Page 16 of Irresistible Silver Fox

The following week, after silence from the stalker. JJ simply texted me one message "Done." At first, I panicked, worried he'd got rid of her for good. I called him up to air these concerns, feeling a little lame doing so before I remembered this could be murder I was asking about.

JJ laughed hysterically at my assumption, the first and only time I've heard him laugh. He reassured me that she was very much alive. He said he'd found "insurmountable evidence" in her flat that she was a Grade A stalker of not just me but other sports personalities. Is it awful to admit that made me feel a little less special?

He told me that he’d simply presented her with his built-up evidence, informed her that she could go down a long time for this if we chose to go the legal route, or she could accept a small settlement to agree to never speak of this and to stop all her stalking activities.

To my surprise, it worked; I never heard another thing from her. Since then, JJ and I have somewhat remained friends. I have recommended him to numerous people who need help with similar problems or anything else you might need a PI for. I stopped recommending him, though, after one of my old teammates asked me for the number but didn’t say what for, and then it turned out that he was trying to catch his wife cheating. He was successful, and then they had a messy divorce. Being the one to pass on JJ's details made me feel partly responsible.

I've been in this position before, and I know I had to take action. Luckily, I know exactly who to call. I punch in the number on my phone, my hands shaking. The line picks up on the first ring.

"Zak," a deep, monotone voice answers. My pulse accelerates as I respond, my voice steady despite my apprehension.

"JJ, I need you." There is a short pause at the other end of the line before he speaks again.

"Talk to me."

"Some asshole has a compromising photo of me. He's sent me an email about it and is blackmailing me for cash," I explain.

Another pause before he answers. "I'm guessing you don't know who did this?"

I swallow hard and shake my head. "Not a clue, figured it has gotta be someone from town as it seems like they know me and the girl in the photo. And the spot where it’s taken is off the beaten track."

JJ clicks his tongue. "Anything I need to know about this girl?"

A wave of guilt and shame ripples through me. I know it’s best to disclose all available information to JJ, but I’m scared of what his reaction may be. We've always had a mutual level of respect, and revealing to him that she was Dave’s daughter, I fear, might make him judge me.

"No, but she's a friend, and I don't want this getting out, for either of our sakes. How quick can you get out here?" I continue, my throat tightening as I remember JJ's wandering nature. I’m not even sure where he’s based at the moment, or ever really. He’s a nomad of sorts, bouncing from place to place.

"I'm not in the country," he replies quietly.

“Shit,” I murmur as I run my hands through my hair.

JJ's voice is reassuring. "No, no, it's alright. I can do this from afar," I hear some clicking noises and then some tapping and whirring. It sounds like he’s firing up a computer. “Forward me the email and anything else, any people in town that don't like you or this girl maybe, and I'll see what I can do. People reveal a lot more about themselves in these sorts of things than you might think."

I nod, then remember he can't see me. "Okay, yeah. I'll send that through now," I agree.

"Cool. I'll let you know as soon as I get somewhere." JJ speaks, then the line goes silent. I know he doesn't like to be thanked, so I instead send up a silent prayer of thanks.

Izzie

I tilt my head to the side and examine my appearance in the full-length mirror while keeping my top pulled up to reveal my stomach. Although you can't tell that I'm pregnant just yet, my stomach, which used to be toned, appears to be permanently bloated now. I am making a face at myself in the mirror while rubbing and sticking out my stomach. No longer do I feel queasy in the mornings, and the exhaustion that I experienced during the first few weeks has completely disappeared. Something has significantly shifted within my body. Trying to picture what my appearance might be like in a couple of months' time. I let out a sigh as I tug my shirt closer to my chest, hoping no one could see my secret. As I examine my appearance in the mirror, a dull ache spreads throughout my chest. Under my shirt, there is a barely perceptible bump that I notice. In spite of the fact that I’m secretly hoping it’s not true and that it would vanish on its own, I have to face the facts. I am pregnant.

And now, looking In the mirror, I realize something. I realize that I am attached. Against my better judgment, I allowed myself to fall in love and, with it, build a fantasy world where Zak and I would be together forever, raising our child in bliss. But it’s all for naught, as the father of my unborn child has made it all too clear that we would never be a family. He told me explicitly that we would never be together. Just as I thought Zak and I were doing well, he decided to let me know that he would never be the one for me, crushing all my fanatical ideas about us being one happy family. I knew it was just a dream, but hearing him spell it out to me yesterday in the car felt like a punch in the gut. Rationally, I know Zak doesn't owe me anything; he has no idea about Baby, and he never promised to be my boyfriend or anything more than what he was. But still, it hurt to hear him say it. At that moment, my heart was shattered into a million tiny pieces, and despite my best efforts, it still hasn't recovered.

So, I gather my strength, determined to focus on the present and move away from my past. I would distance myself from Zak; no more beachside rendezvous. I’m certain that this summer, finishing the work on Zak’s house and working at my dad's house, is all I need to bring back the love and contentment I recently felt in my heart.

Furthermore, I’m set on a plan to return to California alone, settling down there and finishing my studies, all while raising my child alongside my best friend, Charlotte. We can co-raise as non-lesbian parents while I finish my degree part-time. It sounds easy enough – however, something tells me that climbing that mountain of responsibilities will be far from simple.

I’m happy with that plan; I decided last night that when Zak picked me up in the morning, I would be civil but not friendly. But then, Zak continued to play mind games with me by texting me last night, saying that he was sick. Sick?! I'd been with him not four hours before, and he was absolutely fine. He was a picture of health. For some reason, he’d decided to avoid me. Even though I’d just decided to do the exact same thing, it bothers me that he’d managed to get there first.

Suddenly, I hear a voice call up the stairs, causing me to pull my shirt down and turn away from the mirror.

“Izzzz! Come on, we're waiting!" Luke shrieks up the stairs. Since I had an impromptu day off, Dad decided that we all needed a family day at the beach. It would be nice, actually. A part of me is saddened when I see Luke and Dad gathering all the things we needed from the garage. Seeing the two of them work together to load the car for a beach day reminds me of how I lacked that in my own childhood. Sure, there had been days out with Granny and Grandad, but I don't remember once doing this sort of thing with Dad. In the off-season, he would visit us more than in the on-season, but they were usually fleeting visits to say hi and play some sports with me. They were never so luxurious as to have the time for a full beach day.

Dad is finally giving a kid the attention he deserves, creating moments and memories that I had desperately wished for in my own childhood. It seems unfair that I was too late to this realization, but I choose to ignore this envy that is burning in me. I push that jealousy down. After all, it isn't Luke's fault that Dad can be the Dad that I'd always wanted now. I'd just been unlucky with timing, I guess. Sometimes, I see Dad look over at me with sadness in his eyes, and I wonder if he knows what I am thinking. Sometimes I’m even tempted to tell him what I’m thinking. To shout it at him, force him to listen, and force him to feel all of my anguish.

I plaster on a smile and accept the colorful sarong that Mel hands me, insisting that I wrap myself with it to protect my skin on the beach. I’m beginning to see that even though she is a little crazy, she does care about me. She definitely cares about Dad, I think as I watch her hand him a colorful sarong too.

I hold in a giggle as I see Dad accept the sarong with a grumble. A soft breeze blows my hair back from my face as we pile into the mock-converted van, brown from the years of accumulated beach sand and sea spray. Dad, enthusiastic as always, tugs at his sarong with a look of slight bemusement under his sunhat, causing a flood of laughter from all of us. I catch myself feeling like a part of a real, wholesome family. Mel puts her arm around me, and we drive off to the beach, leaving behind the echoes of laughter in our wake.

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