Page 25 of Falling for Them

I give them what I hope is a winning, air-headed smile, and saunter off.Maybe they’ll leave before the end of my shift, and I won’t have to worry about them anymore.

The rest of the evening passes in a haze, other than my nerves, which are tight and uncomfortable.Every muscle in my body is tense, as if I’m waiting to run.How I wish I were working at Tyler Analytics tonight, with its security guards on the ground floor, and the well-lit hallways, and the stern, well-muscled form of Kingston Tyler himself, watching over everything and everyone like a protective father.

Eventually, the men at table thirty-nine leave, and I exhale deeply.I don’t often drink alcohol because I can’t afford it.But after my shift, Kevin Bartleby, my boss, holds up a pint glass next to one of the taps and cocks his head in question.

“On the house.You look like you need it,” he says.

“I’ll take it, thanks.”

He slides it down the bar to me.“Fries and a cheeseburger, your usual?”

“No, I’ll have fries and a salad, please.”The salads here aren’t very good, but I’m too nervous to eat a heavy burger.

Once I’m fed and slightly buzzed from the ale Kevin poured me, I hang up my apron, grab my purse, and go out into the cold night.

The four guys from thirty-nine are standing right across the street.

Shit.

And one of them looks up when I leave the pub.

It could be a coincidence, I tell myself.They’re just hanging around, enjoying an evening out.

I don’t believe that for a second.

My apartment is six blocks from here.I don’t feel great walking around the Bellefleur District at night, but I’ve learned a few tricks, ways of protecting myself from unwanted attention.Mostly, I’ve learned how to walk quickly and remain beneath anyone’s notice.

But once I’ve already attracted notice, what then?

I have no fucking clue.

I fall back on one of my usual tricks—sticking close to other crowds of people, so I don’t look like I’m alone and defenseless.There are plenty of groups around because it’s only ten p.m.Two strip clubs line the next block, as well as a karaoke bar and a late-night diner.I hurry toward them, hoping that the men from table thirty-nine remain where they are.

After walking a few yards, I bend down and pretend to adjust my shoe while I peek beneath my arm.

They’re following me.Shit.

A neon sign lights up the window of the karaoke bar.Kitty Cat Karaoke.A crowd of people loiters in front, talking and laughing.They aren’t waiting to get in, but socializing in front of the door, and there are enough of them that I might be able to lose myself in the group.I’m short enough, maybe the guys following me won’t notice.

I push into the group.“Hey, sorry, excuse me,” I say as I boldly make my way through them.

“You could go around,” someone says in a rude voice.

“Sorry,” I say.

I don’t want to attract anyone’s attention.The door to the karaoke bar opens, and rather than go past it as I’d planned, I duck inside as a couple exits.

There’s a small window next to the door, and I hunch away from it while trying to peer out.

The men who were following me walk past the bar.The door remains closed.Exhaling, I slump against the frame.

“Paying or singing?”a deep voice inquires.

I look up and find a large man with his hands on his hips, glaring down at me.

“Sorry, what?”I say.

“Are you paying or singing?”he asks.“There’s a cover charge here, unless you’re performing.”