19. Mandy
19
MANDY
S alinger sits next to me in the back seat of the car, seething.
“If you”—his voice cuts through the cold interior of the car—“hadn’t fucked up and failed to acquire a suitable date for me, I wouldn’t be in this predicament.”
“Me?” I squawk. “How is this my fault? Also, I think the evening went well.”
“You’re such a stupid girl. This evening was a complete fucking disaster.” His fist cracks against the wood-paneled interior of the car. “No one in this country makes big infrastructure investments anymore. This was my one shot to build a fortune—to cement my name—and you ruined it for me.”
I shrink in my seat.
“And I know Aaron,” Salinger continues. “He’s going to go back to Wolf and tell him not to involve Van de Berg Insurance in this port deal because anyone with half a brain cell can see it’s a complete shit show. I spent so much time and money on this deal, only for you to ruin it.”
“That’s not fair.” I gasp at him. “You know these deals don’t just materialize out of thin air. You have to lay the groundwork. Nothing’s lost yet. Linda was very pleasant this evening.”
“Of course you think that.” The shadows cast from the streetlights flicker on his face as the car glides down the dark street. “You spent the entire evening gossiping.”
He flexes his fingers. “Contrary to what Isaacs thinks, Linda is going to do everything in her power to make sure I’m not involved in the port deal. She thinks I’m dating my assistant, as if I would ever debase myself.” He makes a disgusted noise. “All because you wanted to play ‘billionaire girlfriend’ and fucked up at the charity function.”
“I told you it wasn’t on purpose.” I hate how small my voice sounds. “I’m really sorry, Salinger, but I just think you’re overreacting.”
He lunges at me.
“You don’t get to decide if I’m overreacting! You’re just an assistant—you’re not an investor, you don’t know anything, you have no idea what’s going on, and you clearly have no concept of what you cost me.”
I clutch Pepper as he rails at me. Mercifully, the car soon pulls up in front of his building.
“Get out,” he orders.
I scramble out of the car into the cold, drizzly Seattle night.
The car drives off.
Salinger gives me a cold, gray look. Adjusts his suit. “I can’t decide if I’m going to fire you right now or just wait until this port contract completely implodes.” His words are a scythe.
“I—you can’t!” I grab his suit. Lose his protection and be out on my own? At Jaxon’s mercy?
He shakes me off. “I’m your boss. I certainly can fire you.”
The doorman opens the door for Salinger then walks in behind him, locking it.
I’m standing all alone outside of his swanky residential tower. Suddenly, I realize that I parked back near the restaurant. I check my phone. It’s Friday night, and surge pricing is in effect on all the rideshare apps.
“One hundred fifty dollars?” I suck in a breath.
For a brief moment, I consider knocking on the door, asking the concierge to call a ride.
But they would probably ask Salinger if that was approved, then I would have to beg, only for him to say no.
Eff that.
Hugging my purse and Pepper close to my chest for warmth, I step out into the rain. The restaurant isn’t that far away. I can walk.
Pepper grumbles as a raindrop hits her nose.
“We’re saving money,” I remind Pepper, who is not wearing her raincoat and is very upset that she’s getting wet.
The streets are dark and empty. My car is parked on one of the side streets. I dodge a trash can, my feet numb in my sandals. I shift and slide in the shoes as I try to hurry to my car.
“We need the exercise,” I tell Pepper. “Also, I really wish I owned a bath tub. I’d love a hot bath when we get home.”
I’m not going to have so much as my own shower if Salinger actually fires me.
He won’t, right?
But I’ve never seen him so furious.
Maybe I can call Linda next week, just to put out feelers and try to hype up Salinger. Or maybe he’s right and she’s already written him off, in which case I’m not just screwed—I am completely fucked.
What am I going to do if I can’t work for Salinger? Forget paying the lawyer—without being able to huddle in the protective bubble of the office, I’ll be completely at Jaxon’s mercy.
My phone starts going off.
Shifting Pepper, I fish in my purse as the sky seizes up then lets loose a torrential downpour.
When I swipe at the unread messages, I begin to wish I had sprung for an Uber.
Unknown: Ignoring me is rude. Didn’t your mother ever teach you any manners?
Unknown: Sometimes I like to take pictures of you when you’re walking to your car and jerk off to them in the bathroom.
Unknown: If you continue to ignore me, I’ll just make it so you can’t. If you tell anyone I’ll make this even worse for you.
Heart pounding, dog clutched to my chest, I set off at a jog. I thought the restaurant was closer than this, thought I should have found my car by now.
The messages keep coming in, the blue light of the phone scattered by the raindrops that cluster on the screen.
Unknown: Tick tock. You’re not going to make it.
Unknown: One day, you’re going to be all alone and wish you had been a little nicer to me.
I start to run.
The notifications ding, sounding like they are echoing off the cavernous buildings closing in around me.
Unknown: Don’t worry. I’ll take you back.
Unknown: But I’ll make you pay.
I’m being paranoid. There’s no way Jaxon knows where I am. This is off my normal route, and I drove though the office parking deck again before going to the restaurant.
There’s my car at the other end of the block.
“It’s okay,” I tell Pepper. “We’re going to be home soon. It’s okay.”
My hands are numb as I fumble in my purse for my car keys to have them at the ready. I sidestep a puddle while crossing the street, dirty water dripping on my legs as I squeeze between two car bumpers. I’m almost there.
A male voice says, “Trying to give me the slip?”
I scream, but Jaxon’s hand is already over my mouth.
Pepper is barking at the top of her lungs. I need to let her go so she can run away, but he has my arm pinned.
“You thought you could trick me, pretend you were still at the office, working? I’m onto you.”
I’m boxed in between the cars. I can’t escape. He shoves me against the front bumper of the car behind mine.
The back of my dress is filthy and soaked. Thank god it’s washable, the panicked thought comes. Just my brain trying to ignore the very harsh reality in front of me in hopes that it will just go away.
Pepper, tired of being wet and manhandled, is not going quietly. The corgi barks and lunges at Jaxon’s wrist.
“Motherfucker.” He snatches his hand back, but her teeth tear the skin.
“Get away from me!” I’m finally able to scream.
Jaxon is doubled over, clutching his hand.
I force my numb legs to run through the oily puddles of water, trying to get away from Jaxon. My lungs burn, and my arms ache from carrying Pepper. My soggy purse bangs against my legs as I force myself to keep up the pace.
Jaxon is several yards behind me. “I’m done with you. I was going to tell you that I was going to drop the complaint against your stupid fat dog, but I’m not anymore. I’m done, and so are you and that dumb animal.”
I don’t have much of a head start, and between the dog and my general state of out-of-shapeness, he’s gaining on me fast.
Why isn’t anyone out on the street? I yell, “Help!” to several cars that pass me, but they don’t stop, in a rush to go home, I guess.
The cold rain runs down the back of my dress.
As I run, the strap of the purse that had been over my shoulder slides down to my elbow then to my wrist. Should I abandon it? But my phone is in there.
Jaxon’s footsteps sound closer.
I turn a corner into an alley, praying it’s not a dead end, and race to the nearest door. It’s one of those heavy metal ones that lock from the inside and don’t have a handle. So is the next. And the next .
Finally, near the end of the alley, there’s a loading dock to my right. As I skid into it, I kick some garbage that rolls toward the streetlight-filled exit onto another side street. I duck into the shadows. My shoes get tangled up and I fall down, twisting to the side so I don’t squash Pepper.
A few seconds later, I hear footsteps. I freeze in place, huddled in the shadows as the man pauses to peer into the dimly lit loading dock. Huddled on the ground, I wait for one heartbeat, then another, praying he moves on.
Eventually the footsteps retreat.
I can’t stop shaking, waiting for Jaxon to come back. I don’t dare move. Maybe it’s a trap? I can’t leave the loading dock. What if he’s waiting for me?
But what am I going to do? Should I try to make a break for it? What if he’s waiting by my car or at the end of the alley? Could I even call an Uber? He would notice, right, if an Uber just pulled up right outside the alley? I would never make it.
The clock is ticking. My stalker isn’t going to give up. Jaxon is going to see that I’m on the street and come back to search the alley. Then it’s over for me.
Should I call the police again? I tried to go to them before, but they didn’t do anything, just told me I needed to work it out with my boyfriend. They said there wasn’t anything they could do because all he’d done was send a few text messages, and it wasn’t illegal to send someone a text message—but I should call them if he ever broke into my house.
Lauren watched a lot of true-crime shows while she lived in my apartment rent-free. There were several women who, when they tried to get the police to help, were just handed back to the men who would eventually kill them .
This is crazy.
I’m now worried about the best way to not get killed. I should be at home cooking massive amounts of casserole, not trying to fight for my life.
For a second, I just want to give up. I’m so exhausted and cold and overwhelmed. I’m really starting to panic now. The tears come, and I can barely keep the sobs quiet.
I have no options. And this is never going to end.
The sobs I am trying to choke back escape my numb lips in pathetic little whimpers.
Pepper whines softly at my feet as hot tears roll down my face. I don’t know what to do. This is it. I’m at the end of the line.
Well, not quite. I do have one other option. It isn’t a good one, or a smart one, but it is an option.
As quietly as I can, I reach into my purse and pull out my phone to call the only man who terrifies me more than my stalker.
He’s annoyed when he answers the phone.
“You better not be calling to beg me to save your job.”
“No. Never mind. I shouldn’t have called.” I fight back the sob.
He stills over the phone.
“What is it?” His deep voice drops to a growl.
Something in me breaks and I’m sobbing and crying to my boss, even though I know he doesn’t care. But it’s so good to hear his voice. I feel safe, just for a moment.
“ Mandy .”
You can barely get words out. “I, um… I’m sorry. I just— I hate to bother you, but he’s after me, and—”
“ Where are you? ”