"I guess not. I'm barely in the house but I know the staff is supposed to check all entrances–including the balconies."
"How did she know what room I was in? This is all so fucked. Whoever's watching isgood. And I still have no idea what they want from us."
"Whoever it is...they have it out for you and Ash. Do you think Kendra could be behind the account?" Cade asked.
"It does like to make her look good and make Ash look bad," said Bronx.
"But wait, someone had to take that picture," I said.
"That's the thing," Axel continued. "No one else used the balcony to get in. There’s more video showing Kendra leaving using the ladder and dragging it off camera. Which means–"
"Whoever took the picture was here with us," I finished.
"Yup," Axel said as he stared at the screen. "I'll go through this better and see if I can find anyone looking suspicious around the time Kendra showed up."
"Thanks, buddy," I said as we fist-bumped. “Wait, can you look back on Saturday when Ash was here? That’s when the first picture showed up online. The one of us–”
“The one of her sucking your cock, looking like a goddess,” Cade smiled as he rested back on the lounge chair.
“Let me check,” Axel said, ignoring Cade and focusing on the task at hand. After a few minutes, he placed the tablet on the chair in front of him and we all huddled around it, ready to see who took the photo of Ashtyn and me together.
A figure dressed all in black placed a ladder up against the balcony–just like what Kendra did last night. Once on the balcony, they pulled their cell phone from their pocket and began recording.
“Um, is he…?” Bronx cringed.
“Yeah,” said Axel. “He’s getting his dick out.”
“I guess that confirms it’s a guy,” chuckled Cade.
The guy continued to whack off as he watched us, visibly tensing as he reached climax. He shoved himself away and continued to record. It went on like that for a while–what can I say? I was making up for lost time.
Once it was over and the dark figure left the balcony and removed the ladder, Axel turned off the screen on the tablet. “We have nothing to work with. His face was covered by a ski mask, and he hopped our fence and walked through the woods rather than using the driveway. We don’t have cameras in the trees. We have nothing.”
“Kendra and this guy–whoever he is–are working together. That much we can be sure of. The real question is…why?” I pulled on the back of my neck, noting the tension that wasn’t there two days ago.
I managed to fuck everything up in the span of a weekend. Ashtyn was undoubtedly upset with me. Even if she did think of me as a distraction, that photo with Kendra was a low blow. One she didn’t deserve.
We needed to figure out who was working with Kendra. Finding this fucker was the key to ending the stalking, the photos, and the taunting. It was the key to protecting Ashtyn because all of this had to do with her. Someone was out to get her, and they just made protecting her even harder.
34
Ashtyn
Youknowthatfeelingwhen something happens to you, and it’s like you're floating above the situation as a bystander? You’re removed from it for a moment in time, right before reality hits you like a motherfucking Mack truck.
That's what seeing the latest post felt like.
Kendrawith her perfect blonde hair splayed on the pillow and her bare breasts pushed against West's chest. The smile on her face as she wrapped her arms around him. Their naked bodies pressed together after a night of kissing each other, touching each other, fucking each other.
I wanted to puke.
I dropped my phone on the floor and darted for the bathroom, landing hard on my knees in front of the toilet, preparing to lose my breakfast. My vision clouded with unshed tears as I stared at the dingy porcelain, feeling the tug in my stomach, bile making its way up. I swallowed and tried to focus on breathing. I counted from ten to one. Focus. Focus.
I sat back on my heels and looked around the bathroom, blurry eyes going for my drawer. I crawled over to it and started digging for the satchel I hadn’t touched in a year. I sifted through old tubes of mascara and eyeliner until I found it.
I unwrapped the small blade and squeezed it between my thumb and index finger. I wiped my eyes with my free hand. My head was foggy but suddenly I saw clearly.
I moved the blade to the inside of my arm, high enough to be hidden by a long-sleeved shirt. I pressed down–painfully, slowly–until that first drop of blood appeared. And then more as I moved the blade across my skin. I didn't ever cut too deep, just enough tofeel.