Obsession (Stalker #1) (13 page)

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!…
“
No, no, no, I don’t want to get up yet,” I growl. I hate mornings like you wouldn’t believe.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

“Oh my God, make it stop! Make it stop, please!” I feel Jake roll over and hear him hit the button, silencing the annoying noise. He rolls back over to me and pulls me to his chest.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he says softly to the back of my head. I growl at him. He chuckles. “Not a morning person, babe?”

“I’m not a fan of five thirty in the morning when we’ve barely had any sleep,” I mutter into my pillow.

“Let’s go get in the shower, it will wake us up.”

Jake leaves the comfiness of our bed and goes to start the shower. I’m stubborn as fuck in the morning and I don’t want to move right now. Jake emerges from the bathroom and he’s naked, and looking fine. This may be the only way to wake my ass up.

“Abby, the shower is hot and waiting for us.” He stands with his arms across his chest.

“Ugh, fine. I’m coming.” I get out of bed and pull the T-shirt over my head, throwing it on the floor with attitude. Jake chuckles at me again. I pad to the bathroom behind Jake. He steps into the shower and pulls me in with him. I let the spray beat down on me and it feels so good. We soap each other up. I shampoo my hair and he massages my scalp and it might just put me back to sleep again. It feels so good. He’s got such big hands and he’s making my legs feel like Jell-O.

There is no playtime this morning because we have to battle traffic downtown to get to work today. I can’t believe we are going to be driving in together. People will talk and speculate as soon as they see us. Rumors run rampant where we work.

We are dried off and getting ready. We are moving around easily in the bathroom. I suppose the double vanity helps; we each have space. This really is a kick ass bathroom with a separate tub and shower. Jake is done before me, since it only takes guys all of five minutes to get ready. I need to blow dry my hair, slap on a little makeup, and spritz a bit of perfume and walk through it.

Why do I wear perfume at a homeless shelter, you wonder?
Because it smells like fucking feet and whatever else is rotting in there. Homeless dudes don’t smell that great. I always rub a little bit of scented lotion below my nose so that’s all I smell. It helps, but eventually wears off. You would think that after seven years there I’d be used it, but NO! There is no getting used to that smell.

I emerge from the bathroom wearing jeans and a T-shirt. I’m ready to roll. I find Jake in the kitchen and it looks like he’s packing our lunches. Shit, that’s so fucking sweet. I haven’t had my lunch packed for me since grade school by my mom.
Oh, I should call her later.

“Are you packing our lunches?” I question, even though I already know the answer.

“Yes, we need to eat and I will pack them separately so it’s not suspicious. Are you about ready? We need to hit Tim Horton’s on the way in, and it’s my turn to buy the coffees.”

He packs everything up and he’s ushering me to the door. “I can’t be late, baby, I’m supervising, so let’s roll.” Jake grabs our jackets from the closet. I grab my purse, put on my Converse, and I’m good to go. Jake is locking the door behind me. “We need to get you a key, maybe after work tonight,” he says, and I know it’s not a suggestion.

“Right, a key, yeah,” I mutter. Jake moves towards the Jeep and opens my door for me and helps me in, with an obvious ass grab. He’s a bit chipper in the mornings and I’m not sure how I feel about that yet.

Our first stop is Tim’s and the line is ginormous, of course. Tim Horton’s is like crack for Canadians. We love it and can’t get enough. I’m not a coffee drinker, but the steeped tea is fantastic. It’s finally our turn and Jake orders six coffees, a steeped tea, a bottle of orange juice, and two breakfast sandwiches. Seriously. It takes a few minutes for our order and the lady at the drive-thru hands him our stuff.

“Just put the trays between your feet and they won’t spill,” he instructs, handing everything over to me. He hands me a breakfast sandwich with an orange juice and tells me to eat
. Fuckin’ bossy. “
It will make you feel better and you will have more energy if you eat something, baby,” he says sweetly, knowing I don’t like to be bossed around. But he’s right.

Jake maneuvers through traffic with ease considering this stretch of highway is always a disaster. He takes the Lakeshore instead of the QEW and I love that he did. The scenery down this way is beautiful. We both finish our sandwiches and light up our smokes while laughing at each other. Smokers love to smoke after eating.
I know, I know. We shouldn’t smoke, but we do and that’s that.

By the time we finish our smokes, we are pulling into the tiny parking lot at The Shelter. Some of the night staff is leaving and some of the day staff are rolling in. I know that everyone sees us together. Whatever. Fuck it. It is what it is and I’m still going to act ”normal,” whatever that means. I don’t think I know how to be any other way than myself. Jake lifts my hand to his mouth and gives me a quick kiss.

He looks at me. “You ready, babe?”

“Yeah, let’s do this,” I say with mock enthusiasm. I laugh.

We emerge from the confines of the Jeep, grabbing our stuff for the day and make our way inside. Everyone is saying good morning to us. They don’t seem to be looking at us weird. Hmmm, maybe we will go unnoticed?

We make our way to The Shelter’s second floor office for staff and walk in. Everyone is saying hello and goodbye. It’s always a clusterfuck when shifts are changing. Jake and last night’s supervisor are in their own little office going over their shift change. All the day staff, including me, just hang out and wait till the supervisors are finished. They will post the rundown of where we are to be today and lead us through our mini morning meeting. That’s when we are updated on anything of importance that happened over the weekend.

They come out and Jake posts the rundown of where we are all supposed to be today. He tells us about a few incidents which involved the police having to come, again. This is not an unusual activity around here. I look at the rundown and see that I’m on INTAKES. This means that I will be booking in all new residents today and whoever got booked out last night. I’m cool with that. I grab my walkie-talkie and head to my post on the first floor. The first floor is where the dining room, TV room, and common areas are. The second floor is where the dorms are. I see that there is already someone waiting in the reception area. I hope his wait hasn’t been long. I hate to make people wait.

“Hi there, I’m Abby and I’ll be booking you in today. Just let me fire up the computer and I’ll be with you in a few minutes.” I start my computer and get ready.

Why is this dude staring at me?
He’s kind of creeping me out and his gaze is so intense.

“Hey, sir, while I’m waiting would you like to come over and tell me your name and what brings you here,” I holler to the man.

He gets up and holy hell is he ever tall, must be six and a half feet for sure. Dark messy hair, muscular build, and his clothes are clean. He comes over and stands in front of my window. My area is enclosed by plexiglass.

“Hi, Abby, I’m Brad. I’m here because, well, I recently became homeless.” He’s looking me dead in my eyes. His are such a dark brown, they almost look black.

“Ok, Brad, I’m going to need identification, if you have any, and I’m going to ask you a lot of questions. They are standard questions we ask everyone. All information is kept strictly confidential,” I say, looking into his black as night eyes. It looks like he has some little scratches on his face, which makes me wonder how he got them.

Guys come in here all the time with scratches, cuts, blood and it’s not uncommon, but he seems familiar. Running into people you know at The Shelter can happen from time to time.

“Brad, you seem familiar, do I know you from somewhere?”

I can’t place it, but it’s like I know this guy from somewhere.

I’m standing in front of her and we are face to face. She seems to recognize me, but can’t place where. She’ll never remember. She was too stoned and had one too many drinks when I had actually put my hands on her hips. Fuck, I’m getting hard. Thank God, she can’t see that.

“Um, well, I don’t think so. I recently moved here from Vancouver to find work. My wife and I split and I was left with nothing, so I came here to start over.”

She nods her head at me in understanding. I’m sure this is not the first, ‘Oh my wife took everything and now I’m here’ story she’s heard.

“Hmmm, so weird. I could swear I know you from somewhere. What kind of work do you do?”

“I’m an IT Tech so I shouldn’t have to be here too long. There are jobs in the field and I still have a few connections in Toronto, but I just don’t want anyone’s pity. I’ll get back on my feet soon enough,” I say, convincing even myself at this point. She’s totally buying it.

“Brad, do you have a last name,”

“Yes, sorry, I am Brad Bailey and I would show you my ID but my wallet was stolen.”

“Oh man, I’m so sorry. You have to be careful downtown and hold your belongings close to you so nobody steals them. Theft is rampant around here so be more careful,” Abby warns. “Ok, it seems we are done here and I can show you around a bit.” She gets up from the chair and makes sure her walkie-talkie is on her. She comes out from behind the enclosed glass space.

“Sounds good, and thanks, Abby. I really appreciate your help.” I smile at her.

“No problem. This is standard for all new residents. Since we’re on the first floor, let’s do a quick tour here first.” She leads the way and I follow behind her, staring at her delectable ass.

“Brad, have you stayed in a shelter before?” she asks, glancing back at me.

“No, this is my first time,” I answer honestly.

“Yeah, I thought so. So, this here is the TV room for all residents. And over here we have the dining room, where breakfast, lunch and dinner are all served, as well as a snack at about nine o’clock. You must be here to eat your meals if you aren’t working. If you are working, we can give you a bagged lunch to take with you. We like to make sure everyone around here eats,” she says, seriously.

“Well, that’s great because I found a part time job working nights and could probably use that service.”

As I look around, there are men everywhere in various states of homelessness. Some are passed out on tables from partying too hard, some are in line waiting for breakfast, and some are watching television. This doesn’t seem so bad for a shelter. I mean, as far as shelters go, it could be a lot worse I suppose.

“That’s not a problem at all. I’ll make a note in your file so whoever will be assigned as your counselor will know,” she says, looking at me with a soft smile. She’s good at making people feel at ease. This must be why she’s the first point of contact for men when they come here.

“Oh, you mean you won’t be my counselor?” I say with feigned innocence.

“Nope, sorry, I’m just the staff who books people in or out, as the case may be. Our counselors here are great and I’m sure you will get along fine with whomever you are assigned.”

“Why aren’t you a counselor?”

“Counseling is not for me. I’d much rather hang out with the guys and try to get them out of their own heads for a little while. Besides, any resident can talk to any staff about anything so a title doesn’t really make a difference.”

I’m shocked she answered me honestly. I wasn’t expecting that. It’s probably easier for her to just be who she is and it works for her.

“Abby, it’s a good thing you are doing here; helping people who are having a hard time helping themselves,” I say, looking at her with admiration. She blushes.

“Thanks, why don’t we go get you some bed linens and I’ll have one of the other staff members show you around the second floor. I’ve got to get back to my post.”

She’s going up the stairs to pawn me off on someone new. She leads the way to a staff office on the second floor where I meet Mike, Dave, and Jake. Yes,
THE
Jake Jackson.

Abby introduces me to them, being the gracious hostess that she is. “Hey guys, this here is Brad Bailey and he’s all booked in and good to go. He just needs some linens and to be shown his bed. Brad, this is Jake, he’s the supervisor on duty today, so if you have any problems you can talk to him or anyone of these guys.”
Oh, I plan to.

All three of them shake my hand as if they are actually glad to meet me. Grips are firm; they want me to know that they are in charge. They are some pretty big boys working here, but I suppose you need that in a place like this where anything can happen.

Mike and Dave continue the tour with me while Abby steps into the office with Jake. Seeing them at work together is a sight to be behold. I glance behind me as Mike and Dave are pacing themselves forward and I can see Abby smiling sweetly up at Jake. I can see that they will blow their own cover, but maybe there is a way to make it go up in flames, so to speak.

I’m led to a dormitory style room and there are about twenty beds. How do people do this for real? HOLY FUCK! My nose is assaulted by the pungent odor coming from this room and the staff can see it on my face.

“Don’t worry, Brad, you don’t smell it after a little bit,” Mike says. I’m not convinced and it’s showing on my face. They both chuckle.

“We’ve been working here a long time and you do kind of get used to it. I know it’s not pleasant and this is clearly your first time in a shelter,” Dave adds, stating the obvious.

These guys are perceptive. The staff here may be slightly smarter than I had originally thought. They point my bed out and tell me the same things that Abby already told me about keeping all my valuables with me at all times, or else it’s an invitation to be stolen. Since I didn’t come here with anything except the clothes on my back and the small blade in my pocket, I’m good.

“Hey guys, I start my part time job tonight and was wondering what I need to do about being out all night? Will I lose my bed here?” I ask with slight fear in my voice. I need them to think of me as weak and not a threat due to my size.

“Naw, just ask one of the staff for a late pass so you don’t get booked out and they will make a note in your file stating that you are working,” Dave says, informing me about the procedure. I can’t believe it’s that easy. “We try to encourage everyone here who has a job to keep it. How else do you get back on your feet, right? We are very accommodating and want you to succeed so the staff here will help you, provided you follow your case plan.”

He seems like a nice guy. In fact, they both do. Everyone who I’ve come into contact with here has been great. If I really was homeless, I think these people would actually help me. Instead, I will inevitably use them in my plans to destroy Abby and Jake’s relationship. I will use as many staff as I need to accomplish this feat. I have my work cut out for me. But for now, I will play the part of the poor, homeless guy down on his luck, and go to the dining room to eat breakfast.

The line is shorter now and I can’t wait to see what kind of food they serve up in this joint. I look around and nothing looks too bad. The aroma of food mixed with body odor is one I’m not sure I can get used to. I grab my tray and make my way through the line. I grab my plate of food which is eggs and toast with a bowl of cereal. The eggs aren’t real and the toast is cold, but I know I need to eat it if I’m to play the part.

Heading over to the juice machines, I grab some glasses and fill up with the sugar-flavored water. I cringe. Finding a table with the least amount of people is paramount because I’m not ready to mingle with anyone as of yet. I need to watch. I need to observe and this may take me a few days. I have no intention of sleeping here. I will be going back to my apartment since I already told them the story of my fake job. I’m not sleeping in a room with that stench and I don’t want anyone hovering over me. I will spend at least most of the day here checking things out and seeing how everything works; observe the staff dynamics and who talks to whom. Things like that.

I finish what I can of whatever they are trying to pass off as food and throw the rest out. I imagine this is close to what food in jail tastes like and it’s not palatable for me. However, if I was a starving man this would be perfectly acceptable. Cooking for over one hundred men can’t be easy and the meals need to be easy to prepare for this purpose.

I’m curious to see what Abby is doing and I peek to see her booking in more guys when I feel a tap on my shoulder.

“She’s a hot one, isn’t she?” someone with wretched breath whispers into my ear. Turning to look, I see an older man who has clearly seen better days.

“She booked me in and was really nice to me,” I whisper back.

“She’s always nice and gets treated like shit most days with guys yelling at her for things she has no control over. Abby is my favorite staff member here so I watch her to make sure she’s ok,” the man tells me.

“It’s a good thing she’s got you watching her back. What’s your name, sir?” Turning around I stretch out my hand to shake his.

“Name is Trevor, son, and what is yours?” Trevor grips my hand.

“Brad.”

He smiles up at me with no teeth in his mouth. Jesus fuck, what happened to this guy?

Trevor walks over to a table and gestures for me to sit.

“I know what you see, Brad. You see a decrepit old man, no teeth, dirty clothes, stinks and I can only imagine what you must think.” Not really sure where he’s going with this. I nod in understanding. “I’ve been here, off and on, for about ten years since my wife died. I turned to crack and never looked back. I lost the rest of my life and family because of my addiction. Choices are made and consequences happen for choices, whether good or bad, and these are my consequences. Don’t let what happened to me happen to you, son. Fight for your life and you will possibly get it back. I’ve seen it happen with my own eyes.”

I look into his old blue eyes and see immense sadness lurking behind them. I almost pity him. Almost.

I spend the rest of my day observing the staff and the dynamics of how this place seems to work. I wonder to myself why Abby even works in a place like this.

I suppose I’ll be able to take care of us both, once we are together.