Chapter 30
CHAPTER
THIRTY
CINDEL
Over the next week, Andrea is curiously home more than usual.
Each night she and I go over our conspiracy board, accumulating notes, names, and songs.
Puzzles were never considered ‘fun’ to me, but this one might as well have no image on display, identical shapes, and pieces lost to the vacuum.
We even had to add paper taped on the sides of the board, because we’ve run out of room.
Officer Fucking Kent was one of the additions, with Creepy Craig below.
We’re confident my boss's untimely demise doesn't have anything to do with Theo, but we want to list every possible variable.
Ironically, with my roommate back in my corner, Eamon has been scarce.
Even the text messages aren’t more than a goodnight or emoji here and there.
The subtle change only causes me to become even more anxious about our approaching dinner date.
I can’t discern if the nerves are apprehension or something else entirely.
Andrea has gone all “Nancy Drew” on my ass and insists I should be wired, when I go on the date. Honestly, where does she get this stuff from? I agree to her plan, if only to put her mind at ease.
Jada came by the bar again, conveniently during the only time Eamon was there this week.
Watching her forced laugh and idle hands explore Eamon’s shoulders and arms, while he attempts to work on his laptop, was a true test of everyone’s patience.
It’s not like Eamon is mine or anything.
I technically didn’t belong to anyone, so how can he?
We haven’t even been physical with one another, aside from the one kiss and even that felt forced.
I’ve never kissed the masked man. Not on the mouth, at least. I wonder what his lips would feel like on mine. Once the mask came off and the games were over, would there be anything left? Anything real? Did I unknowingly accept terms when I took that earbud home? Was I… his? I can’t.
Committing to anything from here on out, will be kept at arm's reach. Too many unknowns.
Presently. I am fed up with Jada. She continues barking orders at me to bring her random things since she can’t move around easily.
When she demanded a Cosmo and a tonic for Eamon, I was done.
I may have accidentally put down the drink too quickly, splashing the pink liquid onto her phone and down her white miniskirt.
“Oops.”
As she shuffles off to the bathroom, muttering profanities the whole way, Eamon gives me a knowing wink paired with a devilish smile.
My lower belly somersaults. Fuck, this man confuses me. Cold for nearly a week, then undeniably smooth when he finally comes around me. I shouldn’t feel guilty, no one’s getting hurt. I’m simply having some fun, while also getting answers to questions I’ve had for years.
Eamon’s comrades seem to hang around The Black Sheep habitually.
If Garron isn’t drinking or challenging a group of frat boys to a game of darts, he is distracting the new hires.
It seems like each time the new girls, Leslie or Maya, deliver drinks; they go out of their way to pass by the boy’s table.
More often than not, I find one of them sitting at their table passing the time.
At first, I was easily able to redirect the girls by having them grab something from the backroom.
However, after the fifth time, I realized the catalyst was Garron.
Redirecting my focus, I warned him, if he didn’t stop monopolizing my waitresses' time…
I would dress him in a low-cut top and have him serving tables.
Garron wags his eyebrows at me and tells me not to threaten him with a good time. Fuck... it better not be Garron behind the mask.
Still, his friend never engages me. I feel uncomfortable sometimes, when Dax is around.
His features are always severe, right before he takes off somewhere.
Those nights without the drama of Jada or the fluctuation of Eamon’s moods, between flirting or ignoring me, go by easier.
Nonetheless, I felt more like a babysitter than a bar manager.
The only song I can add to our list this week is, Elastica – “Connection.” The stalker played it for me one night, after Andrea and I went round and round, trying to make sense of how all these names are connected.
It was actually Andrea who pointed out that Theo and Eamon went to the same school, Boston College. How did she know that?
I surmised since we pretty much grew up in the same city; our families had to have some sort of loose connection.
Andrea intermittently became quiet when I would go on a tangent about Theo or Eamon.
I can’t deny the feeling that she may be withholding something.
It’s probably just in my head, trying to automatically make connections when there probably aren’t any.
When I told my roommate about the newest song, she ripped apart the apartment, looking for cameras or microphones.
Cursing ensued and now we need to buy new throw pillows because she disemboweled each one with a kitchen knife and sheer determination.
Nothing was found to indicate we were being watched, but I knew my stalker was always watching.
Andrea was pissed. Personally? I was relieved he could still watch me.
I open the texts with my stalker. Rereading and trying to carefully form questions that could help in my search for answers.
He wouldn’t answer any questions this week.
In fact, he didn’t respond to anything I’ve sent.
Since when did these roles reverse, the pursued became the pursuer. Had I done something wrong?
Wow, Cindel, are you concerned about your actions against him? Maybe I do need to start journaling again. Clearly, I’m more disturbed than before.
With the masked stalker MIA, I try to shift my focus to getting ready for dinner at Eamon’s. It’s tomorrow. So, many questions run through my mind.
How should I act in the privacy of his home? What do we talk about? Will he want to…? You know… how far am I willing to go with Eamon? Was agreeing to this date smart if I wasn’t willing to go all in? Was I simply using him… trying to shed light on my brother’s life, before he passed?
Good grief, I think I am! Didn’t Eamon deserve a sincere connection, with no strings attached? I attempt to sort through my feelings as I ready for bed.
What are my feelings about Eamon? Genuinely, it feels more like hanging out with a sibling than anything sexual.
Maybe I’m overthinking it. He is successful, charming, good-looking, and a skilled kisser.
Ughh! My inner unrest reminds me of a game of tug-of-war, rationalizing between my brain and my heart.
On the sidelines is the cloaked stranger. Every time I feel as though my mind is made up, the stalker trickles into my thoughts. MY stalker.
The wave of memories hit me. How he made my body sing like no one has ever done.
The whole situation should be considered unhealthy, ultimately dangerous.
Yet, his furtive engagement has me longing for him in every dark alleyway I enter.
Lately, I find myself thinking about him whenever I have time to myself.
In the bath, in bed… last time he was near, he took care of me while I was ill.
I appreciate the tenderness, but I also feel like I’m overdue.
Now I only conjure up emotions about his touch against my skin.
Somehow, this nameless man has me in a chokehold.
After I quiet my cravings, I emerge from the bathroom a few minutes before six...
Andrea nurses a bottle of Moscato in the kitchen, as she watches me do a last-minute fit check in the hallway mirror. The tight-fitting, black cocktail dress hugs me in all the right places, since I took in the bust to accommodate my small chest.
“You look hot. I’d fuck you,” she announces unabashedly.
Setting the bottle down, she comes behind me and proceeds to zip up the garment.
“Are you wearing it?” I turn, facing her fully, then point to the small rose brooch, affixed on the top of the dress.
“Good. Make sure you're close enough so I can hear what’s being said. I want to know if you get into any trouble.” I look up to the ceiling and nod.
This feels wrong, but I agreed to put her mind at ease.
“Yes, I know, but will you be listening if things get… ya know, serious?”
Her eyebrows furrow, then shoot up. “Oh. Right… umm, no. Eww. Love you, but no. I promise not to listen if you cross that bridge with him.” Andrea tells me when she hears the beep of a horn, just outside.
Simultaneously, my phone vibrates, indicating that my ride is here.
“I’m going to stay up and wait for you to get home,” she adds.
I sign to her thank you as I made my way out the door.
Eamon sent a car, since he needed to pick up a few last-minute things before our date. The driver shares that Eamon’s place is on the posher side of the city, overlooking picturesque sunsets on the Boston Harbor.
I smile but remain quiet, recheck my small clutch once in the vehicle.
Phone, check. Earbud, check. Pepper Spray, check.
Pepper spray? Damnit, Andrea! I don’t need that.
Just because Eamon was sometimes complex, didn’t mean I was fearful for my life.
My time with Eamon was enjoyable. Being around him feels effortless.
No matter how tonight turns out, I know he won’t hurt me.
I also recognize that Andrea is listening…
I tap roughly on the rose brooch in lieu of her sneaky, ‘self-defense’ addition.
I hope it makes an uncomfortably loud sound for her.
Considering the purple starred tech in my purse, I replaced my hearing aid. Not sure why, but I don’t want to be without it lately.