Stalk Me

It’s a stupid defensive move we learned in Freshman P.E.

But it works.

Vincent’s grip loosens.

Just enough.

I quickly pull away.

Run.

I break completely free of his arms, turn, and run as fast as I can. I run straight into James and another security guy.

“That’s the stalker! He’s trying to kidnap me!” I turn around and point at Vincent.

His glasses are still on, and he’s racing toward me.

James hands me off.

Then he and Vincent come face to face.

Vincent holds his hands up in protest and starts to say something, but James punches him in the face, knocking his glasses off.

I watch Vincent and James trade punches.

James falls back for a minute, but then his training kicks in.

In a fury of fists and kicks, Vincent is down and out cold.

James flips him over and wraps his wrists together with zip ties.

I drop to my knees.

And throw up my birthday cake.

Not a party ’til someone pukes.

1:15am

I’m sitting on a couch in the family room wrapped up in a blanket. Brooklyn is in Tommy’s office on the phone with his dad. Damian has his arm wrapped around my shoulder, and my head is buried in his chest. My eyes are closed and I’m shaking, but I’m not cold. After the adrenaline rush I feel like I’m crashing. Kind of like I drank four Red Bulls all at once and got the caffeine, but not the energy.

I’m pretending not to listen, but I’m hanging on every word that’s said.

Everyone is pacing and talking.

Mom is freaking out.

Two police detectives are here, as is Garrett Smith, the head of the personal security firm that was in charge of protecting Mom tonight. No one has asked for my side of the story.

It’s been all about James.

James saw a man pulling me toward the exit. James saw me stomp on his foot and get away. I told James it was the stalker. James tackled and punched him. James had him arrested.

Right now, I should be having fun at my after-party. The party where I hoped both my worlds would come together.

The party that probably would’ve been a fail anyway.

But anything would’ve been better than this.

Only a few people were allowed to come here. Besides Garrett and the detectives, there’s Damian and his dad, Brooklyn, Millie and Deron, James, Kym, Mom, and Tommy.

At Cush’s parties, everyone always says, It’s not a party ’til someone pukes. 

Not in this case.

I have never been so scared in my life.

We have tons of food. It was all set out by the caterers, who were asked to leave before we were allowed to enter the house.

Deron tries to lighten the mood. “Well, the good news is there’s plenty of food. The bad news is, we’re go

Damian runs his hand across my back gently, and I start sobbing again.

He whispers to me. “It’s okay, Keats. You’re safe.”

He doesn’t know why I’m crying. He doesn’t know what he’s saying is a lie. He doesn’t know that I’ll never be safe again.

The room gets quiet.

I look up and see that everyone’s eyes are glued to one of the detectives.

He’s speaking into his phone. “I understand. I’ll let them know.” He addresses us with a pained expression. “They released him.”

Quick whats, hows, and whys?” come from Mom, Tommy, and James.

“Because there is no proof he tried to kidnap her. It's her word against his.”

James protests. “I saw him dragging her toward the exit.”

“He said there was a commotion and he was worried about her safety. He says he was helping a friend.”

“Well, obviously, that’s a lie,” Mom says. “I still don't understand how he got in. We had a list. We had security.”

“He wanted you to know he’s sorry for the confusion. He’s also agreed not to press charges against James for the assault.” He looks at James. “He understands that you misread the situation.”

James looks at the officer incredulously and says, “Just who the hell is this guy?”

Garrett Smith takes over the conversation. “This guy is Thaddeus Samuel Kingston. Mother: Letitia Kingston. Father: unknown. He went to the finest prep school in Beverly Hills. Football team. Prom King. Valedictorian. Very high IQ. Was in and out of trouble for fighting. He also was ticketed for shooting animals that wandered into his yard. His mother was married six times. The last time, she married for money. They were killed in a mugging gone bad. It says here that the case has never been solved. The stepfather had no heirs so, at twenty, Thaddeus inherited a few million dollars. His net worth today is estimated at around twenty-five million.”

“He doesn’t sound like a stalker, does he?” Mom says.

“Based on his profile, he exhibits traits we tend to see in sociopaths. Intelligence, bullying, hurting animals. Sociopaths are often good looking, and people are always shocked to find out that they’ve killed people.”

“Killed people?!” Mom screeches. “Do you think that’s what he would have done?”

“I don’t know what he would have done,” Garrett says quietly.

But I know. He was going to make a movie with me. He was going to lock me up somewhere and make me film his sick version of Mom’s movie. Everything Garrett said about his childhood fits what Vincent told me, but did he lie about his name? Is he not really Vivia

One of the detective speaks. “It doesn’t help our case that the guy is rich and good looking. The female cop questioning him said that he could stalk her anytime. There’s nothing we can do. We can’t even get a judge to issue a restraining order. There just isn’t any proof.”

There has to be proof. What proof do I have? A business card with a fake name? Big deal.

Then I remember the tattoo. “He has an Abby tattoo,” I say quietly.

The detective says, “They questioned him about that as well. He had a high school girlfriend named Abby. It checked out.”

“What about the van?” I ask.

“What van?”

“He told me he was taking me to a van out back. If he wasn’t going to kidnap me, why the van?”

The detective’s expression turns grim, and I know what he's thinking. He wanted to rape me or kill me.

But I know he had something even worse pla

The other detective says, “No one said anything about a van? Are you sure he said that?”

“I’m positive. It was the first thing he said to me. I’m taking you to a van out back. We’ve got to get you safe.”

Garrett grabs his phone and says, “I still have people on the scene. I’ll get them to check.” He dials then speaks into his phone. “Check outside the exit door and see if there’s a van. I’ll wait.”

Everyone raptly awaits his answer. We need some sort of clue to co

I know if they don’t figure out something I’ll never be able to leave my house again. I’ll never be able to sleep at night. He knows too much about me. Where I live. Where I go. What I do. Who my friends are. He knows everything.

“They found a van,” he a

Just as he finishes his sentence, a screeching wail pierces the air.

WHOOOOOHHH!!! WHOOOOOHHH!!! WHOOOOOHHH!!! WHOOOOOHHH!!!

Someone’s house alarm is loudly shrilling.

Brooklyn’s phone buzzes.

He looks down at it, like he’s forgotten what it is. He blinks, then answers. “No, I didn’t accidentally set off the alarm. Yes, send the police right away!”

James and the two detectives look at each other, agree on something with their eyes, draw their weapons, and go tearing out the back door.