Page 73 of David's Love

All I can think of is that I might be part of a bigger operation. Maybe Keith and other men like him cast a wide net. They checked several women––particularly looking for those with profiles on that platform––and that’s how I got caught in the mix.

Everything is possible.

People have so much time on their hands.

Damnit.

“He’s probably bored,” I add.

I wish.

“Anyway, I’ll keep an eye on him,” I say.

“And change the lock.”

“My lock is fine. He didn’t temper with my lock.”

“Maybe you need a better lock and some sort of security system. You can’t play with these things. People who do that are not right in their heads.”

She might be right, but I won’t turn my life upside down because of him.

“I’m sure is nothing.”

“As you say. Call me if you need me.”

“I will.”

We end the call, and I sag against the couch, my phone still in my hand.

The phone pings again, and I flip it over and notice that it’s the same person who’s been bugging me on that platform. He’s messaging me again.

A swirl of fury rams through me. I tap the screen, slide into the chat room, and start typing.

Me: Who are you???

A few moments pass before the man, whose name is a string of letters and numbers, replies.

Him: Are you free tonight?

I type again.

Me: Who are you?

More moments pull away.

Him: I thought you were open for business.

Me: What kind of business are you talking about?

Him: I guess you’re not.

Oh, fucker.

Me: What kind of business are you talking about? I’m not even active on this platform.

His next answer comes quickly.

Him: I think you are.

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