Stephens. There is someone here to see you.
Seeing the instant message from the security guard manning the lobby on my screen increases my heart rate. My stomach clenches tight, and the food I’d forced myself to consume during lunch threatens to come back up. A flicker of apprehension courses through me, and beads of sweat form on my forehead. Clearing my throat of the lump forming, I type out a response.
Me:
Please inform whoever it is that I’m unavailable or not in the office. Thank you.
Front Desk Security:
Sure thing.
Panic begins rioting, causing me to close my eyes and take cleansing breaths. Momentary relief fills me with the security measures in place within the organization. My employer is meticulous about ensuring the safety of the people who work here. Instead of security calling staff members to alert them of visitors or clients, there’s a computer at the desk for them to send instant messages. The measures in place prevent the guards from providing any information other than checking to see if any one of us is in the office or available. The practice is one of the reasons I love working here, especially knowing that I have someone with ill intentions seeking to harm me.
*bzz, bzz*
I jump slightly when my phone begins vibrating on the desk, causing disturbing quakes in my serenity. Shakily, I pick up my phone and unlock it to see a message from Tinker Belle that only slightly settles my weary spirit.
Tinker Belle:
Where the hell are you? If you fled the state again, I promise I’m going to beat your ass, Janelle. *angry face emoji*
Oh, I went from Squeak to Janelle… shit just got real.
Desperate for a reprieve and moisture to soothe my drying mouth, I pick up my water bottle and take a healthy drink. Moisture fills my orbs before slipping from the corners of my eyes as I fight to contain the urge to release the wail bubbling in my belly. I feel like I’m in a hell I never chose for myself yet can’t seem to crawl out of.
You have nothing to fear but fear itself, which is why you need to stop hiding and go to Baxtown Iron, so the man who doesn’t mind slaying dragons can put down the one nipping at your heels.
“How can I possibly throw Deacon or the club into my bullshit? Those people don’t know me well enough to get involved in my mess. Besides, the only thing I know about Chelsea’s killer is the dead eyes he penetrated me with after taking her life.”
Chelsea never called her boyfriend anything but boo in my presence, so I honestly couldn’t identify him. The day she did my hair and lost her life hours later had been the first time I saw him. Nothing other than his eyes burned into my brain, so what could I have done or said to change the situation? I’m not even sure I would be able to recognize the man’s voice after fourteen years because I have desperately tried to block out that day.
You owe it to not only yourself but Chelsea to stop letting a faceless man dictate your life. How long are you going to allow him to keep you in bondage?
Opening my eyes, I sigh before doing the one thing I haven’t been able to do before today… respond to Tinker Belle.
Me:
I haven’t left you again, Tink.
As if she had been holding the phone, knowing I would respond, a message comes on the heels of the one I sent.
Tinker Belle:
We don’t hide from each other, Janelle. Given your situation… I’m worried about you. I have been trying to let you make it, but I’m just about at my wit’s end.
Sighing, I attempt to gather my thoughts to communicate with the one person who knows the skeletons that aren’t hidden in my closet. Even when fear sent me running for the hills, I never hid or stopped talking to Tinker Belle. Yet, her affiliation with Deacon has me all over the place regarding how I will move forward. Running is comfortable for me, but it’s not something I’ve done with her. Tinker Belle is the one person who knows me at my best and worst, so why am I suddenly doubting her loyalty to me?
Me:
I got another letter today.
Tinker Belle:
This is why the fuck you shouldn’t be hiding out and shit. Baxtown Iron will protect you. Deacon will protect you. Come back to the club. Things are different now that you’re back home. I’m scared for you, Janelle.
“Me too,” I whisper as the thought tears at my insides.
Panic like I’ve never known before wells in my throat, almost suffocating me, causing me to place the phone on the desk. Wrapping my arms around myself, I attempt to fight off the sheer black fright easing into my mind. A tense silence envelops the office, forcing me to close my eyes only to pop them open when a faceless glower comes to mind. My breaths become shallow and quick as a tight knot in my core begs for release. Trapped in the weary thoughts plaguing my mind, I’m unable to control the spasmodic trembling within my body.
“Oh God,” I whimper.