Chapter 4 Danica
DANICA
Mina's at the counter sorting silverware into bins for the morning shift. Her auburn hair has completely fallen out of its bun and hangs around her face in tired waves. She looks up when I approach and gives me a sympathetic smile.
"You walking home?" she asks.
"Yeah." I pull my coat from the hook by the door. She knows I'm uncomfortable, though, because after making a point to hand my number to Vadim right in front of Petr, the man left and didn’t return. And the last look he gave me wasn’t pleasant.
I don't like to be the sort of woman to think ill of others, but he scares me sometimes.
She glances toward the kitchen where the cook's cleaning his station. "You should wait and catch a ride with Zoran."
I shake my head and button my coat up to my throat. "I'm too tired to wait that long. You know it takes him at least an hour to clean the grill. I want my bed."
"It's dark out." Mina sets down the silverware and crosses her arms. "And that creep was acting weird after you gave your number to the other guy."
The memory of Petr's hand on my wrist makes my skin crawl. "He's always weird." I adjust my bag on my shoulder. "I'll be fine," I tell her, but now I'm thoroughly weirded out. If Mina's concerned, maybe I'm right to be worried. I just don't want to wait so late when I'm so tired.
"Danica." Mina walks around the counter and stands in front of me. "Just wait for Zoran."
"I do this five times a week." I reach for the door handle. "Nothing's going to happen," I tell her, though I'm not entirely convinced myself. But I'm a big girl and I have my phone. I could dial 1-1-2 if I feel threatened.
Mina doesn't look convinced but she doesn't argue. She just pulls me into a quick hug and tells me, "Text me when you're home."
"Yes, Mother," I say with a smile, then I push through the door into the humid night air.
The street is empty except for a stray cat that darts between parked cars. The diner's neon sign flickers behind me, and I start walking toward home with my purse dangling from my shoulder and my bag hanging from my hand.
The route takes fifteen minutes on a good night when my feet don't hurt and I'm not exhausted. Tonight, it feels longer because every step sends a dull pain up my calves. I should've worn better shoes, but my only other pair has a broken heel and I don't have money to replace them right now.
I pass the closed bakery and the laundromat with its lights still on inside.
A woman is folding clothes by herself and she doesn't look up when I walk by.
The pharmacy on the corner's dark and the security gate's pulled down over the entrance.
Past that is a residential area where most homes are dark at this hour.
Three blocks from the diner, I get the feeling someone's behind me.
I glance over my shoulder but the street is empty, though it's quite dark out, and I can't be certain some of those dark shadows aren't people hiding from me.
I keep walking, but the feeling doesn't go away.
It curls up in my gut and makes itself at home, gnawing at my awareness.
I've let my own fears of Petr following me home get to me.
My heart starts beating faster and I pick up my pace slightly, but I try to laugh at myself for being so scared. Mina's words didn't help either, making me more anxious than necessary. I do this five times a week and not once have I had an issue.
But the sound of my footsteps echoing off the buildings on either side of the street starts to get to me.
I listen for other footsteps but I hear nothing except my own breathing and the distant hum of traffic from the main road.
I'm being foolish. No one is following me and my palms are getting sweaty for no reason.
I turn the corner onto my street and risk another look behind me.
I still don't see anything but the feeling is stronger.
Goosebumps rise on my arms and the back of my neck.
My hands are shaking when I pull them from my pockets, but I force myself to keep walking at a steady pace instead of breaking into a run.
The last thing I want is to make a scene and look foolish, but I can't shake the feeling.
Petr's face flashes through my mind. The way he looked at me when I walked past his booth after giving Vadim my number. There was so much anger in his eyes, and his mouth was so tight. He's been pushy before, but tonight felt different.
I'm two blocks from home when I swear I hear footsteps behind me, like someone's trying to be quiet but they're failing. My breathing is ragged and sweat runs down my back. I want to run, but running might trigger whoever's following me to chase, so against my urge, I force myself to walk.
I fumble in my bag for my phone and pull it out with trembling fingers.
The screen's too bright when I unlock it and I squint against the glare.
Mina's number's right there, but what would I say if I called her?
That I think someone is following me but I can't see them?
And if I call emergency, they'll laugh at me if they show up and I'm imagining things. I have no proof.
God, this feels like torture.
But I swear the footsteps are getting closer. I can hear them clearly now and they're definitely matching my pace. When I slow down, they slow down. When I speed up, they speed up. My throat tightens and I clutch my phone so hard my knuckles ache.
One block from home and I'm practically jogging now. My purse bounces against my hip and my shoulder hurts from the strap digging in. The footsteps behind me speed up too, and I hear breathing that isn't my own.
Then I see someone standing near the fence outside my building. Relief floods through me so fast, I almost stumble. Whoever is following me won't do anything if there's a witness. At least I hope they won’t. So I hurry toward the figure and I'm almost at my front gate when I realize who it is.
Vadim stands with his hands in his jacket pockets and his back against the fence.
The streetlight above him creates dark shadows on his face, but I recognize the set of his shoulders and the way he holds himself perfectly still.
My relief wavers into confusion. I look up at him and must seem lost or something, because how does he know where I live, and why would he come here?
"Hello," he says when I stop a few feet away from him.
I glance over my shoulder, but the street behind me is empty now.
The footsteps have stopped and whoever was following me has disappeared.
My heart's still racing and my hands are still shaking when I turn back to Vadim.
But I feel safer now, not threatened. I don't know Vadim any better than I know Petr, but there is something about his presence that instantly calms me instead of frightening me, though the confusion lingers.
"Hi." My voice comes out breathless. "What are you doing here?"
"Waiting for you." He pushes off the fence and takes a step closer. "I hope that's okay."
"How'd you know where I live?" The question sounds rude, but I'm too rattled to care about politeness. Someone just followed me home from work. I'm sort of shaken.
"Online yellow pages…" He gestures toward my small, beaten-down home. "There aren't many Petrovi?s in this neighborhood."
That's probably true, but it still feels odd that he went looking for my address. I clutch my phone tighter and try to slow my breathing. The street's quiet now and the feeling of being followed has completely disappeared.
"Is everything alright?" Vadim's eyes move over my face. "You look scared."
"I thought someone was following me." I glance behind me again. "But they're gone now."
His expression doesn't change, but something shifts in his posture. He looks past me down the empty street and his jaw tightens slightly. When he looks back at me, his eyes are colder than they were a moment ago.
"Did you see who it was?" he asks.
"No." I shake my head. "Just footsteps." I study him for a second and wonder if it was him or one of his friends, but then he was here ahead of me.
And while he's very handsome, and probably very strong, I doubt he is capable of being in two places at once.
I should just relax and let his presence keep me calm.
"You should be more careful walking alone at night." He says it gently, but there's an edge underneath. "Anything could happen."
"I know." My hands finally stop their shaking, but now I feel flustered. I gave this man my number and then he shows up at my house? If he could see my cheeks, I'm sure they'd be bright red. "I usually don't think about it."
We stand there in awkward silence for a moment. I should probably go inside and lock my door, but part of me doesn't want to be alone yet. The fear from being followed is still too fresh, and having Vadim here makes me feel safer even though I barely know him.
"Would you like to come in for coffee?" The words are out before I can stop them. "Real coffee, not the stuff from the diner."
Vadim studies me for a long moment, and I'm certain he's going to say no. It's almost eleven at night and I'm asking a stranger into my house. No reasonable person would accept that invitation. But his lips curve into a curt smile and he nods his head at me.
"Yes," he says. "Thank you."
I unlock the gate and lead him up the cracked walkway to the front door that sticks when I push it. I have to use my shoulder to force it open. It's a problem for the landlord, though he never does much to fix things, and if I threaten to withhold rent, he'll just evict me.