Read The Stalker Chronicles Online
Authors: Electa Rome Parks
Tags: #Fiction, #Suspense, #Thrillers, #Crime, #Urban Life, #African American
The Stalker Chronicles (12 page)
Chapter 23
Pilar
It had been a few days since the restaurant debacle. I was still angry. My anger, seeping deep inside my soul, was like a scab that never healed because I kept picking at it within my mind. I almost, just almost, picked up the phone and dialed my friend/psychiatrist, Leeda. In fact, I had actually dialed the first few digits when I realized I could handle this in my own wayâwith my own street justice. I could serve it up with the best.
Kendall was no match for me; dealing with her was mere child's play. I still had to wait a couple of days before my plan could be fully carried out. After that, I was fairly certain she would not come anywhere near Xavier ever again. I'd show him. I'd show her. I'd show them all.
I had literally been sitting on my sofa for days, simply clicking the TV channels back and forth. I hadn't moved, except to go to the bathroom, until my plan was ready to go. Today I had cleaned up, washed my hair, bathed, eaten, and I felt 100 percent better.
I always felt exhilarated when I knew I was about to handle anybody who stood in my path. My mama had taught me that, if nothing else. She had always said, “Don't you ever let anyone run over you. You hear me? Make them pay.” That had become one of my mantras in life.
As I sipped on a glass of fresh lemonade, I thought back to how I made Michael pay back in L.A. I still couldn't believe I had trusted him enough to tell him my secrets. That was mistake number one, but it really didn't matter, because in the end he paid just like the others. In the end, he took my secrets to the grave. I remembered every detail; I always did.
Michael and I were in his king-sized bed. Thinking back, it seemed like we were always in bed, naked.
“Babe, do you trust me?” I asked, turning my body so I could stare into his masculine face.
“Of course I do. What kind of question is that?” Michael asked, basking in the after glow of the great sex we had just experienced.
“What if I revealed something that changed your opinion of me?”
“That would never happen,” he said, stroking the side of my face. I leaned into his large, warm hand.
I looked at him, wanting and needing to believe him so badly.
“Are you sure?”
“Pilar, what are you talking about? What's going on?” he asked, leaving a trail of kisses on my bare shoulders.
“What if I shared information about myself that showed me in a negative light? Would that change your opinion of me?”
“No, baby. I've already told you absolutely not.”
I lay back down on my back, looked up at the ceiling, and sighed.
“What?” he asked.
It was now or never. “You know I love you, right?”
He nodded, looking at me curiously. I guess the reporter side of him came out.
“I hope we have a future together, because I love being with you. You make me so happy.”
Michael didn't comment one way or the other.
“I would never do anything to hurt you, babe.”
“Pilar, is there something you need to tell me? I'm listening.”
I took a deep breath. “The movie, Diary of a Stalkerâ”
“Wow, here we go again. What is your obsession with that damn movie?”
“I'm Pilar.”
“I know you are,” he stated.
“No, babe, I'm that Pilar, the one portrayed in the movie.”
Michael laughed, looked at me, and laughed some more. When he noticed I wasn't laughing, his demeanor quickly changed. “You're kidding, right?”
I shook my head from side to side, turning so I could watch the many expressions that crisscrossed his face in a matter of seconds.
“I knew you shared the name. It's not an uncommon name,”he stated, talking more to himself than to me.
I didn't comment. Simply remained quiet as I watched him go down his checklist as to why I couldn't possibly be that Pilar.
“You don't look like the Pilar that was plastered all over the media a year or so ago,” Michael stated, like he had finally found a flaw in my confession. “I followed that story. It was everywhere. You couldn't miss it.”
“First of all, I was always covered up, and secondly, I've had some plastic surgery. I didn't want people to recognize me as that personâthe so-called stalker.”
“Wow! You are perfectly sane.”
“Yeah, I would hope so.”
“Wow.”
“Is that all you can say?”
“You are serious, aren't you?” Michael asked, looking deep into my eyes. “Yes, I am. Very.”
“Did you do all those horrible things to that writer?”
I looked at Michael like he was an alien from outer space with three heads and six eyes.
“What do you think?”
“I have never witnessed you acting like that crazed woman from the movie.”
“Exactly. Xavier told his version of the events, not mine. We were in love until Kendall messed up everything.”
“Wasn't that his fiancée?”
“She was, but then Xavier and I met and fell in love.”
“What happened?”
“Everything went wrong, and I became the villain in his mind.”
“Wow.”
“You still love me?” I asked, holding my breath as I awaited his answer.
“Pilar, you know I care for you,” he stated, pulling me close, burrowing his face into my hair. “Let's talk about this later, because you have given me a lot to absorb.”
I instantly knew I had made a terrible mistake in telling him my true identity. I felt his body tense as he held me close, and I could feel his accelerated heartbeat. I noticed how he couldn't look directly into my eyes, and when I suggested we have sex again, suddenly he was too tired. When did that ever happen? Never.
A couple of days later I discovered Michael had pulled a background check on me, and then he gradually stopped coming by as often and didn't touch base with me throughout the day. Nor did he attempt to sneak hugs and kisses behind closed doors when I came into his office. The most damning indicator was that he never asked any more questions. I knew curiosity had to be killing him. Plus, he was a reporter, it was in his blood, yet he barely asked any questions after my revelation, probably because he believed the events from the movie.
I picked up on the lingering eye contact he gave to Sherry, the entertainment reporter, and I realized I was being replaced. If I was replaceable, then he had never loved me to begin with. That was a problem. A big one.
Later the headline read,
EDITOR COMMITS SUICIDE, FOUND DEAD INSIDE CAR.
What a shame.
EDITOR COMMITS SUICIDE, FOUND DEAD INSIDE CAR.
What a shame.
Now sweet Kendall was about to find out I didn't play, either.
Chapter 24
Dre'
“Great. I'll see you in about an hour.”
“See you soon,” Milan said.
“Call if you get turned around.”
“I will.”
“You have the correct address, right?” I asked.
Milan laughed and read it back to me a second time.
“That's it. I've been looking forward to seeing you all week. Xavier thinks someone else is currently possessing my body.”
“Why would he think that?” Milan asked.
I laughed. “It's a long story, but I'll explain when I see you. Drive carefully. The roads are still slick from the earlier rain.”
I hung up, with a wide grin on my face and an excitement I hadn't experienced in a while. After two divorces, I almost felt giddy, like a teenager going on a first date with a girl he really liked. I really liked Milan. This would be the third date for us, and we had talked almost every day, except for when she traveled out of town for business.
Tonight, since she was going to be on my side of town, Milan suggested meeting at my home. I had yet to see her place, because for our last dinner date, she met me at the restaurant. She said she didn't want to inconvenience me. Milan was sweet like that.
I gave my living room a quick once-over with my eyes. I wouldn't want her to think I was a slob. I picked up a few sports and financial magazines and placed them in the magazine rack and put the glasses and plates on the coffee table in the dishwasher. Lastly, I checked out my bedroom, just in case, to make sure it was in order. Then I waited, impatiently.
When the doorbell chimed, I almost leapt from my seat. I crossed the few steps to the front door and eagerly opened it with a genuine smile.
“Hey,” I said, pulling Milan in for a lingering hug. “It's good to see you.”
“Hey, yourself,” she said, kissing me on the cheek. “You smell good enough to eat.”
“Thanks, and you have your hands full.”
I backed up so Milan could enter.
“Let me give you a hand,” I said, reaching for the grocery bag and the smaller bag she carried.
“Thanks. I hope you don't mind, but I had this great idea to fix dinner for you.”
I'm sure I looked stunned for a few seconds, because the women I had dated in the past, well, it was all about them. Not a one had ever volunteered to do such a sweet thing. They weren't about to mess up their hair or nails by slaving over a hot stove. My exes were too busy making sure I made reservations at the most expensive restaurants in town to ever consider cooking.
“That is very sweet of you, and I appreciate it,” I said, leading the way into the kitchen and placing the bags on the island.
“Wow. This is a beautiful kitchen,” Milan said, taking it all in.
“Thank you, and by the way, you look beautiful tonight.” Milan really was a gorgeous woman, with her smooth brown skin, long legs, sexy body, and those big, innocent eyes.
“Thank you, babe. You always know exactly what to say. If you don't mind, open that small bag and chill the bottle of red wine I picked up.”
“Sure. Not a problem.”
“Now, I need you to clear the kitchen and relax in the living room until I get dinner started,” she said.
“You sure you don't need any help?”
“I got this. One thing I know, and that is my way around the kitchen. Go. Relax. Chill. Let me handle this. Let me take care of you.”
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An hour later, we sat down to wine, Parmesan cream sauce served over fettuccine, and a garden fresh salad. Milan had found some candles, and we ate by soft, shimmering candlelight. I turned on soft jazz, and the mood was set.
Milan anxiously watched as I took a few bites.
“Well, what do you think? You like?”
“I like a lot,” I said, looking into her eyes.
I could have sworn she blushed.
“No, silly. I mean the food. Concentrate now. Is it all right?”
“It's delicious, baby.”
“Good. Isn't this much better than going to a crowded, noisy restaurant and paying for overpriced, undercooked, underseasoned food?”
I nodded and took another bite that she held to my mouth with her fork.
“This way we can spend some quiet time together and get to know each other better,” she added.
“I'd like that.” I stared at Milan. In fact, I couldn't take my eyes off of her even if I'd wanted to. She captivated and mystified me at the same time.
“What?”
“Nothing. I was thinking how you are so different from most women I meet.”
“I hope that's good.” She looked at me questioningly.
“It's more than good.”
“You know you have to explain yourself,” she said, taking a sip of wine.
“I meet a lot of women who come at me from a monetary stance. I'm not rich, but I do well for myself. A lot of women think this means I'm supposed to take care of them financially.”
“I've always believed in being independent and taking care of myself.”
“That's a refreshing attitude.” I took another bite. “This is good. What's in the sauce?”
“It's a secret family recipe. If I tell you, I'll have to kill you.” She laughed.
“We wouldn't want that.”
She didn't respond one way or the other.
Milan took a few more bites of her food. “How's your friend?”
“Xavier is doing fine. I really want you to meet him soon, and I've told him all about you.”
I noticed Milan didn't comment, simply flashed a half smile.
I continued. “He's been through a lot, but I think I'm finally getting my old friend back.”
“I take it that's good?”
“Of course. I was worried about him for a minute, because I thought he was going to turn into a recluse.”
“Hmmm,” she murmured, sipping more wine.
“All because of that bitch.”
“Excuse me?” Milan shot back with a hint of anger in her tone.
I paused in mid-bite. “What did you say?” she asked, flashing a disgruntled look, which disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared.
“I'm sorry, Milan. Pardon my French. I still get angry when I think of all the things she subjected him to.”
“More salad?” she asked, rising to place more on my plate with silver tongs.
“Just a little.”
“Tell me when to stop.”
“That's enough. That's good, baby.”
“I'm sure your friend can handle himself. He certainly doesn't sound like a choirboy based on what you have told me.”
“He's not, and I'm not saying he isâneither am Iâbut psycho Pilar fucked him up mentally and physically.”
Again I noticed her wince with my choice of words.
“Listen, Milan, let's get something straight. I curse, probably more than I should, but I can't keep apologizing to you every time I say a four-letter word.”
She remained silent. I couldn't tell if she was upset or if she was thinking about what I had said.
“This is who I am, and you have to take me or leave me, baby.”
Milan didn't mutter a word. She simply scooted her chair back, got up, and seductively walked over to where I sat.
“I think I'll take you, then, with one condition.”
“What is that?” I asked, pulling her onto my lap.
“You have to take me just as I am, too.”
“It's a deal.”
“We have to kiss on it to seal the deal,” Milan stated.
“My pleasure,” I said, leaning into her warm mouth, seeking out her tongue.
“Push your chair back and face me,” Milan demanded, rising from my lap and standing patiently.
I did as she requested. Milan slowly bent down on her knees in front of me, unzipped the zipper to my pants, and pulled out my tool. I sat in amazement as she examined it, and it instantly grew in her hand.
“I love a man who's packing, babe. I can't wait to feel all that going up inside me.”
“I hear you. I love when you talk dirty to me, baby.”
“Do you want dessert?”
For once I was speechless. I could only nod my head like a little boy.
“Good, because I'm ready for some, too.”
Milan stood up long enough to grab a can of whipped cream, syrup, and cherries out of the grocery bag that sat on the kitchen counter. Within minutes, she had made a chocolate sundae out of my dick. She added a couple of red cherries covered in whipped cream and proceeded to suck like she hadn't had a meal in days and was feasting on a banana split at Dairy Queen. I threw my head back, after saying a silent prayer to God, and couldn't believe my good fortune. She was a woman after my heart. She could cook and knew how to please her man. I couldn't wait to see what else Milan had up her sleeve.
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