Chapter 30 Sloane
SLOANE
“Come on, Mocha, let’s go for our morning run,” I yell through the house. A few moments later, I hear the quick pitter-patter of his toenails tapping against the floor as he runs as fast as his little legs can carry him.
“Sit,” I say, holding my hand up for him as soon as I see him, so he doesn’t collide with me. He does as I say, skittering to a stop and plopping his butt onto the floor.
“Spin,” I command, and he obeys, then looks up at me with his little mismatched eyes.
“Good boy,” I say, offering him a treat. He takes it softly. He lets me help him into his harness, and I hook his leash to him before slipping into my running shoes.
I put my headphones on and hit shuffle on my playlist. Fake Friends by NOX blasts into my ears as I put my phone into the pocket of my spandex shorts before we lock the front door behind us and head towards town.
My feet slap against the pavement, one foot in front of the other, Mocha and I running side by side.
Beckett lives a couple of miles outside of town, and once we’re inside its limits, we slow our run to a walk. We head towards the dog-friendly cafe that’s just down the way.
“A cinnamon matcha, with oat milk and a pup cup, right?” the barista asks. I smile at her and nod, pulling out my phone to pay, when the person behind me interrupts.
“I got it.” His voice is smooth. I turn, and it’s probably someone who’s my age. I don’t recognize him, though.
“It’s ok, I can pay for my own drink,” I say, but then he offers me a smile that has me blushing and stumbling to find words.
“I got it,” he repeats with a wink, ordering his drink before paying.
“You’re Sloane Monroe, right?” he asks as we sit down at one of the tables in the corner, Mocha sitting next to us, his little nose getting covered in white cream.
“Uh, yeah…are you like a friend of Kaden’s or something?” I ask, taking a small sip of my drink, not liking the way he’s looking at me right now.
“No, I’m actually a fan of yours,” he says, reaching under the table and placing his hand on my thigh.
I give him an awkward smile and take another sip of my drink, pushing his hand off my leg. Only one man’s hand is allowed to touch me, and it’s not the person sitting next to me.
“Oh, haha, well thanks for the drink, but I gotta get home,” I mumble, picking up my cup and giving the guy an awkward smile.
I’m socially awkward, let’s be honest, and I have no idea how to act around people.
“Hey, wait, can I get your number?” he asks, grabbing hold of my arm to stop me.
“Yeah, sure,” I say, trying to pull my arm from his grasp. He does let me go, but I immediately feel uneasy. A weird feeling settles on my chest, and I’m not one to ignore those feelings.
So what do I do? What any sane person would do, of course. I give him my big brother’s number. Kaden can deal with him accordingly.
“Thanks for the drink,” I say, handing him his phone back and grabbing Mocha’s leash, trying to make myself seem like a normal person, but I think I’m failing spectacularly.
I get outside, and I know he’s right behind me because I can hear him talking.
“Guys, I just met Sloane Monroe today. Look at that ass.”
I walk faster. Mocha must sense my nerves because he becomes more alert.
“Sloane, wait up. Let’s film a Loop together,” the guy says from behind me.
Now, I’m very uncomfortable, and the only thing I can do is ignore him. I walk faster, my heart beating in my ears.
“Sloane,” he says, grabbing hold of my arm again and pulling me to a stop.
“P-please, l-let go of me,” I stutter. His eyes seem darker somehow, more menacing.
Mocha must sense something is wrong because he growls under his breath.
The guy’s grip on my arm doesn’t loosen, and it starts to hurt.
“I just want to take a video with you,” he explains, stepping closer to me.
Mocha puts himself between us. He barks; sharp, loud, and dangerous. I’ve never heard him bark like that before, not even at the deer that often run through the backyard.
The guy lets go of me and steps back just a little bit.
“Hey, buddy, it’s ok. I’m just trying to talk to her,” the guy says, reaching down to pet Mocha, who lets out a warning growl before barking again.
The guy jumps back and glares at Mocha before glaring at me.
People on the sidewalk walk past without offering any kind of help or checking in to make sure I’m ok.
I feel sick, scared in a way that I never have before.
“Just one video,” he says, looking at me.
“I can’t, I have to go,” I say, stepping back, Mocha still between us.
“Wow, so you’re really not going to take some time out of your day for a fan?” he scoffs. I realize that his phone is still filming. I’m sure it’ll be all over social media in a matter of minutes, after this ends.
“Sorry, I really can’t. Thank you for the drink, I really have to go,” I whisper, a new kind of fear taking over me at the thought of what he could possibly do with the footage from the last few minutes.
I turn and start heading towards the police station. I know that Beckett should be there today. It’s Wednesday; he’s always at Timberline instead of Denver on Wednesdays.
I can still hear the man’s footsteps behind me, and he’s taunting me now, still recording, I imagine.
I pull my phone out, and my hands tremble almost violently as I press on Beckett’s contact.
Please answer, please answer. I beg as I hold the phone up to my ear, the dialing starts.
“Hey, what’s up, baby?” He says.
“Are you still in Timberline?” I ask after his greeting.
“Is everything ok?” he asks, immediately in protective mode.
“Are you?” I ask again.
“Yeah, what’s going on?”
“Who are you talking to, Sloane?” the voice behind me taunts, and I walk even faster.
“Who is that?” Beckett asks.
“I’m almost there, please just say you’re still at TPD?” I whisper, trying to stop the tears that have welled up in my eyes.
“Yeah, I am,” he says. I hear rustling and the jingle of keys. “Where are you?”
“About three blocks from the cafe,” I say, trying to drown out the voice coming from behind me.
“Ok, stay on the phone, keep walking, and whatever happens, don’t stop. Stay on the sidewalk, I’ll meet you,” he says. I nod even though he can’t see me.
Mocha barks again. It causes me to jump, and I walk faster, tugging on his leash so he doesn’t stop.
“Please hurry,” I whisper into the phone. I’m not even sure he can understand me.
“I’m almost to you.”
“You stupid bitch, do you treat all your loyal fans like this? You can’t even take time to take a picture or a video with me. Just wait until the whole world sees how stuck up you really are.”
“Is someone following you?” Beckett questions, his voice being the only thing keeping me grounded.
“Yes,” is all I can manage to get out. Tears streaking down my face, making it hard to see, but I know where I’m going. The one upside to growing up in a town as small as Timberline is that I could walk its streets blindfolded if I had to.
“Sloane, come on, I bought you a drink. This is how you repay me, by being a bitch and walking away? It’s just a picture.”
“Ma’am, are you ok?” Beckett appears right in front of me, and I all but run to his arms.
I shake my head and hide behind him, pressing my forehead into his back, even though he has a police vest on.
“What’s going on here?” Beckett asks the guy.
“Hey, look, nothing is happening here, officer. My girlfriend and I just had a bit of a disagreement.”
Girlfriend.
The word makes me physically nauseous. What is his plan? Sweep me away and hope that we live happily ever after? Lying to a police officer, trying to convince him that all I am is some disobedient little girl?
I hang up my phone and put it into my pocket, since I’m safe now; Beckett won’t let anything happen to me. I keep my face pressed into his back as I try to calm down.
“Miss, do you know this man?” Beckett asks.
It takes a few moments to register that he’s talking to me.
I shake my head against his back, one hand clutching my stupid drink, and the other tangled in Mocha’s leash, who stands on guard right beside Beckett.
His ears are pointing straight up, his stance is low and crouched, as he could lunge at any moment.
“Honey, come on. Don’t be like that, it was just a simple misunderstanding. Let’s go home, and we can talk about this,” the guy says, using the same sweet voice he had with me when we were at the cafe.
Mocha barks aggressively when the guy reaches for my arm.
“Don’t touch her,” Beckett says firmly, in a tone I’ve never heard. His tone leaves no room for disobedience; it would be hot if I weren’t so scared right now.
“Dude, look, let me just take her home. I’m sorry that we had to bother you like this. It’s really just a simple misunderstanding. You know how women can be, she’s just being a tad dramatic.”
“The dog doesn’t seem to like you,” Beckett points out.
“It never has.”
The way this man lies so smoothly is scary, like he’s been planning this and has thought through every single scenario that one would have to play out in their mind.
“Beckett, please make him leave,” I whisper, loud enough for only him to hear.
“Look, she seems a little bit shaken up, maybe it could do you two some good to spend a few hours apart to cool off. I’ll take her back to the station with me, and when she’s ready to leave, she can leave.
I’ll take your contact info, and I can call you if she needs a ride,” Beckett offers.
I peek out from behind his back, and the man looks like he’s getting upset again.
“We don’t want any trouble. Really, it’s ok, I’ll just take her home, and we can sort it out ourselves. There’s no need for her to go with you.”
“She’s clearly upset, so unless she wants to go with you, she’s going to come with me,” Beckett says. I can tell that he’s very quickly losing his patience.
“She’s just being dramatic.”