I See You (5 page)

“M
Y TIPS ARE INSANE TONIGHT.
I love stag parties,” Tricia says, rounding the bar and hip bumping me.

She’s right; my tips are the same as my week’s wage tonight alone. The groom is a marine, which means a packed house just with their crowd. They are loud and boisterous, but most are respectful and hot as hell. The barmaids have been putting on a show with body shots, but despite the atmosphere, I feel sick with worry.

“Damn, Nee. Who killed your kitty?”

My stomach plummets with her choice of words. I grab her arm. “What? Why would you say that?”

Her eyes widen and she breaks out into hysterics. “Calm down, cat lady. I was kidding. Jeez. I meant you’re acting like a sour puss. What’s up?”

“Ginger didn’t come home last night or this morning. She’s never done that before. I’m worried something’s happened to her.” I twist my mouth and shrug, feeling a little lame for being bent out of shape because my cat abandons me, but she’s my family. The only one I have now. My parents were in their late fifties when I came along, somewhat a horrific surprise after they’d planned to never have children. They’d been desperate to get me out of the door since I hit sixteen, so being the good daughter I was, on my eighteenth birthday I packed my meager things in a suitcase and left. They hadn’t even realized I’d gone until I phoned them three days later with my new address.

“She’s a cat, Nee. She’ll be off exploring and shit. You worry too much. Trust me. Put a can of tuna out tonight and watch her come purring.”

Maybe Tricia’s right. Cats are independent; that’s the reason I got a cat and not a dog.

I jump up from my stool. My shift finished ten minutes ago and I’m dying to take a shower.

“So how’d you do in tips?” Tricia asks.

I know I won’t be able to leave without telling her; she makes me tell her every night and then bitches me out for earning more than her, even though she doesn’t need the money. Tricia is a trust fund baby; her mom actually paid her to leave the family home after she caught her at seventeen, trying to seduce her stepfather. I don’t think she ever really felt like she belonged. Her mother is a highly religious, career-minded woman, and her dad was killed in action when she was four, and it left her troubled. Our similar abandonment by our parents and their strong faith is what formed such a firm bond between us.

“You really want to know?”

“Yes, hit me.”

I pull out the rolled up bills from my bra and wave them at her. “$656.” Her jaw drops. I push my hand into the pocket of my jean shorts and hold up the coin. “And 50 cents.”

A beer coaster flies at me from her outstretched hand. “How is that even possible? You don’t even have any boob showing!”

I duck from the coaster skimming my head and take off, giggling as I go.

I pull into my drive and exit the car, running to the front door to escape the downpour that has opened upon me. I do a quick sweep with my eyes of the backyard but see no Ginger, which isn’t surprising in this weather. A shiver races through my body as I shake off the light dampness and drop my things on the table.

“Ginger?” I call out, but she doesn’t come. What if she’s been run over and killed, or she’s injured and waiting for me to come rescue her?

I go to the fridge to rummage for something to eat. A sigh leaves me when I know I’ll be eating an omelet for the third night in a row because I haven’t done any grocery shopping again. Slamming the fridge closed, a couple of alphabet magnets drop off and clatter to the floor. Crap! I bend over to retrieve them and my heart pounds in my chest when I place them back on the fridge and notice a cluster of letters separated from the others.

They spell out ‘MEOW’.

I involuntarily step backwards, my eyes darting around my house. Am I going crazy? Oh God, if Mr. Ilavich has been in here . . . I dart out the front door, and the rain drenches me in an instant but I don’t care as I run up the three steps to his porch and hammer my palm on the door.

“Mr. Ilavich! Mr. Ilavich, are you in there?” The lights are out and his stupid dog isn’t barking. I push the letterbox open and call for Ginger through the gap but there’s no noise apart from the rain beating down over the house. Tears burn my eyes as my body shivers from the soaked clothes sticking to my body.

I storm back to my house, slamming the door, and as I pick up the phone to declare my cat has been kidnapped, probably by my old, porn performing pervert neighbor, I hear the cat flap open and my wet furry baby saunters in.

“Ginger!” I grab her up and berate her for disappearing on me like that.

After feeding us both, I take all the magnets from the fridge and shove them in a drawer as punishment for my own paranoia. Damn, I let my worry go too far, making me act stupid. I’m glad Mr. Ilavich wasn’t in. How embarrassing would that have been? I take a shower and then curl up in bed with Ginger.

A loud persistent banging wakes me from slumber. I grab Ginger, who’s sleeping half on my head, half on my pillow, and sit up to listen. The banging continues so I slip out of bed and down the stairs. It’s my front door. Someone’s there.

“Who is it?” I demand.

“It’s me, Nee!” Tricia cries.

I drop Ginger to the floor and unbolt the lock, swinging the door open to find a wringing wet Tricia. “He was cheating on me!” she howls, falling against my body.

My arms wrap around her as the rain from her clothes seeps into mine. I usher her inside, lower her into a chair, and put the kettle on.

She sniffs and wipes her nose across her sleeve. “Five fucking years I gave him and he was screwing that whore Tracy from next door.”

Once the kettle finishes boiling, I fill our mugs and take the seat opposite her, carefully placing the cup between her trembling fingers and guiding them back around it until she has a firm hold. “I mean, she’s not even fucking pretty and she’s fat!” she whines, which turns into a hiccupping sob. “And she’s older than me! Fat, old, ugly whore! Thanks a lot, Simon. This will do wonders for my self-esteem.”

I reach for her arm and squeeze but I don’t say anything about her neighbor Tracy being gorgeous, every single pound of her, or the fact Tricia spreads her legs for anyone who shows her attention. It’s Tricia’s right to vent and as her best friend I will agree with her that the neighbor’s a mess. “Don’t let him have that power over you. Most men are pigs. Look at me with Rob. He cheated and lied the whole way through our relationship,” I remind her.

“Is that why you turned to pussy?” She laughs through a sniffle.

I roll my eyes at her and pick Ginger up from winding her body around my legs. “Yes, because this pussy doesn’t leave me for another pussy.”

“No one would leave you. Rob only took off because you wouldn’t believe him when his assistant claimed he cheated. No one would cheat on you, Miss Perfect.”

I sip my drink and ignore her snide dig. Truth was, Rob was brilliant, talented, and driven and he could have given me a good life, but the passion on my part just wasn’t there. When his slutty assistant made a play for him and claimed he took her up on the offer of sex on the side, I used it as an excuse to end things. Truth was Rob loved me so the chances were she was making it up but men in love can still do stupid things and whether he did or not staying together wasn’t fair to either of us.

I
’M EXHAUSTED. I CAN’T REMEMBER
falling asleep, but I’m waking up to the sound of Nina shouting for her cat. I look at the monitors of the cameras I placed in her house while she was at work, and then through my telescope to see her storming from the direction of her neighbor and into her house. I turn my attention to the kitchen camera’s live feed. She’s soaking wet from the downpour and every inch of fabric is clinging to her body, highlighting her incredible figure. Her hair lays limp, stuck to her face and shoulders, and when I notice her hardened nipples pushing through her t-shirt, my cock stirs to life. What the hell?

I jump up to clear my head, opening the front door so I can get some fresh air. After a couple of minutes I return to the monitor and watch as she paces the floor. She reaches for the phone on the counter but gets distracted by her cat. Fuck! I look around, and sure enough, the little fur ball escaped when I had the door open. The relief and admiration for that stupid animal lightens her eyes. She’s so beautiful. How can she be so alone? If a man like me wants to have her smile upon him, her hands to touch his flesh, how can she not have a harem of lovers spoiling her with jewelry and taking payment in just knowing her, feeling her embrace, discovering her inside and out?

The blinking icon on my laptop draws my attention. I have unread mail from two hours ago.
Noah.

Case: 1320 Refurbishment complete.

How did she handle the cat death?

Why does he want the details of her sorrow? She’s a job number to him. He’s going to ruin all that beautiful, and not once have I ever felt this pang of remorse in my chest before her.

I open a new email and reply.

Decided against death and went with making her question her own sanity instead.

I know he will like that; he’s all about the torment, mentally and physically. I know I won’t get a reply from him anytime soon. After a completed job I sometimes won’t hear from him for a couple of days. He likes to bask in the memory of his plan.

I grab some food and settle in for the night once I see her asleep in bed with that dumb cat asleep on her head. Her chest rises and falls in contentment, and oddly, mine does too.

When I awake again it’s 3am and her friend from the place she works at is banging down Nina’s front door. I watch as Nina rouses and goes down to check it out. They end up chatting about men being assholes and that’s my cue to sleep again.

I hear movement from the bathroom monitor and lose my breath as I come around from the burning nightmares that plague my sleeping hours. The sun’s up and Nina is completely naked. Her rose colored nipples are peaking to perfection, her smooth skin free from blemishes. She’s tidy with herself; there’s only a small patch of hair decorating her mound. My eyes travel over the slick, gentle curves of her body, and my own comes alive. I need to stroke the ache building. I release my dick from my trousers and let my hands grasp the end, my thumb massaging the pre-cum there around the tip. She’s in the shower but her body is visible through the frosted glass, teasing me with the delights it bears. I thrust my hips into my fist as her hands rub all over her flesh, and I want her hands to be mine. I grunt from the pleasure my dick is feeling. I’m going to come quicker than a virgin on prom night. I lean forward and grip the desk for support as the warm build of release holds me in its clutches. My dick throbs as I come in needy spurts all over the floor between my legs.

I reach over for some napkins from a fast food packet and startle when I feel something touch my ankle.
Meow.
Ginger? What the hell? The feline helps herself to my deposit on the floor. I slap her away and that’s when it dawns on me that she couldn’t have got in on her own.

I turn to the footsteps behind me and jump up, zipping my fly. Fuck! An aging woman stares back at me, fumbling with a walking stick. “I was just checking the locks.” Her jittering arm points to the door. “Some kids broke in a few months back and made a dreadful mess.”