Page 123 of Average Joe

Apparently, I had a “look.” Dylan had said the same thing to me less than twenty-four hours ago. “I don’t have a look,” I retorted.

“You do. It’s a mix of condescending and disappointed with a splash of brokenhearted.” Lilly laughed, shaking her head. “It’s a mom look.”

I threw my arms up in frustration. “I’m a mom!”

“You’re a great mom and a great boss. All the girls adore and respect you, and nobody wants to disappoint you.” She shrugged. “So we didn’t tell you about the guns.”

“Huh,” seemed the appropriate response.

I had always been vocal about my distaste for firearms. Only because when I was in third grade, my classmate was shot by his cousin when they found a loaded weapon in his parents’ closet. His was the first funeral I’d ever attended. Left a mark. My dad carried guns in his cars, sometimes his coats, and when I’d see them, I’d hide in my room. He’d tease me relentlessly.

“Have I failed my crew?” I fell back onto my stool. “Does nobody feel safe?”

“The world has failed us, Marley, not you. I don’t feel any safer in my home, the gym, the store, or even church.”

Again, I said, “Huh,” then stuffed the pepper spray back into my handbag and headed out, feeling absurdly under protected.

* * *

“That went well, yeah?” I hooked my arm around Lilly and walked her to her Charger. “The girls seemed supportive.”

“That was a much-needed team meeting. You’re doing the right thing, stepping back.” She gave me a long, tight hug. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re great at the window, but you’re the boss, and you need to focus on the business side.”

We’d had our impromptu gathering at the Dusty Dive Bar and Grill. Great burgers, the best draft beers, and an old-school jukebox. They also had a backroom table large enough to seat eight employees.

“Have I told you lately that I love you?” I sang, squeezing her waist.

A stinging whack hit my backside. “Now, go home and take some qualityyoutime. Get some lovin’ from that man of yours.”

Joe was getting something all right. But, good or bad, I’d yet to determine. Neither he nor Dylan had contacted me in two days, and I hadn’t called them for fear Johan Harper was keeping tabs.

I’d kept all the Dylan business to myself, for obvious reasons, not that I didn’t trust Lilly or any of my girls, but because I knew what Harper was capable of, and if he wanted information, he’d find a way.

The black sky promised a soggy night. The clock in my Subi read 10:12 PM. Our meeting had ended hours ago, but we’d hung around, chatting, drinking, dancing. Rarely were all of us in the same place at the same time. Turned out, my girls were freaking awesome and fun. My stomach ached from laughing so hard at their creepy, and crudely hysterical, customer horror stories.

I’d cleared two blocks when blinding headlights hit my rearview. I slipped into the right lane to let the car pass.

The vehicle pulled right behind me.

My first thought wasasshole. My second wasshit.

At the next light, I took a last-minute turn. The car followed, and I continued with the right turns until I’d completed a full circle. Those headlights still shone in my eyes, never backing off.

After checking all of my sight points, I pulled my wheel and performed a painfully slow, illegal U-turn, catching sight of the vehicle. A fucking blue Prius.

The car followed, executing a turn more precise than mine.

While I wanted to get out of the car and smash some headlights, I instead headed toward the closest police station.

When I turned into the parking lot, my stalker blew past. At that point, I figured I was safe, but my adrenaline pumped, and I needed air and motion, and though I didn’t want the police involved, something had to be done.

I marched inside and demanded to speak to Officer Frank Garcia.

“He doesn’t work at this station, ma’am,” the woman said, her skin dark, her makeup flawless, her black hair pulled into an impressive knot in the back of her head.Bless her heart for not laughing at my idiot assumption that Frank worked at the first police station I walked into.

“I don’t have his number. Is it possible for you to contact him for me?” I leaned forward, palming her desk.

Her gaze dropped to my trembling hands, then bounced back to my face. “I’ll see what I can do.” She nodded toward the wall behind me. “Have a seat.”

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