Page 81 of Shadowed Obsession

When she finally turns toward me, she lets out a yelp before leveling me with a stare. I’m the first one to break the silence.

“Really? After all we’ve been through? You scream when you see me?”

She huffs. “When you scare me, I do.”

“I whistled,” I exclaim, reminding her of our little agreement.

“Yeah, but I didn’t expect you to be in my fucking car. What are you doing here?” Her question is less breathy, gaining volume now as she pins me with her glare.

“I’m here to enjoy a movie. What areyoudoing here?”

She settles her plump lips in a line, and I try not to focus on how gorgeous she is when she’s annoyed.

“Minding my own goddamn business. You should try it.”

“Can you recommend a book on that?” I tease.

She rolls her eyes, shoving the tub of popcorn into my hands. “I didn’t plan on sharing my snacks.” She reaches behind her for a fleece blanket she lays over her legs, adjusting her seat so she’s farther from the steering wheel and reclining. “And don’t eat allmy damn popcorn,” she snaps, scooping a handful from the tub and tossing it into her mouth.

“I won’t make any promises, but I’ll replace what I eat.”

“Fine. Can I go anywhere without you tagging along? Want to be the third wheel on my date, too?” she asks, staring expectantly at me.

The lights start to dim, serving as the perfect save to avoid this question.

“Shh. The movie’s starting. Give me some of that blanket,” I add, shoving a fistful of popcorn into my mouth.

34/

a lesson in eradication

Deirdre

9:07 a.m. | 4 days after ‘the seventh incident’

After a call with my realtor, anxiety builds in my gut. I toss back my meds with a swig of water and wait for the calm to wash over me. They’re not backing down from this bid, and for the first time during this whole experience, I’m nervous I’m going to lose.

I could use some advice, but I’d prefer it from another Black woman instead of Dad or Darius. Mom isn’t as cutthroat, and since we’re cut from the same cloth, that leaves one person.

Regina.

I check the time before dialing her number. Her kids should be at school by now, so she may pick up. The line rings three times, and when I think it’s going to connect to voicemail, the line picks up, but she doesn't speak right away.

After a moment, I hear her voice say, “My bad. I had to put on my headphones.”

“Are you busy?”

“Nah, I can talk. What’s up?”

It sounds like she’s in the car, and I hear something like muffled screams on her end of the phone. I probably shouldn’t ask, but it may keep my mind off of this bid for a moment.

“Are you alone? It sounds like someone is screaming over there.”

She scoffs. “Noise cancelling headphones, my ass. Goddamn chloroform wore off. Excuse me for a sec,” she grumbles, and I hear a thumping sound that I can only assume is her banging on the roof of her car. “Hey! If you don’t shut the fuck up, you’re getting knocked out again. I’m trying to have a conversation here,” she exclaims, her thick New York accent in full effect. After a deep sigh, she continues, “No manners, this fucking guy. Sorry about that. What’s going on?”

“Where is Price?” I ask, ignoring her question.

“I shook him. He follows meeverywhereand claims he’s ‘following Cidro’s orders,’” she admits in a mocking tone, poorly imitating his Scottish accent. “Sometimes, I just want to be left alone. I don’t see the fucking issue.”

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