Page 21 of Devil's Thirst

My question is met with silence until a voice with a heavy New York accent slices through the air from above. “You talkin’ to me?”

It’s so unexpected that my heart launches itself into my throat.

“Oh! No, sorry,” I yell back, hand over the pounding in my chest.

I don’t like this.

People are around me, but I can’t see them. I can’t tell who is supposed to be here and who may be a dangerous stalker. I need to leave, but I realize how poorly I’ve thought through this now that it’s time to get my things and go outside. I was so concentrated on not being alone in the building that I hadn’t put thought into how I’d getoutof the building. I can call a cab, but that would still require me to walk outside alone. I’ve done that plenty of times before, but not since knowing the stalker followed me home.

Could he be waiting for me outside?

I stop near the thick velvet curtain and peer into the shadows toward the dressing room. What if he’s waiting for me again? The lighting crew is around, but could they hear me from the dressing room if I yelled? How well soundproofed is it back there?

I can’t do it.

Sticking around was a bad decision, and while I won’t repeat the mistake, I need to find a way to safely get home, and not just a ride. I need someone to come into the theater and escort me out.

I give myself props for at least being smart enough to keep my phone with me. I move closer to the safety of the stage lights and call my sister.

“Guess I know what that diaper explosion was about earlier today,” Lina says after our hellos. “Little Miss is running a fever. I think she has an ear infection.”

It’s hard to hear her over the wailing baby. My heart hurts for them both.

“Oh no! Poor thing.”

“Yeah, and Oran is in Jersey on business for the night. I got the family doctor on the phone, and she’s going to come by sometime in the next hour. Hopefully, she has antibiotics with her, or it’ll be a long, miserable night for both of us.” Thefamilydoctor is the pediatrician the Byrnes pay to be on-call for house visits.

“I bet she gets you all taken care of,” I assure her, striking Lina off my list of possible rides.

“Did you need something, or were you just calling to check in?”

“Just checking in. I’ll let you go. Give my sweetie Vi lots of kisses.”

“Will do. Wish me luck,” she says with a sigh.

“You got this.”

We end the call, and I consider who to turn to next. I could call one of Lina’s sisters-in-law, but most of them have little ones, too. I’m probably closest to Stormy, but she’s been having wicked morning sickness. With two other little ones to deal with, I hate to bother her or her husband.

I shoot a quick text to Hazel and confirm that she’s already on a train out of the city. While I’m lucky enough to afford a spacious one-bedroom apartment in the center of Manhattan, most of the people I work with live very different lifestyles than me. It’s yet another of the many differences that single me out from the people around me.

My disheartened gaze drifts to the faint remnants of numbers still inked on my inner wrist. I put Isaac’s number in my phone already but couldn’t bring myself to scrub away the evidence of one of the most erotic moments of my life.

Could I ask him for a ride? Wasn’t that the whole reason he gave me his number? He said to call if I felt unsafe. Does this count, or would he think I’m being silly?

This is your safety. Who cares what he thinks?

Yeah, but texting him so soon after he gave me his number will send the wrong message.

What message is that? That you appreciate his help?

I was more worried about him thinking I’m desperate and alone.

My inner debate partner goes silent.

Okay, that’s rude.

The truth hurts sometimes.

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