Chapter 4 #2
Blowing my long bangs away from my face, I plopped onto my stool once more and focused on the ruby necklace.
The stool let out a squeak and a groan as I twisted it back and forth, a nervous tic of mine.
For a moment I admired the facets before picking up a cotton swab and brushing gently at a bit of grime around one setting.
After a few more minutes, my shoulders relaxed.
Within hours, I found myself at ease. The air smelled of cleaner—an ammonia smell that filled the workroom with an odd sense of tidy comfort.
When I finally looked up, I stifled a yawn and checked my watch. Eleven PM.
My eyes felt heavy and strained, and I had to blink a few times to right the world in my vision.
I removed an earbud, tossed my empty mini bottles of wine in the trash, and stood, my back cracking.
Though my mind was at ease, my spine and ass ached from hours of being still on a hard stool, scraping away at microscopic grime.
The old, fragile metalwork made it a delicate process, a fine line between bending the metal and dislodging centuries of built-up, possibly literal, shit.
Having cleared the rest of my workstation, I was ready to call it a night. I collected my few belongings and placed the earbuds back in their case. I slid them into my pocket and locked up.
I left the building and enjoyed the warm night air and city sounds as I went to the corner store to buy a cherry Tootsie Pop.
I picked one up from the clear plastic tub on the counter and paid the cashier a dollar.
He expressed his gratitude with a nod before I departed.
Fingers unwrapping the iconic wax wrapper, I let myself admire the deep ruby red candy with a smirk before popping it into my mouth.
The sidewalk outside was quiet. It was a pleasant night for a stroll before grabbing a taxi.
I pivoted and started walking toward the West Village.
As I walked, my shoes clacking against the pavement and reverberating off the buildings, I heard the threatening scrape of a lighter across the street.
My gaze shifted, and I saw a spark ignite on the opposite sidewalk, shrouded in shadows.
Well, that’s not ominous or anything.
As I approached the street corner, I chanced another look back and saw the glowing ember still trailing after me. I stopped and let a few cars pass before crossing. As I proceeded, the ember did too.
We both walked beneath a streetlight, and I noticed the man was wearing clothes that were too warm for the mild evening.
There was a scarf bundled around most of his head, hiding his features as though on purpose.
Something about it wasn’t right, and it set me on edge, my teeth shattering the hard candy in my mouth as I nervously chewed.
I tried to catalogue as many details of his features as I could, in case I had to report him to the police later.
What a lovely thought, said no woman ever.
His hair was sparse on top, but he had dark sideburns that flowed into what looked like a substantial beard.
He was short and bulky, wearing a black leather jacket, faded jeans, and black shoes—the athletic kind I associated with grocery store workers.
I could feel his eyes on me, no question about it. The empty streets amplified my anxiety, and I frantically searched for another soul. It was a rarity to find so few people in this area of town.
We continued walking down the street, the silence thick with tension.
He matched my stride, even though I was taller and in better shape.
I could outpace him with ease if I didn’t care how that looked.
The important thing was to appear unbothered.
Worst case, I knew I could ditch my shoes and outrun him if I had to.
Right when I was about to do just that, I was relieved to see a couple round the block in the distance. The kind-looking pair approached, a teacup-sized dog on a leash ahead of them. I took the Tootsie Roll, now only a shredded stick, out of my mouth and gave them a nervous smile.
We exchanged nods as they passed.
I should have asked for help, but just as I was about to, I spotted a familiar open sign up ahead. To my relief, it was the coffee shop Nash and I frequented before work, a safe place I could hide out and wait. My stress released a little.
I slipped inside and went to the counter, figuring some caffeine might help buy me some time and verify the situation, not to mention sober me up so I could think more clearly. If the man lingered, then I’d know he was following me.
Why? That was yet to be known.
I tossed my chewed-up lollipop stem in the trash as I selected a booth and sat down.
Trying to be subtle, I glanced over my shoulder to see if he was still there.
To my dismay, the glowing tip of his cigarette flared in the shadows across the street, a constant presence.
I could just make out his stocky figure leaning against a building, just beyond the reach of the streetlight, but definitely still there.
What… the actual fuck.
I took out my phone and texted our driver, Frederick. He’d come get me, and everything would be okay. It was late, and this was New York, but no matter what, he’d always come to my aid.
Though I hated to admit it, situations like this weren’t unusual. They made us city girls tough and alert.
Once the text went through and Frederick confirmed he was coming, I searched my bag, making sure I had the taser Nash got me last October. My fingers closed around the familiar grip. With the click of a button, I checked the battery; it was fully charged.
Thank fuck.
The bell at the counter chimed, signaling that my coffee was ready.
I took the opportunity to steal another glance over my shoulder.
He hadn’t left. I moved casually to retrieve my blessed caffeine, not wanting to betray my unease.
Returning to the booth, I took a slow sip of my coffee and pretended to doomscroll on my phone, though I couldn’t focus on anything.
Frederick arrived a half-hour later.
I was exhausted and yet buzzing with caffeine when I slid into the back of the town car and greeted Fred in the rearview mirror.
Through the car windows, I watched the man openly, safe behind the tinted glass where he could no longer see me.
He appeared to be watching our car leave, the glow of a phone screen coming to life in his hand.
My brows knitted together as the light lit his face, and he typed something.
With one last glance in our direction, he faded into the shadows and was gone.
I sat back in my seat with a harrumph.
“Everything okay, Betty?” Frederick asked, eyeing me in the rearview mirror. He was an older man, late fifties, having been with our family as long as I could recall. He was like a second father to me and a constant figure in my life.
“Yeah, just… weird people out tonight.”
He nodded. “Weird people out every night. Don’t ever be afraid to call me, okay? No matter what, I’ll always come, you know that.” It wasn’t the first time creepy men had stared at me. He’d been a super-savior during my teenage years.
“Did you have fun tonight?” I asked, referring to Nash’s wedding.
“Yeah. It was a good time. Great people. Proud of our little Sybil for being brave.”
He’d attended, shuttling guests while also eating and relishing the evening.
I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, she’s getting brave. I’m glad you enjoyed the party.” I gave him a sweet grin. “You didn’t bring a date, though. What happened to Cynthia?”
He chuckled. “Oh, she’s in Florida with her son. Don’t worry, she’s still putting up with my bullshit.”
I laughed.
When he dropped me off, I scanned the sidewalks for any more seedy-looking figures.
Mrs. Cranson was walking her Goldendoodle, an evening ritual, before having her nightcap and sleeping till midday.
She was my favorite old bitty on the block, always dressed nicely with a big string of pearls around her neck.
I gave her a little wave and went inside where I locked every door, shut off the lights, smothered Mr. Beans with kisses and fell asleep.