Page 6 of Monsters

“Everything okay over here?” Peter’s voice broke the discomfort.

David held my gaze a moment longer before zeroing in on my boyfriend. Clearing my throat and feeling a nervous sweat roll down my back, I smiled at Peter’s handsome face and pulled him to my side. “Yes, everything is fine. In fact, I’d like to finally introduce you to my boss. Peter, this is David. David, Peter…”

Unimpressed with Peter’s sudden appearance, David’s eyes hardened, and my anxiety worsened. “Peter also frequents the Alps every season,” I continued as neither man greeted the other. “A pro snowboarder, just like you.” I felt the overwhelming urge to remove myself from the silent standoff. “Right… well… if you’ll excuse me, I better circulate and thank everyone for being here.”

Before either could stop me, I swiveled on my heel and migrated through the crowd and toward the others who sat against the far wall, laughing, drinking, and forgetting about the work week. My clutch vibrated, stopping me mid-step. Placing my wine glass on the high table next to Charlie, I headed out the front and onto the sidewalk. The music and lively chatter was cut off, replaced with beeping horns and blaring sirens. The warmth prickled my skin just the way I liked it, the humidity having dropped since the start of the week. Around me, people were strolling past, couples hand-in-hand, drunks eager to get to the next bar.

I looked at the screen. Mom.

“Hey, Ma,” I answered, always happy to hear her voice.

“Hi, sweetie, happy birthday.”

“Thank you. How’s your trip?” I asked, idly playing with a loose sticker on the parking meter in front of me.

“The trip is going well. Your father, to no surprise, didn’t listen to me and is now glowing red and feeling a little nauseous. But what does one expect when drinking a dozen sangrias in under five hours of blistering sun with no sunscreen…”

While my mother continued talking about my father’s antics, my skin once again tingled, but this time it wasn’t from the heat. At first, I saw nothing of interest that warranted that response. I glanced over my shoulder, but no one I knew had walked out of Cocoon. On the right-hand side, however, a few yards down the street, a man and woman sat in a dark blue sedan, wearing suit jackets. Their faces were shrouded with shadows caused by the position of the street lamp above. But one thing was obvious—they were watching me. The only movement was the woman’s finger tapping on the door to a nothing beat.

“Dad does this every year,” I sympathized, albeit distracted.

“He never learns. Thank goodness you take after me. Anyway, my darling, have fun with your celebrations. I’ll plan a dinner for when we return.”

Moments later, after our farewells, I ended the call. Throwing one last look at the sedan and the unmoving people within, I headed back into Cocoon, the air conditioner hitting me with a welcomed relief. With an aching bladder, I made a straight line to the ladies’ bathroom, dodging the patrons. Again my cell buzzed, this time signaling a message. I smiled at the name. Christina and I had been friends all through college. She met her husband in the last year and moved to Maine to be with him, only half an hour from my parents’ house.

Stopping amidst the crowd, I opened the message and squinted at the screen, caught in a moment’s confusion.

“What the… fuck is … Jesus!”

Placing the phone against my chest, I covered the screen. I’d been staring intently at a close-up picture of a man with his hand gripping his penis and a message reading, “Happy Birthday, bitch.” A naively drawn red smiley face was on the knob of the cock which took up almost the entire screen.

“Shit!” Although I was laughing at her antics, I cursed Christina for sending me her porn and cursed myself for foolishly opening something from her while surrounded by people. Slipping the cell into my clutch, I continued through to the restroom. A group of barely-legal girls filed through the door, their lips set in perpetual pouts. This wasn’t an uncommon sight in this place. Many young girls came here hoping to win the attention of wealthier men they wouldn’t otherwise come in contact with. Once inside, it was just me. After relieving myself, I washed my hands at the marble basin and studied my reflection.

I’d been on edge for most of the night, and the stress showed.

Flicking my dark hair over my shoulders, I applied some gloss and paid no particular attention to the restroom door opening. Only when I could feel a watchful stare did I notice the woman blocking the exit. Catching her reflection in the mirror, her gaze was stern and far from friendly, arms folded over her chest. I recognized her by her clothes alone, as one of the occupants of the blue sedan I’d seen parked on the curb.

“Can I help you?” I asked because she made no attempt to initiate.

The woman tilted her head slightly to the side before answering. “Gemma Sinclair?”

I hesitated. “Yes.”

“It’s your birthday today?” she asked, wearing a peculiar smile and not waiting for an answer. “Hmm…” she agreed with herself. “How interesting.”

Closing my clutch, I turned to her, slightly puzzled over the interaction. She looked like a hard woman. Her make-up free face was slightly pock-marked, and she had deep hollows under her pale blue eyes. She wore her hair out, and it looked two days overdue for a wash. “If I can’t help you, who at least are you?”

“I’m Agent Walsh, I work for the Delaware County Police District.”

Delaware.

A cold shiver ran up my spine.

“And you can help me,” she insisted. “I understand you haven’t been back to Delaware for quite some time.”

I swallowed hard. “That’s right.”

“Any reason for that?”

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