by kimber
Angie shuddered as she glanced into the rearview mirror. The same face she'd seen yesterday, and the day before that, on her route home stared back at her.
She averted her eyes back from the mirror, and concentrated
on the road. The man's face lingered, and she found herself unable to shake
it from her mind. He appeared young, late twenties or perhaps early
thirties. His face was round, his rosy cheeks giving him a boyish
look. His eyes were clear blue,
piercing beneath his thick, bushy brows.
When Angie reached her apartment building, she glanced into the mirror again; the same car was behind her. She grabbed her bag, PDA, and roller blades, and made a dash for the building. Once inside, she went to her block, and locked herself inside her apartment.
The phone suddenly rang, making her drop all of the contents in her hands.
She ran to answer it. "Yes?"
"Ang? What's a matter, love? You don't sound yourself." Rollie's soothing voice came over the lines.
"Oh ... uh," she began. She hadn't told him about the man, for fear he'd overreact. Rollie had promised her father that he'd look after her, but sometimes he took his role a little too seriously. "Nothing, I just ran up the stairs and I'm a little out of breath."
"Oh..." Rollie stuttered. "Well, I just wanted to know when you were coming in tonight. I need some help with this Banshee set-up."
Angie was silent before answering. "I suppose I could drive over around 5:30 tonight." She looked over her shoulder, and spotted the clock. It read 12:45.
"Sounds good. Oh a uh bring your 'blades, okay? I need the truck for tonight."
Angie shuddered. The thought of 'blading home in the dark scared her. She would normally enjoy a brisk workout, as she lived only a dozen blocks from the shop. But somehow...
As she hung up, Angie realized that she hadn't said 'hi' to her cat, yet. She usually worked long hours, and when she arrived home Chiops was normally ecstatic to see her.
"Chiops!" She called. The silence answered her.
She walked to the bedroom, and slowly pushed open the door. A flash of green and a hiss met her, making her jump.
"Chiops," Angie clicked on the lights, and bent down.
The cat, seeing his owner, instantly bounded toward her and nuzzled her leg.
Angie began to pet Chiops, and wondered what could have upset him so. Then she spotted the bedroom window.
A small square of glass had been removed from the bottom left corner. Several small cracks ran from the missing piece, through the pane itself.
Angie felt herself shiver. By the looks of it, whoever had tried hadn't succeeded at getting into her room.
As she slipped into bed, Angie decided she'd clean up later, and hoped that whoever was tormenting her wouldn't come back.
She shivered.
As Angie made her way to Rollie's that evening; she instinctively glanced into her rear-view mirror. A small car was behind her, its woman driver concentrating on the children in the back seat. Behind her, Angie spotted a large black truck; its front window tinted gray
She switched her eyes back to the road before her, and pulled into Rollie's back lane.
"Angie!" Rollie called when he spotted her coming.
Angie parked the truck and made her way over to Rollie. "Hey."
He studied her face. "You sure you're alright?"
Angie tried to avoid Rollie's eyes. She knew he was the only person she knew who could tell when something was wrong. "I'm sure. So, what's up?"
"Well, we have a tiny problem with the Banshee stunt."
Angie nodded, as she followed Rollie into the workshop. The two were working on a currently untitled movie, about the mysterious lives of the Banshee women.
For the scene, Rollie and Angie had been working on a visualized backdrop that made the Banshees appear to be in the forest. They also had to work with the visual effects and stunts the actresses performed.
"Let's get to work then," Angie replied.
"I'm afriad it's not so easy," Rollie said. "We've got one week to make this shoot work, and that leaves no time for mishaps. But we've got one. Eryka quit."
"Eryka?!" Angie questioned. Eryka Linden had been cast as one of the head Banshees, and without her there would be no movie. And no movie meant no jobs.
"Yeah, apparently she was waiting for word on another job when she took this role. Yesterday she discovered she'd been cast for the other role. Shooting begins today ... so she had to choose. And well..."
"Yeah. She chose them."
"So we've got no Shannyn now." Rollie said, miserably.
"Can't you cast someone else?"
"Not with this time-line! The part of Shannyn required a lot of stunt work, and a lot of memorization. We can't just cast anyone for this role." He took a deep breath. "The only person who knows Shannyn's lines is..." He let his sentence trail off.
Angie realized what Rollie was implying, and began to back away. "Oh, no. You don't mean a no Rollie. You know I don't act!! I ... I can't!"
"Angie," Rollie grasped her shoulders. "Come on, you're wonderful, beautiful, and a great actress. You can do this!"
"Well ... what about Lucinda? She's good at memorization. I'm sure if you called her..."
"She's shooting on location up in Alberta. It would waste too much time to get her down here."
"Well," Angie thought about taking the role. True, she'd worked the most with Eryka, and she knew Shannyn's lines and stunt requirements the best. But she was uncertain about her acting skills.
Then again, perhaps taking this role on would take her mind off this guy who was following her around. And maybe if she just found a way to ignore him...
"Okay."
"Great!" Rollie hugged her. "I knew I could count on you, Ang!"
"Yeah, yeah." Angie replied, grumpily. "Let's just
get started."
"Angie, wait a sec!"
Angie stopped and waiting up for Rollie. "Yeah?"
"Uh, I just wanted to thank you for taking Eryka's role again. And ... well, I know you said nothing's wrong, but if anything ever is ... you know you can talk to me, right?"
Angie smiled. "Sure."
"Okay, good." Rollie said. "Well, I'd best let you get home, huh? Thanks again."
Angie began to skate down the back lane. Once she was on the sidewalk, she began to skate faster, a feeling of being followed filled her mind.
She glanced over her shoudler, and scanned over the people around her. Nobody stood out. Then she spotted the black truck on the road. The tinted windows allowed her only a minimal view of the driver inside, but she knew the bulky figure matched the man who had been following her around, lately.
She began to speed up, and was about to turn back around when she felt herself being thrown to the ground.
She screamed.
"Hey lady, sorry. I just never meant to run into you, but man you should watch where you're going. Here, you need some help?" He reached his hand toward her.
Angie took it cautiously and looked up at him. Something about his eyes caught her, the way they were two slightly different colors a where had she seen eyes like that before?
"Angela? Angela Ramirez?"
Angie stared at him, blankly. "Yeah," she nodded. Suddenly she realized where she had seen this man before.
He was Howard Dingman, or "Howie D." to his friends. She'd gone on a blind date with him once ... and only once. He was a self-centered, ignored snob.
"Angela, I haven't talked to you in ages! You said you'd call!"
Angie felt herself blush. "Well, Howie I've been really busy between work and play, and everything else." She laughed, nervously. Just the cool look on his face scared her, and she felt herself backing away.
"You could have included me." He said, his voice hard.
"Um a I'd best be going now," Angie said, glancing toward the road. The black truck was gone. "I've got a lot of work to do."
"Maybe I could help." Howie suggested.
Angie realized what he was implying and she felt herself blush. "No, that's alright. I don't need help." She made to skate away.
"Angela." He grabbed her wrist roughly. "You can't lead a man on like this."
She pulled away. "Goodbye, Howie."
As she skated away, she ignored her impulse to turn around and go back to Rollie's. She knew if he knew about Howie, he would put a stop to it. But Howie wouldn't give up, and Rollie might just make things worse.
She decided to go home to her apartment, where she could settle down with a hot cup of tea, and curl up with a book. And feel safe.
As Rollie put away his gear, he thought about Angie. He had been thinking about her a lot lately, and that scared him. He wasn't sure about his feelings for her anymore.
He had noticed slowly, as they'd began to work together, that his feelings had changed. He had always been protective of her, and treated her as a little sister. But his protectiveness had turned to more of a jealous boyfriend type.
He thought about her mood that day. She had been slightly removed, as though she was keeping something from him.
He sighed as he thought of little Angie with the big interior. She'd believed since her father's death that she could handle anything that life threw at her. But sometimes she wasn't as strong as she thought she was. Sometimes he found himself wishing that she would seek comfort and protection in him. He knew he could provide it.
The phone rang, shaking him from his thoughts.
"Bluey, speaker phone!" He shouted.
The mechanical dog let out a bark, and Angie's frightened voice came over the line,
"Rollie!!! Help me, please!" The line went dead.
"Bloody hell," Rollie muttered, grabbing his coat. He raced out to his truck and down the few blocks to Angie's house.
Once he reached her apartment, he threw open the door, and raced inside.
"Angie!" He cried, spotting her lay against the sofa.
"Rollie?" She called, her voice barely a whisper.
Rollie ran to her, and pulled her into his arms. She was beginning to come around.
"What the hell happened?" Rollie questioned.
Angie shook her head, and fumbled to get up. "He ... he was here!"
Rollie pulled her up to the couch, where she rested her head against his shoulder. "It's okay, love," he kissed the top of her head. "Start at the beginning."
"He ... well, a guy, I don't know who, started following me around the last couple of days. I ... I noticed him behind me all the time. I never thought he would hurt me, I thought maybe..." She let her voice trail off.
Rollie held her closer. "Go on, sweetie."
"He just followed me, that was all. Until this morning, I ... I found the glass on my window had been tampered with. I never thought..."
"Angie, what happened now. When you called me."
"He was here. He a he was in the apartment when I came in. I tried to run away, but he grabbed me. He whispered something before he hit me ... he said," her eyes glazed over and she seemed far away. "'You're mine, Angie.'"
Sobs began to rock her body.
"Angie, it's alright now. I'm here for you," he said, soothingly. "You're coming to my place tonight, it isn't safe here."
"No!" Angie said, stubbornness filling her voice. "I'm not giving in to this moron. He can't just break in here, and destroy my life!"
"Angie, we'll get Mira to help us, you can't do this all by yourself."
"I'm not leaving." She said, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Well then neither am I." He replied, meeting her eyes.
Her clear blue eyes gave him the reassurance he needed. They told him more than anything she could have said herself.
That was the way they fell asleep that night, Angie curled up, her head on Rollie's shoulder; Rollie with his arms around her, securely.
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