Little Stalker by Erica Pike Read Free Book Online

while I sit myself down at the bar. A brown-haired
    bartender cocks an eyebrow at me. She’s a girl I once threw out after a night together. I
    gesture for her with my fingers, and she approaches me with hands folded in front of her
    chest.
    “What can I get for you, Coby?” she asks in a flat voice.
    “Nothing tonight,” I say, ignoring her mock gasp. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry for
    how I treated you.”
    “What, you’re in that stage of the twelve step program already? I’m pretty sure I saw
    you pissed last week.”
    “No,” I say with a little smile. “I’m not in the program. I’ve just had a nasty wake-up
    call.”
    “What, you knocked someone up?”
    “No,” I say with a shake of my head. “Look, I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”
    She sighs through her nose, looking over the empty bar – it being still early and all.
    “Fine,” she says after a while, unfolding her arms and putting things away. “You’re
    forgiven. Now what are you really here for?”
    My brow rises as I look up at her, then we both break out in chuckles.
    “Um, do you know a guy from school named Grayson? That’s his first name.”
    “Yeah, he comes here a lot on Friday nights.”
    Every inch of me perks up.
    “Do you know where I could find him?”

    “What, you need to apologize to him, too?” she says, clearly as a joke by the smile on
    her face.
    “Yeah, I do.” I say, not realizing that I’m outing myself until after the words slip out.
    “Oh,” she says, eyebrows raised. “Oh, wow. Okay. Um, yeah, he lives up in North
    Philly, just outside Brewerytown. Here, let me write it down for you.”
    She grabs a party flier from the counter and scribbles down the directions.
    “I don’t know the house number, but I’m pretty sure this is the street address. Don’t
    go there at night, okay? And don’t take your fancy car or the subway. Cab is your safest bet.”
    “Thanks, um...” I say with an impish smile, folding the note into my pocket.
    “Lisa,” she says with a wink. “See yah.”
    Wow, are people really this cool about homosexuality, or have I just lucked out so
    far?
    I tell Ray I’m going back. The reason I don’t tell him I’m going to North Philly is
    because he was born and raised there up until middle school. He would’ve spent the next
    hours trying to talk me out of going.
    I take Lisa’s advice and take a taxi. The cabdriver persistently charges me extra for
    driving to that location at night. The residential street is not so big, mostly made up of
    apartment complexes. I have no idea where to start, so I decide to walk up and down the
    street, discretely looking toward the windows before I’ll start knocking on the doors asking if
    anyone knows where Grayson lives.
    The street is poorly lit where I walk past the first complex, listening to the faint
    sounds of yelling and a kid crying somewhere. I’ve lived in Philly all my life, but I’ve never
    been to the north part. Shoving my hands deep in my pockets, I hunch onward.
    There’s loud music thumping from the next complex and people partying on the
    balcony. I’m glad they don’t seem to take any notice of me, even though I’m walking
    abnormally slow while I glance through the windows. I hear glass break, people laugh, and
    then someone shout.
    God, does Grayson really live in this area? Is he still alive?
    A woman shrieks from the middle of the third complex, bottom floor. She yells and
    argues. An angry male voice shouts back, and then the front door is yanked open. My heart
    pumps hard as Grayson storms out in a short jacket, a backpack hanging on his shoulder.
    “Get back here you piece of shit!” the woman shrieks just before she appears in the
    doorway, blond hair hanging in clumps around her face, her flowery dress loose around her
    thin body.

    Grayson swirls around, his backpack sliding off the shoulder into his hand.
    “Shut up, fucking bitch!” he yells.
    Dude! My little shy stalker has vocab like that?
    I