Page 2 of Secret Admirer

I’m safe.

Turning on my car, I blast the air conditioner trying to cool off. Even with the sun dipped behind the mountains, it’s still sweltering. I seem to be the only native in the area who isn’t throwing on a jacket to stay warm as the temperature cools down. Just as I’m about to pull out of the parking lot, I swear I see someone move along the exterior of the building. Throwing my car into drive, my tires burn rubber as I hurry to get the hell out of there and take off to get some dinner. For the first time in days, I’m starved. I know just the thing to help revive my system. In-N-Out Burger.

I order a burger and fries with a chocolate shake at the drive-thru and then find a parking place to inhale my food since I’m too much of a mess to eat around others. I take my last sip of my milkshake ten minutes later feeling full and finally ready to get some much-needed sleep.

Having barely slept for the last week and a half has taken a toll on my mind. Today, I almost cut off six inches of someone's hair when she only wanted a trim. Thank God I caught myself before I lost a client. I need to get my head back in the game before I’m fired. There’s only so much Trixie will put up with before I’m out on my ass. Not that I need my job, but I love it and Trixie.

Yawning, I get out of my car and make my way into my building. Only a couple more days here and I won’t have to put up with my loud ass neighbors. That puts a smile on my face. The first one in a long time.

Pulling out my keys, I start to unlock my door when I see someone dart around the corner at the end of the hall. Since my parents’ death, I’ve been on edge, feeling as if someone is watching me. I’ve been told it’s understandable, but this feels like more than grief and sleep deprivation.

“Hello?” I call out. I wince at how shaky my voice sounds as it echoes down the hall.

Maybe my mindisplaying tricks on me.

Why would someone be at Tricks Salon and my apartment? Because there isn’t. There’s no one lurking in the shadows waiting to get me. This isn’t a horror movie. I’m imagining things from lack of sleep. I just need a good night's rest and then I won’t be hallucinating people who aren’t there.

Still, I can’t help how I feel. After Dwayne, my ex-boyfriend, showed up, there’s been more than a few times I’ve felt as if I’m being watched. The moment my front door is closed, I flip the two deadbolts feeling marginally better. At this moment, I wish I had one of those bars that go across your door like you see in movies. Surely, they’re real. Why else would they show them? Throwing my purse on the counter, I start stripping out of my work clothes as I make my way toward the bathroom for a nice hot shower.

Standing underneath the spray, I hang my head and let the water wash away all the stress from the last week. I don’t move until the water cools and only then do I quickly wash my body. My hand pulls up short when I hear a thud from somewhere in my apartment. Quietly I slide the shower door open and peek out into the steamy bathroom. Grabbing a towel, I wrap it around my body as I tiptoe to the door. Placing my ear to the door, I hold my breath as I listen for any sounds, but I hear nothing but the clicking from my ceiling fan as it spins.

Letting out my breath, I open the door and slip through. My eyes scan my bedroom as I silently step out into the hall. With each step, my shoulders climb higher and higher until they're up by my ears.

So much for a nice relaxing shower.

Luckily or unluckily for me, my floor plan is open. I couldn’t hide if I wanted to and neither can anyone else. I see no one. I hear no one.

Then I spot my purse.

I threw it on the counter when I walked in, but now it’s sitting on the barstool. Maybe it slid off and landed there and I didn’t notice. Only the bar stool is on the side facing the door and it would slide to the other side. Right?

I’m going crazy.

I must have spaced out and sat it down before I made my way to the bathroom.

Unease fills my stomach no matter how much I try to convince myself nothing is amiss.

Searching through my purse, I find my phone ready to call 911 if I need to. My fingers type out a quick text as I scan my living room and kitchen again.

Dad: I heard a noise in my apartment. I’m sure it’s nothing.

I hit send and immediately tears well up in my eyes. My dad isn’t going to respond. Neither is my mother.

To make myself feel better, I check my front door to make sure it’s still locked. It is. Next, I make the rounds of checking every window to make sure they’re locked as well. Not that anyone is going to scale the five stories to get in through one of my windows. Lastly, I check the sliding glass door leading out to my tiny balcony only to find it unlocked. I step out in only my towel, looking at the balconies of my neighbors. No one is outside, and no one is lying in wait to attack me either. With one last look, I close the door and make sure to lock it. I can’t remember the last time I used it and I’m not always the best at locking it, so I shrug it off as my overactive imagination.

A knock comes from down the hall causing me to jump.

“Delivery,” a deep voice calls out.

A shiver runs through me, and I try to push away the disquieting feeling that’s settled in the pit of my stomach.

I guess I’ll have to have a drink if I want to relax and fall asleep before the sun comes up.

Pulling out the tequila I throw back a shot and let the burn settle my nerves. It doesn’t work. There doesn’t seem to be anything that works these last few days. Maybe it’s my guilt for fighting with my parents for so many years. Now it all seems pointless. They’re gone and I’m alone.

* * *

My alarm goes off only minutes after I fall asleep—or so it feels. I hit the snooze button repeatedly until I have no other choice but to get up and get ready for work.

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