Exploits (11 page)

Two minutes later I walk back in with a yellow and white bouquet of flowers. The card is from some guy named Jason. I guess he was the one that phoned. At least tonight I'll know his name. I get clever and give them to my boss, "For you."

She smiles, "Why don't you want them?"

The whole office is in pause mode, especially the men. Yes, everyone wants to know what my problem is.

"I can't stand watching something die."

Suddenly the girls who have flowers seem disturbed by the thought.

Shayne comments quietly from his desk next to mine, "I'll never understand women."

I smile at him, "Me neither.” I giggle and feel elated. I haven’t felt this good in forever. The ego is pumped up now.

* * * * *

That night I make sure the cleavage is blossoming with my new secrets. (You get that, right? I got my secrets from Victoria. Please tell me you get this?)

My long hair is down, I'm wearing tight black jeans and reinforced toe boots, (the only shoes for the sane to wear on a dance floor!)

I smell good and feel as though I look good. The girls and guys from work surround me as we dance and joke up a party together, when this tall, geeky looking guy, comes up to me, with a huge smile. He leans down and kisses my neck, "Hi gorgeous."

My mind is racing. Shit shit shit. I don't recognise this man at all, but I'm gathering he is Jason, because he's the only person I told where I'd be found tonight.

I smile and laugh, "Hi!" (Way too enthusiastic. I'm not one hundred percent sure that this is Jason, to be honest.)

Thank the lord men are forward. Frank gets all protective and holds out his hand, "Hi, I'm Frank. AND YOU ARE?"

The music is loud, but the way he did that made me want to laugh.

"Jason."

Oooka
y
,
this is Jason. So I play all coy, "Thanks for the flowers."

Frank interjects, "Which ones did you send?"

Oooooh nooooo
. Now I could just
kick
Frank. Just pop his ego, why don't you?

Jason arches one eyebrow at me, "Yellow and white thing."

I smile, feeling like a slug caught under this poor man's shoe.

Jason grabs my elbow and glides me away from the pack to a dark corner. I'm expecting to be in shit now. Isn't that what happens?

My heart is racing with nervousness as I look up into his face. He's not bad, he's just not Gary. He's got short, dark blond hair. Greenish eyes: (hard to tell, it's a bit dark here). He seems nice. He's nice and tall. (I still have no recollection of him. Period.)

He leans over me, resting his arm on the wall, speaking intimately, "So who else are you dating?"

Fuck
.

"No one." (And that's the God honest truth. I'm not dating anyone. It's not my fault complete strangers are sending me flowers.)

He laughs that delicious laugh, okay this is the same guy that was on the phone. “Chill out. It’s just good to tell a guy he has some competition."

I'm so relieved, I could kiss him. I reach out a hand and place it against ... oooh, a wash board stomach … HELLO.

"Thank you for the flowers. Really. But please don't do that again." I step onto my toes and kiss his neck. (He's much too tall.) It's a thank you kiss.

He covers my hand with his own and holds onto it, "Why?"

Here goes nothing. "I don't like flowers." I do, just not ones that will die in front of me. Cut flowers die, it's inevitable.

He smiles. He has a gentle smile. He's so different from what I'm used to.

"Well, am I allowed to get you a drink?"

Giggle. (A relieved giggle.) "Yes!"

He entwines his fingers through mine and takes me with him to the bar and orders for both of us. I spent a lot of my time with him that evening. By the end of it I knew we had nothing in common. Which is a pity.

Friday morning Frank corners me as I get into work, "He's awful! A girl like you can do better."

I'm going to change his name to Counsellor Frank. "There's nothing wrong with him."

He grabs my elbow and spins me around and points at James, "Look at him."

I look, "Yeah, so?"

"That's a man."

Ha ha ha. I know that. He's certainly not a woman

Frank eyeballs me again, "Listen to me girly. Jason isn't secure in himself. You are. You need a man that knows who he is and what he wants."

I arch eyebrows. I'm feeling mildly insulted. "Frank, it's none of your business."

He walks back to his desk, "You'll be sorry."

Somehow my happy bubble is burst. I feel chastised and full of doubt. I knew for myself that Jason and I wouldn't last longer than a week. But James? Come on! He's definitely not my type.

Oh
all right
. James is huge. He's about six-foot-four and built like a wrestler. I find that excessively intimidating. I really like him as a person, but gigantic men make me feel paranoid and intimidated. I can't help this.

* * * * *

Wednesday morning I'm mildly hung over, (the routine is established). I'm at work, life is good, coffee is maintaining my equilibrium for me, I'm competent, I'm fairly dishy myself and I have a phone-sex voice. I am ready to conquer!

Riiiing ...

"Stefanie speaking, how may I help you?"

"I need you."

The voice is so croaky, I can barely hear it properly.

"Hello?"

"Stefanie, I need you."

Oh My God. It's Gary. He sounds terrible!

"Gary?"

"NOW!"

My heart starts racing. I'm panicked. He sounds like he's dying. "Gary, what's wrong? Is everything all right?"

Long pause, before he croaks, "Can you get home? Now?"

Oh God. He's cut his wrists or something. Had too much alcohol and something else? Pills? I don't know. Don't tell me he's tried to end it because I refused to speak to him.

Full-blown guilt overload. Short circuiting brain, logic and everything else. I fear this is his last phone call. He's reaching out. Urgency pumps through me.

"I'll try."

"Hurry."

Click.

FREAK OUT!

"What? Stefanie, what's the matter?"

I look at Selene, "It's Gary. Something's horribly wrong. If Mrs Sinclaire lets me off, can you take me there now?"

Her eyes look alarmed, "Sure!"

She phones switchboard to inform Michelle that we won't be at our desks. Giving her the first inside scoop.

I tell Sinclaire I have a family emergency. No problem she'll let Selene take me, I can take the rest of the day off.

I am shrinking inwardly with panic and fear. It’s as if someone just diminished my nervous system with a Tazer. Selene can't wait for me when she drops me off, she has to cover for me at work.

"Call me if you need me."

"Thanks."

I watch her drive away, and turn and run for Gary's front door. My insides nearly bottom out when I see a note attached to the front door with my name on it.

With violently shaking hands I unpin the white envelope and open it.

First reading the bold ‘Stefanie’ on the front. My fear that this is a suicide note is making me dizzy and on the verge of hyperventilating.

I try the front door. It's unlocked. I push it open and call, "Gary?"

Nothing.

Oh God.

Chapter 15

Arrows

I
ran through the house looking for him. Not caring at all about the note. Eventually I ran outside. Gary was nowhere to be found.

A cold chill tap-dances up my vertebrae as a sinister thought floods my consciousness. Kristy's ex had tried to shoot her, saying she could never leave
him
. My eyes grow larger as my breathing gets shallower; it occurs to me this might be a set-up.

Damn it
. Why do I always react without thinking things through? I try to suppress the gonging of my beating heart, so I can listen, my eyes scanning every tree, bush, car in the street. Nothing. Shit man! This is unhinging me.

My stomach is now firmly lodged in the base of my throat. I’m so scared, I feel ill. Finally, I take the note out of the envelope.

Follow the arrows

Frowning, I look for arrows. I’m so distraught that I didn't even notice them. Taped to the floor are arrows. Gulp. Am I following arrows to my untimely death? I want to cry. This isn't fair! Why me?

I follow the path slowly. Carefully. With fear induced palpitations. I'm jumpier than popcorn. Through the dining room into the sitting room, I follow them to behind the couch. (My fear, honestly, is that he's lying bleeding to death behind that three-seater.) What waits for me shocks me rigid. I stop walking and stare in disbelief. What? What is this?

I look up, panicked. Everything feels
wrong
. You know when your instincts are
yelling
at you? You feel like you're being watched, and you have no idea how far someone else could go. It could be innocent. But, it might not be. Doubt is clawing at me.

I’m staring at the row of arrows leading to the cutest, puppy dog plush toy, I've ever seen. I’m afraid to touch it. It could be a
bomb. It could be laced with poison. I leave it right there and keep following the arrows.

They take me into the bathroom. I'm faint with fear. They lead to the closed shower. My dread resurfaces: that I'm going to move that curtain away and he'll be slumped there, staring up at me with accusing glassy eyes. My hands are trembling so severely that I almost rip the curtain out of those ridiculously
pathetic rings. I become dizzy with relief. A box lies next to the outlet cover. I stare at it. It could be another trap. Breathe. Keep breathing.

Agitated, I keep on looking behind me. Images of Psycho and the dude with the huge knife (but it was his mom right?) stabbing her to death in the shower, keep on fading in and out of my mind's eye. I keep following arrows into the bedroom. I’m like a cop from TV as I quickly glance in and withdraw, looking behind the door and beyond the closet which obscures the entrance. In – out. Dash – dash. (It looks empty – at least he's not lying unconscious on the bed next to an empty bottle of vodka and pills.)

Heebie-jeebies hug me, I shift a glance behind myself again. Nothing. Fuckenhell. I am freaking out so badly I am three steps behind my shadow with fear.

Taking a deep breath I tiptoe quietly into the bedroom. Now all but unhinged, I fling open every closet door defensively. Just clothes. I close them again, then stare at the arrows. Walking to my side of the bed I see another envelope. I pick it up off my pillow and open it. Looking at the doorway and the window behind me again in reflexive paranoia.

I sag onto the edge of the bed with weakening knees. It's a pink card. Relief and tears flood my veins. I am so relieved I'm not here to die. That he's not here to die. I open the card.

Stefanie, I love you!

I'm sorry!

Silent sobbing begins welling up. Gary
never
apologises, even when he's wrong. And I haven't heard him use my name for years. Except in the past two weeks of him phoning me. I gulp. I have to stay strong. It's not over yet. I'm not in the clear yet. He could be saying, ‘Sorry I have to kill you’. Sorry?
Sorry
! Yeah, maybe I should wait to make a judgement call to find out just why he's sorry. (Oh, I'm sorry, but I have to hang you up like a deer I just shot.)

Images of Gary turning into Hannibal Lector resurface.
I am creeping myself out.

Then I notice another envelope. I pick it up and open it.

Keep following the arrows.

Cold whispers over my skin. My hairs stand on end. Right here, this is what I've been trying to tell you. Gary
knows me better than anyone ever will. How did he know? How could he? That I would stop here and think it's the end of the arrow hunt.

Ready to make a break for it,
I look up and scan the area again. I am so stressed out. Gary is like a psychic. He knows what I'm going to do before I do. (Oh wait, actually, the  day I took my ring off and left, he never saw that coming. Yay! Thank you for that thought. Anger is a whole lot better than this soppy fear.)

I nearly shed my fingernails in fright as the phone starts ringing, jarring the oppressive silence. My heart is pounding. That's him! I bet it is.

I run for the phone next to the front door.

Oooka
y
.
Right. So I usually lose bets too!