Page 30 of Eyes in the Shadows

“Oh, just Chef Robert has really been riding my ass and I’m starting to wonder why I’m putting all this time in somewhere I don’t think I want to be long term.”

Chef Robert is about to get a fucking black eye.

“You don’t?”Harrison asks, his mouth full again. He sounds distracted and it’s starting to piss me off. He gets the dinner I wish I had with the company I’d kill for and he’s not even fucking paying attention?

“I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about trying again with the business plan. I’ve got more experience now, so maybe people will—”

Movement catches my eye and I have to zero in my focus, even though it kills me not to really hear the rest of that sentence. She has a business plan. A dream. I want to know about it.

A man in a leather jacket approached the storage unit, making a beeline for the guy who’s sitting by the door on a cheap wood chair, playing on his phone. He stands when he sees his relief for sentry duty. They grab hands and turn it into a quick, clap-on-the-back type of hug, and chat for a moment. I don’t know what they’re saying because I don’t read lips, but I imagine it’s some variation of the small talk we all make with coworkers, if more bad-guy adjacent. Then, the guy in the leather jacket takes the chair and the other guy heads for the parking lot.

I lean over to record the time of the changing of the guard on the paper in my passenger seat and take a few photos of the new guy’s face.

“—well, can’t you do that here?”Harrison’s asking as I tune back in.

“I guess I don’t really feel that safe here anymore,” she admits.

That catches my interest, and I can’t help but wonder if I have anything to do with it.

“Not because of that guy, or anything, right?”

For the first time, I’m kind of coming around to this douchebag. At least he asks the right questions—the onesIwant him to.

“No, not because of him.”Her tone is so firm, it relieves any lingering doubts. “It’s… um… the city. There’s just so much crime,”she hurriedly adds.

Even if I didn’t know it already, this wouldn’t sound like the truth to me.

My fingers tighten around the binoculars as hot anger solidifies in my chest. I feel the intense need to let off some aggression, only made worse by the helplessness in not knowing where to direct it.

What’s got my girl feeling scared?

11

Eleanor

Do you have any idea how hard it's been to get you somewhere alone?

I do love a 30-day trial period. I always put a note in my phone as soon as I sign up so I remember to cancel before they start charging me some ungodly sum every month. Because this gym? With the cardio equipment that automatically links to your phone, a full-sized pool on the roof and a sauna/steam bath in the locker rooms in the basement? My salary could never.

“And towels go here when you’re done with them,” the tall, tan, toned blond man says, pointing to a discreet corner structure that hasUsed Towelsembossed on the front and a circular hole for easy deposits. He sighs for the fourth or fifth time on our tour, and I get the feeling he couldn’t care less if I lived or died.

“Cool, thanks,” I say, “um, I think I can find my way around now, if you want to—”

“Okay, cool.” Without another glance in my direction, he strides away. His long legs eat up the rubber flooring and he disappears through some glass double doors with the gym logo shown in reverse from the back

And just like that, I’m on my own in the equipment room. It’s vast, lined totally in mirrors, and there’s a handful of people who look completely focused, like they know exactly what they’re doing. The air is filled with the clinking sound of weights hitting weights. A woman walks by, and her eyes briefly scan me.

I want to believe it’s to approve of my gym attire, but I know differently, because my set doesn’t match like her gorgeous olive-green crop top and leggings. I’ve got on the bike shorts I wear under every dress and an oversized t-shirt with those weird, small, inexplicable holes that always seem to form on the stomach of my soft shirts. I look down at my shorts and tug them lower on my thighs.

Objectively, I know that people aren’t paying attention to me. I know the judgment I think I’m seeing is in my head. I know that no one in the middle of their workout is stopping to wonder who the overweight girl thinks she’s fooling. Everyone is way more involved in what they’re doing to really notice what anyone else is. Still, I feel gauche and awkward with my free membership in this fancy gym with these people who look like they belong here.

They gave me a locker as part of my temporary membership, and I’ve already deposited my coat and gym bag. I’m dressed for it and have my water bottle, so there’s nothing keeping me from starting my workout except me. So, I head to the treadmills and choose one. It doesn’t take long for the endorphins to kick in, and I get into the rhythm of the first workout playlist that Spotify suggests.

When I’m done, I debate taking a shower. They looked so cool during the tour with rainfall heads, but I didn’t bring one of my bath sheet towels and their towels look small. I really hate the feeling of sweat drying on my skin, though, so maybe I can just double up. And I do want to sit in the steam room for a minute; I’ve never been in one before.

As I descend the main stair into the first-floor area, I stare at my phone screen. I open a blank new text chat with grandpa, but like they have so many times this week, my fingers just hover over the screen in uncertainty. I type things, and I delete them. What do you say to the man stalking you?

Hi.So basic. Boring.

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