Pistol (8 page)

The alarm sounded it
s happy screech to tell Steph to get out of bed. All fine and well if she was off to work, but she wasn’t. The first of January being a public holiday, she’d forgotten to tell her phone’s alarm to take Monday off.

Steph swiped at it from under her covers, and silenced the persistent noise. She nestled back into the comfort of her bed,
and scowled into her sheets at the fresh memories of last night. What a fine performance she’d put on for half the darn city. Her brow bunched as she pushed the embarrassing thoughts from her head, and succumbed to sleep once more.

Four hours later, she woke with a start to the sound of
several thumps on her front door. “Coming,” she hollered, and yanked on a sweatshirt to cover her thin bed attire. Cold feet scuffed over the tiles, her limbs still sleep groggy. She swung the door open, and remembered that she should probably be a little more cautious for a while given who may, or may not decide to pay her a visit. Relief washed over her as Ivan stared back from the landing.

“You look terrible,
babe.”

“Hello sweetheart,” she drawled, full of sarcasm. “Want a coffee on this fine morning?”

“Yeah, but I think I’ll make it, huh? Don’t want you to fall asleep over the jug.”

She gave him a playful punch as he walked past her, and into the unit. “So how was your night?”

“Not as heavy as yours it seems.” Ivan wandered into her tiny kitchen, his tall frame dwarfed the cramped space. “I tried to call you.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, but I guessed you must have passed out already. So, I thought I’d come check on you this morning.”

“Thanks.” Steph slid into an armchair, and warmed a little at the thought someone cared
so much for her well-being.

“
But enough about you …”

“Hear, hear.”

Ivan grinned as he wandered over with a glass of water for her. “I wanted to see if you could guess who I met up with the other night.”

“Do I know them?” She accepted the glass from him, and took a small sip.

“Of course.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m not that cruel.”

“Honestly, my head is a mess. You better just tell me.”

“Verity.”

The glass clattered the
last millimetres to the table. “Excuse me?”

“I know, I know. “ He held out his hands. “I was surprised too.”

Steph had heard neither hide nor hair of Ivan’s ex since the woman left him for another guy. “What did she want?”

“She wan
ts to try again,” he called out as he returned to the kitchen. “It seems legit, Stephy.”

“I sure hope so.”

“I knew you’d disapprove,” Ivan said, and reappeared with his coffee. “People can change.”

“Yeah.”
She nodded. “And sometimes they don’t.”

They continued the di
scussion for the next half hour while Ivan sipped his coffee, Steph her water. She listened, and offered advice where she could, but she held back what she honestly thought of the two-timing bitch for his benefit. Ivan seemed happy, and all she ever wanted was for her friends to be happy—which made her think of Cass. She’d screwed up her bestie’s night—selfishly—and had some making up to do.

“Do I ask how your night was then?” Ivan tipped his head, and regarded her with that look which said he already knew the answer.

“Awful.” Steph nursed the last of her water. “First I get hit on by some sleaze who can’t take no for an answer, and then I have a full-on argument with Pete.”

“Interesting.”

“Embarrassing, is the word I would have chosen.”

He shook his head with a
cheeky smile that made the corners of his eyes crease. “We’ve all had bad nights, Steph. It’ll wash over.”

“I sure hope so,” she said,
and drew her knees into her chest.

“Anyway.
Thanks for the coffee,” Ivan said as he stood. “I better head off. And you need a shower.”

“
Gee, thanks.” She poked her tongue out at him. The action brought flashbacks of Pete as he did the same thing, and her mood instantly soured.

“All good?”
Ivan asked, and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Yeah.”
She nodded. “I’ll see you out.”

Steph followed him from t
he unit until he hit the stairs where she chose to stay at the top to see him off. He got into his sedan, and started the engine. Her gaze danced around the street as she waited on him to back out of the parking space. Given the number of discarded cans on the neighbour’s yard, she mustn’t have been the only one to have a big night. She waved as Ivan pulled away, then froze.

Ice ran through her veins as her chest
fruitlessly tried to pump enough air into her system. Her eyes locked to the figure that leant against a light post over the road. A figure too familiar for her liking. A figure who smoked.

Steph backed up
slowly; her hand felt the way along the rail to guide her. Her eyes never left Pete. How long had he been there? What did he want? Was this it? He knew she was alone, so now he’d attack her? Kill her? She berated herself for her stupidity in letting an unstable lunatic into her life so easily. What the fuck had she been thinking? Was she that easily blinded by his appearance? Her unexplainable attraction to him?

Steph dived into her unit, and slammed the door shut. She slid the bolt, turned the deadlock, and tested the handle to be sure.
Laid low on hands and knees, she ducked beside the front window. Steph peered out through a gap in the blinds to the street below, and sure enough his legs were visible from under the canopy of a tree. She turned her head to search for her phone, and cursed when she remembered it was still in her room.

With a deep breath, she took
one last look out the window. Sickness rose in her throat.

He was gone.

**
**

For the next four days, Pete’s strange surveillance of her place continued. Tuesday he arrived after dinner, and left by nine. Wednesday, he appeared before
and
after work. Thursday, he stayed put as she walked past him to get to the train station. Friday morning, he had the decency to offer her a polite “Good mornin’,” as she passed him by.

She wasn’t stupid. Steph knew what he
tried to do. And his mind tricks wouldn’t work on her.

She cleared her dinner dishes away, and prepped for a Friday night in with
her fall-back comfort—
Superman
movies. She poured a glass of wine, and picked up the bowl of popcorn she had made earlier in the evening. As she passed the front window her curiosity got the better of her. She balanced the bowl in the crook of her arm, and edged the blinds apart to look across the road. Sure, night had set in, but the crack of vision seemed way too dark. Was it a new moon?

Steph placed the glass, and bowl on the top of a nearby bookcase, then
with both hands drew the blinds wide. She gasped, and stumbled back. Her foot tangled in her discarded work shoes, and handbag. The point of her tail-bone sung with pain as she landed hard on her backside. Regaining her composure, she pushed to her feet, and stormed to the door. Steph slid the bolt open, and with the deadlock held around, wrenched the door back on its hinges to stick her head outside.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Pete looked lazily across to her from his position; leant with his back to her window. “Waitin’.”

“What the hell for?” She stomped out the door, placing her hands on her hips. “Hell to freeze over?”

The front door
clunk
ed as it swung shut. She winced and tried the handle. “Fuck!”

“Locked out?” he remarked casually.

“I bet you love that,” she bit back. “Go on then. What do you want? I don’t think my night’s going to improve.”

“Argh, don’t be so negative,” he
soothed. “There’s every chance it could get better.”

“Pete,” she chided. “I’m locked out of my apartment, with
a madman on my doorstep. What good is going to come from this?”

“
Ya think I’m a madman?”

“Aren’t you?” Steph threw her hands in the air, before
she slumped against the locked door. “You’ve been stalking me for the whole week.”

He chuckled.
“As if. I was merely givin’ ya a chance to apologise.”

She pushed off the door, and marched up to him. “Me
? Apologise? What the hell for?”

He traced a lazy line along her jaw with an inked finger. “For call
in’ what we did assault.”

She threw her arms across her chest,
and scowled. “Okay, so maybe I was a little off. But it still wasn’t polite.”

“Since when do people worry about being ‘polite’ when they explore their sexuality?”

She spluttered for her next words. “I … I wouldn’t have said that, exactly.”

“What would
ya call it then?” He ran the pad of his thumb across her lips as he licked his own.

Nothing.
She had nothing.

He laughed, and pushed off the wall to slip by her. Steph watched as he flipped out a leather wallet
, and produced a small wire from the coin pocket. He then proceeded to pick her lock, and pushed the door open with a wide smile once he succeeded. “Tah-dah.”

“I am
so
not asking where you learnt that.” She brushed by him, and scooped the snacks from the bookcase. He followed her in, and shut the door. “I wasn’t actually going to ask you in, but well, you know,” she said as she nodded to his position in her lounge.

“Why
did
ya finally decide to talk to me?” he asked, fingering her photo frames on the entertainment unit.

“Apart from the fact you were standing outside my place?”

“Mmm, apart from that.”

“I thought I better tell you I’m moving, so you don’t freak out the new tenants.”

He spun to look at her, a furrow in his brow. “Huh?”

“I transferred to a smaller office in the
northern suburbs. “ She shrugged. “Didn’t think it was any of your concern where I work.”

“It’s not,” he bit out. “But it is
me concern where ya live.”

Steph placed the food onto the low table next to her seat, and flopped into the armchair. “Do enlighten me.”

He crossed the small gap to her, and squatted at her feet. Their knees touched. “How can I visit ya, if you’re so far away?”

“Stalk me, you mean?”

“Visit.” He narrowed his gaze on her. “When did this all come about? Yer transfer, that is.”

“It’s been in the pipe-line for weeks, but I got confirmation Tuesday.”

“And you’ve got somewhere to live—just like that?” His eyes narrowed as he waited on the answer.

“If you’re worried I’m
about to move in with another man—” She patted his hand condescendingly. “—I’m not. I found a place that was available immediately.”

He snorted.
“Like I was worried.”

Steph smiled, and he looked away. She wasn’t fooled by his tough, arrogant exterior. The look on his face as she said she was moving fell nothing short of a boy being told his childhood friend was
off to a new school; it was hurt, disappointed, but resigned. He held the appearance of somebody who had lost out plenty of times before, and now chose not to fight the inevitable. He looked ...
defeated.

“
Ya goin’ to tell me yer new address?”

“So you can
come hang out on my doorstep and give me a reputation before I’ve finished unpacking?”

“So I know where to find
ya.”

Pete’s words held promise, the kind that sent chills
straight down her spine. “What if I don’t want to be found?”

“Nobody’s invisible,
Love. Everyone can be found.” The side of his nose twitched with a sneer, and the dark flecks in his eyes took on a glazed appearance. He looked as though he reminisced, and if it involved what he did when he hunted out people who didn’t want to be found—she didn’t want to know.