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ten

B efore I call her, I have to remember that if I start out by being aggressive, Mads’ll get defensive quickly. I try to tell myself that it’s not her fault. It’s not her responsibility to screen her prank call numbers or make sure we’re actually calling with the app.

Especially when it’s my phone.

And especially when it ends up being a serial killer on the other end of the line. I suck in a breath, then another, before hitting her name in my contact list and hitting it again so I’m calling her. “Be nice,” I whisper. “Be nice or she won’t speak to you for a month.”

I remind myself that’s not a good thing. That I’m not mad enough at her to really want this to stick.

Mads picks up on the third ring, and I can hear the clink of glasses that tells me she’s at her mom’s bar, probably setting up for her next shift.

“ Hey Kai,” she greets, sounding worn out already. “ Everything okay ?”

I bite my lip so I don’t tell her that everything is barely okay. That I’m covered in bruises and woke up with a sticky note pressed to my nose.

Or that I’m a little bit terrified I’m going to see him again.

“Uh, yeah. Hey, don’t judge me for asking, but I’m going to, anyway.” I wait, phone in my hand and speaker on, trying to gauge her mood apart from tired. “That list you pulled up. The one from last night?” My words are slow and I fight to keep my question casual. “Don’t ask me why my brain cares, but I’m just curious. Where’d you get the phone numbers?”

“ Hmm? ” She’s distracted. I can tell from the noncommittal hum and the overly loud sound of glasses being shuffled and moved into place. Glass clinks in my ear, but I wait for her to digest the question. She does that sometimes with bigger questions, and when she’s really not paying attention.

She really does suck at multitasking.

“ Oh. Look, it’s really not anything suspicious. A friend here keeps track of the phone number napkins anyone gets from gross customers. I grabbed them and wrote them down. ” I can’t help blinking in surprise at the idea of Huxley being on the list of gross men.

He’d seemed charming…for a psycho. For a really fucked up, unwell psycho.

But he hadn’t killed me .

That thought never stops going through my head, no matter how many times I try to shove it back into a box where it belongs. I tap my fingers on the counter, leaning against it as I stare up at the ceiling. “All of them?” I ask mildly and offhandedly. I mean, I suppose the answer to that is going to be yes.

“ Except that last one ,” Mads admits, still sounding distracted. “ I found out that one was from her other pile. Supposedly, she actually wanted to call him. But hey, we helped her dodge a bullet, you know? He was a real creep .”

That’s a bit more reasonable. He seems like someone who could charm a bartender with minimal effort if he can keep the crazy under wraps for a few minutes. “Right,” I murmur, tilting my head from one side to the other. It’s definitely a pretty boring, plain answer. But I don’t know what I was expecting. Mads isn’t a special government agent. She’s not evil, not really, and there’s no way she could’ve known what Huxley is.

“Anyway, I was just stupidly curious.” I snort. “You have a long shift tonight?” Absently, I head to the fridge and pull out a few random ingredients to make a pretty boring sandwich, all things considered. But after my leftover nachos earlier today, I figure a simple meal might make my stomach feel less rebellious.

“ Yeah, unfortunately.” Mads groans. “ Mom asked if I could work some overtime since Lexie quit.” I can hear her sigh and frustration at working another long shift at the bar. I know she enjoys her job most of the time. But I also know how little tolerance she has for men who talk stupid and act worse.

It shouldn’t surprise me that the list was of men she and the other bartenders wanted to get back at or make miserable, even if only a little bit.

We chat for a few minutes while she puts up glasses and I make a chicken sandwich with veggie bacon, white cheddar, and sliced pickles. It’s not my best work, especially since I’m not sure how this veggie bacon will taste on the sandwich since it’s a little too crispy for my taste. But I slather a layer of mayo onto the rye bread and squash it on top of the pickles just as Mads wraps up a story about something her mother told her before she started her shift.

It used to make me jealous; I remind myself, just to show how far I’ve come. I used to be so envious of her having a caring parent who’s always there to dig Mads out of trouble or keep her afloat. The bartending job is a part of that, though neither of them will admit how nervous her mom is for her post-college.

“Have a good shift,” I tell her when she’s winding down. “Call me after if you want? I might see if Em wants to stream a movie with me.” I enjoy having co-movie nights from two different places, especially when I don’t feel like putting on real clothes or even brushing my hair.

She ends the call after that, and I drop the phone on my coffee table before sinking down onto the sofa with a bottle of Kool-Aid flavored water in one hand and my sandwich in the other. Plus a small bag of cheddar sour cream chips I swiped from the cabinet while Mads was relaying one last anecdote about the bar that I’ve absolutely already forgotten.

Having no idea what to watch or what I’m in the mood for means that I end up with Grey’s Anatomy on my television, though it’s a random season and episode. I’m barely paying attention anyway, since I’m gnawing on my sandwich and my head is trying to decide if it’s going to hurt or not.

With lack of quality sleep comes lack of feeling great, I’ve realized. And if I don’t sleep well, I’m much more likely to end up with a nasty ass headache the next day.

Finishing my food, I set my plate down on the table and sink into my oversized plush couch. There’s a well-used pillow on one end that I drag up under me to bury my face in, and let out a soft sigh into the smooth fabric under my nose.

Maybe I’ll just go to bed early to fight off the impending doom of a headache. Like, really early, while the sun is still up, instead of getting anything of value done. I’m off for another day anyway before I have to go back to work. Not that I have to go far, since my place of employment is quite literally down the hallway into my office.

I may not make a ton of money, but the joy of working from home and not having to deal with people more than makes up for it most days. Except when I look out the window to see Patrice’s unsmiling face, at least.

My phone rings, and I sigh at the idea of talking to Mads. She’s the only one who calls instead of texting, and normally she only does so when something dramatic has happened at the bar. Reluctantly, I drag my phone out from under me, and I lift my head enough to peek at the screen, expecting to read her name as my thumb hovers over the accept button.

But the letters HUXLEY followed by a little heart emoji glow up at me. I blink once, then again, suddenly unsure of what to do. I hadn’t gone through my contacts to see if he put himself in there. After all…I hadn’t expected him to.

The ringing stops with me still staring at my phone, but seconds later, a text comes through instead.

Pick up the damn phone, Kai.

The words make me snort, make my eyes narrow in frustration at his easy attitude, like we’re somehow friends instead of…

Well, I have no idea what we are.

My phone ringing again, however, pushes all thoughts of what we are or aren’t out of my head, and this time I tap the green button before bringing the phone to my ear. “What do you want?” I ask, pressing my cheek to the pillow as I flip onto my side so I’m facing the TV.

“ That’s so rude. I went through so much trouble making sure you’d wake up in a good way, and this is what I get?” His tone is mocking, and I take a moment to process his words.

“I woke up covered in— Fuck , Huxley, you left a sticky note on my face!” I snap, unable to hold back my disbelief and frustration.

“ Would you have preferred to not wake up at all ?” The question is low and dangerous, and his voice is husky even over the phone.

For a moment, I can’t say a word. My mouth opens, then closes, as nothing comes to my lips.

But then Huxley cackles, and the fear in me thaws as my shoulders relax. “ I’m fucking with you. God, you got so quiet. Are you over there shaking right now?”

“Fuck you,” I murmur, unable to think of anything else.

“ Sure, we can do that next time. Though you did wake up a bit last night,” he’s quick to inform me. “ You just don’t really remember it thanks to, you know, being drugged and all. Gives a bit of amnesia after it kicks in. Actually, it’s used for surgeries, and ? —”

“I woke up?” I can’t help the curiosity in my voice as I interrupt him, and I roll over to face my ceiling. “But I don’t…”

“ Remember, yeah. Do we need to go over the side effects of sedatives? We can do that. But you did wake up a few times, actually.” He pauses, like he’s waiting for me to ask.

And fuck, I’m absolutely going to ask.

“What did I say? Or do? Please tell me I tried to off you and almost succeeded.”

He snorts, like that’s not quite what he expected. “ No, sorry to tell you. You absolutely did not try to kill me. You did beg, though. And I don’t normally make promises, but I broke my rule last night and promised not to kill you, so you’d fuckin’ relax.”

I have no idea how to feel about that, or what to say, or how to respond. I stare at the ceiling and wish to God I’d wake up from this weird dream. “Oh,” I murmur at last.

“ That’s it? Oh?”

“Well, what else do you want?” I snap, finally getting some of my attitude back. “A thoughtfully written thank you note? A review on your Yelp business page?”

He laughs full out at that, surprising me at the warmth of the sound. “ How’d you get my number, little bunny?” Huxley asks with one last chuckle. “ I’m just curious. You said it was your friend, right?”

I’m not sure I like the way this is going, and I bite my lip. “Why? Is she going to be your next late-night target to educate on the uses of Midazolam?”

“Oh, you remember. I’m proud of you. And no. You’re the only one I’m interested in like that. Call me curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

“Then I’ll just have to come over and satisfy myself with you again to bring myself back. That’s how the saying goes, right? Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought him back.”

For a few moments, I don’t reply. I drum my fingers on my stomach and try not to think about the feeling of his hand splayed there. “You, uh, gave it to a bartender,” I say finally. “She kept it, wanting to call you back.”

“ I did?” He sounds bewildered. “ Why would I—Oh!” It sounds like realization hits him like a baseball bat. “ The annoying blonde! Yeah, I remember. I was going to off her whenever she called, actually .” He says it so casually that it’s unnerving, and my chest tightens.

“I’d kind of like it if you didn’t.”

“ Why? You know her?”

“Not personally.”

“ Six degrees of separation kind of thing?”

“She’s my friend’s friend. It would really put a crimp in our plans if you kill her. Do I seem like the kind of friend who’s good at being supportive through my own emotional needs?”

His chuckle is clear over the phone. “ Well, no. You seem like you’d throw someone in front of a bus to keep yourself from getting killed, if I’m being honest.”

“Fair. So you won’t kill her?”

“ I’ll consider it if you play along. What are you wearing, Kai?”

I roll my eyes, then close them with a sigh. “Oh no, is this you attempting phone sex with me? I’m wearing leggings and a t-shirt. It’s an old band tee. I never listened to them, and it’s really faded, but there’s a neon unicorn on the front so?—”

“ You’re so bad at this.” But he sounds amused rather than upset. “ Have you never talked dirty on the phone before?”

“Yeah, I’m definitely not going to impart tales of my sexual experiences to you over the phone, in person, or via a carrier pigeon.”

“ Fine. I’m adaptable. What’s your favorite scary movie?”

“Oh, we’re crossing genres now? No more shitty romance, we’ve moved to slasher horror? Let me just pop some popcorn. I don’t have a boyfriend for you to tie up by the pool, though. And I also don’t have a pool.”

I swear I can hear the grin on his face as he says, “ That’s okay. I’ll make do somehow, pretty girl. So, favorite scary movie?”

“I sort of prefer action movies. Marvel over DC, though. Personal preference.”

“ God, you’re so bad at this.”

“Maybe I’m just too good at this for you.”

His surprised laugh meets my ears and, for some reason, it makes me want to smile. But I bite my lip, as if that’ll be some kind of deterrent. It’s not like he can see it, so I don’t know why I care what expression I’m making.

“ You’re really asking for it, you know? And I think this time I’ll come prepared to shut you up so I don’t have to drug you. Don’t get me wrong,” he adds sweetly. “ Fucking your pretty pussy while you drifted in and out of consciousness and begged me so sweetly for anything you could think of really made my week. I loved seeing you all messy and relaxed for me. But I think I’d like you to be awake next time so you know that fighting me is pointless. You like me too much.”

“Funny,” I breathe, my chest tight at his words. Fuck, it’s hard to think straight with those ideas dancing around in my head. “Here I am pretty sure I hate you.”

“ Nah . You don’t hate me. You’re afraid of me, Kai. But you don’t hate me. ” It’s unfair of him to sound so confident and sure of himself. I want to grind my teeth together in irritation or hang up on him, for all the good it would do me.

If I hang up, I’m half convinced he’ll be here banging on my door within the next hour, and I think I’d rather deal with him over the phone right now.

“Do you want to hang up on me?” He’s goading me now, and it’s so hard not to do exactly that. “ You don’t like this game? We can change it, if you want. Why don’t you ask me something, hmm? Ask me what my favorite scary movie is, or ? —”

“What are you wearing?” I snap instead, turning his words on him challengingly, trying to throw him off his game. He can’t be expecting?—

“ Not a damn thing.” The words absolutely make my brain go blank, and my ears seem to ring at the easy admission. “ I’m done with work today, and I’m at home just thinking of my favorite little bunny. Wishing I was there to pin her in the mud of her yard. Is your shed clean, Kai? Could I drag you in there and have my way with you? Pin you down with my teeth in your throat and ruin you for anyone else?” He lets out a groan, and suddenly it hits me what he’s doing.

“You’re getting off on this!” I accuse.

He snorts, and I can almost hear Huxley roll his eyes. “ Well, duh. That’s the point of phone sex. I deserve a little after work treat, don’t you think?”

“I think you need therapy.”

“ Yeah, probably. ” He definitely doesn’t sound put out by it. “ Are you going to hang up on me?”

“You hang up.”

“ No, you hang up. Hang up, Kai, or you’ll get to listen to me moan your name and wish I could sink into that soft, greedy little pussy. You begged me for it last night, you know. Begged me to fill you up and make you come. You begged for me to play with your clit and your tits. Do you know, you make the prettiest noises when you come? Did you know ? —”

I hang up on him without listening to another word. I know he’s expecting it. He was goading me into it, after all. So when he doesn’t call back in the few minutes that I stare at my phone, I’m not at all surprised.

And I’m certainly not disappointed. Not even the slightest bit.