The Watcher Read online

  “Aren’t you a little curious about how he knew where to find you this morning?” she asked.

  “I’m extremely curious, Em. He seems to be able to look at me and know what I’m thinking and feeling. It’s like he REALLY sees me. I want to see him again, and I really want to go to hear him play on Friday night. Please go with me!” I begged.

  “Oh, honey, I can’t. We have dinner party plans with some clients of mine and I can’t back out now. But honey?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You need to go. You deserve some fun. Ryan has been making your life miserable for months. You need to see what else is out there. You’re missing out on so much by staying with him. You know he doesn’t treat you right and I know there is someone out there who will.” I hugged her tightly and nodded into her hair.

  “I know, Em. It’s been getting worse and worse. Last night he basically told me he didn’t love me because he couldn’t stand to touch me. He brought up my mom again, Em. Then he compared me to Katie! It’s like he’s trying to hurt me on purpose. That’s not love!” I exclaimed.

  “Of course it’s not Lily. Someone who truly loved you wouldn’t use the most painful memories of your life to get a rise out of you, and they certainly wouldn’t be comparing you to other women. I know you’ve come a long way since that horrible night, and you should be proud of yourself. You overcame that darkness that you battled for so many years. You can’t let him talk to you like that. I think it’s time to make some tough decisions, Lil.”

  “I…I don’t know what to do,” I admitted tearfully.

  “You’re going to dig through old books and find some treasures. Then you’re going to get through the rest of this week. On Friday, pick out your favorite outfit and some hot makeup, and you’re going to go hear a hot guy sing. Have a drink, talk to him for a while, and get to know him. You never know what might be hiding under that sweatshirt,” she smiled.

  I laughed and went off in search of buried treasure in the form of old books. I was digging through a sale bin when I found an old playbill from the original cast of Wicked and I thought back to that hoodie he was wearing. I’d only ever seen him dressed in black, but damn was it hot. It bordered on gothic mixed with gamer nerd, but I had no idea if he even liked either of those things. I did know that I wanted to know everything about him. I just didn’t know how to go about it. I was a married woman, albeit unhappily married, but married nonetheless. I didn’t believe in cheating. If you’re not done dating, don’t get married, was my motto. The sad thing was, I was beginning to realize that Ryan didn’t share that motto. The last few weeks when I’d called him when he was supposed to be home, he had clicked me over to voicemail. My trust level was faltering and my heart was beginning to harden and close itself off. I was afraid this rejection would catapult me back into the darkness that I struggled with for so many years.

  When I asked him about the texts he got late at night he would yell at me, telling me to mind my own business. He’d begun to bring up one of his coworkers names, Katie, repeatedly in our conversations. I had hoped that this was just a passing thing, that he needed an ego boost or something. Lately though, I wasn’t as sure as I used to be. I had chalked up his absences and distance to working more, but thinking about it now, I wondered if he was actually working. I wondered if Katie had been “working late” as well. I wanted to believe in him as the man I had fallen in love with. As the man who saw my dark, my crazy, my everything, and had loved me anyway. But deep down I knew he was no longer that man and he hadn’t been for quite some time. I could feel a dark cloud start to settle over me and my old friend sadness start to creep back in. I needed a distraction.

  I tried to clear my head, not wanting to be a hot mess of tears and snot right now. I was headed home after my date with Emma and realized I needed something to wear on Friday. Something new and live music scene worthy. I hadn’t been spending any money lately, so I could afford to treat myself. I headed to my favorite “plus sized” boutique, Bombshell. Ugh, I hated that term. “Plus sized”, “woman sized”, it was all polite for NOT A SIZE FOUR. I was MY size, plain and simple, or so I kept telling myself so that Ryan’s words weren’t so painful. I pulled into the lot and quickly headed in. My favorite saleslady, Betsy, greeted me. She was the same size as me, covered in tats and piercings, and had a flair for the dramatic. But damn, could that girl dress!

  “Hey ladybug,” she called out her nickname for me. “I’ll be right there!” I waited for her to finish up with her customer and looked through the jeans rack. I always had problems finding jeans that fit me. I have a smaller waist, but giant hips and thighs, so everything bunched and gapped. It was not flattering. I was hoping I could find some that hugged my curves, instead of showcasing them in a majorly unflattering way.

  “Ok Ladybug, thanks for being patient, that woman was tricky!”

  “No worries Bets,” I said, “I might be tricky too. I need something that says ‘Hey there, I’m hip, I love my curves, and I belong in this smoky bar enjoying open mike night’.” I gave her the cliff’s notes version and the name of the club. She immediately pulled me to the back of the store.

  “Sit,” she said, “I’ll pick this one out. Trust me.” Which of course I did. This girl was a fashion goddess and should really be in New York or Paris. She came back with dark wash skinny jeans and a gorgeous red tank that shimmered slightly. It was long and fitted with a scoop neck, and she finished it off with a black velvet tuxedo jacket. She had paired it with cute red flats, yep that’s right, flats. No heels for this girl. I’m a klutz, through and through. I went into the dressing room and put everything on. I looked at myself in the mirror and my breath caught.

  “Wow Bets, this is amazing!”

  “No girl, you are. The clothes just showcase it in pretty packaging.” I turned and studied my curves, taking notice of how great my butt looked in these pants. I was sold, even if it did cost me a month’s salary. I was hoping I had someone to look pretty for. I shook my head, trying not to get my hopes up that he’d even notice me sitting in the crowd. I’d heard a bit of his singing voice last night. That voice mixed with that face…well let’s just say I’m sure he’s not wanting for women.

  I changed back into my yoga pants and hoodie and hurried to the register. I wanted get home and play around with my hair and makeup and have a glass of wine to relax after such an eventful day

  “Bets, thanks so much.”

  “Of course darling! You’re my fave customer. I threw in a designer’s discount for you. I know you’ve been working way too hard.”

  “Have I mentioned I love you, Bets?”

  She hugged me and kissed my cheek. “Pair it with cat-eyes and a red lip. Silver earrings, no other jewelry. Showcase what you’ve got mama.” I smiled and headed to my car. I needed to pick up some new eyeliner and lipstick from Sephora and I’d be ready to go.

  Chapter Eight

  *****

  Lily

  The next few days whirled by in a blur. I went to work, picked up some overtime, came home exhausted, and went straight to bed. Gabriel and I had texted a little here and there, but I was too busy at work preparing for an audit to really chat. It was finally Friday and he had texted me to remind me about the time and place. I decided to take off from the office a few hours early so I could have plenty of time to get dolled up.

  I don’t know about most girls, but I need music to get ready for a big night. I set my iPod on the dock and turned it to my dance mix. Hollaback Girl started playing and I smiled in excitement. Maybe tonight would be my turning point and I would no longer be a “hollaback girl.” Ryan was “working late” yet again and surprisingly it didn’t sting as much as it usually did. He’d been canceling our plans left and right because he wanted to “pick up overtime.” I wondered why it didn’t hurt so much this time. Was it because I was growing numb to his rejection? Or was it because I might have met someone who actually wanted my time? Maybe a little bit of both.

  It sud
denly occurred to me that if Ryan never came back to our apartment again, I might actually like that. I would have quiet when I wanted. The magnitude of day-to-day chores would lessen. The fighting would stop. Had meeting Gabriel made all of these thoughts come to mind? I mean, here I was, dressing up for a man who wasn’t my husband, taking great care with my make-up, and I was completely at peace. I shook my head, telling myself again that I’d think about all this later. For now I wanted to make sure I looked amazing.

  After a quick shower, I straightened my hair, making sure to get all the frizz out. My bangs often had a mind of their own. Next, I began the process of applying my face when What The Hell by Avril Lavigne came on. YES! This was my personal anthem for the night. I was still young, still vibrant, and I needed some fun. I had never been to The Secret Word before, but I had heard all about it from Emma. It was almost always packed, a line around the building type of packed. I was so glad Gabriel had promised to save me a seat. I didn’t know if I was going to fit in. If it was always packed, I wondered what type of crowd it attracted. I really hoped it wasn’t starving artist hipsters drinking Blue Moon and vodka-Redbulls…ugh.

  I finished my foundation and started applying my favorite nude eye shadow. I loved to do my eyes up like Kat Denning in Two Broke Girls, minus the fake lashes. I had tried applying those all of once, and I ended up gluing my eyelids together. It wasn’t pretty. After the two shades of eyeshadow were on, I began the very stressful process of the cat-eye eyeliner. Something most people didn’t know about me was that I’m legally blind in my left eye. Putting on makeup was a daily challenge. Putting on a cat-eye was challenge level “Manolo Blahnik.” Just Dance by Lady Gaga started playing and I focused on the perfect swoop on each eye, trying not to sway my hips. I love Lady Gaga. I know she’s an acquired taste for most people, but she’s amazing. She’s not afraid to be herself, she’s played around with fashion and art and music, and she sticks up for anyone who’s been bullied. As a victim of bullying myself, I admired that in her.

  Eyeliner complete! Victory! It was mostly even. I pulled out my brand new red lipstick that screamed ‘look at me!’ I secretly hoped it screamed ‘kiss me!’ as well. Was that wrong? Maybe. I was still married, no matter how many hours of “overtime” he worked. I wouldn’t stoop to his level, but I was so curious about Gabriel’s lips and how it might feel to kiss him. It might be time that I went out on my own and take some of my student loan money to find a cute little studio for the fur-balls and myself. The more I thought about that, the more determined I was to start perusing Craigslist tomorrow morning. It was decision time, and I needed to look out for myself.

  I took one final look in the mirror and smiled. Wow, I was a knockout! It was 9 p.m. and I needed to get dressed and head out to the club. I put on the outfit from Bombshell, spritzed on some perfume, and grabbed my wallet and keys. Whenever I went out to a club, I refused to carry a purse. Inevitably I’d leave it under a table somewhere, never to be seen again. I instead carried a small silver cigarette case I had picked up at a street fair years ago. I transferred my ID, debit card, cash and insurance card into the silver case, grabbed my phone off the charger, and kissed the fur-balls goodbye.

  Once in the car, I needed to calm down a little, so I turned on some Christina Perri Burning Gold. ‘I need to do karaoke soon’, I thought. I wonder if Gabriel does karaoke. Most people think I’m a dork for loving karaoke bars, but I didn’t care. There was nothing like taking shots and singing your heart out to a crowd who expected bad music and loved every minute of it.

  *****

  Gabriel

  I tried to keep my distance, I really did. I’d get through the day at work, busy as hell, with only a few light texts sent her way. I was trying to give her space and time to think about what she wanted. I crammed as much as I could into my days by working at the garage, checking in on my various businesses, and doing all the mundane paperwork that comes with being a small business owner. At night, though, that was a different story. I couldn’t stay away. I knew she was working long hours, so I’d wait in her room until she got home, looking through her favorite books, her pictures, and even a sneak peek into her journal. Only to see if she had mentioned me, which she had, and my inner teenager rejoiced.

  When she came home, Ryan was usually still out even though it was close to 9 or 10 at night. I’d watch her check the living room and bedroom for any signs of him. Then I’d watch her shoulders fall in a mixture of disappointment and relief. I’d turn my back when she peeled her work clothes off, as much as it pained me not to look. And I waited impatiently for her to get out of the shower. Once she had showered, dressed and tucked herself in, that’s when I’d lie on the bed next to her and hold her. She smelled of baby powder and citrus and vanilla. I’d breath in the smell of her freshly washed hair, close my eyes, and fantasize about a time when I could do this and actually show her I was there.

  For now, though, I simply held her in silence, trying to comfort her as much as I could. I sent her a text every night, telling her I couldn’t wait to see her and to remind her about the performance coming up. I wanted to tell her so much more, but I refrained. I was trying to put her needs first. She was lost and scared and that made her vulnerable. I wanted her to make the decision to leave Ryan on her own, rather than feel pressured or coerced into anything. I knew I was strong willed, demanding, and would do anything to get my way. But I cared so much about this damn girl, that I wasn’t going to let my pig headedness ruin what might be.

  Every now and again, as she lie sleeping peacefully, I felt her sense my presence. Of course she didn’t know it was me, but I could tell she knew she wasn’t alone. She would let out a contented sigh and snuggle back into my body, as though she was dreaming about me holding her. I tried to stay out of her head while she was asleep, but sometimes I couldn’t help it. I wanted her to dream about me. When she pressed her warm, soft body into mine, my dick would harden causing me to be extremely uncomfortable. I didn’t want her to feel me poking her ass just yet. That was for an actual date night. I would slowly get out of her bed and sit in her arm chair and watch over her the rest of the night.

  I did this for the next three nights, until Friday finally came. My days were long, but my nights would fly by as I held her in my arms. Each night Ryan would sneak in around 3 a.m.. I could smell the cheap perfume and whiskey on him and knew he’d been up to no good. It took every ounce of strength I had not to beat his fucking face in. I would snuggle Lily even closer and whisper that it was going to be alright in her ear while she dreamed.

  When Friday finally arrived, I could barely sit still at work. I was a dangerous combination of nerves and sexual tension. I hadn’t jerked off in a week, since I was with her every night, and it made me extremely horny and extremely grumpy. While I was in the back office doing paperwork, all I could think of was laying Lily out onto my desk, spreading her legs wide, and eating her pussy like my life depended on it. I could almost hear her moans and feel her legs on my shoulders. When I was at the garage all I could think about was bending her over my car, kicking her legs apart and ramming into her so hard she’d see stars from the orgasm it would give her.

  Fuck, I needed to distract myself before I whipped out my cock and started jerking right on my paperwork. I was at the club, finishing up paying some bills and decided to go for a run. I needed to expend some of this energy and think about a set list for tonight. It had to be perfect. I wanted her to know all of the songs I sang were for her. She needed to know how I felt about her, even if I was moving a little fast. Well fast for her. Technically she’d only known me about a week, whereas I’d known her for over two years now. I was tired of waiting.

  Chapter Nine

  *****

  Lily

  The drive there was unexpectedly short and I arrived before I knew it. I saw the line already wrapped around the building and sighed. I really hoped he had remembered to save me a seat. I splurged on valet parking and started the walk to the back o
f the line. My phone buzzed and I pulled it out of my new jacket pocket.

  You’re on the list - Love, Your Stalker

  I swung around trying to catch a glimpse of him. I didn’t see his hoodie anywhere. My stomach became knotted and my palms began to sweat. I was so nervous and so excited. He had remembered! Is it sad that this little detail had just made my night? I headed back to the entrance and walked up to a very tall, very burly looking man with a sour look on his face.

  “Um, excuse me sir?” I said meekly.

  “Back of the line,” he said.

  “Well, um, I’m on the list…Lily is my name, sir.”

  He looked at me and smiled, checked his list and said, “Yes of course, Miss Lily. Right this way.” He lifted the rope and led me through a set of double doors into what appeared to be a coat room, with a tiny bar area.

  “Mr. Gabriel said you’d want these,” said the bouncer, as two shots of caramel colored liquor and a coke chaser was set on the bar.

  The bartender, who reminded me of Betsy, smiled and said, “On the house love.”

  “Oh wow!” I exclaimed, “Thank you so much!” I tossed back both of the shots quickly and took a gulp of the coke. I threw a $5 in her jar and thanked her again.

  The bouncer said a few words to another burly man and began to escort me into the club. The lights were low, it was a little smoky, and it wasn’t as crowded as I had thought it would be, considering the line. There were small round tables with white tablecloths scattered here and there in front of a small stage. Each table had a lit candle and a small drink menu. Norah Jones was playing softly from the speakers on stage, which was bathed in darkness. I could make out a guitar, stool, and mic stand that had been set up for the next act. Those had to be Gabriel’s! I was getting so excited to hear him sing. The bouncer stopped in the second row, a little to the left of the stage, and pulled out a chair for me.