Forbidden Fruit (Shannon Cheney) - By Ann Aguirre Page 0,10
and I don’t like the feeling. As I shop, I watch the way he keeps pace. I can’t decide if this is regular pervert stalking or if he’s observing me for some other, possibly more alarming, reason.
It’s fine. There are other people around.
I’m a little nervous about walking home, but there are no back streets. One of the reasons my half of the rent is so cheap is because the apartment’s on a main road, noisy, but there’s a bus stop nearby and shopping within walking distance. It’s not upscale, but most of Laredo has seen better days. On the positive side, it only costs three hundred a month to live here, plus my share of the utilities.
The creeper’s still following me.
There’s only one cash register, so he waits for a few more people to get in line behind me, while he pretends to study a display. Then he joins the queue. My heart beats faster as I wait my turn. After check out, I have two dollars and forty-six cents left. Could be worse. I already gave Maria the rent money, and the other bills aren’t due until later. I might need to take a second job in order to afford tuition, but that leaves the excellent question of when I’ll find the time to attend classes.
Whatever. I hurry out of the store, wondering if he’ll drop his items and follow. When he does, it feels like ice freezing at the base of my spine. Instead of leaving the parking lot, I set my bags down and get out my phone. When Mr. Nondescript pops out of the market, I snap a picture.
“I’m sending this to my boyfriend, who’s a cop.” Jesse isn’t, but this asshole doesn’t know that. “If I catch you tailing me again, I’m sure he’ll find something to charge you with.”
The man stills, scanning me head to toe at a leisurely pace, and I feel like I need a hot shower. Or maybe I need to sit in the shower to rock and weep…because I’ve never felt tainted by a look before. In the afternoon sunlight, his eyes glint strangely, first yellow, and then red, like blood’s flowing inside his sclera.
“Well-played, Ms. Cheney. I assure you, you won’t spot me next time. Not until it’s too late.”
“What does that even mean?” It sounded like a threat.
But he’s already striding away, crossing the busy street with a speed and agility entirely foreign to his build. Belatedly I realize, that bastard knew my name. At that point, my flight instinct kicks in. I grab my stuff and sprint all the way home.
Maria’s at work, so she doesn’t witness my collapse against the front door. All my natural intuition tells me that guy wasn’t normal. I feel like such a dipshit since I’ve been full of big ideas about taking care of myself, but this is weightier than dinner or the phone bill. So I type a succinct message to Jesse about my creeper and then send him the photo.
I’m surprised when he calls me five minutes later. I figured he’d be tied up in interviews today, but he might have the day off. I haven’t memorized his work schedule or anything.
“You all right, sugar?” His voice is buttery sweet, warm with concern, and my toes actually curl.
“Yeah, he just freaked me out.”
“Tell me what happened, exactly what he said.”
So I repeat the encounter, word for word. He sounds troubled when he replies. “Sounds like you’ve drawn somebody’s eye.”
“Not a normal perv, right?”
“I’d say no. Be careful, okay?”
“Do you think this has to do with the spell?”
He hesitates. I so wish I could see his face right now. “Hard to say. Maybe.”
“Chuch and Eva know something, by the way. But they’re not talking. Did you find anything out?”
“Sort of. There’s no relevant chatter on Area 51, but…today, my boss asked me if I was still dating that sweet redheaded girl.”
He’s seeing someone? What the hell. Somehow I keep my voice from trembling. “Well, are you?”
“That’s the strange thing, Shan. To the best of my recollection, I’ve never gone out with anyone like that.”
“Just how big is this spell?” I wonder.
“No idea. But we need to get to the bottom of it.” His voice deepens, softens. “You’ll stay safe for me, right?”
“Anything for you,” I answer breezily, and I guarantee he has no idea how much I mean it.
Five
Sunday is laundry day. I use two bucks to wash my work uniforms, which is almost all I wear during the