He startles. “Oh! Finished already, Miss… Darling?”
I nod and lean on the counter. “Quick question,” I say, sweet as arsenic. “The model… what a stunning woman. So professional. Such poise. What’s her name?”
His face twitches, caught somewhere between flattered and suspicious. “That’s, uh, Miss Kira. She’s one of our regulars. Very dependable.”
Kira.
Like a villain in a dystopian young adult novel.
Of course she is.
“That’s lovely,” I say with a plastic smile, already pulling out my phone. “It’s just so inspiring to see a woman so confident in her skin. Empowering, really. I might follow her work.”
For self-improvement. And justice.
He frowns. “Her… work?”
I laugh like I’m normal. “You know. Her portfolio. Her artistic journey. I’m a huge fan of journeys.” Then I spin on my heel and waltz out before the walls close in on my last shred of mental stability.
Outside, the sky is purple with dusk. I slide into my car and wait.
And wait.
And wait.
Finally, goose-Kira exits. She’s wrapped in a long cardigan and walks like someone who doesn’t have a single delusional woman drawing her as poultry twenty feet away. I slouch low, squinting over my steering wheel. Rhys doesn’t leave right away. He probably has to clean up his feelings and his hard-on for modesty. So I let him be.
I tail her from a very respectful distance. The kind of distance that says “I’m not stalking you, I’m just wildly curious about your lifestyle and maybe your blood type.” She doesn’t notice. Just walks two blocks like she’s in a European indie film. No music. No sense of danger. Just vibes and soft footfalls.
Then she turns into a grimy little building that squats over a 24-hour laundromat. There’s a buzz-in door. No cameras. The lights flicker.
Bingo.
I coast by once, then circle back and park across the street. Discreet. Innocent. Just a girl, out for a drive with a rolled-up emotional hate drawing in her lap.
I pull out my phone, open Google Maps, and drop a pin on the exact location.
“Goose Bitch HQ.”
Saved.
Folder: Strategic Planning.
I take a deep breath and lean back in my seat, feeling something warm and predatory settle in my chest.
Know your enemy.
Protect what’s yours.
Leave a glitter trail.
Rhys may not know it yet, but I am doing the laying the foundation for our forever by eliminating distractions from his personal growth.
Journal Entry #2
Friday July 30th
Therapy Journal
