Tired Of Being Rejected
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“Oh, hey. It’s been a while,” said the man with long hair and a beard who sat across from me at my table in one of the many cafés on Main Street in Santa Monica. I had just finished my breakfast but decided to get coffee instead of a pastry.
I didn’t know what he was here for and it might have been better not knowing if we were going to talk about anything personal. He could be some serial killer or ex-con who wanted to use me as bait.
The possibility scared me so much that I almost left after paying the bill and walking out without saying goodbye; I thought it best to stay away from people for the day until I knew why this guy had picked me as his victim.
But something deep inside told me he would try to hurt me if he got the chance, so I stayed where I was when the waiter walked past, asking if someone else wished to sit down at my table. “No thanks.” And with that simple answer, the man left.
The café was mostly empty except for me, and the owner, and a young couple sitting two tables over having their late breakfast. So far, nobody paid attention to us.
I stared at him, trying to see his face clearly, though I couldn’t tell his age by looks alone: perhaps mid-thirties, maybe even older. His eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, and I noticed they had blue frames, which gave me hope.
Blue meant the guy wasn’t a psychopath or a cop who was hunting me because of some old unsolved crime from years ago. My fingers gripped the warm mug of coffee, making the white ceramic feel rough against my palm. It made sense that he was here to talk to me now.
If he had been a killer or something worse, he would have done it right then and there, before anyone saw him approach me.
After a few minutes, the guy took off his dark jacket and threw it on the back of the seat he’d occupied. I waited patiently. There was no point in getting angry yet. Maybe I could get some information out of him before he tried to kill me.
At least he hadn’t started anything too physical yet. That was promising. “What can I do for you?” I asked, keeping my voice low and careful since my voice carried easily.
He smiled, flashing white teeth in his sun-darkened skin, like someone from the Caribbean. “My name is Jake, but you probably know that already.” He held out an envelope to me. I stared at it with trepidation and reached over to take it from his hand.
I pulled a folded sheet of paper out first to check that it wasn’t poisoned, and then unfolded it carefully. “It’s not a letter,” Jake assured me, leaning forward and speaking softly enough to make sure no one around us would hear, “so don’t worry about reading it in public. Just take it, and leave me in peace.” He paused. “You can even keep the money I put in there if that helps.”
“How did you find out my name?” I said, holding the envelope in both hands. It felt heavy and thick; the kind of envelope that contained more than money. “And how are you so certain I won’t read the contents of your note?”
Jake sighed, looking tired. “Don’t bother trying to figure out what my real motives are and where I want the relationship to go. I’m only interested in sex.” He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s all I came here for.”
I let my hand drop, letting the letter fall to the table between us. “So, why me? You didn’t seem very interested in talking to me before today. We’ve never met before.” I looked up at him with raised eyebrows, curious despite myself.
His gaze softened slightly. “You’re a pretty girl, and you look lonely and miserable. I guess that must have been my lucky night. Or maybe not.” His tone remained serious, but it lacked the coldness I’d expected.
“We’ll have plenty of time to catch up during our dates. What matters most is that you’re here now and not somewhere else. As I understand it, you haven’t been dating anyone in the last six months or so. Not a single person.”
The idea shocked me to my core. Six months without any man-on-man action—or rather, no man-to-man action? How was I supposed to survive if not with cock to hold and balls to jerk off with at night after work?
But I didn’t say anything about it. Jake continued. “Let me assure you that you will enjoy yourself.”
“Are you telling me we’re going to date?” I asked in disbelief.
He shrugged, a lazy movement of shoulders that made his muscles flex underneath his expensive suit jacket. “Well … we can start tonight if you’d prefer.” His grin spread across his face again, as wide as a smile could be. “As long as you know you can call me Jake. No need for formality or politeness.”
I shook my head. “Okay, I promise not to call you Mr. Johnson,” I said sarcastically, but then decided that might come off wrong. I lowered my voice a fraction. “Just give me the cash you put inside this thing and let’s get the hell out of here.”
I pushed the envelope back into his hand, feeling its weight. A hundred dollars? I could buy a really nice dinner with that, and still, have change left over.
Jake nodded slowly, his lips pursed together. I knew he was calculating the best way to get it back to me while remaining friendly enough that he wouldn’t cause any trouble. Finally, he slid the envelope over to me and opened his hands.
I caught the top and lifted it carefully, not wanting to jostle the contents. I couldn’t afford to lose even a piece of the money. But when I finally had it, I pulled out a small stack of bills that fell heavily onto the table.
They were green and yellow, and they made my stomach turn just to have them near me because they reminded me of the color of leaves turning brown and falling from trees.
I stuffed them into my pocket as quickly as possible, making sure not to touch the money with my fingers again.
“See you tomorrow at seven o’clock, then,” Jake said in a business-like tone. “We can grab something cheap and cheerful. And you can tell me your favorite places.”
“Sounds good,” I replied, nodding at him as though it mattered and hoping my insides weren’t too shaky.
Once we were on the street outside the bar, Jake turned to me. “So, are you nervous?” he asked casually, but his dark eyes watched me closely.
I shook my head, smiling to show I wasn’t worried about anything. “Nah, I’m cool. It’s gonna be fun.”
***
Jake didn’t disappoint me.
When the doorbell rang, I took a deep breath and stood up. My heart was beating fast against my ribs, and my mouth tasted dry. I hoped I didn’t drool. I hadn’t planned for Jake to pick me up, and since I’d told him my apartment was closer to the center of town, I assumed he would suggest we meet somewhere else.
But he chose my place and showed up on time, dressed all in black like an assassin. The leather jacket looked soft under his fingertips when he reached for it, and a faint odor of cologne hung around him.
There was nothing fancy or luxurious about the neighborhood, and although my apartment was small and old, it was home to me. I’d decorated it over the years with whatever I could find, and the walls were a strange patchwork of posters, paintings, and photographs.
Most people thought it was a little crazy, but it gave me a sense of comfort and pride that I wouldn’t trade for anything. When I opened the front door, Jake held out his elbow to help me through it, but I didn’t need it, and he didn’t insist.
Once he got a good look at the interior, his gaze swept across it with an approving nod. “A cozy place.” He glanced around briefly before he followed me inside. “Nice work.”
It seemed like we chatted easily enough, but there was no conversation to speak of. We simply sat and enjoyed each other’s company for several minutes as I drank my tea and Jake sipped his beer.
Then he leaned forward suddenly and put his elbows on the table. “I’ll cut straight to the chase,” he said in a hushed voice, and I felt his intense attention focused squarely on me. “I don’t want to make things complicated or difficult for either of us. You don’t owe me any money. Not yet, anyway.”
He was right about that, so I didn’t argue. Instead, I kept my expression neutral. There was only one thing that really mattered to me: getting the money back.
“If this arrangement isn’t working for you, then let’s just stop it today,” Jake continued. He sounded casual, but I knew better.
I raised my eyebrows slightly. This was new territory for me. “What will happen if we stop now?”
His dark eyes studied me curiously for a moment before he shrugged and looked away. “You can keep the cash. But I’ll tell my friends what happened, and they’re bound to know someone who will want their hands on that stuff.”
The hairs on the nape of my neck bristled at his words. I wanted to protest, but I also knew he was right. If I didn’t have Jake’s protection, then my chances of keeping the money would be much slimmer.
“How bad is it?” I asked quietly.
“Bad,” Jake confirmed without hesitation. Then his hand came down hard on the table and forced me to look up into his face. His eyes were hard and serious, and he was glaring at me. “I’m a man of my word, and you’ve been honest with me since day one. Do you understand? So don’t worry about telling me anything that might hurt your case, okay?”
I nodded carefully, waiting for him to continue.
But after he finished speaking, he stared off into space for a moment, lost in thought. Then he sighed heavily, shook himself, and looked me square in the eye. “Right, well then. Let’s get started.”
***
Jake didn’t take any unnecessary steps. After our brief discussion outside, we returned to my living room where he settled himself on the couch with a beer while I went into the kitchen to fix myself some coffee. While I prepared breakfast, I heard him rummaging through drawers and cabinets. Then he called out, “Hey, Lainie, do you have any plastic wrap?”
I frowned in surprise when I saw him holding a small black velvet bag. He must have taken them from my jewelry box, and now his hands shook a little as he pulled the zipper closed and set the bag on the floor next to him.
After a few seconds, I said, “I’m not sure, but maybe. I never use it. I should probably go buy some soon.”
“No,” he replied immediately. “Don’t bother. I’ll run to the store and get it.” He picked the bag back up, and it trembled in his fingers again as he turned to walk toward the bedroom.
My brows furrowed together. What was he planning? Had we agreed to something different than he’d originally told me? My mind raced, trying desperately to think of a solution to this sudden change in plans. Then it occurred to me that perhaps Jake had planned all along to rob me after all. Perhaps he was going to hold onto my jewels until he could sell them somewhere else.
“Jake?” I asked, following behind him, “Are you serious?”
He stopped with his hand on the dresser drawer. A second later, he pushed aside his jacket to reveal the gun in his pocket. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I am.”
I froze and stared at the weapon in shock. It wasn’t loaded, but still, the barrel was long and sharp enough to kill. The safety was on, which meant I couldn’t shoot him if I tried, but if he aimed carefully at my heart and pulled the trigger…
It took me a minute to work through my panic and come back to reality. When I did, I realized that Jake hadn’t spoken over the phone earlier because he was worried about getting caught. That he’d waited to see if he needed to protect me at home before pulling out his weapon. I understood now; I was safe. I wouldn’t need to fight him for my jewels.
And yet my pulse pounded harder against my chest.
“What are you thinking?” Jake asked, and for a second, his gaze flitted around the room anxiously.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I can’t imagine you wanting to rob me like this.”
He hesitated briefly before saying, “I’ll explain everything once I return, okay? We’ll have more time then.”
I nodded slowly, wondering how we were going to play the rest of this out.
Then the doorbell rang, and Jake’s eyes widened. “I forgot about that!”
He hurried from the bedroom to answer the front door before I even got dressed for the day. Once he was gone, I went upstairs and put on my usual attire: a plain white blouse and jeans. I brushed my hair out quickly and tied it in a knot so that my bangs hung loosely across my forehead, revealing a little more of my face.
Then I slipped downstairs and sat on the edge of the dining chair, waiting for Jake to return.
For an hour, he worked steadily as I watched, waiting for his next move. Finally, he came in from the front yard carrying a small duffel bag full of groceries and a large brown paper sack with two steaks inside.
“Sorry,” he said as he tossed the bag onto my kitchen counter and pulled out the steak knives he’d bought. “I ran to the store on the way over here.”
“That’s okay,” I said casually, trying to figure out how this would go down without having to be involved with actual violence.
Jake opened one side of the duffle bag to reveal several bottles of cleaning supplies, including bleach, alcohol wipes, and rubbing alcohol. He grabbed both bags and set them on the kitchen table, then went into the living room and set up a folding card table and a plastic lawn chair.
He dragged a small folding camp stove over, too. Now the entire space between the windows of my living room looked like a tiny makeshift diner.
Finally, Jake returned to the kitchen and pulled the steaks out of the cooler. “You hungry?” he asked, walking past me toward the table. “If we hurry, we might still make lunch today.”
“Yeah,” I replied absently. It wasn’t quite ten o’clock yet, but I had no intention of working today—not when it felt as though Jake had just ruined my whole life.
As I followed him, I saw him set up the stove on a tray of bricks so that it stood on its end. He removed the grate and poured oil in the pan beneath it, and then placed the first steak in. After turning the flame down to simmer, he pulled off the grill lid and flipped it. When the meat was brown on the other side, he took a plate from the cupboard under the sink and slid the steaks onto it.
“Do you eat rare or medium?” he asked as I settled into the folding chair across from him, watching silently.
I frowned at him. “Medium.”
The corner of his lips turned upward in a crooked grin. “Good.”
He took two plates from his shopping trip, set the two steaks atop each plate, and carried them to the table.
“Thank you for taking me out for dinner last night,” I said softly.
He smiled again. “My pleasure. You’re welcome anytime.”
After placing one plate in front of me, he took the seat opposite.
Neither of us spoke while he cooked the steaks, and when he served them, I barely touched mine, too nervous to taste it after what I already knew. But Jake seemed unconcerned, eating eagerly.
We ate our food in silence until finally, I asked, “How long will you be here?”
“A few more hours,” he said simply. “Until I leave for the office tomorrow morning.”
“And then …?”
Jake shrugged, chewing thoughtfully. “I’ll call you.”
“Are you sure that’s enough information for me to understand your situation?”
He paused and stared hard at me over the top of his coffee mug. Then he sighed and said, “This is going to sound really strange.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“When I first started coming here, there were times when I was afraid of being seen,” Jake explained, and I could hear the shame in his voice as he said it. “I couldn’t bear the risk that someone would recognize me or see something that would give away my identity.
So, whenever I was going to visit you, I tried to hide in the bushes outside your apartment building. If I didn’t have a clear shot to the window through the glass doors, I waited until someone came home before I climbed in the fire escape behind the building.”
At the same time, I felt my heart sinking down to my stomach.
“What happened to those feelings?” I asked quietly.
“It became easier, somehow,” Jake continued. “I think it was because I was getting used to coming around and because I was no longer worried about hiding myself from you—or anyone else who might see. I know, it sounds kind of crazy, right? But eventually, I stopped worrying about that stuff altogether.”
I nodded slowly, not trusting myself to speak, feeling too confused.
“So,” Jake said awkwardly, “now that I’m staying here, you don’t need to worry about me showing up unannounced every day.”
“No,” I whispered, staring hard into my untouched coffee mug.
He hesitated before asking, “Is everything okay?”
I shook my head, unable to find the words.
“Did you lose money last night?” he guessed.
I laughed, and then suddenly choked, coughing and gasping as the pain hit me full force. Jake reached over quickly and rubbed my back, trying to soothe me.
Then suddenly, a thought occurred to me: How did Jake get all of these supplies? And how much did he buy for this project? I’d been so distracted by Jake that I hadn’t even noticed what he was doing yesterday. Hadn’t realized how much work he had put in ahead of time.
But now … Now I understood, and it was making my chest tighten with fear.
“Don’t do anything rash, Lexie,” I said desperately.
“I won’t,” he promised me gently. “Just stay calm.”
That was impossible. There wasn’t a single thing I could do to control my panic. It had gotten worse every day since we found out that Jake wouldn’t be going anywhere. I wanted to go somewhere. Anywhere but here.
“You should rest,” he said, pushing his empty plate away from him.
The End