Beautiful Addictions (27 page)

“No! You can’t tell anyone about this!”

“Okay, okay. I won’t say a word,” Monica promised, though it pained her to do so.

The rest of the evening was spent in nervous silence. They each kept to their menial
tasks, Josie sketching Monica’s worried face and Monica filing her already perfect
nails. When it was far past Monica’s bedtime, she bid Josie good night, promising
to come over the next day. She kept her brave face firmly in place until she reached
the bottom of the stairwell. Within seconds Monica was on the phone with Rob, begging
him to meet her at her apartment.

That night, Rob held Monica while she cried for the unpredictable fate of her friend.
As she dug further into his embrace she was racked with crippling guilt, because she
knew across town, Josie slept alone.

*   *   *

Josie woke the next morning, still bothered by the late-night phone call from Tristan.
He had forced casual conversation on her, but she could feel something was off. His
voice had been tense. Not wanting to add any stress, she kept things light. Josie
told him about her night spent with Monica and how she hadn’t hated the experience.
After a few minutes, Tristan said he needed to go but would call to check on her soon.

She stretched across her empty mattress and ran her hands over where Tristan should
be. The material was cool to the touch and saddening. Josie crawled out of bed and
dragged herself to the kitchen, hoping that Alex would be by soon with some breakfast
or coffee. In nothing but a tank and boy shorts, she felt a chill in her apartment.
It was uneasy, like when a stranger’s eyes linger on you for too long.

With only one foot in the room, Josie froze. The sight of a man seated at her kitchen
table had her feet bolted to the floor.

“Hello, McKenzi,” the man said, not moving from his casual place at her kitchen table.
“Or should I call you Josie?”

Panic seized her, making every muscle in her body rigid. Her head felt fuzzy and she
couldn’t quite focus on the man before her.

“How the hell did you get in here?”

Her eyes darted to the door, all three locks firmly bolted. Quickly, she tried to
calculate the probability of making it to the door, getting the locks undone, and
out into the hall before he could catch her. She was no genius, but it was obvious
that the odds were not in her favor.

“You can’t make it,” he said, answering her thoughts. “Please, have a seat.”

Rob pointed to the chair opposite him, but Josie still hadn’t moved. He placed his
hand around his gun and lifted it from the table.

“I said to have a seat.”

Josie let out a squeak and hurried over, falling into the seat.

“That’s better.”

“Who are you?” Josie asked.

“Who I am is not important. What is important is why I’m here. Do you know why I’m
here?”

Josie nodded her head, her eyes flashing to the gun still in his hand and back to
his face.

“Good, then we don’t have to worry with introductions. Go put some clothes on.”

“You won’t do it,” Josie said.

Rob cocked his head and smiled.

“Do what exactly?” he asked.

“Kill me. You don’t look like a killer. I don’t think you’ll do it.”

“Neither did your little friend in the park. Now, go get dressed.”

“Gavin? You bastard!” she shouted. “What did—”

“I’m not answering your questions. See this gun?” he asked, waving it between them.
“This gun means I’m in charge. Now go!”

Josie stood and crossed her arms. She glared at him. If she was going to die, she
was going to do it on her terms.

“Fuck you,” Josie spat. “I’m not going to do shit.”

Rob shot up from his chair, making her flinch. He grabbed her roughly by the arm and
dragged her to the bedroom, throwing her down on the mattress.

“I don’t like repeating myself,” he said.

That’s when the nauseating panic and fear took over Josie. Flashbacks of unwanted
touches and rough hands sent flashes of terror through her.

“Please don’t touch me. Just kill me,” she begged while tears soaked her shirt.

Rob looked away, his jaw clenched in anger and uncertainty. He admonished himself
and raised the gun so she’d take him seriously.

“Shut up,” he growled. “I’m not here to kill you. My orders are to take you back to
Moloney.”

“Anything, just don’t touch me, please.”

Josie’s broken words sent a jolt of guilt through him. The unfamiliar feeling left
him with more fear than he’d ever experienced, fear of failure and perverse compassion.

“Get up! We’re leaving.”

She crawled from the mattress and wiped the tears from her face. As she crossed the
room to her closet, she could feel his gaze searing her flesh. It felt invasive and
so wrong. She managed to throw on some jeans and a T-shirt before heading toward the
bathroom.

“Where are you going?” Rob asked.

“I’ve got to use the bathroom.”

He took a step toward her, as if he would follow her into the small space.

“Are you going to help me change my tampon?” she said quickly.

Rob frowned and walked down the hall toward the kitchen.

“I’ll wait in here,” he said. “You have three minutes.”

Josie slammed the door closed and leaned against it. She ran her hands through her
hair, scraping her nails against her scalp.
I need a weapon, something
, she thought. Dropping to her knees, she searched the cabinet beneath the sink, coming
up with only one towel and a can of magenta spray paint.

“Shit,” she whispered, leaning her forehead on the counter.

Knowing her time was limited, Josie stood and threw her hair into a ponytail. She
opened the medicine cabinet for a hair band and spotted the pencils and paint markers
inside.

Bang. Bang. Bang.
Josie jumped as the man beat on the door.

“Sixty seconds and I’m coming in,” he said.

“I’m almost done,” she said.

Her voice sounded weak and unfamiliar. She didn’t like it. She cleared her throat
and tried again.

“Just a second,” she said.

Josie scribbled across the mirror, for once paying no attention to letter styling
or form. She flushed the toilet and emerged from the bathroom.

“Get your shoes on,” the man demanded.

Josie sucked in a breath and turned to find him waiting in the hall. Her heart drummed
against her chest as she swallowed and answered him.

“They’re by the front door.”

Josie walked away quickly, praying that he would follow. He did.

When they reached the kitchen, Rob slid his gun into his waistband and roughly gripped
her shoulder.

“We’re going to walk out of here and down to my car. If you try to run, you die. If
you alert anyone, you both die.”

Josie wordlessly nodded. After slipping on her shoes, she crossed her arms so he couldn’t
see her trembling hands.

“Let’s move.”

As they approached the door, a loud knock sounded through the apartment. Both sets
of eyes stared at the door and the swinging chain.

“Who is that?” Rob asked.

“My neighbor.”

“Get rid of him. Fast.”

The loud knocking sounded again.

“Jo!” Alex’s voice yelled from the hall.

Josie felt at war. Should she try to get help or should she just comply with her kidnapper?
Her mind seesawed, every emotion heightened.

“I’ll kill him,” Rob warned quietly.

Josie nodded and leaned her forehead against the wood door.

“I’m sick,” she said.

“What’s wrong? Open up so I can check on you,” Alex answered.

“No. It’s gross in here. I’m pukey and … and I’ve got a fever. You don’t want to come
in here. I should be quarantined.”

She hoped her voice sounded sick and not scared.

“Ugh, that’s gross. All right, I’ll check on ya later.”

“Okay,” she answered.

Josie turned her head and pressed her ear to the door. She listened to Alex’s heavy
footsteps fade down the stairs and released the breath she’d been holding.

19. Apogee

The farthest point from Earth in the moon’s orbit.

This had to be the longest day in the history of her career. At one point Monica would
have sworn that time had either stopped or was moving backward only to keep her at
her desk. The one silver lining was that she would see Josie again today. Two days
in a row set a record for them, and she felt empowered by the bond that was beginning
to grow. Since waking up this morning, Monica had felt sick with worry for the girl.
The danger that hung over Josie was consuming. So she vowed to become a great distraction.

Armed with chick flicks, microwave popcorn, and ice cream, Monica found herself losing
all patience outside Josie’s door. She banged so hard her hand tingled with pain.
Yet it remained unanswered. As much as she wanted Josie to be a friend, she was growing
tired of the games.

“I know you’re in there. I have ice cream,” she sang loudly, knocking again. “I told
you I would be back. Stop being a brat and open the damn door.”

She dialed Josie’s number and waited impatiently as it rang. She could hear it ringing
inside the apartment, but no one picked up. Through the phone, she listened to the
recorded voice mail message.

“Come on! I’ve got Patrick Swayze! It’s dancing on the log and the lift and nobody
puts Baby in a corner,” she spoke through the door again.

Monica was trying to remain calm, but fear had begun to prickle beneath her skin.
What if something was wrong? What if Josie wasn’t just avoiding her?

*   *   *

Alex parked his bike and removed his helmet. He sat for a minute or so, hearing the
ticks and creaks of the cooling engine between his legs. People rarely surprised Alex
anymore. He found most of the human race quite predictable and self-righteous. However,
in the past week, he’d been surprised more than once by a beautiful blonde named Erin.

They met in the produce section of the grocery store. Right away she seemed familiar,
like he knew her already. He was taken with her endless legs and long, flowing hair.
Pretending to be interested in the varieties of tomatoes, he kept an eye on her as
she shopped. Men circled, like wolves, just to get a closer look. Her most attractive
quality was that she was completely unaware of the stir she caused. Married men, single
men, young boys, and everything in between, they were all drawn to her.

Summoning his confidence, he sauntered over and donned his most endearing smile.

“Hey, don’t I know you?”

“I doubt it,” she answered, not looking up from her list.

“No, I think we met before.” No response. “Maybe you could help me. I’m a tomato dummy.
I got no clue what these are. Grapes? Cherries? Tomatoes?”

Erin laughed and soon began a lesson in produce identification. Conversation came
easily after that, and she smiled and even joked at his shopping ignorance. Her smile
lit up the entire building and her blue eyes could see right through him.

Feeling confident after their time together, he asked her out. She declined. Stunned
by her denial, he quietly helped her load bags into her car. That’s when he spied
her Darkroom apron laid across the backseat. That’s where he knew her from. She worked
with Tristan.

Two days later, he found her there, and together they marveled at the coincidence.
It had taken twelve days, consisting of two not-so-chance meetings, six large bar
tabs, and a pint of cherry tomatoes, for her to agree to go out with him.

Today, they’d had lunch in Point Loma and spent the afternoon in SeaWorld. As it turned
out, Erin had never been. She was refreshing and so much more than a beautiful face.
She had big plans and a killer sense of humor.

As Alex entered his building, he smiled, wondering if he could be so lucky as to find
a girl who challenged him, wanted him, and didn’t want to change him. Whatever the
feeling between them was, whether lust or friendship or even curiosity, he wanted
to embrace it. In all honesty, he wanted to hitch a lasso to it and hang on for dear
life.

Hearing heavy footsteps on the stairs, Monica turned to find Alex making his way to
his door. He stopped short when he saw her, arms loaded and a frown pulling down her
face.

“What’s up, short stuff? She giving you a hard time?”

“I-I don’t know. I can hear her phone in there, but she’s not picking up and she’s
not answering the door. I’m worried that—” Monica stopped herself, not wanting to
speak those thoughts out loud. “I’m worried. Did you check on her this morning?”

“Yeah, she told me she was sick.”

“Well, did she look okay?”

“She never opened the door.”

“Alex…” Monica whispered, worse-case scenarios flooding her mind.

“Shit!”

Alex attacked Josie’s door. He rammed it with his huge form, over and over, hearing
the old wood begin to splinter under his assault. Monica watched in fascination as
he pounded against the door. The thunderous sound echoed through the stairwell of
the quiet building. Finally, it gave and Alex hurled through, almost falling inside.
Monica followed him in and they both began calling Josie’s name and searching the
small space.

“Alex! Come here!”

Alex ran down the hall and crowded into the bathroom with Monica. They both stared,
openmouthed, at their reflections in the mirror. Thick lines of pink paint crossed
over their horrified faces, lines that formed the words
New Orleans.

“I’ll call Tristan,” Alex said, his voice defeated.

Monica nodded and watched as Alex placed the hardest call he’d ever had to make.

*   *   *

Two days of complete silence. That’s what Josie had endured on this road trip from
hell. She was trapped in a tin can with a very attractive assassin who, for some reason,
had yet to assassinate her. Instead, he was driving her east to her former home. She
pressed her forehead to the cool window and counted the streetlights that went by,
just for something to do.