Next Door

Chapter Seven

Danielle woke up at eight o’clock, feeling as if she had not slept well at all. She’d gotten in from work at 2:45 and collapsed into bed at 3:10. She usually had no problem sleeping until well after eleven—sometimes even later—but when her eyes opened at 8:01 that morning, she could not go back to sleep. Truth be told, she really hadn’t slept very well ever since she’d known that Chloe was coming back into town. It had felt like her past was slowly following her and it would not stop until it swallowed her whole.

Cranky and tired, Danielle showered and then ate breakfast. She did it all with Skinny Puppy’s Too Dark Park album playing in the background. As she placed her breakfast dishes in the sink, she realized she’d have to go grocery shopping today. Most days, this did not bother her. But there was the occasional day where she felt like going out into public was a mistake…that people were watching her, waiting for her to fuck something up and point fingers.

She also feared that any time she went out allowed the letter writer a chance to follow her. One of these days, she figured the writer would stop playing around with her and just kill her.

Maybe today would be that day.

She drove to the grocery store, already knowing full well that this was going to be one of those days…one of those days where she was going to be afraid of everything. One of those days where she would constantly be looking over her shoulder. She drove quickly, even running a red light along the way, wanting to get the trip over.

Ever since Danielle started receiving the disturbing notes under her door, she found it anxiety-inducing to be in a public place for very long. It was far too easy to imagine the person who had been writing those letters to be following her. Even at work, she wondered if the writer was sitting at the bar, having just received a drink from her. When she picked up her Chinese food, was he following her, waiting to finally jump her as she walked back to her car?

Even after she had arrived safely at her destination, hurrying into the grocery store and practically racing a cart with a squeaky wheel down the aisle, the worry was there. The letter writer could be there with her, mirroring her steps on the next aisle over, maybe getting a good look at her across the produce section or across the cereal aisle.

It was a very real fear that flashed through her head the day following the surprising turn of events with Martin. The paranoia sank into her, causing her to lower her head and push up her shoulders. If someone wanted to see her face, they’d need to be very purposeful about it, to the point of stopping her and hunching down.

She hated that she was like this. She’d always faced these kinds of issues, which was why most of her dating relationships rarely lasted more than a month. She knew she’d developed a reputation for being a bit of a slut during her first tenure here in Pinecrest, but it hadn’t been because she enjoyed sleeping around. It was just that by the time she was comfortable enough with a guy to sleep with him, she’d start to assume the worst about him. She’d end the relationship, take some time to recover, and then start again.

She’d gotten a bit better when she’d moved back to Pinecrest a few years ago. She’d left Boston and felt like she was retreating…but that was okay. She was at least retreating to somewhere familiar. The hardest thing to get used to was the stagnant dating scene. It had been okay at first, although she’d managed to ruin every single relationship she’d started. That’s why the fight with Martin had struck her so hard.

Of course, there was the downside to Pinecrest. Far too many people remembered her and Chloe. They remembered how the poor little Fine girls had ended up living with their grandparents after their mother had died and their father had been taken to prison.

“Danielle, is that you?”

She turned toward the voice, startled. She’d been so lost in her thoughts that she’d managed to fully expose her face while reaching up for a box of Froot Loops. She found herself looking at a face from her past—a woman who looked terribly familiar but whom she couldn’t quite place.

“Do you not remember me?” the woman asked, on the verge of entertained and offended. She was probably forty-five, maybe fifty. And no, Danielle did not remember this woman.

“I guess you don’t remember me,” the woman said. “I guess you were only thirteen or fourteen the last time I saw you. I’m Tammy Wyler. I was a friend of your mom’s.”

“Oh yeah, sure,” Danielle said. She did not remember the woman at all but the name did sound familiar. Danielle assumed she was one of the family friends who had visited her grandparents in the year or two following the death of her mother.

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” Tammy said. “Your hair is…darker.”

“Yeah,” Danielle said unenthusiastically. She supposed the last time Tammy Wyler had seen her, she’d only just started her full rebellion mode. Back then, at thirteen or fourteen years of age, she’d usually opted for neon pink hair with black stripes. Now it was raven black, a style she realized was old and used up but seemed to still fit her perfectly.

“I always knew you came back around here but well…I don’t know. I just never really got around to looking you up after you moved. You went to Boston or something for a while, right?”

“Right.”

“Oh, so I hear Chloe is back in town, too. Bought a new house out near Lavender Hills, right?”

“Yeah, she’s back,” Danielle said, quickly approaching her tolerance limit for small talk and bullshit.

“I heard through the grapevine that she lives just a few houses away from a girl you guys went to high school with. I actually live about two streets over from her.”

Poor Chloe, Danielle thought.

“Oh, and did she tell you about the block party?” Tammy asked, apparently unable to keep her mouth shut for any more than three seconds at a time.

“She did,” Danielle said. She was hoping Tammy would take her short responses as a cue that she really wasn’t the sort to just chat it up in the aisle of the grocery store.

There was a brief silence between the two of them where Tammy did seem to piece this together. She looked around awkwardly and bowed out with as much grace as she could. “Well, I hope you can make it. It was good running into you, Danielle.”

“Yeah, you too,” Danielle said.

She wasted no time in hunching her shoulders and casting her head down as she pushed her cart farther down the cereal aisle. Her need to get out of the store and back to her apartment was stronger than ever—now not just because of her usual paranoid feelings, but because of the awkward encounter with Tammy Wyler.

She rushed through the rest of her shopping, nearly colliding with an elderly lady in the dairy section. She went through the self-checkout (because why deal with chatty cashiers if you didn’t have to) and hurried out to her car. When she was back out in the fresh air, she felt a little better. Of course, maybe the man sending the letters was sitting in one of the cars in the parking lot. Maybe he had been following her in the grocery store, listening to her speak awkwardly to Tammy.

She put her bags in the back seat and started the car. Before she had a chance to back out of her parking spot, her phone rang. She saw Martin’s name on the display and didn’t hesitate to answer. If he was calling to argue, she was game. If he was calling to apologize, she’d be open to that, too. Truth be told, she just liked the idea of being on the phone with someone she knew in that moment.

She answered with a simple, “Hey.”

“Hey, Danielle,” Martin said. “Look, I owe you one hell of an apology for last night. And not for just for getting rough. I shouldn’t have been so weird about my phone. It’s just that things are sort of going to hell at work. That’s what the texts were. I knew it the moment they started coming in. I didn’t want to face it last night. Does that make sense?”

“It does. But what doesn’t make sense is why you didn’t just tell me that last night.”

“Because I’m stupid,” he said. “I didn’t want you to know that my job might very well be on the chopping block. And then when you got really playful about it, I just took it the wrong way. Danielle…I have never hurt a woman. Please believe me on that. And putting my hands on you like that last night…God, I’m so sorry.”

She said nothing. Her arms had bruised up a bit and she had felt a bit in danger. Still, she could hear what she thought was genuine sadness in his voice.

“Danielle?”

“I’m here,” she said. “Just…I wish you would have told me all of this before it got to the point it did.”

“I know. Please…can you forgive me?”

She knew she would. She was simply trying to think of what she could do to turn things in her favor. She smiled at the idea that came to her and couldn’t help herself.

“Well, this PG relationship is coming to a stop. You’re going to meet me at my apartment tonight and we’re going to make out. I’m not going to sleep with you yet but…well, there’s going to be touching.”

“Um…okay. I can do that,” he said, clearly confused yet appreciative.

“That’s not it. My sister just moved into town. I told you that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s some swanky uptight neighborhood. The kind that has block parties. She’s invited me to a block party this weekend. I want you to come with me.”

“Oh. Okay. I can do that.”

“Good,” she said. “I’ll see you tonight, then.”

She ended the call just like that. She liked the idea that he had no idea how to respond to her. She also liked that she basically had control of him now—not in any sort of devious way, but just so that she could feel a little more comfortable around him.

Feeling a bit better, the paranoia now just a little seed of worry in the back of her head, she headed home. And she was delighted to find that she was excited for tonight. It had been a very long time since she’d actually wanted a man’s hands on her.

That, plus the quickly fading paranoia, made her wonder if maybe Martin might be the right man for her after all. He seemed to be changing all sorts of things about her. Of course, he knew very little about those things and she’d keep it that way for as long as she could.

She continued home, starting to wonder just what in the hell you were supposed to wear to a block party.

It was almost enough to drive away the spike of paranoia that had firmly latched itself into her earlier that morning and had remained on her in the grocery store.

Almost.

She grabbed her phone and dialed up Chloe. She didn’t even allow her sister time to say Hello before she started speaking.

“This block party….can I bring a date?”

“…Yes, of course,” Chloe said, clearly stunned.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

And with that, she hung up the phone, wondering what the hell she had just gotten herself into.

Chapter Eight

Chloe was pruning a head of broccoli when the doorbell rang. She knew right away that it was Danielle. She was quite nervous about this but, at the same time, happy to see something as stable as an actual boyfriend in her sister’s life. Steven, meanwhile, was skeptical. He figured the boyfriend would be someone just like Danielle, creating an even tenser environment with two people to worry about.

Chloe had managed to shrug off Steven’s attitude toward Danielle for most of their four years together but now that the wedding was getting closer, it was really starting to annoy her. But that was an argument for another day.

Chloe wiped her hands off on a dish towel and walked to the door. She took a steadying breath before she answered it. She hated to sway toward Steven’s line of thinking but she was slightly worried about what Danielle would look like.

When she answered the door and found her sister somewhat made up and striking, she nearly did a double take. The black hair was put up into a cute little bun in the back. She was wearing a slight bit of makeup—just enough to help her cheeks glow—and had thankfully decided against band T-shirts or her standard pseudo-goth look. She was wearing black, but it was a semi-dressy tank top with delicate straps. Her tattoo showed along her upper back but that wasn’t too distracting. The jeans she wore surprised Chloe the most; they were basic dark denim and quite tight, showing off her curves in a way Chloe had never seen before.

“Danielle, you look amazing,” Chloe said.

“Yeah, don’t get used to it.” She stepped aside and nodded to the man who had come with her. “This is Martin.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Martin said, extending his hand.

Chloe shook it and noticed for the first time that he was dressed basically how she’d expected Danielle to show up. His T-shirt was wrinkled and his cargo shorts had a noticeable tear underneath one of the pockets. He wore a tattered pair of flip-flops with well-worn bands. His hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in a few days. He looked tired and out of sorts. Chloe couldn’t help but wonder if he was high. And if not high, almost certainly a user. She dreaded the moment when Steven met him.

“This house is enormous,” Danielle said as she stepped through the foyer and into the living room.

“Yeah, it does feel big,” Chloe said. “We’re nearly unpacked. I think once all the crap is out of the boxes, it might not feel so big.”

The sunlight was reflecting off of the polished hardwood floors as she led Danielle and Martin into the kitchen. Chloe bit back a tiny smile, enjoying the feeling of sort of showing off in front of Danielle. There was no malice in the feeling, but more of a basic sense of pride.

“Got kids?” Martin asked.

Wow, Danielle really doesn’t talk about me, Chloe thought. “No,” she answered. “Not yet and no time soon.”

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