The Real(15)

Luke had accosted me at my front door after I’d been out with Bree. Never in a million years did I think he was capable of the type of crazy he displayed that night. After the incident, I realized that we all possessed a false sense of security until something unthinkable happened. And when it happens, it changes your opinion about humanity and opens your eyes. How I wished I was still blissfully ignorant.

Luke was sick, and when I discovered it, I realized how naïve I’d been.

The cynic in me came front and center, and my ability to trust myself and my judgment were nearly destroyed. That was when I’d become fascinated with alter egos, sociopaths, and serial killers. It was a form of therapy for me in a way.

Luke wasn’t a killer, but he had me fooled into believing he was someone he wasn’t.

“Luke, I told you I needed some space.” I moved past him, and he ripped my key from my hand and moved in, plastering me to my front door.

“How convenient for you. This outfit is a little bit inappropriate, don’t you think?”

“Luke,” I started as he refused to let me move. “Stop it. Get the hell away from me. Why are you doing this?”

“I don’t like being lied to, Abbie,” he sneered, inching forward.

“I didn’t lie. I told you I was going out with Bree.”

“I don’t know if I believe anything you tell me anymore.” I barely had time to blink before he was berating me again.

“After all I’ve done for you,” he started as he slapped his palm against the door next to me. I jumped as he pressed in while my whole body shook with fear. The look in his eyes was deadly.

“That’s it. I’m done. Luke, this is over. Leave and don’t come back.” I pointed a shaky finger behind him and reached for my keys. An ominous smile covered his features. I studied his profile, unable to believe it was the same man who approached me months ago

“As usual, you’re overreacting. You think Bree cares about you? That’s pathetic. I’m the one who worries about you, not her. I’m the one who takes care of you, Abbie. What the hell were you thinking wearing this and dancing with her?”

“You watched me tonight?” I asked, as bile rose in my throat. A sick feeling swept over me as I realized just how much of a stranger he truly was. And I’d let him into my home and my bed. It was only when his suggestions of what he felt I needed to be doing started to gnaw at me that we’d begun to have problems. It sank in at that moment just how long and how much I’d been manipulated—since the beginning. “Luke, you need to leave, right now.”

“I’m not going anywhere! You owe me an explanation! What were you doing, trying to get fucked?!” He moved in further, crowding me against the door as he spat his accusations in my face.

“Give me my keys,” I demanded with a shaky voice.

“I don’t think so,” he said in a tone that let me know he had leverage and he would be using it to his every advantage. “You’re such a fucking liar, Abbie.”

“Hey, what the hell are you doing?!” The voice didn’t belong to Luke, and in an instant, he was pulled away from me and pushed to the side of the porch. Mrs. Zingaro’s son stood glaring at him as Luke fought his hold.

“I’m having a conversation with my girlfriend,” Luke said lividly as he glared over at me before he turned to Michael. “So why don’t you mind your own fucking business.”

“I’m sorry if we disturbed you,” I said, trying to catch my breath as I addressed Michael. Mrs. Zingaro shuffled outside her door, looked at her son, and began to speak in rapid Italian.

“Luke was just leaving,” I offered, trying to defuse the situation.

“The hell I am,” Luke said as he ripped his arms from Michael’s grasp and came flying toward me.

“You alone?”

I jumped in my seat, spilling my martini as a man spoke to me from the pastel chair opposite the couch I sat on. But he might as well have whispered in my ear. I was on edge, and it was painfully apparent. Across a table full of oversized Jenga pieces, he apologized.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ll get you another drink.”

“No, it’s fine,” I said, wiping the droplets of olive-flavored alcohol off my skirt with my scarf. “I’m going to go look for my friend.”

Annoyed with Kat’s absence, I ditched my drink to find her in the bathroom. She was going through her purse.

“Hey, woman, did you forget about me?”

She smiled at my reflection as she pulled out her lipstick.

“Just got off the phone with my husband. I think I’ll head home soon.”

“That’s good news, right?”

Through our four martinis, Kat had revealed little to nothing about that morning’s blow up. I couldn’t be sure, but I suspected she only invited me to save face. She’d spoken about her career as a gymnast and a few people at the firm but little else. I studied her as she primped in the mirror. The woman was such a mixed bag, and I was exhausted trying to balance on her unsteady beam. But it was the subtle sag in her demeanor, the hint of sadness in her eyes that kept me trying.

“Maybe things are looking up?”

“We’ll see,” she muttered absently, lining her lips while she gave me a withering stare.