Page 62 of Love on Tour
Deal.
She showed Julianna the text.
“Now what?” Julianna asked.
“We could probably weasel our way into a party somewhere . . . or . . .”
“Waffle House?”
“Yes.”
Decked out in their formal wear, they went to Waffle House and indulged on breakfast food, reliving the moment when Austin won. They hadn’t heard from Phoebe and decided not to contact her until time had passed and she was less mad.
When she and Julianna parted ways and headed home, Christine believed that nothing could ruin her mood. It was a night to be cherished, recalled, and remembered. And she hated to admit it, but knowing Matt was on the bus heading to California with the guys, and not in another woman’s arms, made it that much better.
She walked up the stairs to her apartment and stopped short when she saw a large cooking pot in front of her door. She fell against the wall, making herself as small as possible. Could someone see her? Were they still there? She peered at the object inside the pot. A stuffed rabbit? She crept toward her apartment, her eyes darting left and right while she kept her back to the wall.
“No. No, no, no.” As she reached the door, she heard footsteps. She fumbled with her keys, trying to unlock all three locks as quickly as possible. Her hands shook, making it impossible to get the key into the little keyhole. “Breathe, Christine. Breathe.” The footsteps were gone. Must have been a neighbor downstairs. She forced air in and out of her lungs and steadied her hands to unlock the door. She grabbed the pot, and, once inside, pushed the door firmly closed before bolting it. There was a note tied around the stuffed animal’s neck.
Enough is enough. Tonight was the final straw. How did YOU manage to steal the limelight? Your hold on him ends now. No more warnings. When you least expect it, expect it.
She rushed through the house, looking under the bed, in the closets, in the shower, and on the deck.
Nobody was there.
She double-checked the outside doors and sat on her couch, still in her dress, shaking. She called Julianna.
“Someone left a cooking pot and a stuffed bunny on my doormat.”
“Get out of there. Come to my place,” Julianna said.
“I don’t want to go outside. I’m afraid they’re waiting for me.” Christine ran through the house, pulling down blinds and triple-checking door and window locks.
“I’m on my way.”
“Thank you,” she said.
Julianna showed up in a pair of sweats with a backpack over her shoulder.
“I’m staying with you tonight . . . but, Christine?”
“Yes?”
“I insist you call the police.”
“I already did. They told me if I didn’t feel I was in immediate danger, I should come down to the police station tomorrow and file another report.”
“Let’s see the offending object,” Julianna said.
Christine led her to where it sat on the kitchen counter. Julianna pulled the little stuffed bunny out of the pot. “It’s like they found the creepiest-looking stuffed bunny they could. Its eyes are crossed and its whiskers are all snarled. And what’s with its weird smile? Do rabbits even smile?”
“Why do creepy-looking stuffed bunnies even exist?”
“This is so 1980s. Come on. At least be original,” Julianna said.
Christine hugged her. “I can always count on you.”
“I’m starting to think this is more than just a superfan,” Julianna said.
