Page 10 of Reckless
“Guys,” Phoebe tries to interrupt and fails.
“That’s right, there was her eighteenth birthday and then her college graduation. How could I forget?” her mother retorts.
“Guys, if this is going to turn into an argument, I’ll call you back tomorrow.”
“It won’t, baby. Tell us how it’s going,” her dad urges.
They talk for a few more minutes, and I stay in my little corner like a stalker. I can’t get to my GT without drawing attention, and I’d rather not interrupt her if I don’t have to. Besides, I don’t really want to move. I soak up the sounds of her talking to her family like I’ve been in the dark for most of my life and her voice is a precious ray of sunshine.
Maybe that isn’t too far from the truth.
After a while, she ends the call, and I finally break from my spot to head to my GT. Only it kind of seems like I’m following her since I’m parked a couple of spaces away from where she’s waiting—I assume for a ride. I frown when I realize she’s out here all alone. She should have had Emily or someone wait with her. The set is secure, but nothing is ever one hundred percent secure.
Ambling up to her, I decide to wait until she’s safely in a car. I can’t in good conscience leave her in the dark this late, alone.
“Hey,” I say, and she startles us both by damn near jumping out of her skin.
When she glances up at me, her face is ghost white.
Chapter Five
Phoebe
My heart still hammering, I stare blankly at Griffin before I find my voice again. “Oh, wow, I must really be jumpy today. Too much caffeine. Heading out for the night?”
“Yeah. I don’t mean to pry, but are you okay? You seem spooked.”
He’s dressed simply in a hoodie and jeans. I imagine this is what he looks like when he’s alone, away from the set and the spotlights. Relaxed. His expression, though, is anything but. Seeing him this way, it isn’t hard to imagine him on the front lines as a Marine.
“Phoebe,” he prompts when I don’t answer right away.
I clear my throat, my cheeks burning. Had he caught me staring? “Yes? Oh, God, I’m sorry. My mind is all over the place.”
“Are you okay?” he repeats. My apology doesn’t seem to assuage his studied interest. Having his eyes on me, I swear he can read my thoughts.
“I’m fine, I swear. Just spacing out.” There’s a tremble in my voice I hope he can’t hear. I’m certainly not an actress, and hiding my ruffled nerves is proving to be harder than I thought. The message from this morning must have spooked me more than I realized. “It’s been a long day.”
Naturally, he hears something, and the worry in his face deepens, causing him to frown at me. “Yeah, I don’t believe a word you’re saying.”
Before I can refute him, my phone vibrates in my hand. I unlock it automatically, the screen opening to my Instagram messages. There’s another one from that Smith Johnson person. Like an idiot, I hadn’t blocked their account after the first message, simply writing it off as a prank or a dumb joke. People can be heartless and cruel on the internet when they’re behind the safety of their screens. But it’s just trolls. I don’t have anything to worry about.
Right? I swallow hard.
This time, the message reads:
I warned you.
That’s all.
What more do I need, really? The subtle threat underneath the message is evident. I’d been stewing about the first message in the hour or so since as I finished up a report and proposal for the social media launch to send to Catherine. The work helped distract me . . . for a while. But the worry came right back to the forefront when I came outside to wait on my Uber.
And my phone vibrated again.
Another message.
This one is a picture.
At first, I don’t recognize it. It’s a simple snapshot of a front stoop. Nothing special, pretty nondescript, really, which is why I had such a hard time placing it. That and I’d only lived there a few days. The picture is of the front door to my apartment. I can’t help it. I gasp in shock. How would they know where I live? There’s a paper from a neighbor’s apartment still on the stoop in the edge of the frame. I remember seeing it this morning before work. They’re at my apartment right now. I’m sure of it.