Chapter 8: Eight

It was Sunday afternoon and I could be doing anything apart from sitting at a table by the window in crimson’s, I could be at the gym burning off some calories, I could be at home watching ‘ Gossip Girl ‘ and sipping red wine laughing hard at the ridiculous drama.

Damn, I could even be dialing Maya’s number right now, checking in on her, after all, the last time we spoke was months ago, which wasn't nice because she was the only close female friend I have but it's fine, because she probably wouldn't even notice, Maya was too wrapped up in taking care for her three grown kids to think about me.

So I just sat, my back straight and my hands lying comfortably on my lap as if they could somehow keep them from shaking, fidgeting rather. Yes, I was nervous to put myself out there again, but at least, it was better than being locked in my house, one more second in there and I might I've gone insane. Turk! Sometimes I preferred staying at a hotel rather than at my place.

The late morning sun surged through the window warming my face, and I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror across me. The make-up was on fleek and my hair? It was slicked back in a classy way, looking the best was a business for me. Around me, people smiled and laughed so easily, and for a moment I wished I had the luxury to do that.

“Thank you,” I mouthed to the waitress as she poured me a glass of red wine. My favorite.

She smiled curtly at me before moving on. The sound of my voice felt like sandpaper to my ears. I took a sip, the wine tasted different, it was dry and sour, maybe it was the flavor or maybe it was my mood, the nervousness that threatened to eat me up from the inside.

I glanced at the door for the tenth… No twentieth time in the past twenty minutes. No sight of my date.

I finally gave in to the impatience and yanked out my phone from my leather purse, tapping the screen with more force than necessary to check the time. My chest tightened and a knot curled in my stomach. He was officially twenty-five minutes late.

I scrolled through our texts, making sure I hadn't gone to the wrong crimson’s. There were at least three in the city, but I used the map so I couldn't be wrong. My gaze landed on our last messages.

Me: Hey, I'm at Crimson’s, table by the window.

Tony: K, soon be there.

How dare he say ‘soon’, when ‘soon’had been twenty fucking minutes ago. That was outrageous and annoying.

I slammed my phone face up on the table, my hands shaky as I did. Luckily, the soft jazz music in the background was enough to drown out the thud.

All of a sudden I began to regret wearing this emerald green dress i’d chosen for today, I thought it would make me look radiant and confident, or maybe it did but at a price, my ribs felt like they were being squashed together in a vice, the fabric cling too tightly to my skin and the spaghetti straps itch against my shoulders with every movement I made.

“Shit!” I snorted, tugging at the hem of the dress in a stupid attempt to make it less suffocating.

I had two questions for myself, firstly,

Why did I even agree to go on this date?

Secondly, of all the outfits in my wardrobe, why had I chosen this?

My gaze dares across the restaurant, I was growing inpatient already and it had become crammed all of a sudden, this wasn't how I expected how my date would turn out, earlier this morning I was excited, relieved even, about finally stepping out of my house but now I just wished I stayed in, curled up with Kitty watching Gossip girl. Crimson was nice, sure, but it wasn't the kind of place you could come for privacy and serenity, I was shocked when my date picked it. Maybe he thought ‘ intimate’ and ‘upscale’ would impress me..

And yet, my mind drifted to the scary incident that took place earlier this morning, it was why I was excited to finally leave this house.

I had a feeling someone was watching me, more like ‘stalking’ my every movement.

I reached out for my phone again, but this time it wasn’t to check what time it was, or if my date had texted, I unlocked it and paused before opening my gallery.

The pictures from this morning were still there.

They came in very early this morning when I was enjoying my quiet time at the front porch with Kitty, it was from a number I couldn’t trace. The first was me sitting in the same position I was in when it was: sent, and the second was me through my living room window, taking off my red lingerie, Kitty was in the background, I could see her tail. And the third was me earlier this morning.

It was just too scary that someone was noticing me in a bad way.

The first time I saw them my heart almost jumped out of my mouth. It was a cold morning but beads of sweat formed on my forehead. I felt helpless and in grave danger.

The only thing I could think of doing was calling Dwight.

He had been my bestie since college, the only person I knew I could confide in and he wouldn’t snitch, when I had my scandal years ago, he stayed over at his place for a week and he made sure I was Betty before he let me go, he has always been my ride and die and now that he was detective, I hoped he could do something about this ‘stalker’ situation.

“ Please, tell me you can do something about this," I remember crying to him earlier.

“I will find whoever is doing this, okay? They can’t just send you pictures like this and get away with it, “Dwight said, his voice still filled with sleep, I hated that I interrupted his morning. “ You did the right thing by calling me, Betts, I’ll track that number even though it’s private.”

His words made me feel at ease immediately but deep down I knew whoever did this meant no good.

I locked my phone snappily, staring at my empty glass of wine, about to drop my bill on the table, grab my purse, and get the hell out of here when I saw him.

I narrowed my eyes, trying to find out if the man who just walked in was dressed in a moisture-wicking T-shirt and athletic shorts with his hair slicked back. It was my date, no it can’t be, you wouldn’t wear this to a date, would you? His face even looked older than the photos on his profile, he had lines on his forehead, and the way he walked towards me I knew it was Tony.

My date.

I swallowed hard, my stomach grumbling immediately.

He looked like he had just returned from a run and forgot to change.

His gaze was on me now and a smirk spread across his face, I didn’t smile back, nothing was funny, he was late and badly dressed, too many offenses. My nerves jerked as I pushed my chair back for a second and stood forcing a fleeting smile as he approached me.

“You must be Betty, right?” He asked, his voice louder than it should be. He made heads turn and made me... uncomfortable.

“Yeah, that’s me,” I nodded and leaned close for a quick hug, trying to contain my anger.

But that was a big mistake.

The smell hit me like a sledgehammer; it was like sweat and something musty combined, like he just came back from a morning run.

“I hope you like this place, “ he said sitting across from me smiling like a fucking clown. “You look ravishing by the way.”

I smiled peeking at the pot belly straining against his shirt, Damn! How was he just thirty-two? He looked like a man in his early fifties.

I managed to mutter a “thank you,” sitting back slowly trying not to cover my nose with my hands.

The smell was spreading, I'm sure other people perceived it when he walked in.

He waved at the waitress, not bothering to ask if I had ordered yet, instead, he ordered two steaks.

“Medium, rare please, and another glass of sparkling wine for my lady,”

I blinked twice, “I don't like sparkling ..."

“You need to stop being uptight and let me pamper you.” He said cutting me off like my wants didn’t matter.

Red flag.

I nod, forcing a smile, all of a sudden, I felt the urge to go away. I was about to tell him I wanted to use the ladies when he began with stories about himself, how his car broke down in the middle of the road, and how he is a gym freak, but can't seem to burn his belly fat, and how that crazy ex of his won't stop begging him to come back because he is an alpha male that knows how to handle her.

I tried to be polite enough to listen but then my mind drifted away, and I imagined myself being back at my apartment, taking a nap. I nod occasionally sipping the sparkling wine the waitress had brought, my phone buzzes on the table silently, my heart skipped a beat, maybe it was Dwight, maybe he had news for me.

I glanced at the screen only to find an email announcing that my orders had just arrived.

I sighed, already exhausted from all the listening, and I tried to distract myself by averting my gaze from him to something else.

That's when I saw this strange man, he was seated at the bar side, I wouldn't have noticed him if it weren't for that damn eye patch.

Shit! I remembered him, he was the one from the club, could he also be responsible for the pictures?

He was staring directly at me now, a smirk playing on his face.

What the heck did he want?