Her breath was rapid and shallow as she returned to his Facebook page, to the photo of those two naive kids in their almost comical prom outfits. With a shaky hand, she clicked the messenger icon. A small screen popped open, inviting her to type a message to Cole. She took a breath, and then she began.

I know you’re in New York. I have a gun. If you try to hurt me, I’ll kill you.

Before she could think better of it, she clicked the send button. The threat went flying through the ether to Cole.

17

Emily

Gabe would stay in the city that weekend. He’d spent an extra day in Sagaponack earlier in the week to watch his daughter’s ridiculous play, so catching up on work was a suitable excuse. Not that he needed one: his wife and daughter seemed largely indifferent to his absence or presence. Once, they’d waited for his car to pull into the drive, bursting out of the house to greet him. Now, Violet was busy with her weird friends and her plethora of causes; Celeste with a myriad of appointments devoted to her physical, mental, and spiritual health. Their ambivalence had wounded him, at first, especially Violet’s. How could she adore him one day, ignore him the next? At least their apathy afforded him a certain amount of freedom.

He was looking forward to seeing Natalie on Saturday. The girl was stuck in his head like an ant in honey. He liked her dark hair, her fair skin, her full lips. He appreciated the natural grace that compensated for her lack of sophistication. Even her problems and drama were compelling: the terrified look in her eyes when she’d told him about the jilted high school boyfriend out to get her. When she’d melted into his arms, Gabe had felt like her hero, her savior, her white knight. No one had made him feel that way in a very long time.

On their next date, he would ask her to make things official. This was the trajectory of these relationships. A couple of dates to gauge chemistry, and, if all went well, an allowance would be offered, a schedule set. He would see Natalie twice a week subject to his availability. Natalie wasn’t greedy; she’d be satisfied with a $3,500 monthly stipend. Add in a few nice dinners out, a Broadway show or two, maybe a weekend in Vermont, and she’d be over the moon. But first, there was something he had to take care of. Or someone.

Emily.

They’d had an arrangement for about four months. Gabe had found her on the sugar website. Emily was sweet, sexy, and exotic. Her mother was from the Philippines, her father, Brazilian. Or maybe he was Argentine? Gabe couldn’t recall, hadn’t really been listening. He was attracted to Emily, and the sex was good, but their relationship had never felt genuine. The petite woman said and did all the right things, almost like she was playing a part. Emily had been around the block; she knew the drill. Natalie wasn’t like that. She was innocent, fresh, real.