Page 70 of Brassy Bigwig

I get a brief flash of taking Chloe on the back of the sofa last night, and it causes my dick to twitch. Before I allow myself to reminisce about it too much, my phone vibrates in my pocket again.

Shelby: His name is Blake Myers. Chloe met him at a bar about two years ago. He seemed normal at first, but Chloe wasn’t in to him enough to want to pursue anything further. After that night, they kept “bumping into one another.” But really, he had looked her up, got ahold of our address, her school schedule, where she worked. He tried to convince her it was fate that they kept meeting and that she should give him a shot. She was too nice to him and continued letting him down gently.

I suddenly feel even worse about accusing her of working for me with the intent of blackmailing me. If this is the reason she gives random guys a fake name, I don’t blame her one bit.

I’m such a fucking dickhead.

Shelby: Finally, I told her he was never going to get the hint if she wasn’t firm with him. When she finally told him enough was enough, he went crazy. Trashed the coffee shop that they were in. Cops were called, etc. After that, he would call us and hang up all the time. Then he started showing up at our apartment. He would wait out front of our building for Chloe to come or go. He showed up in a few of her classes. He never really did anything, just stood around, being creepy as fuck. Until he somehow broke in and ended up spending the night in Chloe’s closet. She didn’t realize he was there until the next morning when she went to get dressed.

Me: Jesus. She didn’t mention that.

I’m so furious I could kill someone. Now I really wish I had punched that asshole back at the bar.

Shelby: We moved after that, and Chloe got a restraining order. She even got a new job, but he still found us. Finally, she went to work for her father so he could keep a close eye on her. We moved again, but we didn’t put her name on the lease this time. We hoped that would make it harder for him to find her. We got a call from a detective about a month after our second move. He told us Blake had been arrested on charges unrelated to Chloe’s order of protection.

Shelby: I guess he’s out now…

Yeah, I guess so.

Me: Thank you for the info. I’m going to get a guy on him. I don’t trust that he won’t try anything again.

Shelby: Reed works for a security company. He is going to install an expensive home security system in the apartment for us.

That makes me feel a little better. Although they don’t deter some people like they should. I don’t believe for one second this psychopath has turned over a new leaf. And I don’t believe he was at that bar tonight by chance.

Me: Does Reed’s company do any sort of cell phone tracing? Anything where we can hack into this shithead’s phone and see what he’s up to?

Me: Also, I’ve been in the market for a security system for my new place. I’d like to interview Reed and see what packages his company offers. Can you give him my number, and have him call me next week to set up an appointment?

Shelby: Sure. Reed said he can’t legally hack into his cell phone…

I recognize that Shelby is hinting toward Reed being able to hack it illegally. Before I pursue that avenue, I change my mind. I can get a PI to do it, and that will alleviate any risk of Reed getting caught.

Me: Okay. Don’t worry about it. I’ll talk to Reed next week. Thanks Shelby.

Shelby: Back atcha, Zeus.

I stare at the screen and can’t stop a hint of a smile at the nickname. I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Chloe breaks my concentration. “My feet were cold, so I went looking for a pair of socks.”

As she comes around the edge of the couch in nothing more than my white t-shirt, a pair of pink underwear, and white crew socks, I realize it’s going to be even harder than I thought to keep my hands off of her tonight.

“Of course not. My socks are your socks.”

She giggles before climbing onto the sofa and curling her body next to mine.

“What would you like to watch?” I inquire.

“It honestly doesn’t matter,” she yawns. “The bath kind of took a lot out of me. I don’t know how long I’ll last.”

I run my hand up and down her arm, consoling her once again. She knows it's the shock of tonight’s events that are making her tired. She’s trying to minimize its effect on her by blaming it on the bath. I know she’s doing it for my benefit, and as much as I don’t want her to ever have to feel that way, I admire her wanting to set my mind at ease.

* * *

The rest of the weekend was pure bliss. We never left the penthouse. We watched movies. She introduced me to the Pitch Perfect franchise. That’s not something I thought I’d ever see in my lifetime, but I actually found myself tapping my foot and nodding along to the acapella beats.

I sent Ivan on a field trip to the toy store, and he came back with some board games and a few decks of cards, which ultimately ended with us playing strip poker. We even turned Yahtzee into a lively game of dirty dice.

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