Page 64 of Caught Up

Lauren

Irushed after Junior, watchinghim shrug into a leather jacket and then pull a motorcycle helmet on. He swung his leg over a street bike, slapped his visor down, and revved the engine, taking off like a shot into the night.

I stared after him, feeling my world shift on its axis, because I recognized that gear and that bike. I’d seen them on my block too many times to count. Did Juniorlivein my neighborhood? Had he been nearby this whole time? Or had he just been...watching me?

Ryan and Taylor appeared at my side.

“I knew he’d be a biker,” Taylor said. “Maybe if you ask him nicely, he’ll fuck you on it after you make up.”

I remained quiet, mind racing, and my friends turned to me.

“Hey, are you all right?” Ryan asked.

I shook my head and reached down, digging around in my purse until I pulled out that coin thing I’d found earlier. “Do you recognize this from anywhere? Another club we’ve been to or something?”

“Nope,” Taylor said, looking it over.

Ryan took it from me and gave it a closer inspection, turning it toward the nearby streetlight. “There’s writing on it. I think it says SecPro. Don’t they make spy gear?”

Cool. Cool, cool. No need to freak out. It definitely wasn’t a tracking device or anything. That would be crossing a line that not even Junior would...I let the thought go, recognizing it for the bullshit it was. Junior absolutely would, and he’d had plenty of opportunities to plant it on me thanks to the fact that whenever I got close to him, the rational part of my brain fucked off to the moon.

What was it he’d said? He’d spent the past decade protecting me? My mind spun back to his confession about Kelly and Principal Michaels, the way he’d gone after them on my behalf. Who was to say it had stopped there?

I thought of Nonna’s frantic phone call after church to make sure I got home okay. If I called her back and asked whose tires had been slashed, would she rattle off a list of all the church ladies who’d been talking shit about me before Mass? And the week before that, when Councilwoman Blackwell had suddenly decided to take a meeting with me after months of politely telling me to go fuck myself, was that Junior? And the week before that, when the parking tickets I went to pay mysteriously weren’t on file, and the week before that, when...

No. He couldn’t have been behind everything. That would have been insane. Junior was a lot of things, but he wasn’t crazy.

Suddenly, the smile he’d worn while almost ripping that man’s arm off his body bubbled up, and I wondered if maybe he was a little batshit after all.

“It’s a tracker,” Ryan said, showing me the webpage they’d pulled up on their phone. “But it’s not supposed to be available to the public, so I don’t know how one would end up in your...oh.”

“Junior?” Taylor asked.

I nodded.

Angry male voices rose from behind us. The drunk man was being escorted out, his busted arm cradled in front of his chest, blood streaming down his face. It was time to get back inside where it was safe.

I beelined straight to the bar once we were in. “Give me a whole bottle.”

Scott, tonight’s bartender, didn’t even bat an eye, handing it over like the professional he was. We took it back to the alcove I’d been in with Junior, and that’s when I spotted his phone still sitting on the table, the phone I clearly remembered him—oh, no. I wrenched open my purse, looking for mine, but it wasn’t inside; he’d accidentally taken it instead of his. Unease crept up my spine.Wasit accidental, or had he done this on purpose just to have an excuse to see me again?

“What?” Taylor asked. “You look like you’ve had anotheroh shitmoment.”

I filled my roommates in on the phone swap.

“Here,” Ryan said, offering theirs to me, my contact already open. “You can use mine to ask him to bring it back.”

I took it from them and tapped the call button.

It rang so long that I didn’t think Junior would answer. When he finally did, I heard his motorcycle idling in the background. “Fuck, I have your phone.”

“Yeah, I noticed. Can I have it back?”

“No. I’m already on the other side of town, and I got shit to do. I’ll bring it to church tomorrow. Whatever you do, don’t answer mine if anyone calls.” And then he hung up on me.

I handed Ryan’s phone back to them with shaking fingers. Where did he get the nerve to be mad atme?I wasn’t the one who’d stalked him. I wasn’t the one who’d hurt people on his account and done god only knew what else. And I definitely wasn’t the one who’d denigratedhisline of work.

With a twist, I popped the champagne cork. And then I refilled my empty glass and slugged half of it back in one gulp, nose burning from the bubbles.

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