Fear Thy Neighbor (6)
“Hey, wait up,” a familiar voice called out.
She turned around before John Wilson had a chance to grab her by the arm again. “Are you following me?” Certain that he was, she turned her back, running to her Jeep. Unlocking the door, she reached under the driver’s seat for her gun. Spinning around, she faced him, though this time, she dangled the loaded gun from her hand. “I’ll ask you again—are you following me?”
John took a few steps back. “Are you nuts? You can’t just . . . have a gun in broad daylight.”
She rolled her eyes. This guy was a real jerk. And dumb. “No to your first question, and yes, I can have a gun in daylight, darkness, and any time in between. I’m legally licensed to carry, so in the future, you might want to consider what could happen if you ‘bump’ into me again. Which I don’t believe for one frigging minute. You’re following me. I want to know why.”
“It’s a coincidence,” he said.
“Bull. I don’t believe in coincidences. Now, tell me . . .” She raised her right arm, gun in hand, her finger on the trigger. “Why are you following me?”
“Look, lady, I ain’t following you. I just hitched a ride on a pal’s boat. The festival’s off to a late start. I wanted to tell you to hang around, if that’s what you’re here for.”
Alison lowered her arm to her side but kept her finger on the trigger. “Okay. So first you chase me off the beach, follow me to my car, practically yank my arm off, and now here you are, asking me to stay for the festivities. I don’t know where you came from, but where I come from, men like you usually get the shit beat out of them for stalking a woman. Or arrested. I can’t decide what would best suit you.” She looked at him, her eyes trailing from his dark eyes to his dirty feet encased in a pair of worn Nike slides. He wore faded blue shorts and a white T-shirt that had seen better days. She looked at his hands. Rough, callused, with dirt crusted beneath his fingernails. If he owned a bait shop, business must be incredibly slow. He looked like a homeless person. No, that was an insult to the homeless. John, if that was his real name, was definitely weird.
He held both hands up. “Hey, I’m leaving, so you can put your little safety net away. No harm, no foul, okay?”
Alison didn’t believe him for a minute. “Sure, just remember if I lay eyes on you again, if you just so happen to be anywhere near me, I will make sure you don’t follow me, or any other woman. You getting this, John?”
He took a step toward her. “You know what I think?”
“I don’t care what you think. Leave me alone or I’m calling the police.”
“I was about to tell you, you’re a real ballbuster. I know your kind—power hungry for control, all that feminist garbage. You’re not worth the effort.” He turned to walk away and then stopped. “Folks like you don’t belong on this island, so you’d best leave now. While you still have a chance.”
Alison got in her Jeep and cranked the engine, backing up slowly so she could follow John. Hanging her head out the window, she spoke in an intimidating tone. “Threaten me again and I’ll use my ‘little safety net.’ And next time, I won’t hesitate.” And she wouldn’t. Tough as nails, living on the streets, in places not fit for an animal, she’d fought to stay alive her entire life. Nothing had changed.
“You’d better leave,” he said again, then pointed his index finger at her head.
Alison knew when it was time to move on. No way would she give this piece of garbage another chance to frighten or threaten her. She raced down Pine Tree Road toward her motel, stopping at a drive-thru on the way. She put the sack of food next to her. As soon as she spied her motel, she breathed a sigh of relief. Before she forgot, she removed the gun from beneath her seat, placing it inside the fast-food bag. With her food, purse, and keys in hand, she had to juggle a bit to get her room key into the lock. Pushing the door aside, Alison felt grateful for the little room, even though it was just for one night. Her new pals were still sound asleep, and she didn’t disturb them. Who knew how long it’d been since they had a decent meal and a roof over their furry little heads?
Removing the gun from the paper bag, she placed it on the table while she ate. When she finished, she crumbled her wrappings into a ball, tossing them into a small wastebasket beside the nightstand. She peered out the curtains. It was dark. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was only nine-thirty. Wanting to grab a few of the pamphlets she’d seen in the office, she used the phone to call Betty.
“Courtesy Court Motel, Betty here.”
Alison smiled. “It’s Alison Marshall, room two. Is it too late to grab a few of pamphlets from the office?”
“Heck no—come on down, I’ll unlock the door.”
Alison took her room key, locking the door behind her. Hurrying down the sidewalk to the office, she found Betty waiting at the office door.
“I hope I didn’t disturb you,” Alison said.
“No, no, not at all. I keep the office locked at night because I live here. Never know about people these days.”
“How well I know,” Alison said as she viewed a display of pamphlets. She took a few, then turned to leave. “Thanks. I’ll just get back to my room now.”
“I was about to make myself a cup of tea. It’s been a while since I’ve had a guest in my place.” She tilted her head in the direction of a door behind the front desk. “Would you like to join an old lady for a cup of tea?”