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ADRIANNE
I was going to burn my hands. The tea that the barista just dropped off was blazing hot, but if I didn’t keep my hands molded around it, they would shake uncontrollably. It made me look incredibly suspicious, and considering we were trying to trap my stalker long enough for the men to apprehend him, I didn’t want to draw any more attention to myself. I wanted whoever it was to be extremely at ease so that he didn’t try and run away.
I stared at the mug with resentment for its not being coffee. Foster and I had done well since agreeing to give up coffee together for the length of my pregnancy. We both had taken to drinking black tea, which had just enough caffeine in it to stave off the headaches, but not enough to actually replace coffee in any meaningful way.
I could really use a cup right now. Something rich and bitter to chase off the feeling of impending dread that had taken up residency in my belly. Ever since I made them agree to use me as bait, I’d been putting on a good, brave front, but in reality, I was terrified.
Our plan was simple. We would frequent the cafe near the hotel-a lot of the film crew did, thanks to their excellent pastries-and I would slowly begin to appear there “alone”. I wasn’t truly alone. All of my men were in the building and armed to the teeth, but I had to appear to be alone. We were trying to get my stalker to break and approach me once and for all. Then, my men could hand him off to the police.
Once or twice, Ryan came and sat with me, and we talked and laughed as if we were on a date or were just hanging out on our own. Those pictures, of course, ended up online, but I had long since stopped caring about that.
Ryan was quickly becoming my best friend. Foster and Ethan both liked him now that he wasn’t actively trying to sleep with me. Callan was the only one who still didn’t like him, but the feeling was mutual.
We had been doing this for a few days, and each time we came here, doom would boil in my gut. I was between hoping that he would just make a move or hoping that he never would. “You’re Adrianne Montoya, right?”
I looked up, and the man in front of me was a mess, to say the least. He had a handsome face, but there was something about his eyes that seemed a touch wild. His hair was as blond as Foster’s but unkempt. It looked like he’d put his hands into it a lot. He had wide shoulders and thick arms and legs. Solidly built, my mother would say. This was a solidly built man . . . and if he swung at me and connected, I would be down for the count.
I did my best to smile. “That’s me,” I said. “What’s your name?” “Steven,” the man said with a scoff. “As if you didn’t know that.”
I swallowed hard and kept that smile on my face. “It’s nice to meet you, Steven.” I gestured to the empty chair across from me. “Would you like to sit down?” He sat, and even sitting, he looked massive to me. “Is there something I can do for you today?”
He frowned. “Don’t toy with me,” he said, low and cutting. “You know who I am.”
I swallowed hard and nodded. “You’re the one who’s left me all those . . . gifts,” I said. “The roses and the bear, right? I don’t think I’ve ever gotten to thank you for those.”
He didn’t respond to that. It was like I hadn’t spoken at all. “You were supposed to be Dr. Falconi,” he said. “You were supposed to be perfect.”
I clamped my teeth around a nervous laugh. I didn’t think he’d be the type to respond well to that. My heart was banging against my ribs. “No casting is perfect,” I said.
Steven shook off that thought. “Not casting.” He spat the word as if it were a curse. “You were destined to be her. To embody her. For me.”
There it is, I thought. The fantasy that had fueled this whole thing. He thought that I would become Dr. Falconi for real, his fantasy come to life. “I’m just an actress who was hired to play a part,” I said softly, pleadingly. “I’m getting paid to play the role. I’m sorry if you’re not happy with the choice that the director made in picking me. I don’t think he is half the time, either.” I tried to make a joke, but it fell flat.
He slammed his hand on the table, and the patrons around us were starting to get spooked. I could see them leaning in and whispering to each other. Good, call the cops, I thought. “No,” Steven growled. “No, you’re Dr. Falconi.”
I realized that reality wasn’t the same for him and me. His grasp on what was real was slipping, and I didn’t want to see what would happen if he lost it entirely. “I’m Adrianne Montoya,” I insisted. “I’m playing Dr. Falconi in an upcoming movie, but she and I aren’t the same person.”
Rage ate its way across Steven’s face, and he slammed his hand down again. “That’s not true,” he insisted. “That’s not true.”
“Steven,” I said, trying to get him to focus. “In your letter, you wanted me to quit. If I was truly Dr. Falconi, I couldn’t quit, right?”
Reminding him of the letter was probably not the smartest idea, I realized a second too late. “You ruined it,” he spat.
“I’m sorry if you think so,” I said, still trying to calm him down. I know the plan was for Ethan to call the police the moment my stalker revealed himself-there was more than plenty of evidence that would warrant picking him up for questioning, at the very least-but how long was that supposed to take? How long was I supposed to keep him talking? “You could tell me what I did to ruin things,” I suggested. “Would that help?”
Steven gritted his teeth. “I don’t need help from you, whore,” he spat. He dug into the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out a picture much like the one that had been delivered to the hotel room. I was on my knees in front of Callan. “I’ve seen you,” he said, “prostituting yourself for those morons you call a security team.” He had to be the guy that Callan caught in Coober Pedy. He was there masquerading as a paparazzi, so he couldn’t be entirely off the rails, right? He came here. He planned a trip and executed it. But what was his end game?
I winced. “Just how close did you get, Steven?” I asked.
He leaned in, and I could smell the staleness of his breath. It didn’t look like he’d slept in days, honestly. He looked exhausted. “I’ve seen you take two of them at once,” he said. “I’ve seen you debase yourself for them.”
Fear poured over my head like water, and I shivered despite not being cold. “But how? How could you possibly get that close to me to know that?” I had to know, or I would never be able to get it out of my head.
He stared at me in utter confusion, like he couldn’t believe I’d forgotten something so important. “You reached out to me,” he said. “You called
me.”
“I didn’t.” I knew that arguing with him was pointless. He’d created a false reality in his own mind, and nothing I could say was going to change it. But I did not set this situation up, and I would be damned if someone- even him-was going to blame it on me. “I never called you.”
Steven nodded. “When you set up your security system,” he said. “You called for troubleshooting, and I helped you.” A smile wormed its way across his face, as if he were remembering something so wonderful, and it was scarier to see than the rage. “You were excited about becoming Dr. Falconi. You told me all about it.”
My throat nearly squeezed shut. He wasn’t wrong. The day that I got the security system that Foster so ruthlessly mocked was the same day that my manager told me that I’d landed the role in the Falconi movie. I was so excited that I was telling everyone . . . and the security IT person had been one of those people.
“I did do that,” I admitted. “I’m sorry that I forgot, but you have to know that I wasn’t saying that I was becoming her for real. It’s just a part in a movie.”
Steven shook his head. “No,” he insisted. “It started out that way, but I’ve watched you. I’ve seen the pictures. You are Dr. Falconi. She’s come to life in you.” His expression darkened. “You were, anyway. Now, you’re . . . nothing. Less than nothing.”
His words came out like a threat, and I tried to keep my eyes straight and not look around. If he knew that Foster was just across the way, or that Ethan and Callan were stationed behind the counter and in the kitchen, he would bolt . . . or worse. “Why don’t you tell me what you want, Steven?” I said.
“Renounce being Dr. Falconi,” he said. “Admit to the world that you’re nothing but a slut.”
He wanted me to out my relationships? “I can’t do that,” I said. I might be willing to give up the movie role-it crossed my mind more than once in the last few days-but telling the world about my relationships? That would ruin me and my men. The world wasn’t ready for our kind of relationship. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”
He looked lucid for a moment, threatening but in a different way. “I could post the information that I have online,” Steven said. “I could sell the pictures.”
“Then why haven’t you?”
Steven’s expression shifted between confusion and rage and something sadder. He was having a breakdown, that was clear, but I didn’t know what to do about it. Where in the hell were the police? Surely, they’d been called by now. “You look like her,” he said. “I want you to be her.”
I shook my head. “But I’m not,” I said. “Dr. Falconi isn’t real. She’s a character. If I don’t play her, someone else will. Maybe someone else should.”
“Hey, hey!” Oh no, I thought. I didn’t notice when Ryan walked in, but he had come in for coffee. He plunked his mug down on the table with the obvious intention to sit down. “Who’s this? Fan of yours?” He held out a hand. “Ryan Jacobs,” he introduced.
“Ryan, it’s not a good time,” I tried to say, but Steven put his hand into Ryan’s and shook it.
“You’re Rutledge,” he said, pumping his hand.
“That’s who I play, yeah,” he said and sat down. “We’re both really excited to share the movie with our fans.”
It was the studio’s party line. Ryan was the best at sticking to it when it came to the movie. “She’s making a cuckold of you,” Steven growled at him, “and you’re allowing it to happen. What kind of man does that make you?”
Ryan blinked. “Excuse me?”
I touched his arm. “Steven has been leaving me gifts,” I said. “Remember? I told you about them.”
He understood immediately. “Oh,” he breathed, and he tried his best to maintain the smile on his face. “You really care about Adrianne, huh? She’s quite the woman.”
Steven sneered. “Dr. Falconi is a goddess,” he said. “This woman is a harlot.”
Harlot was slightly better than whore and slut, I supposed. “We’re having a slight . . . disagreement about my role as Dr. Falconi. He wants me to quit because I’ve disgraced the character.”
I could feel Ryan’s eyes on me, but I didn’t take mine off Steven. “You can’t do that.” He looked at Steven. “She can’t do that. Filming is nearly finished, and there’s no way the studio would allow her to just quit.”
He was being logical in a very illogical situation. “I don’t think Steven cares about the film schedule, Ryan,” I breathed out.
“Oh, that makes sense. What do you want from Adrianne, Steven?” he asked.
“She needs to atone for ruining Dr. Falconi’s image.” “Atone?”
I sighed. “He wants me to tell the world about my relationships with my security team,” I murmured.
“I want you to admit that you’re a whore and make amends in the name of Dr. Falconi.”
I balled my hands into fists and dug my nails in my palms. It was hard not to scream at him out of sheer frustration. “Steven, I can’t do that,” I said. “I won’t do that. I appreciate how protective you are over Dr. Falconi, but she and I are not the same person. I can live my life however I want to.” I put my hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “He’s not Rutledge. We are not together. I’m not cheating on him in any way.”
“Do you think that I’m stupid?” Steven seethed. “That I can’t see the truth?” He pointed a meaty finger in my face. “You’re trying to make me feel like the crazy one here, but you’re denying the truth.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy,” I lied. “I think you are in love with Dr. Falconi, and you’re disappointed that I can’t be her for you. I think you’re trying to punish me for that.”
Steven pounded the table again, and it rocked it enough that Ryan’s coffee dumped over. The only thing that saved my tea was my grip on it. The mug hit the floor and shattered, and the people at the table next to us got up and left. I could see Foster out of the corner of my eye now. He was wearing sunglasses and a hat to somewhat hide his identity. He held his hand against his ear, and his mouth was moving ever so slightly. He was talking to Ethan and Callan. Relief rushed through me. I wasn’t alone.
A worker at the cafe tried to clear the mess, but Ryan waved her off. “Call the police,” I heard him murmur to her.
“They’re coming,” she replied just as softly.
We were lucky that Steven didn’t hear any of it. I was the sole focus of his attention and anger. “I’m not punishing you,” Steven spat. “I’m getting justice for her.”
Ryan stood. “All right,” he said. “That’s enough. I get that you’ve got a chubby over a character, and that’s all well and good for you, but this woman is not her. If you don’t like that she’s playing Dr. Falconi, just don’t watch the damn movie.”
Something fundamental broke in Steven. He stood, reaching into his pocket, and pulled out a black handgun. I screamed, and on instinct, Ryan jumped at the man. Before he could wrestle the gun away from him, Steven swung his arm wide and smashed the butt of the gun into Ryan’s face. Ryan teetered for a second, blood pouring down his face, before he hit the ground with a deafening thud. Tears blinded me. “Ryan.”
I tried to go and check on him, but Steven stepped over him. “Everyone remain in your seats!” he bellowed, waving the gun but not really pointing it at anyone. “You don’t move while I figure this out.”
I nodded. “Okay,” I breathed out. “Okay.” My eyes kept wandering to Ryan, checking to see whether his chest was rising and falling like it should. So far, he was breathing, but his face was a mask of blood. It’s a head wound, I reminded myself. Head wounds bleed more, but they usually look scarier than they actually are.
“Maybe we should leave,” Steven said suddenly. “We could go somewhere quieter and discuss this without so much emotion getting in the way. I can make you see the truth.”
I was absolutely not leaving with him. “I’m due to the set very soon,” I told him and then gestured down at Ryan. “We both are. If we don’t show up, my team will come looking for me, and our director may call the police.”
Steven started to pace, and I did what I could to remain seated and not run to Foster. The rest of the cafe’s patrons were terrified now. They were all on their phones to loved ones and the police, but Steven didn’t seem to notice them at all. As long as they weren’t moving, he seemed to forget about them entirely.
“Why did you have to fuck them?” he asked. “Why couldn’t you have done the right thing? You ruined this.” He glared at me. “You fucking ruined this, you dumb slut, and now I don’t know what to do.”
I was really tired of being called that. “You could walk away,” I suggested. “You could put the gun down and leave, and I wouldn’t do anything about it. I’d make sure Ryan didn’t do anything about it. Okay? Just leave.”
“That doesn’t fix the problem!” He sounded hysterical, and he was waving the gun around more and more. It wouldn’t be long before he finally started pointing it. I sank as far down in my chair as I could, trying to seem smaller.
“I’ll quit,” I said, going for a soothing tone, but it came out as a plea. “I’ll quit, and I’ll make a video explaining that I’m exactly what you say I am. We can post it on all of my socials. I swear. Just . . . please put that gun down.”
Steven looked at the gun in his hand as if he just remembered that he had it. “Do you promise to make the videos?” he asked.
I nodded. “I promise. I’ll do anything you want.” “Get up, then.”
“What?”
“Get. Up.”