Read The Stalker Chronicles Online
Authors: Electa Rome Parks
Tags: #Fiction, #Suspense, #Thrillers, #Crime, #Urban Life, #African American
The Stalker Chronicles (5 page)
“You know my rule. I explained it at the very beginning of our relationship. I don't spend the night, and my lovers don't stay over, either. That's the agreement.”
“Well, I'm not feeling our agreement. I thought by now I would be an exception and would be more than just a lover. I flew all the way from California to be with your ass, and now, after fucking me, you are putting me out?” She scowled. “Unbelievable.”
“I'm not putting you out. I told you I'm going to drive you back to your warm, cozy hotel room, and you can go right back to sleep.”
“Same thing.”
“Whatever, Bailey.”
“Yeah, whatever!” she screamed, tossing a pillow in my face as she frantically searched for her discarded clothing.
That pissed me off. It wasn't like she was hearing this for the first time.
“Listen, Bailey, let me make a few things perfectly clear once and for all. Number one, I didn't invite you to come to Houston. You simply showed up. That was your choice, not mine. Number two, not spending the night is one of my rules, and if you don't like it, cannot accept it, then, well, you know what you can do. Number three, you are not an exception. I don't mean to hurt your feelings, but I'm not looking for a relationship right now or anytime in the near future. I have told you this several times, so it shouldn't come as a surprise. And lastly, what we have is strictly sexual. If you can't get with the program, well then ...”
When I was finished with my tirade, I noticed Bailey wouldn't or couldn't meet my eye, but she did get dressed without uttering another word. When she went to the bathroom, behind closed doors, I heard her softly crying. I continued to dress and pretended not to hear her. I knew my words had sounded cruel, but I had discovered that women would hear what they wanted to. I was determined to never make the same mistakes I had made with Pilar. Never again.
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Most of the drive was in silence, with the exception of the Silent Storm tunes that played on the radio and the smooth, sexy voice of the female radio personality that spoke between songs.
I reached over to lightly touch Bailey's thigh. “Are you still mad at me?” I asked and smiled, flashing my dimples and trying to look as sincere as possible. I realized I might have been a little too harsh with her, but I wanted her to realize I was very serious.
She didn't respond, kept staring out the window, into the darkness, as if it fascinated her.
“I really enjoyed myself tonight, and I hope you did, too.” As I spoke, my hand inched its way up near the button to her pants.
Bailey didn't respond, but she didn't move my hand away, either. That was a good sign.
“You are a beautiful girl, Bailey, but I'm not searching for a relationship right now. I've had a rough couple of years, and I need to chill for a minute.”
“I'm not a girl,” she stated, not turning my way. She still continued to look out the window, as if all the answers to life were out there.
As I started to undo her button, I paused for a moment to get her reaction. Bailey didn't resist me. I took that as my signal to continue.
“I'm sorry. You are definitely a woman, and a man would be blind not to see that.” With my hand, I massaged her womanhood through the fabric of her panties. Firm strokes that heated her up quickly.
“I could be so good for you, Xavier,” she moaned.
“You probably could, but I'm not looking for that right now. I like things the way they are, purely sexual. If you can't deal with that ...”
“Why do you have to be so mean, Xavier?” she asked, still unable to look at me. By now, I had managed to pull her pants and panties down near her ankles. She didn't resist and even lifted herself up to make it easier. Not many people were on the road that early, and besides, it was still dark outside and no one could see what we were up to, or witness my erratic driving.
“Open your legs for me,” I said.
Bailey didn't move. She simply pouted.
I turned her face around with my hand, very gently. “You know I can never get enough of you.” As I continued to drive, my fingers skillfully and easily slid in and out of her womanhood.
“Why did you treat me like that?” she asked again, squirming in her seat.
“Unbutton your blouse,” I said, disregarding her question.
“No, someone may see.”
“They won't. I promise. Look around. There is barely anyone on the road.”
She slowly unbuttoned her blouse to reveal that she hadn't bothered to put her red, lacy bra back on in her haste to leave.
“I want to make sure you understand where we stand,” I said, fondling her freed breasts.
She moaned, and I could tell she was trying with everything in her to keep from enjoying my advances. I dove deeper with my fingers.
“Hmmm, you are so wet. Do you like when I touch you?”
She didn't respond as she bit down on her lower lip and a soft moan escaped.
“Huh? Do you like how I make you flow?”
She still continued to ignore me as I continued to reach for her breasts and stimulate her manually. At a red light, I gave her everything I had, and just as I expected, she couldn't hold back.
“Yeah, that's my girl,” I stated, smiling. “Let it go.”
“I hate you,” she screamed as she came all over my fingers.
“No, you don't. Let it go. That's right.”
“Yes, I do,” she screamed in between moans. “You don't know how hard I try.”
When she was finished, I slowly removed my fingers from inside her warm walls and licked her sticky wetness off. “Didn't that feel good? You know you love it,” I said jokingly, running my fingers through her hair.
She slowly redressed and reached to unzip my zipper. Right as she bent to retrieve my dick, I stopped her by gently pulling her head back.
“Bailey, are we on the same page now? I really need to know.”
She looked up at me and reluctantly said, “Yeah, Xavier. We are.”
I released her, and she proceeded to give me one of the best blow jobs I'd ever had before I dropped her off at the entrance to her hotel and saw her safely in.
After sexing each other on two more occasions, making her stay in Houston memorable, she boarded a plane a day later, totally sated. I couldn't truthfully say I would miss her.
The cute young child, who always had a disheveled, not-cared-for appearance, placed her tiny hand over her stomach to stop the growling and nagging hunger pangs that tormented her. She hadn't eaten since lunch on Friday at school. It was now Saturday evening.
Her mother was bent over the hot stove, cigarette dangling precariously from her thin, red-painted lips, frying up some golden brown, crispy, crunchy, delicious-smelling chicken. Her mother hummed an alluring tune about a beautiful woman finding true love and living happily ever after. More growls escaped her tummy, but she knew not to complain.
The young child could barely stop herself from jumping up from the sofa, where she quietly watched TV, and sneaking a piece of chicken from the half-f plate that sat on the countertop. She glanced shyly at her mother without capturing her attention. At times like this, her mother was actually pretty in her eyes. The child knew her mother was pretty, beautiful even, because she was very aware of the fact that men constantly admired her and gave her their time and money. However, her ugly ways overtook any beauty that existed on the surface, and there definitely wasn't any within. That had long ago dissipated, never to be seen again.
Finally, the crispy, golden brown chicken was done and ready to be eaten. She watched anxiously as her mother fixed a plate with a plump drumstick and a wing, then added green beans and brown rice. The child stood quietly and patiently by to retrieve her own plate and quench the hungriness that had overcome her and made her weak. Her mouth was actually watering over the thought of biting into a piece of the golden goodness.
“Where the hell do you think you are going?” her mother screamed. It seemed like she was always screaming; she never talked quietly or patiently. She talked sweetly only to the many “uncles” that came and went, as if their apartment was a revolving door to pleasure.
“To fix my plate,” the child barely whispered, with her eyes focused on the floor. She rarely looked her mother directly in the eyes. Later in life she would wonder if it was because of fear, or if it was because she didn't want her to see the hatred for her that lived there as a permanent resident.
“Get your ugly ass out of here! I didn't tell you to fix a damn thing. Now, get!” she screamed, pointing a finger. “Get!” she screeched again, like she was shooing a stray dog away.
The child tried hard to control tears that threatened to spill, but sometimes it was just too hard. She knew what followed the tears, usually pain. An hour later, after her mother had feasted and filled her stomach, only then was the child allowed to enter the filthy kitchen and eat the leftovers. That night, she prayed that God would forgive her for whatever she had done wrong in her short time on earth. Only the wrath of God could have sent her as a daughter to this person who called herself her mother.
Chapter 8
Pilar
I managed to duck down in the driver's seat of my car just in the nick of time, when the garage door suddenly and unexpectedly inched slowly upward. He backed out of the driveway and turned his car in my direction. Headlights shone my way. I ducked farther down and prayed I had not been seen. I didn't think so. I had thought for sure they were in for the night, but reminded myself I definitely had to be more careful the next time. There couldn't be any mistakes or close calls.
Mere seconds after the couple drove by, I dared to sneak a quick peek. My heart did a quick pitter-patter and a double somersault. I silently willed myself to calm down. Regardless of all that had happened or had not happened between Xavier and me, I realized I still loved him, probably always would. He was my soul mate, plain and simple. The problem was that he didn't love me back, and that was a big problem. After the way he portrayed me in his movie, I realized he probably hated me just as much as I adored him.
I recalled that initially I was so excited about the movie opening at the box office; I could barely sleep the night before. I tossed and turned for most of it, into the wee morning hours. The movie opened on a Friday. I was there front and center and probably had the best seat in the theater. I had purchased a large popcorn with butter and a Diet Sprite. I was thrilled that the world would finally see and hear our story on the big screen. I could barely contain myself as I squirmed, wiggled around in my stadium chair, trying to make it through the trailers of forthcoming movies.
The first time I saw
Diary of a Stalker
, I wanted it to be by myself, so Michael, my boyfriend at the time, didn't come with me. I wanted to absorb the very essence and fiber of the film. Just knowing Xavier had a stake in the making of this production brought me renewed joy. I just knew he would do justice to
our
story. Was I ever wrong.
Diary of a Stalker
, I wanted it to be by myself, so Michael, my boyfriend at the time, didn't come with me. I wanted to absorb the very essence and fiber of the film. Just knowing Xavier had a stake in the making of this production brought me renewed joy. I just knew he would do justice to
our
story. Was I ever wrong.
When the first scene appeared on the big screen, I immediately realized that Xavier's version of
our
story was much different from my version. The longer I sat there and watched, the more my world slowly turned red, nothing but vibrant shades of red, which attested to my fury. I was angry, so mad that I didn't realize I had squeezed the large soda between my hands and had burst the foam cup until I felt the ice-cold liquid running down my lap and thighs. I still didn't move.
our
story was much different from my version. The longer I sat there and watched, the more my world slowly turned red, nothing but vibrant shades of red, which attested to my fury. I was angry, so mad that I didn't realize I had squeezed the large soda between my hands and had burst the foam cup until I felt the ice-cold liquid running down my lap and thighs. I still didn't move.
I simply sat there. I sat there and saw red and didn't try to clean myself up. I had to witness every detail of the monster he portrayed me to be on the big screen. How dare he! How dare he! How motherfucking dare he!
I wanted to scream this at all the moviegoers, who gasped and shuddered as each scene played out in vibrant Technicolor. Xavier came across smelling like roses, a pure saint, while I became the evil, deranged villain. Hell no. He was not going to get away with this. I refused to bend over and let him stick me yet again. I felt like he had made a mockery of what we once shared. I felt totally betrayed, like he had stuck a knife in my heart and twisted it. No, it wasn't good all the time, but what relationship was?
During the scene where his character was beating the main character that portrayed me, I cried as the audience eagerly cheered his character on. “Yeah, beat her ass!” “Knock some sense into that crazy-ass bitch!” I couldn't believe my ears. I still had not figured out how I managed to see the movie to the end, because I was so mad that my clenched teeth started to hurt my jaw after a while. I wanted to hit something, hurt someone, and the one person that came to mind was Xavier. I was so upset that I accidentally urinated on myself, but I still didn't move one inch, not one. I couldn't miss anything. I was determined to see the on-screen rape and sodomy of the focal points of what he called our dysfunctional affair.
When it was over, I stiffly lifted my body from the seat, brushing the buttered popcorn that had collected on my lap onto the floor. I put my coat on to hide my wetness and blindly followed the crowd out of the theater. I heard the comments and took them all in.
“That Pilar was one crazy bitch!”
“Wow, if I were Xavier, I would have beaten her ass, too. In fact, she got off light.”
“She was one sick puppy!”
It took every ounce of energy I could muster to make my way out the exit door. I saw the movie a total of thirty more times, and each and every time I left filled with just as much pain and fury as the first time. I was determined I was going to teach Xavier a lesson, one he wouldn't forget so easily this time. He was one hardheaded mofo, who still hadn't learned not to fuck with me.
I dropped the assault and battery charges against him; I couldn't help it if the state of Texas decided to proceed without me based on the evidence. I had left him alone for two entire years now. Not a single contact was made. I even suffered through letting Michael screw me for a year before I had to teach him a lesson, too. I had thought that during that time Xavier would realize what a true gem he had found in me and that no one would treat him the way I could, no one. I loved him from my soul, as well as from my heart. Now I hated him just as much, and that was not a good thing. Not good for him, anyway.
I watched him drive off with his tramp. There wasn't a need for me to follow them, because I had a pretty good idea where they were headed. I smiled to myself when I thought about how earlier I had trailed Xavier to the hotel to pick her up for dinner. She kind of reminded me of his ex-fiancée. What was her name? Kerr ... Krystal? No, Kendall. Yeah, that was it. Miss High-and-Mighty Kendall, nose all stuck up in the air. Miss Future Lawyer. Yeah, I fixed her ass, too. I fixed her good. This one, she was young, too. Xavier liked them young so he could train them like little puppies so they could grow up to be his tamed bitches. Well, he couldn't train or tame me. He found that out real quick and in a hurry.
After their fancy dinner, I trailed Xavier and his tramp back to his house. They never spotted me. It was too easy. It always was. I had been sitting out in the cold, in my car, since. I knew all too well what they were doing up in thereâwhat Xavier did best besides writing. Now he was probably taking her back to the hotel. I didn't attempt to follow, because I knew everything I needed to know about her. Miss Bailey. I'd deal with her later. I was finished for the night, but tomorrow was another day.
Just as I was attempting to pull away from the curb, my cell signaled that I had a text. I quickly retrieved it and read:
Pilar, please contact me as soon as possible. I'm worried about you. Please call.
I knew exactly who it was from. I pressed ERASE, more than slightly annoyed now. I had been getting text messages and voice messages since I left Los Angeles behind, which was almost a month ago.
Another text followed.
Have you been taking your meds? I hope so, because you were doing so well. I'm proud of you. Call me. I'm going to wait by the phone in my office a while longer, or call me later on my cell.
My friend Leeda wouldn't leave me alone. Oh, okay, I should call her what she really was. My ex-psychiatrist wouldn't stop harassing me. To be honest, she had been a great friend over the years; I couldn't deny that. I was sure she had heard of Michael's suicide by now. Poor baby. But to my credit, I did contact her. I sent her a text to be exact, to let her know I was leaving L.A. and would be in touch with her soon. I left out the part about first completing my master plan in Houston. She didn't need to know all that, because Leeda was a worrywart and loved to stay all up in my business.
Tomorrow I planned to purchase a new cell phone with a new phone number, which I'd use until my plan was carried out. It shouldn't take too long. Only then would Leeda hear from me again. Not a day sooner.
I smiled as I slowly pulled off, because I was now ready to set the wheels in motion. Xavier had no idea what he was in store for.
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