“Waiting for you. I didn’t think you’d ever get back. Those old ladies take up far too much of your time, Seychelle. You’re always helping them when you should be paying attention to your duties here at home,” Joseph scolded.
A million things ran through her mind at top speed. She’d read about stalkers when Joseph Arnold had first begun turning up at every venue she’d sung at. Then small things disappeared from her home. She’d talked to a police officer in San Francisco. The officer had been kind but explained that Arnold hadn’t really done anything that could be construed as threatening at that point. Once he identified himself as a music scout, he appeared to be trying to help her. The cop believed her, but still said with regret that there was nothing they could do. They couldn’t catch him at anything.
Seychelle had tried to be very clear with each encounter she’d had with Joseph that she wasn’t interested, but it never seemed to faze him. He kept following her everywhere she went. She’d thought after Savage’s rather violent reaction, he would stop, but he didn’t. There he sat, right at her kitchen table, as if he owned the place—and her. He acted as if he thought they were in a relationship.
She walked farther into the room, going to the next window and raising the shade. “You know something? You’re right. I do spend way too much time with all of them. I feel so bad for them. Most of them are completely alone in the world. I sort their medications out for them and make certain they have groceries, but I do stay too long. It tires me out.”
Deliberately, she walked past him to enter the bedroom. It was easy to see into the room, and again she went straight to the window and raised the shade. “I thought I’d change my clothes really quick. I like to get comfortable in the evenings. Are you hungry? I was going to make myself a salad.”
She went to the dresser, pulled off the engagement ring and placed it in the top drawer. Right there, she exchanged the top she wore for a long sweater. The sweater went almost to her knees. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she removed her shoes and then went back over to the dresser to shimmy out of her jeans. As she did, she grabbed her phone and hit the contact number of the last person she’d called—Savage.
“Joseph. Did you want a salad?” She pulled on leggings and slipped the phone into the pocket as she called to the intruder loudly.
When she looked in at him, he had the refrigerator open and was staring at the contents. Very slowly he turned back to her, his face flushed, eyes narrowed. “Why do you have a steak marinating in here? You’re a vegetarian.”
“Doris was coming over. She wasn’t feeling very good—one of her migraines coming on—so she gave me a rain check. Why?” She walked straight over to the table where he’d been sitting and stared in feigned horror at the gun. “Oh my God, Joseph, you brought a gun into my house. Is it loaded? Why did you bring that here? You know I hate guns. Get it out of my sight right now.” She started to cry, backing away from the table, hands in the air. “Why did you bring that in here? Just go. That was so mean of you. You know guns freak me out. Go, get out of the house and take that horrid thing with you.”
Seychelle turned and ran into the bedroom and flung herself on the bed, crawling up it to the headboard, pulling the sheet over her so she could hide the cell phone. Hopefully, Savage was hearing every single dramatic word. She put her face in her hands and sobbed. It wasn’t that hard to do. She really was scared. She just didn’t cry in loud, heaving wails that could wake the dead, as a rule.
Joseph came into the room a few minutes later, looking around and then dropping into the chair in the corner of the room. “It’s all right now, Seychelle. Stop crying. It’s gone. I’ve put it away.”
“It’s still in the house. I know it is. I didn’t hear the door open. Go put it in your car, or on the porch. I don’t want it inside my house.” She hiccupped and sobbed in between each word.
“That’s unreasonable. If you can’t see it . . .”
She cried harder and shook her head. “Why are you here? You ruined everything. I thought we could eat together and just have a nice time, but you had to bring that horrid thing into my house for no reason. I mean it, Joseph, get it out of here.”
She kept her head down, face in one hand, but with the other she mopped the tears with the hem of the sheet. She really wanted Joseph to take the gun outside. If Savage and his brothers from Torpedo Ink showed up, she didn’t want bullets flying.