9. The Stalkee
the stalkee
César
I t doesn’t matter what time I fall asleep, I’m a morning person and have to stick to my daily routine. As much as Ms. Klarke has shaken up my regimen, having me repot that big-ass plant before she got home from work yesterday, I refuse to slack on the tasks that help me maintain my sanity.
I’m ready to head out when I hear a car door slam shut outside followed by keys jingling in the doorknob.
Judging by the time, Mariana just finished her shift and was too tired for the drive home.
She enters my apartment with her shoulders hunched and her eyes already at half-mast. I ignore the blood on her scrubs and reach for her.
“You know I would’ve picked you up,” I remind her, wrapping my arms around her in a hug.
She yawns before saying, “I know, but you have a life.”
When I release her, she trudges down the hallway for the guest room.
“All I do is work, Mari. I’ll pick you up next time you work a double,” I call after her.
“Fine. I’m going to go—” she attempts to say over her shoulder, another yawn cutting off her sentence.
I smile to myself with a shake of my head.
“Get some sleep. I love you. Let me know if you need anything.” With my keys in my hand, I open my front door to head out.
“Be safe. Love you, too,” she mumbles just before I shut the door behind me.
I’m headed to meet with another client about a new assignment. Fingers crossed it’s an open and shut case, because I am desperate for something normal lately.
Speaking of normal, it’s not normal for me to have Doe’s camera feed playing as entertainment on the road, but I am curious what music or audiobook she’s starting her day off with.
Today’s selection is a Kiwi Music playlist of New York hip-hop classics. The best part is her shouting out the lyrics to “Clan In Da Front” by Wu-Tang Clan while applying her makeup in her bedroom. For someone who doesn’t know she’s currently being watched, she sure puts on a show.
She spritzes her face and removes the pins from her hair before she starts looking around.
She’s likely searching for her phone. She loses it several times a day, and it’s never more than six feet away from her every time.
After retracing her steps, she finds it hiding on her bed beneath her dressing robe and begins typing a message.
To my surprise, my phone lights up with her name.
1 unread message from Doe.
Doe
No good morning text today?
You’re slacking on your job.
Well, good morning to you too.
Kissing your ass isn’t my job btw.
Sleep well?
Doe
I didn’t, but when do I ever?
Good thing it isn’t your job. You’d suck at it.
Wanna bet?
No. I have a question though.
I might have an answer.
Doe
Do you have cameras in my house?
The question gives me pause as I weigh the options between being honest or not. Because I see no benefits to being honest, I say what I must.
No.
Doe
So, it’s only the bug mics?
I’ll only confirm that because you found one of them.
Doe
So there’s multiple? Ha!
?Maldita sea! Smart cookie. It’s one of the things I find so attractive about her.
Anyways, you said “a question,” not plural.
Doe
As the stalkee, I think it's fair that I know something about you.
A stalkee? Did you just make that up?
And I am NOT a stalker.
That part is true. I’m not a stalker, I’m a licensed professional.
If anything, I am legally allowed to stalk for a purpose.
But I’ll admit everything about the way I surveil her is far from legal.
Between the in-house mics and cameras, breaking and entering, and corresponding with her, it’s all very illegal.
Doe
No, it’s a real word for a victim of stalking.
Are you the victim or am I?
Don’t remember you getting shot.
Doe
Get the fuck outta here. That was self-defense!
And I am NOT stalking you.
I think you would if you could.
I chuckle as I wait for her reply. The bubbles appear and disappear as she thinks of her response. Getting a rise out of her is becoming a favorite pastime.
Doe
Are you an FBI agent, spy, or a peeping Tom?
I never thought I’d see the day you’d call me another man’s name.
And I am none of those, actually.
Doe
Shut up. I don’t even know your real name.
What color panties am I wearing?
Cono. That’s a way to change the subject. Red. I stop myself before my fingers begin typing. She’s wearing a red lacy thong, but I only know this because she lays her outfits out the night before like a grade schooler.
Of all the strange things I’ve witnessed this woman do, that is definitely in the top ten. I know the truth is that I don’t watch her change, but she wouldn’t believe me, so I lie instead.
Orange.
Doe
I know you’re bullshitting me and I’m insulted that you’d even suggest I’d wear orange panties.
I’m gonna find these cameras.
Have a good day now, Sir.
What are you going to do, Deirdre?
Doe
I can show you better than I can tell you.
Bye, bye now!
You aren’t going to find anything.
Doe
Lie again.
I said good day!
There is never a dull moment with this woman, I swear. I really am going to miss her antics once this case is closed. And I try not to think about that too much.