Page 17 of Fade With Me

Hypothetically speaking, if he were a deadly assassin, I’d likely be safe as long as I wasn’t the intended target. After all, it’s bad for business to go around killing random civilians willy-nilly.

But the fact that I was even entertaining such a thought was a clear sign I was craving social interaction. The extremes I was considering for the sake of friendship were downright unhinged.

On the other hand, if my suspicionswerecorrect, having someone like Zeke in my corner could be a blessing in disguise. A friend like him would make me feel protected and cared for. And let’s not forget, he’d been nothing but kind and respectful from the start. For whatever reason, I trusted him.

My eyes dropped to the price tag of the dress, and my heart sank. The amount was staggering—my entire savings in one purchase. It was impossible to justify, no matter how much I longed for it. I gave it one last wistful glance before reluctantly returning it to the rack.

As I wandered toward the jewelry display, my eyes landed on a delicate gold bracelet. The slender chain had this simple, chic vibe, and when I saw the price, a wave of serendipity washed over me. It was exactly what I had been looking for.

The store clerk approached, her smile warm and inviting. “Would you like to try one on?”

I nodded, my finger hovering over the sparkling metal. “May I try this one?”

She followed my gaze, a gleam in her eyes, and smiled. “Of course, coming right up!”

With practiced ease, she removed the bracelet and extended her hand to me. As she fastened it around my wrist, she looked up with a questioning expression, waiting for my approval.

I lifted my arm, admiring the bracelet’s effortless beauty. “This is perfect,” I said, my voice full of certainty. “I’ll take it.”

After wrapping up my shopping trip, I headed home to get ready for dinner with Reggie. Every month, he treated me to a meal out, giving me a welcome break from the endless cycle of cooking and cleaning up afterward.

As I stepped into the old farmhouse, I made my way upstairs to my bedroom, the pulsing sound of Reggie’s music spilling from his lair as he prepared for our night out. I silently hoped he’d be in a good mood this evening.

Once inside, I let my naturally red locks fall free from the clip, spirals tumbling down my back. The serum I worked through my hair tamed the most unruly strands, but I smiled at the familiar wildness—something I’d come to embrace over time.

I slipped into a silky white dress that hugged my form just right, finishing the look with black stilettos that made my legs seem impossibly long. A bold sweep of crimson on my lips was the final touch, its pop of color a sharp contrast to the otherwise understated tones.

Just as I was admiring myself in the mirror, a loud knock on the door startled me. “Brynie girl, you ready to party?!” Reggie’s voice rang out.

I snapped the lipstick shut, grabbed my purse, and called back, “Be right out!”

At the restaurant, Reggie handed over our names to the hostess, who led us to a quiet, intimate table with a warm smile. The waiter arrived promptly, took our drink orders, and gave us the menus before quietly stepping away to let us deliberate.

As I scanned the menu, I noticed something telling: no prices. This place catered to the affluent, the ones who didn’t need to check costs before ordering.

Reggie’s financial situation had always been a bit of a mystery. He never flaunted wealth, nor did he splurge on expensive possessions, but it was obvious he was comfortable. His quiet confidence spoke volumes. He had a substantial safety net, even if I wasn’t allowed to see it.

Since day one, Reggie had made it clear that I needed to maintain my financial independence—no handouts, no free rides. But sometimes, especially during these lavish dinners, I couldn’t shake the feeling that they were his way of subtly showing me just how much more he had than I did.

His voice broke through my thoughts, dripping in a smug, patronizing tone. “Notice how the waiter was so courteous and efficient, Brynie? You might want to take a page from his book. If you followed his lead, you might find yourself earning more tips.”

It was as if I were a student, and he the wise professor, imparting his vast wisdom. It didn’t sit well with me.

I plastered on a sweet smile, my fingers digging into the edge of the menu as I fought to keep the sarcastic retort from slipping out. “I’m always mindful of my time at each table. Never been one to linger too long.”

Reggie lazily swiped his tongue over his teeth, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Really? Sal’s account differs. He says you can get…a bit clingy with the customers.”

My jaw clenched, struggling to hold on to any shred of composure. So that’s what Sal’s been saying about me. I couldn’t believe it. “That’s a complete lie! My customers love me.”

The words felt hollow, a tight knot forming in my stomach. Had I lingered too long at Zeke’s table? The thought gnawed at me. Had I crossed a line? I wasn’t desperate for validation…was I?Had I come across as clingy?

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say.” His attention drifted to a beautiful blonde sitting nearby, his fingers tapping absentmindedly on the table as he let out a long sigh, the conversation clearly no longer holding his interest.

The waiter returned with his notepad in hand, quickly taking our orders and refilling our drinks with a practiced sweep of his arm. After a brief nod, he turned and slipped away, his footsteps fading into the quiet of the restaurant.

Reggie took a slow sip of his Scotch, the ice clinking against the glass as he watched me over the rim. He leaned in just slightly, gaze sharp. “So, how’s the dressmaking going?”

I tucked a few rebellious curls behind my ear, my fingers lingering in my hair for a moment as I shifted my weight. “It’s a work in progress. I’m fitting it in around everything else—doing what I can, when I can.”

---