Brazen Girl by Ali Dean Page 0,39
to Griff, who’s talking with Moses and Taylor. Conversation stops when we approach and I glance at Brie, who notices it too.
“That was pretty fucking obvious, you guys,” I tell them. “Was Moses telling you confidential Shred Live info or something?” I’m joking, but I can’t really think of anything else the guys would be discussing that would be secretive to me or Brie.
“Actually, we were talking about Jordan’s stalkers,” Griff says, cringing a little.
“Jordan has stalkers?” Brie doesn’t hide her alarm.
“She kind of had one a while ago. It’s why she shut down her social media accounts,” I explain.
“So my warning about crazy jealous girls wasn’t really necessary then?”
“No, your warning was needed. You were talking about the pro circle. The stalker situation was about fangirls.”
Taylor scratches the back of his head. “So, the one who took the picture of her at our apartment building?”
“The one who thinks she’s destined to be with me and that Jordan was the only obstacle in her way,” Griff clarifies.
“Yeah, her profile now says, ‘The future Mrs. Griffin Perry,’” Moses adds.
“Yeah, I know. Razzleydazzles or whatever. What about her?”
“We think it might be that chick Fliss, remember her?” Moses asks. “She was all over Griff with her British friend Daisy at that little party I had.”
“Yeah, I remember.” I share a glance with Griff. We ended up giving them a ride back to campus, and they propositioned us, even with Jordan in the van too.
“They’re here,” Griff tells me.
“Here?”
“Yeah, they were in the audience, watching the contest.”
“I thought they didn’t even skateboard.”
“They don’t.”
This sits between all of us for a beat before Taylor connects the dots. “I bet they’re the ones who were harassing Jordan on Instagram. You said there were others who made some digs, but there were two main accounts that really attacked her hard.”
“Yeah, the one that calls herself ‘the future Mrs. Griffin Perry’ in her profile and comments everywhere about it on the internet,” Griff says with a little shiver that looks pretty authentic. The guy is freaked out and I don’t blame him. She didn’t exactly go away when Jordan got off the internet. Not for Griff, that is.
“The other one, Bubbles, seemed to be more interested in me, but thankfully she hasn’t been very active since filming started.”
Taylor rubs his hands together. “I bet they got VIP tickets and will show tonight. Want me to pretend to be their consolation prize when you turn them down? Then I can take a look at their phones.”
“Easy there, Detective Sly,” Brie says with a chuckle. “These two hotshots have all kind of women admirers. The ones who bullied Jordan could be total strangers.”
“Now that we’re brainstorming, it even crossed my mind it could be Sarah or Camila with the way they targeted me at Shred Live. ‘Course I don’t know how stalkers’ minds work and if the one destined for Griff would bother with me to get his attention,” I explain, half joking. No one’s really brought it up since Jordan left at the end of the last semester and the cops shut us down. I didn’t know I wasn’t the only one sometimes haunted by it.
We’ve got plenty of people who think they know us through social media and feel connected to us even though we don’t know them back. But those two accounts and the messages to Jordan definitely went overboard. I hate not knowing who they are, knowing they’re still out there.
Brie looks around before adding, “And it could be Kelly. One of them at least.”
Griff steps closer to me and lowers his voice. “They’re here. A bunch of people are coming through the doors so they must have just started taking VIP tickets. What’s our game?”
“Let’s talk to them at least. I want to measure the level of crazy. Maybe we can’t bring charges for how they messed with Jordan, but it’d be nice to have some peace of mind if we’re somehow able to confirm it’s them.”
“My offer still stands,” Taylor volunteers.
I glance over my shoulder, and sure enough, two blondes are beelining in our direction. They don’t even bother with the open bar. Nope, they’re here for us.
“Hey Griff! Taylor!” the one without a British accent, Fliss, calls out.
My eyes swing to Griff and Taylor at the familiarity in her greeting. Griff mutters in my ear, “We’ve already been accosted a couple times at the park these past two days.”
Not sure how I managed to avoid it, but I’m not complaining.
Fliss beams, clearly