Page 44 of Prey

Me: Freaky Mask Freak? lol.

Fuck, I needed a name. I scanned the basement for an idea and came up blank, but weirdly, Mikky’s face entered my mind. I couldn’t use the name Mikky, Ronan, or Lars, but Mikky…Mickey…fighter…

Me: Rourke

Riley: Cool name.

Me: Thx. So, dinner with a masked man?

Riley: Yes.

I faltered. My devious plan was falling into place, but what happened from here? Take her out for coffee or dinner while I wear a fucking ski mask. Would the restaurant let me in?

I Googled ‘compression face masks’ for burn victims and found a local store in Gothenburg. This was what I needed. It looked genuine; she wouldn't question it since it was a medical mask.

Even though I wanted to see her now, I needed more time.

Me: What about tonight?

Riley: I can’t. Daytime would be better for a first date.

Me: OK. Make it tomorrow. I’ll get back to u.

Riley: xx

I had no intention of waiting until tomorrow, but if she was going out tonight, I wanted to know where. I’ll let her relax and drop her guard, wait by Hallen Hall for her to leave, and then follow her.

22

My cheeks flushed as I entered Savile’s club, expecting to see Ronan as I started my shift. Last night, he invited me into his office, and we had a charming chat where he opened up about his mom being an addict like mine was. But then, I had to backtrack because it was my real mom who was the addict, not Riley’s fake mom, but because I was under the Petra Black alias, then I could go back to having an addict mom again.

I was so confused. Having one alias was easy-ish, but two? The evening was so busy in the kitchen that time flew by. My shift was over, and I rushed to catch the bus.

Hopefully, I’ll see him again tonight, even if it was from a distance. Then there was the oddity that was Scream Mask Freak, who wanted me to go on a date with him tomorrow but became sketchy when committing to a time and a place. Sometimes, I wondered if he enjoyed being a watcher rather than living in the real world and having authentic relationships.

A date with a man in a mask seemed odd to me. If he did have burn scars, I’d rather see his face to measure his expression and smile than sit across a table with a Scream mask. Perhaps his skin was scarred so badly that he couldn’t smile.

The problem was that I struggled to believe him, but I went along with the story because I couldn’t think of another reason someone would want to wear a mask on a date.

After entering the locker room to tie my hair and slip on my uniform, I raced back into the kitchen and filled the dishwasher while the chef and cooks started preparing food.

“We got only ten tables booked tonight,” the chef told me, as the knife he was using chopped onions faster than beating hummingbird wings. “But we always get walk-ins.”

“No problem,” I replied, forcing my enthusiasm because I was still new at the job and wanted to make a good impression. I decided last night that if they liked me enough, I could graduate to a different position, maybe even on the casino floor dealing chips. “Let me know if I can help in any way.”

After filling the commercial dishwasher, adding the detergent, and switching it on, I scrubbed the stainless steel benches and basins. The chef then asked me to garnish the Hors d'oeuvres, and once I had done so, the waitress took the white plates to the diners.

About an hour into my shift, two plates with covers were placed inside a warmer trolley, and the chef instructed me to take them upstairs. Immediately, my shoulders tensed seeing the mosthandsome man ever again, but maybe this time he’d take the plate, and I could leave again.

I desperately wanted to nip into the bathroom to check my hair and skin in the mirror, but the chef was ushering me quickly out the door. At the end of the hall was an elevator, and I pressed the button, waited for the door to slide open, and pushed the trolley inside the empty shaft.

Once the elevator stopped and the door slid open, my heart hammered nervously in my chest, and I had to take deep breaths to stop myself from turning into a wreck.

“He’s just a man,” I mumbled, pushing the trolley along the hallway toward his door. “The most beautiful man I’d ever seen, but just a man.”

I tapped on Ronan’s door and waited for a reply. I could hear the murmurs of men talking in the office at the end of the hall that the ‘big boss’ was in, whom I hadn’t met. The second plate was for him, so I walked down the hall and noticed a lounge room to the left. I popped my head inside to find it empty but was lured to the large tinted window overlooking the club.

From here, I could see everything: the casino, the bar, and the restaurant. On the other side of a divider wall was a stage where burlesque dancers came out and tantalized the guests on couches and tables while the classy but scantily clad waitresses served them liquor.

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