“This man wasn’t like any others. I mean, sure, he dressed nice and had a kind of swagger about him that came around once in a blue moon, but what drew me to him was more what hovered over him and less to do with his looks, though he was handsome as he surely was smart. I wondered why he watched me as I moved through the coffee shop. It wasn’t just an interested watching; it was a kind of predatory gaze that I couldn’t shake off me. I was on a break, and when I say break, I mean my next client wasn’t until one p.m. He was my most difficult to deal with in terms of conversation because he never spoke. He would just sit there, rocking in the corner and refusing to speak. His family was bad… more than bad. In fact, I was sure that their family drama could almost match mine—sans the me chewing on my dead brother’s corpse dick. This boy wasn’t just damaged, he was out of touch. In all my career as a psychologist, I’d never come across someone as shallow as him. He didn’t want to be there. I would go as far as to say that he was probably planning my murder. The only reason why he would come was because of his mother. Now, she wasn’t totally innocent either. There was the way she would dismiss him when she’d drop him off without saying a single word to me. He was nine, for fuck’s sake.
“Back to the man staring at me in the coffee shop. His eyes were dark, his beard gray, and the suit he wore seemed to fit him perfectly as if he paid thousands to get it tailored. I picked up my coffee and started heading back through the door when he stopped me with his words. He called my name, which was odd because no one knew my name. I didn’t have friends. I didn’t even have associates because I ran my sessions from a small, hidden little area in Brooklyn. I remember I turned to face him, confused, and asked him if I knew who he was. He had said no, but that I was about to and gestured to the empty chair opposite him. I was in a social setting, I knew I would be fine. Handsome doesn’t cancel out psycho, and I, of all people, knew that—we will get to that part later—but right now, I was confused about this man who knew my name. I thought he was going to sweep me off my feet and tell me he had been waiting for me all his life, but instead, he sat me down and threatened my life. I hadn’t had my life threatened since the incident with my mother, but she didn’t threaten, she attempted. Full bathtub, a lot of Xanax, and too much alcohol. She screamed that she gave me life so she could take it away. Now, if she was still alive, I’d probably have a field day on her.
“I left that coffee shop stirred, not shaken, but that’s not to say he wasn’t terrifying because he was, but I knew someone a lot worse than him, and quite frankly, he didn’t have the devil’s accent.
“I made my next session and the boy sat and stared at me. He had peculiar eyes. As if they refused to see anyone or anything else. He reminded me of death and pain. Anyone who crossed paths with this boy should run—and they should run fast.”
I pause my podcast and pull the plug out of my bath. This podcast has begun to leave a ghosting of chills down my spine any time I listen. I think that’s why I want to keep going without stopping. I’m desperate to see the end.
Sliding into a set of fluffy loungewear and my wool slide slippers, praying that the orgy outside has died out, I crack open my door to music playing loudly.
“Fuck.” I slam it closed again.
I grab my phone off the edge of the bath and flip through my messages until I find Cece. When I open the bathroom door, I pause when I see Luca directing two naked girls onto our bed.
My arm drops beside myself. “What are you doing?”
Luca doesn’t look toward me when he unbuckles his belt. “What I want, Mer. It’s what I always want.”
I take slow steps toward him. “Luca, not here at our house, let alone the bed we sleep in.”
He finally turns to face me, a harsh smile marring his face. “What are you going to do about it, Meraki?”
I ball my fists at my sides, anger crashing through me in waves. “Get out.”
Luca pauses, and then slowly turns to face me. It isn’t until he’s an arm’s length away that I realize how much I wish I didn’t say that to him.