Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Raven
What the fuck am I doing? I asked myself the next morning as I struggled to keep my eyes open, impatiently waiting for coffee to brew.
I had a lot of work to do before the afternoon, and being exhausted wasn’t going to do me any favors.
Once the carafe was full, I poured the biggest mug I had to the brim.
Sitting down at the island, I put my head in my hands after taking a gulp of the scalding liquid.
I’d stayed up until the wee hours of the morning texting Zander, and as a result, slept past my usual weekend wake up time of six.
An extra hour of sleep was all I allowed myself on the weekends, but today it wasn’t enough.
I’d slept until eight-thirty and woke up feeling like shit; my sleep schedule royally fucked and an astronomical headache pounding at my temples.
When I got the first text in my car the night before, the eerie feeling from the garage came back full force. I was beginning to question if his silence was finally coming to an end. Was that why I suddenly felt like I was being watched after years of peace?
My palms had been so sweaty the steering wheel slipped more than once as I drove over the speed limit with my knife resting in my lap. It was a good thing I hadn’t gotten pulled over because a policeman would have had a lot of questions.
Only after dead bolting myself inside the safety of my apartment did my breathing begin to return to normal. I sat at the island and stared at the text notification, a thousand scenarios running through my mind.
After half an hour, I finally tapped into the message, but the churning in my stomach had me off the stool and pacing.
I battled the urge to block the number and switch off my phone completely.
Changing my number would be as simple as showing up at the cell store when they opened the next day.
If this was the asshole from over all those years ago, blocking would do no good if he already had my number.
But I didn’t tap the restrict button, despite my thumb hovering over it for ten minutes straight.
I had been in plain sight for over a decade.
I wasn’t hiding, and I wasn’t going to start living in fear now.
My panic was replaced by anger as I typed a response.
I wasn’t a terrified teenager anymore. Maybe this was just some rando fucking with me.
The back and forth texting was maddening, and I was getting more pissed with each text. Whoever the person was, he was facetious. Just as I tapped the screen to block the number, a name flashed across the top in a new notification.
“You know I’m Zander.”
“You have got to be shitting me.” I said into the quiet room as my blood pressure shot through the roof.
If Zander was Ryan then he got my number from my call last weekend.
Zander had been the furthest thing from my mind until then.
Still, I’d persisted just to see what he would say, but then my annoyance dissipated and I found myself enjoying the back and forth with him.
The more I texted the more I couldn’t bring myself to stop.
We texted like two teenagers. Arbitrary questions like favorite color and our top travel destinations, not even flirting all that much, though he did ask if flirting was okay in the beginning.
The way he seemed interested in me personally had desire raging through my body, and I wanted to flirt with him.
He had piqued my interest, and a giddiness I hadn’t felt in a long time coursed through me.
It was a bit crazy and extremely unsafe, even though he was my client and I had all his information, but that made it all the more appealing.
He could be a serial killer or a psycho, but he said all the right things.
Him being my client only added to the giddiness of texting my favorite voice actor.
There hadn’t been a man in my life at all since Spencer.
That also meant that I hadn’t slept with anyone either.
After I broke things off with him, I focused more on my career after deciding I wanted to have my own firm.
I had just moved Mom and Dad to my city, and I was determined to have my business running by the time I was thirty.
So there hadn’t been time for men, and work kept me busy.
My dating history wasn’t great anyway. I was independent in relationships and some men couldn’t handle that. Lucky me—dating the ones who couldn’t. My career taking up most of my time didn’t help matters, either.
All the guys in my past were older and pretentious.
It was something I didn’t notice until I took a hard look at myself after Spencer.
They all wanted me to be on their arm as their obedient wife who spoke only when spoken to, and that wasn’t me.
I was outspoken and did whatever the fuck I wanted to, society’s antiquated view of women be damned.
I glanced at my watch and calculated how many hours of work I could get in before I had to get ready to go to the suburbs.
I’d vowed a few weeks ago I would make time for dinner with my parents this month, and I was making good on it no matter what.
Texting Zander hadn’t been on the agenda, but I wasn’t going to let it deter me from seeing Mom and Dad.
The computer screen lit up, and I decided I was going to let Zander/Ryan come to me. I opened my email with determination and pushed him from my mind.
After a few solid hours of double-timing work, I got myself ready in some of the most casual clothes I had.
Since Mom and Dad came from humble beginnings and humble middles too, they were casual people.
Dad didn’t own a suit, and Mom never wore dresses or any form of business attire.
Which I was comfortable with since that's what I was used to growing up, but over the years my casual clothes had been replaced with pantsuits, skirt suits, and assorted slacks and blouses. I rarely had a casual occasion to go to, so I didn’t feel the need to continue buying jeans and T-shirts.
I glanced in the mirror at my reflection and was satisfied with the black skinny jeans and gray tee. Gen Z would never take skinny jeans away from this Millennial. I donned some of my chunkier jewelry that I didn’t wear to the office, and out the door I went.
“John! Raven’s here!” Mom yelled through the house after I walked into the kitchen where she was standing by the stove.
Her graying hair was smoothed back into a bun at the nape of her neck, and she was wearing her Kohl’s staples, a fitted blouse and jeans that looked like they were from the eighties.
I went to her and put my arms around her small frame. Mom was at least three inches shorter than me, and I was wearing high-heeled boots so I had to bend down a bit to hug her. She held me tight for a beat longer than usual, and I drew back to see that her face was bright with excitement.
My dad walked into the kitchen covered in grease from head to toe like usual.
His white T-shirt looked brown, and his jeans had stains covering them.
He even had grime on his cheek. Dad was a mechanic and worked on his own projects in his free time.
His small income was all that my parents had.
They were in their late fifties and Mom had health issues that prevented her from working.
I told Dad when they moved here he didn’t need to get a job.
I would make it work. An expensive car and living in an over-the-top apartment wasn’t necessary, but he refused.
He said he would work as a mechanic until the day he died.
So, I supplemented his income to make sure they had everything they needed.
I looked over to Dad. “I would hug you too, but not with you being disgusting like that,” I said, gesturing to his filthy clothes.
He laughed. “Of course, pumpkin. I’m going to go shower while you ladies get your gossip fix.”
Mom hurled a dish towel at him. “We do not gossip. We simply discuss current events. Go on, now. Dinner will be ready in half an hour.”
I chuckled at their banter, and a pang hit me somewhere deep. Despite all their hardships, they loved each other with a vengeance. Money had been scarce, but love was abundant. The type of love that went beyond a typical suburban family. My parents were ride or die for each other and for me.
I beamed at Mom. The last few years of her not having to worry about money and getting to be a normal older woman warmed my heart.
She was active in her little community, and had a ton of friends.
Resilient was her middle name. Being from a small town in the deep south and moving to the big city when she was eighteen to get away from an abusive ex wasn’t easy.
She met Dad after her car broke down one day and the rest was history.
Neither of them had college degrees or a lot of parenting when they were kids so as a result they didn’t make good financial choices, leaving us in tight spots all throughout my childhood.
That’s why I eventually chose to become a financial advisor so I could help other families not make those same mistakes. The pay wasn’t bad, either, and with my extensive knowledge of how to make money work, I turned the money I made into a lot more.
I walked over to the sink and began rinsing pots and pans then loading them into the dishwasher. Mom was picky about cooking and usually didn’t want help unless it was a holiday so I always did dishes. I wasn’t great at cooking anyway, so it worked out.
Mom asked about work, and after I’d filled her in that I posted a job yesterday, I turned to her wiping my hands. “All right, go ahead. I know you’re bursting to tell me the latest news from your library ladies.”
Her face brightened. “Well, Jessica got a big surprise a few weeks ago. Her daughter, the one who’s twenty-one, told her she was getting married. They haven’t even met the guy!”
I smiled down at my mom and happily listened to her gush.
An hour later, after finishing Mom’s delicious chicken and dumplings, I was stuffed.
“John, do you want seconds?” Mom asked Dad.
“Nope, I’m going to hold out for cake. The less I eat now, the more cake I can eat.” He laughed. “It was great as usual, though, honey.”
Mom patted his hand and glanced over to me. “I’m assuming a no from you, as well, Raven? Are you staying for cake?”
“When could I ever turn down your Oreo cake, Mom?”
“Good! I was hoping you could stay for a while to visit after dinner.”
We cleared away dinner and chatted in the living room for an hour before Mom brought us all dessert that was pure sin.
As I was finishing my helping, my watch dinged.
After clearing away dishes, I hugged Mom and Dad goodbye and walked out into the quiet neighborhood.
Once I was in my car, I opened the text.
It was a photo. I tapped it, making it larger on the screen, and my breath caught, the phone slipping from my hand to the floor. I stared out the windshield into the dark night, swallowing hard, my pulse sending desire to all the right places.
Another ding, and I grabbed the phone like my life depended on it. A text popped up underneath the dim photo of a veined hand adorned with rings on almost every finger resting seductively on a chest in a black button-up dress shirt. “I think this necklace would look great on you, Raven.”