The phone rang as they were cleaning up from lunch. Cheyenne and Michael looked at each other before Michael got up to answer it.
Cheyenne sat at the kitchen table and listened to see who it was. All she heard was, "Hello? Hello? Stop calling here if you're not going to talk. Be human, not a frigging animal. Animals don't make phone calls." He slammed down the phone and walked back into the kitchen with a roll of his eyes.
"Who was that?"
Michael shrugged. "I don't know because all they did was meow like a cat the whole time. It's weird."
"You mean like the call I answered with the barking dog?"
"Yeah." He sighed. "I don't know, Chey. I'm worried."
"Why?"
"Because, until you came here, I've never had anything like that happen."
"I shouldn't be here then. I'll pack up and go back to my apartment."
"Absolutely not. I'm not saying it's your fault. Just that someone is definitely stalking you."
"I just don't understand why, though. What did I do to piss someone off enough to have all these terrible things happen to me? I must've made somebody angry, somehow. Maybe a fan of my work?"
"You never know. People are nuts out in this world and it seems to be getting crazier by the day. One thing is for sure."
"What's that?"
"You're safe here."
Cheyenne forced a smile and nodded. If only he knew... He won't let me go home, but all I'm doing is upping the ante to his demise. I can't let him get die because of me. It wouldn't be right. Nor would it be fair to Mrs. Warner. Oh God! What have I gotten myself into? I don't want anyone else to die. Her gut told her that no matter where she went, this whacko would find her.
~
The phone rang and Michael answered. "Hello?" Michael bit his lip and tapped the toe of his shoe on the floor as he listened.
"What's wrong?"
Michael sighed. "That was Lawrence."
"What did he have to say? Did he find out anything?"
"They found fingerprints at the scene of Gaby's murder."
"Whose?" Cheyenne began to wrap a lock of hair around her finger, twirling it. "Michael, please tell me."
He shrugged. "Eric Sullivan. He's wanted by the FBI for the murder of two people."
"I've never heard of him."
"They've been searching, but he has been elusive."
Cheyenne's eyes widened. "Is he the one who's been terrorizing me?"
"We're not sure, but we believe he is. All we know is that a whacko is after you."
Oh my God! Will this nightmare ever end? "Michael, I'm frightened. What's going to happen next?"
Michael went to her and wrapped his arms around her. "Nothing if I can help it."
~
They sat on the couch to watch The Bodyguard. Half an hour into the movie, the phone rang. Cheyenne grunted and got up. "Hello?" Silence ensued. "Hello?" she repeated.
"I know where you're at Cheyenne." The muffled voice was a whisper. "You can't hide from me."
"Who is this? What do you want with me?" Cheyenne started to tremble. "Why are you doing this to me? Leave me alone!"
"You can't run and hide from me. You can't run and hide. You..." The sing-songy voice taunted her.
"Leave me alone," Cheyenne screamed.
Michael rushed to her side and grabbed the phone from her. "Who is this?" He was greeted with a loud click. He hung up the phone. "Everything will be all right. I promise." He guided her to the sofa where he cradled her in his arms.
"Why won't they, he, she, or whoever it is leave me alone?"
"I don't know, but believe you me when I say that I wish I had all the answers, but I don't. I'm sorry."
~
She cried herself to sleep in Michael's arms and would've slept longer but then the buzzer sounded.
"Who could that be?" Michael asked with a quizzical expression.
"You weren't expecting anyone?" When he shook his head, she added, "You answer that, I'll stay here."
"Be right back." Michael's attention turned to her before he left the room. His look sent chills up her spine.
He went to answer the buzzer and she resumed watching The Bodyguard. In between, while she waited for him to come back, she flipped through a magazine that was lying on the coffee table. Fifteen minutes passed before she then glanced at the clock, it was one forty-five. She shrugged, thinking Michael was deep in conversation with a neighbor. A little after two she ambled to the kitchen to get a drink of water, sauntered back into the living room, and flipped through a few more magazines. Cheyenne gazed at the clock, two twenty. She became concerned. An eerie feeling overwhelmed her. Michael wouldn't leave for this long without letting her know what was going on. She couldn't even hear him talking. In the few days she had stayed with him, he never left without telling her. Even with her eerie feeling, Cheyenne tried to convince herself he was just having a long conversation with someone away from the house. He had a tendency to walk and talk. Perhaps it was business, but no matter what she told herself, she couldn't shake the feeling. She decided to go and check on Michael.
The front door was shut. Cheyenne didn't see anything unusual. She opened the door and went outside. Still no sign of him. She hesitantly peeked around the corner of the mansion. Something stuck out of the bushes. She moved closer to investigate. It was Michael's feet. A movement of shadow caught her attention. She turned to see what it was. Something black came at her. Before she could react, she felt the blow to the side of the head. Eyes closed, she collapsed to the ground.
~
When she awoke, it took time to regain focus. It was much more difficult with her head throbbing. She quickly realized that there were handcuffs on her wrists and ankles. Her arms were stretched behind her, around a pole. She struggled to free herself and cried out for help. All she heard was her own voice echoing. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she studied her surroundings. At least what she could see in the dim light streaming through boarded up windows, allowing her to see where she was at.
Stacked crates were everywhere. The floor and walls were dingy. Debris lay all over the floor. It had to be an abandoned warehouse of some sort. Suddenly, she heard something skitter by. Cheyenne jumped.
"Help me! Someone, please!" she screamed.
"Shhh... I'm here. Don't be afraid."
The man moved out of the shadows. She screamed again. "No one can hear you." The voice sounded familiar. "Tyler? Is that you? Why are you doing this?"
Click. The lights came on and he came over to her and kneeled in front of her. "You should know by now, Chey. You are my precious jewel, my diamond in the rough. If only you would've realized how much I love you much sooner, none of this would have ever happened."
"What on earth...?"
A man wearing a mask stood over her with a gun in his hand and used the barrel of it to stroke her face. "Cheyenne, Cheyenne, Cheyenne. All I want is for us to be a family and we will be- soon." Cheyenne could see the mask slowly move as he attempted to grin. "You see, I've got your wedding gown on its way."
"I won't marry you." She spit in his face. He responded with a slap across hers.
"You have to understand. You can't do things like that and expect to gain your freedom. Baby, it doesn't work like that." He softly rubbed her face where is slowly turned red from his slap. "As far as you marrying me, you have no choice."
"Where's Michael? What did you do? Please, please tell me he's okay." She couldn't see his face past the dark mask, but she could see his eyes. They were familiar, but couldn't place them. Despite his face being covered up, she could tell his lips formed an arrogant smile.
"Sorry, baby, but he was preventing us from being together. He had to be eliminated and before you ask-" He placed a finger to her lips to silence her. "Yes, I had to eliminate your friend.
Gabrielle had to die. Your sister was next, but now that we're together, I don't see the point. That is, unless you decide to do something stupid." He became excited and clapped his hands together with gun in hand. "Now we can really begin our life together. Isn't that exciting?"
"Michael, oh, Michael. Noooo... noooo... noooo..." she cried. "You're insane. I love Michael. I will never love you."
He rose and began pacing back and forth before he suddenly stopped in front of her and screamed. "DON'T EVER MENTION HIS NAME AGAIN!" He leaned in close enough for her to smell his wretched breath. It smelled like he had eaten a rotten egg twice over. It made her gag. "You love me, but don't realize it yet," he whispered, "I'll show you now that we're all alone. It's too bad things had to come to this in such a manner."
"You couldn't get a woman like me or any other if you tried- especially with breath like yours. Don't you know how to use a toothbrush or at least take a breath mint?" She paused then glared at him and raised her chin up defiantly. "You're crazy and I can't stand you. You're a pathetic loser."
"Shut up!" He pointed the gun in her face. "You don't know what you're talking about. Why can't you realize that I'm the only one who truly cares about you and has your best interest at heart?"
"It's pathetic to have to kidnap someone to fulfill whatever your sick, perverted fantasies are."
He squeezed her cheeks together and put his face in hers. "I told you to shut up. You were the one who chose to ignore my displays of affection." He disgustedly let go of her face with such force that her head turned away momentarily. "I was there for you after your divorce. Nothing was good enough for you, princess." He looked down his nose at her. "Guess the love potion didn't work."
"You're insane."
"I'm sorry you think that." His disposition softening, he smiled and tenderly touched her face. "Don't be afraid. I'm not here to hurt you. All I want is for you to love me and over time, you will."
"In your dreams." She slid down the pole to sit on the floor, her feet stretched out in front of her. He had the nerve lie down near her and put his head on her lap. She felt like vomiting. "You repulse me. Get off of me."
"It feels so nice being here. This is what I've been dreaming of since I first saw you. It feels so right. Doesn't it?"
Cheyenne rolled her eyes. "Just let me go home. I want to be with my family. Please let me go."
"Soon, my love. Soon we will be going home and we'll be happy forever."
"I'll never be happy with you."
"You'll learn to be."
Her stomach churned with disgust and anger as he fell asleep in her lap. How could he be so crude, insincere, cold, and calculating? How could he act like nothing was wrong? Now her best friend and Michael were dead. All she wanted to do was throw him off her lap, but it was difficult to do when her hands and feet were handcuffed. If her hands were freed, she could get the gun and keys. She would be able to escape. She had to get out somehow, some way. If she didn't, she might die at his hands. The thought terrified her.
~
Cheyenne awoke and tried to rub her eyes, but quickly remembered the handcuffs. Her shoulders were hurting. She began to look around for the masked man, but he wasn't anywhere in sight. Suddenly the lights came on making her squint.
He moved toward her. "I brought us some dinner. You hungry?"
Her stomach growled, which made her realize she was hungrier than what she thought. "A little bit," she reluctantly admitted. "Could you unlock the handcuffs? My arms and shoulders are hurting."
He stared down at her and finally folded his arms. "On one condition."
"What would that be?"
"Don't try running away-or else I'll handcuff you again- without food."
"As long as you take these off, I promise."
He bent down to unlock the handcuffs around her wrists. Once her arms were free, Cheyenne rubbed her wrists and ankles and once more scoured her surroundings.
"You okay?" he asked.
"How can I be okay? You freaking kidnapped me." She noticed the large sleeping bag on the floor. "What's that for?"
"For us. I thought that maybe we could sleep in it tonight."
"Us? Tonight?"
"Yeah," he said as he flashed his gun. "Just don't be stupid and try to run-because I'll catch you."
"I won't." She realized she needed to change the topic from the sleeping bag. "What's for dinner?"
"Spaghetti. I went to Adolfo's Spaghetti. We've also got salad and garlic bread and I got some wine."
Cheyenne tried to remember what street it was on. Was it Erie Street? No. Superior Street. Yes. That's it. She had to be close to it. "I'm starving."
"First things first," he said as he opened the picnic blanket atop a folding table. He quickly placed a chair on each side of the table.
Plates, silverware and glasses appeared from thin air in his hurry. With a flourish of his arm, he motioned for her to sit down.
Reluctantly, she did.
"Eat," he said. She complied, never taking her eyes off him.
~
They finished eating and the man nodded his head toward the sleeping bag and pointed the gun at her. "Get in."
"I'd rather be handcuffed to the pole," she said as she folded her arms.
"I don't care what you want. Get in the sleeping bag." When she didn't move, he shouted, "NOW!"
"What if I have to go to the bathroom?"
"Do you?"
"Why would I say anything if I didn't?"
He studied her before motioning her to get up. When she stood, he pointed to a corner. "Over there. Go. I'll be right behind you."
With the gun in his hand, she didn't argue and walked over to a portable toilet. She groaned. "Are you kidding me?"
"Just go." He watched her.
"Do you mind? Have you ever heard of privacy?"
"Don't try anything stupid." He nodded to the gun in his uplifted hand.
"What could I possibly do?"
He shrugged and hesitantly turned his back to her. Cheyenne focused on what needed to be done. She was about to ask where she could wash her hands when she noticed a bottled of hand sanitizer on the floor next to her. She sanitized her hands, thinking how disgusting it was. No sink to wash her hands made her stomach churn. She didn't know what was next, but this man was going back and forth between being nice and cruel. The sleeping bag thing was an extremely unpleasant idea, but if she was going to survive, she had to do whatever he told her. At least until she could figure a way out of this.