My angel smiles at me, and just as I think she’s going to leave without saying anything, she says, “You are the most beautiful troll I’ve ever seen.” She blushes again as she gives me one last look and turns to walk away.
Did she just call me a beautiful troll? Is that some new church slang for the devil? There’s a first time for everything, I suppose. I grab my mom’s tote to take to her car and follow the crowd of volunteers out to the parking lot. I’m barely outside when I watch Sloane get into a car with someone. A guy? It never crossed my mind that she might be in a relationship. From the moment I realized she was my sad beige girl, my brain just registered her as mine. Mine.There’s that word again.
Anger starts bubbling to the surface of my mind, and that's when I realize something else. Throughout my time with her, I felt a sense of peace. True peace. I felt it the first night I saw her too.
I make a mental note of the car’s tag number and head to Mom’s SUV.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Mom asks as I load her car.
“She’s very young, Mom. I didn’t know your matchmaking had gotten so desperate that age no longer matters as long as you have a daughter-in-law soon.”
At least she has the decency to blush a bit at being called out. “Well, not just the daughter-in-law, you know. I’m also very interested in a whole brood of grandchildren.”
“I’ll see you on Sunday for lunch, Mom. Try not to scare off Sloane with your ideas, or you might be short a lead angel.”
She gives me one of her Blanche Sinclair smirks and drives off.
With nothing to do for the rest of my evening, I climb on my bike and head home, definitely not thinking about my angel. My Sloane.
Dean Christensen, twenty-one, senior in college, five foot eleven, blood type: O neg., previously treated for chlamydia twice, heavily into online sports betting, and with quite thesealed juvenile rap sheet. It looks like Dean started causing problems young, with some small thefts from convenience stores as a preteen, a stalking episode in his teens, and even an alleged arson that looks like it was targeted at an ex-girlfriend of one of his friends.
None of this is public record, with his daddy’s money in a pretty small town going a long way to ensure the picture-perfect public image of his son remained intact. Sloane’s parents must not know any of this, right? No parents would ever willingly let a guy with this many psychopathic tendencies anywhere near their precious little girl. Although it does look like Sloane’s dad and Dean’s dad may have some business deals in the works. Maybe she isn’t actually with him, and it’s all a front to appease their parents.Or perhaps she’s madly in love with him and they are fucking right now.
Nope, we are not doing this tonight, Ledger.
I know it’s useless to get myself worked up over assumptions. It's better to gather details and work with facts. I’ll slow down and make sure I’m as thorough as I need to be.
Along with fighting and all the other ways I was an abject disappointment to my father, the time I spent locked in my room tinkering with my massive bank of computers always drove him crazy. To him, business was the only real way a man could be successful, and everything else was a waste of time. I’m as personable as the next guy, but schmoozing old businessmen never appealed to me. I was lucky to have an older brother to take the brunt of that, and Henry never seemed to mind toeing Dad’s line. I just couldn’t. I would rather spend twelve hours hacking into Dad’s financials to prove I could, goto the tattoo parlor for one more sweet hit of pain, then find a new girlor threeto fuck. Rinse, repeat.
All that time spent at my computer has paid off over the years in different ways, either by giving me a heads-up when partners were planning to fuck me over when opening my club or giving me the tools needed to find out everything I could about myfuture wife.
Seven hours later, I feel good about what I was able to accomplish overnight. First off, Dean won’t be a problem. He can remove himself quietly from Sloane’s life, or I can methodically end his life as he knows it and ensure whatever career plans he has are over before they can even begin.
He’s been back to school for less than two weeks, and I already have footage from his frat’s security cameras showing him snorting enough coke to kill a horse, tracking info from his truck showing him at an establishment known for giving “happy ending” massages to college students, and a two-minute clip of him giving a beverage cart girl what looks like an underwhelming fucking just this past week at the golf course. It looks like he was the third of seven of his friends in line for her, and even if Sloane and her family were going to forgive everything else, having sex at a public golf course just isn’t classy. Come on, man.
With Dean comfortably filed as “not a threat” in the back of my brain, I move on to my princess baby angel.Sloane.
Her online trail was much more satisfying to follow than that shitstain Dean’s, and I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun. It didn’t take long for all of her publicly available information to be saved in its own folder on my computer. Her social media posts, high school pageant photos, report cards,doctor’s visit notes, immunization records, dental records, etc. were all safely backed up on all my servers.No records of any birth control prescription or implant, my caveman brain helpfully highlights. My favorite find so far—second favorite, says my lizard brain—is a little blurb from her local newspaper showcasing her preschool’s Christmas pageant fifteen years ago. The picture was a black-and-white version of my angel as a little angel, center-stage in the play. It’s currently printed out and framed on my desk, and I hope our girls get her blonde hair.
Am I getting a little ahead of myself? Should I dial any of this back?
I’m known to be obsessive, but this feels different. I’ve never cared to see a woman for more than one night. I guess the saying is true—when you know, you know.
As fun as learning all about my angel’s past was, getting to know her now and planning for the future made my night even better.
For her safety, I downloaded software to her phone to mirror it to one of the burners I keep on hand just in case. It’s best to track her and keep tabs on any messages Dean sends her, because at this point, I could not trust that fucker any less. Reading through her texts is bleak, and her parents are shitty.I mean, I thought my dad was bad, but these two narcissists might just take the cake.Your days of believing that you’re nobody’s priority are numbered, sweet girl. I promise you that.The photos from her camera roll show some of her current life, but a lot are screenshots of her hopes and dreams. Her online inspo boards are helpful, too, with fairly recent updates showing that my girl has a classic taste in diamonds, a fondnessfor ragdoll cats, and, in a clear sign we are truly meant to be, a very similar taste in architecture to the house I’m currently sitting in.
Her kitchen and bathroom preferences are a little different, but with a rush order of marble from Italy and a dozen people hand-beading wallpaper, it’ll be an easy fix. By the time she moves in, everything will be perfect.
I didn’t spend much time on her internet browsing history, mainly because coordinating massive home renovations in the middle of the night across multiple continents does take time, even for me. What I did prioritize, however, was the history of her private browser tabs. And what I found convinced me she’s even more perfect than I imagined. My Sloane is a virgin, but she hasa lotof questions and interests when it comes to sex.
Her porn history isn’t terribly adventurous, and the short amount of time she spends watching tells me that she’s either ashamed of her curiosity or afraid she’ll get caught. But while her searches started innocently enough, with “couples in love” and “first time sex,” my good girl seems to have gotten dirty fast. Her recent searches have been rougher and darker. She’s perfect, and I’m going to make her so, so happy.
I’ve finished adding myself as a contact in her phone and updating my name to “Devil.” I snap a selfie of myself thinking about her, and make that my contact photo. I’m considering changing the contact to “My Devil” when my angel wakes up and unlocks her phone.
Why is she awake at five o’clock? Her phone history shows my girl is not necessarily a morning person, with most of her phone activity not starting until it’s time to get up for class.
I can’t wait to see how cute she is when she wakes up grumpy in the morning.
