Chapter Four
The thing about getting caught stalking is people starting to look at you differently.
Although Harley hadn’t truly believed I was up to no good, even my Pres was watching me more, and a few of the guys were looking really suspicious of me.
I even caught Grease moving Jamie away from me when I sat down at the pub with them the other day, which was really fucking embarrassing, but what could I do?
Nobody but Harley knew about her, or at least that I’d seen her again after the club.
We were at the pub again today, because it’s Sunday, and this has become our new hangout. Since we saw off the Double Ds that day, and cleaned up after ourselves, we’re pretty welcome there. I mean, we’re practically their protectors now.
We took up two tables beside each other, with a few guys hanging at the bar, but the unwelcome part was the three guys hanging with us today.
That stuck up fucker Grimm, and his two buddies.
They were in discussions with Micro about patching in, or going prospect.
I mean at this point, he pretty much just picks and chooses who he likes and lets them skip that shit, so I wasn’t sure what the point was of even having any prospects.
Still, these guys looked so different out of that weird club that I didn’t recognise them at first. Grimm, without the vampire persona, was just a guy with short light blonde hair, and blue eyes, and his two guys were, well, pretty similar but without the eyeliner and black nail polish.
I gave them a friendly ‘hey, how are ya’, and got glares in response.
“The fuck? What’s your problem?”
The guy I instantly found out was Grimm raised his eyebrows at me.
“You can be as friendly as you like to me, but you’re not coming back to my club anytime soon.”
I looked him up and down, and for the record without all the vampire shit, he’s nothing special, and smirked.
“Oh, you’re the prat from the vampire club. Guess we’re just letting in anyone these days.”
He snorted, rolling his eyes as he turned to the big guy beside him.
“This guy, right? Fronting at me like I can’t break every bone in his body while he cries for his mama.”
I set my beer down. “You wanna go right now?”
“Shut it, Stag, and go and sit down with those guys,” Micro was suddenly here shoving me out of the way, but I’m no pussy. This fucker wants a fight, I’ll give him just that.
“Just a mo, Pres. This fucker wants my fist down his throat first.”
Grimm grinned widely and stepped closer. “Bring it, little boy.”
“Yeah, yeah. This isn’t what we came here for, and I promised we wouldn’t break so much as a glass again in here, so Stag, please go sit with the others so I can talk to Grimm and his fellas.”
Whatever. “Fine. Just, I’m not pussying out here. I’m just respecting my Pres and his orders.”
“Yeah, because that’s always how you roll.”
Flipping him off made a pretty quick liar out of me, but whatever. I took the seat beside Harley, who had his old lady on the other side of him, with Rocket and V in the other few seats. Yep, me and all these fuckers with their women. That’s not lonely at all.
“Is he really thinking of patching those pricks in?” I asked, glaring over my shoulder at Grimm, who, as I expected, was still smirking at me. I’d break off those fucking fangs of his and shove them up his nose next time I was at the club, because no fucker was keeping me out.
“Stag, I had a question.”
Okay, ignore mine then. I focused on Harley, who pulled up some accounting app on his phone. Oh man. Work? Really?
“What are your thoughts on this program? I’m thinking of going automated, because I hate doing this shit.”
I took his phone, sliding my finger over the screen to scroll, but for the record I already knew it wasn’t worth shit. I took that moment to calm down a bit, even though I could still feel that fucker’s eyes on my back.
“I’d skip it. You want help with your books, I’ll help.” What was I doing? I wanted to do less boring shit, not more.
Harley took his phone back and closed the app.
“Seriously? Don’t you already work full time on this shit?”
Wow, we were out of touch, huh?
“No. I’m on part time hours now. Seems they’re making cutbacks at work. Still, I have savings and stuff. I’ll be alright.” Probably.
My needs were simple. My ride, food, fuel, beers.
Right? Oh and her. I’d rather earn more so I could buy her things.
Maybe I could find out her address and leave them for her.
That’d be fun, right? Little presents on her doorstep or something.
It’d be like Christmas every day. My mind immediately started reeling as I tried to work out how to find her address.
“I’m a bit behind with my finances. What if I hire you a few hours a week to help me get them back in order? Do my taxes, that kinda thing?”
It took me a moment to slip back out of my thoughts and catch up with him.
“You’d hire me?”
Harley laughed, looking around at the others as he replied.
“Do I know any other accountants? I mean, you’re kinda skilled, even if you do your best to appear otherwise.”
I rubbed my jaw, mentally calculating my schedule and whether I wanted to fill some more hours. The money would help for sure.
In the end, I decided to err on the side of caution.
“How behind? I’m not agreeing ’til I see what sort of mess you’re in.”
He grinned again. “Fair. Why don’t you pop and see me on your next free afternoon and I’ll run you through it.”
How adorable that he was thinking of this in physical terms. He could have just sent me this shit, but whatever.
Oh. “Hang on. When you say run me through it, do you mean you do this old school with fucking printouts and shit?”
Rocket leaned across the table. “He uses an abacus, man. He needs you.”
“He’s not that bad! I actually saw him use a spreadsheet the other day!” Caroline added, giggling wildly as her man faked dying from betrayal beside her. Yeah, this is all cute or whatever, but I’m the fifth wheel at this table. Fuck this.
“Tell you what. You show me on Tuesday afternoon, and if I can help, I will. Don’t have to pay me.” I got up, tossed back the last of my beer, and shoved my chair in.
“You’re leaving?” Rocket asked, as Harley shook his head.
“Nope, don’t take advantage of brothers.”
V leaned over to whisper something to Caroline which set her off giggling.
“He doesn’t take advantage of me!”
Ugh. This cuteness is killing me.
“Later.”
I walked out, ignoring the two of my brothers yelling out to me to stay. What would be the point of that? I mean, I get it. This is what I wanted. A club. Brothers. A fucking family, but this? Sitting among couples while they flirt with each other? Fuck that. I’m better off on my own.
I climbed on my ride, and dug my phone out as it vibrated in my pocket.
Harley: No stalking, brother. Keep it cool.
Prick.
Claudia
Sometimes it felt like there were eyes on me, even when I couldn’t see anyone watching. I wondered if it was a sensory replacement thing, like I’d lost one sense, so I was receiving another. One that picked up on things I couldn’t hear or even see. One that warned me of dangers nearby.
My lunch companion, Jethro, was about ten years older than me, and one of the other BSL instructors at the college with me, and so we conversed purely with fingers flying as we chatted at a comfortable speed for once.
Whenever we’re signing with novices it’s all about moving slowly and deliberately, but with seasoned signers, moves become more fluid, a little less perfect, and we still understand each other well enough to carry a decent conversation.
Unfortunately my spidey sense as I’ll call it, unoriginal I know, kept dragging my eyes away from Jethro, and he had to keep tapping my hand to get my attention back.
*Is something wrong? You’re distracted today.*
I sighed. I was, but how to explain this to someone I knew well as a colleague, but not as a friend. He was a good person, but we mostly talked about students and classes, rather than life stuff.
*Talk to me.* He signed as I hesitated. Damn it.
*I’m feeling a little on edge, like someone’s watching me.*
He laughed, waving a hand in the air as a simple gesture, rather than a specific word. He cast his eyes around us too, and several people glanced away guiltily.
*People are always watching when deaf people chat.*
He wasn’t wrong about that. Speaking with our hands draws unwanted attention, and in some ways, it means we can never have discreet conversations.
There’s no whispering for those who use sign language.
If someone can see our hands and understand the movements, nothing is private.
Hearing people don’t seem to realise that’s an issue, because they can just lower their voices, right?
*What’s going on?*
He signed after tapping my hand once more.
It was my go to for getting my attention, but it was starting to irritate me.
Every touch felt unwelcome, because he wasn’t a friend.
Not a person I wanted touching me. Just a colleague.
We were supposed to be planning our schedules for our next classes, so they were coordinated for those students taking both courses, his for learning more complex signing, and mine for learning to teach others.
*I’m sorry. It feels like more than just nosy people seeing our fingers fly. There’s someone watching for other reasons. Watching me.* It sounded so dramatic, probably conceited too, but it was how I was feeling.
Jethro cast his eyes around again, flipping his light hair back, while I suddenly pictured dark hair and expressive brown eyes instead of his green ones.
*I don’t see anyone paying extra attention, but that doesn’t mean you’re wrong. Do you want me to walk you back to your place?*
I chewed my cheek as I darted my eyes right and left again. Wait. A flash of hair… hair like mine. Fuck’s sake!
I tucked my phone and purse into my shoulder bag and tapped Jethro’s arm this time as he was perusing the coffee shop.
*Don’t worry about it. I just saw my sister out there. She’s probably waiting to walk me home anyway. See you tomorrow.*
He nodded, watching me leave, and the second I stepped outside, I ran around the corner I’d seen her disappearing to. It had to be her. She was always there lately. Maybe it’d been happening longer than I realised.
“MARISSA!” My voice felt raw and ragged as I yelled out for her, and someone tapped my shoulder, tearing an even rawer scream from my throat.
“You okay?” She was behind me. See? This is the thing with her. Darting around, hiding in the damn shadows, and spying on me.
*Why are you stalking me?* I should have used words, so I could try and portray my frustration with her, but she got it. My face was identical to hers, so she understand my facial expressions better than most.
*I’m not stalking you. I was…* her fingers stilled as she glanced down the street. *I was going to the chemist.*
“Bullshit!” I blurted out loud, and she glared at me belligerently. She knew she was caught, but she was still trying to weasel out of it.
“Fine! I was worried. You didn’t answer my text.”
I dug out my phone, knowing she’d stop talking while I couldn’t see her, and if she happened to be muttering to herself, I would never know.
Marissa: Are you coming home soon?
It was sent ten minutes ago. Just ten minutes. How did she know where I was? Was she stalking me or not? Was it coincidence or something more sinister?
“You followed me.”
She shook her head. “Coincidence, I swear.”
We walked home together, and she didn’t have a chemist bag in her hand, nor did she insist we go there first, so I knew she was lying, but what could I do?
She was my sister. My twin. She was my roomie, my best friend, my protector.
She didn’t have bad intentions. Just the opposite.
So why was I starting to feel really unnerved by her presence?