Chapter 6
From: Elainevp@
To: Olivia@- Are you dead? Dying? Nursing a bad night?
You missed our Zoom meeting yesterday. Daniel was furious.
We need an official update on your screenplay.
Are you okay? I tried calling you, and it kept saying the number no longer worked.
I’m now worried sick. I will call the police if you don’t get back to me ASAP.
I groaned, wiping the sleep from my eyes.
I hadn’t thought to check my emails yesterday.
With my new phone nobody knew about, I hadn’t been getting the usual pings or notifications.
Other than being stressed for the actual writing of my screenplay, I hadn’t given anything regarding work a second thought.
Apparently, when one was snatched away from her life under the cloak of darkness, her previous life did not cease to exist.
Who knew?
My fingers hovered over the keyboard, wondering what and how much I could tell my boss.
Instead, I picked up my burner phone and rifled through my bag to find my little black book and plugged in Will’s number.
Me: In all the craziness, I forgot a huge meeting at work yesterday. My boss is threatening to call the police because she can’t get a hold of me. I know she’s going to ask, so can I give her my phone number? Address?
Will: Who is this?
Me: I have to be sitting in the swather with Tate in fifteen minutes. You’d better start answering.
Will: Are you two friends yet?
Me: WILL
Will: We’ve vetted the people you work with extensively. You can let her know you’ve had an address change, but don’t email it to her. If she absolutely has to have it on file, call her with it. DO NOT PUT IT IN WRITING.
Me: What if she asks for details?
Will: Just tell her the bare minimum. Call her with it.
Me: Fine. How are things? Catch a bad guy yet?
Will: Nothing yet. I’ll keep you posted.
My phone call with Elaine went as well as could be expected.
“Well, look who’s alive,” she said in her no-nonsense New York accent when she heard my voice.
I cringed inwardly at her choice of words.
I was alive, despite the fact that I was currently disobeying my thorough bodyguard by having the windows open.
Just a bit. It felt over the top to be here hiding out.
The birds were chirping outside my window.
The leaves were rustling and starting to change colors.
Bright sunshine streamed into my windows.
It was too beautiful a day to have a stalker.
At home, in my darkened apartment complete with four different locks on my door, yes, I had a stalker. But here, it felt impossible. Being with the Walkers felt too normal for a person to be in danger.
Also, deep down, the idea of defying Tate’s orders, if only for a moment, gave me an inordinate amount of pleasure.
“Hey, Elaine. I’m so sorry about yesterday.”
“Where were you? Why doesn’t your number work?” she demanded. I imagined her sitting at her desk, picking at her teeth in a little mirror while she peppered me for answers. “There were so many worst-case scenarios running around in my head.”
“What was the worst one?” I asked, curious.
“That you don’t get your manuscript finished in time. With you being dead a close second,” she lamented generously.
I breathed out a laugh, holding the phone to my ear as I lay back on the bed. Briefly, I imagined Tate’s long body stretched out on the very same mattress before I brushed the thought away.
“You know how I told you about that creepy guy sending me things a few months ago?”
“Yes.”
“Liar,” I called out. Elaine loved me as an employee, but I wasn’t under any impression that I meant much more to her than that.
“I do remember. Didn’t you leave him at the restaurant and escape through a bathroom window? How very early 2000s rom-com of you, by the way.”
“Yeah, well, he’s gotten worse since then. I’ve been relocated for a bit. Hopefully it’s just for a week.”
There was a beat of silence while Elaine processed.
“Is he still stalking you?”
“Yeah.”
“For how long?”
“The last time I moved, it wasn’t because of the hike in rent.”
She let out a sound somewhere between irritation and disbelief.
“Why didn’t you tell me how bad it’s been?”
“To be fair, I didn’t tell anyone.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m not supposed to say unless you absolutely need it on file.”
She sighed. “We have some tax documents that need to go out, but I’ll try to hold off HR as long as I can–but you know how Taylor gets.”
I didn’t know Taylor, but according to the occasional emails, she seemed very Type-A efficient in her job.
“My cop brother is predicting they should be able to catch him within the week, so hopefully I’ll be back, and nobody will be the wiser.”
There was a pause on the line, and I stood and shut and locked the window. All this talk about Leroy had made the open window feel irresponsible after all the Walkers were doing for me.
“I’m so sorry this has happened to you,” she finally spoke, her voice soft, a tone I wasn’t used to hearing from my brusque, proving-herself-in-a-man’s-world boss.
“You and me both.”
She cleared her throat. “About your screenplay…are you still going to be able to—”
“Yes,” I broke in before she said the unthinkable. “I’ve got some great ideas for it—”
“Ideas?”
I made a face, knowing exactly where I’d made my mistake.
“It’s due in six weeks,” Elaine said, her voice moving faster now, higher pitched.
“Six. Weeks. If you want it to have any chance at filming this spring. I need you to be further along than just ideas.” Her voice changed to pure panic.
“Please tell me you’re further along. With all the changes…
you are one of our top writers, and we both have a lot riding on this. ”
“I will be.”
“Liv—”
“I’ll get it done. I am now living in a postcard for romantic…things. I’ve been inundated with ideas. It won’t be a problem.” That was a lie, but I was on a roll, and it sounded like something a normal romance-loving person would say. “I’ll make the deadline.”
There was only silence on her end, while I bit my nails on mine.
Finally, she sighed. “Well, I’m so happy to hear that you’re living in a postcard for romantic things. The poet in you is really coming out, wherever you are.”
“I’ve had a personal setback, but I’m back on track, and I’ll be done in plenty of time.”
Another long, calculated pause.
“Okay. If you don’t get this manuscript to me on time, I’ll be forced to demote you back to an assistant writer. There are too many others in the department who would love this opportunity to have you waste it.”
Jeez. She was playing hardball.
“I understand.”
She sighed again, her only line of defense on a phone call.
“Good. And remember, no murder, no bodies. This is sweet, fluffy romance.”
Ah…yes.
If she wanted to leave me feeling inspired, she really took a dark turn there at the end.
Plot Twist:
Overbearing, unsympathetic big-city bosses are a real thing.
When I walked into the kitchen a few minutes later, both Tate and Tom were hovering over the kitchen sink, wolfing down what looked like hunks of steaming pumpkin bread. Ann was standing by the oven, wearing an apron and checking another loaf she’d just taken out.
Both men looked up when I entered, but it was Tom who motioned me closer.
“You gotta try this stuff, Liv. Nobody makes pumpkin bread like Ann. But she’s got me on all sorts of diets, so I can only have it once a year.”
Ann turned around from her spot at the oven, hands on her hips. “I don’t either. I just made some two weeks ago.”
He tore off another piece and stuck it in his mouth, eyes twinkling as he protested, “You gave half of it away to the neighbors.”
Ann looked at me in solidarity as she handed me a small plate holding a thick slice of warm pumpkin bread stuffed full of gooey chocolate chips sprinkled throughout.
“Since you’re probably the only civilized person in this house, you get a slice on a plate.”
Tom’s mouth dropped open as he eyed my baked goods. “Wait. You gave the new girl the one with the chocolate?”
“I gave your son a piece too.”
Tom whipped around to look at Tate’s piece while Ann laughed and pushed him toward the door.
“You hush! She’s going to think you’re serious. Go outside and watch your cholesterol.”
I laughed and took a bite, well aware of three Walkers staring at me as I did so. The second the warm spices hit my mouth, I melted into a gooey pile of mush. By the time the soft chocolate hit my tongue, I was done for.
Tom’s eyes twinkled as he looked at me. “Told ya.”
“This is amazing,” I told Ann, the one thing I could get out before I shoved another bite into my mouth.
I found myself jealous of this family once more.
Of the life Tate had lived. He had two parents clearly in love and a mom who baked bread that smelled like cinnamon and filled the entire house with such a feeling of comfort that it almost ached.
How was it possible that people like Leroy existed while living in a home like this?
Tom didn’t leave right away. Instead, he brushed off his crumbs and paused at the door to kiss his wife.
“Well, I’ve got good news and bad news for you both,” Tom began.
We both looked at him warily.
“The good news is, I’ve got lots of errands that need running today. The bad news is, Luke was supposed to do it, but he took off in your swather instead.”
“Why?” Tate asked, his arms folded.
“In his own words”—Tom lifted his hands in air quotes—“he wanted to give the two lovebirds some time in town to practice their dating skills.”
At our startled faces, he only grinned. “Might not be a bad idea.” He chuckled as he turned to go. “I left you a list of places I need you to go and what I need picked up. It’s on the counter. Have fun, you two.”