Chapter 33: Worst Nightmare

Eric gazed out into the darkness, eyes fixed on the shadowy figure at the edge of the lot. He couldn't see much from this distance. Just an outline of a human form, medium height, with the long, spindly arms and legs of a spider or a praying mantis. There was something odd about him. Something about the shape of the head. No hair? Eric leaned forward into the wind and squinted to see better. No neck either, at second glance. Maybe the guy just had a hood up over his head. A hoodie sweatshirt?

The figure moved slightly, and Eric saw now that he had something sitting next to him on the ground. A bulky-looking bag. Eric watched him pick it up and sling it over his shoulder.

Where had that guy come from? There hadn't been a car passing in either direction for 15 minutes now. Could he have come on that bus that rolled by a few minutes ago? An out-of-towner, then? A fan who'd somehow gotten word of the show tonight and took a bus to get here? He must be a big fan.

Or was it a she?

Taylor couldn't help but smirk at his mental miscalculation. In the darkness, he could barely even tell that the figure was human, much less male or female. His brain had automatically filled in man because he couldn't see the hair. But it was almost certainly a girl, right? When was the last time any male members of the species had attended an Eric Thorn concert?

Anyway, what was she doing out there? Eric was pretty sure now that she had her back to him, facing away from the concert venue and out toward the road. Maybe she was meeting up with friends? She must not have caught sight of him standing here. Not yet, anyway. It was only a matter of time. Eric winced to himself, just imagining the moment when she recognized him. He knew how it would go. She'd slowly turn around,and then the peaceful silence would be broken by the sound of a blood-curdling scream.

Well, so what if she did scream? One lone screaming fan girl? He could handle that. He listened to thousands upon thousands of them every night on tour. Maybe he should just get it over with. Go jog across the parking lot right now and tap her on the shoulder. Offer to take a selfie with her. Hell, at least it might take his mind off the face-numbing cold.

There was no way it could be Tessa, right?

The thought flitted through his mind, but he dismissed it. No. Definitely not. Tessa wouldn't be standing out there all alone. She was supposed to be with Nev and Max. And when she did show up, she wouldn't be on foot. She'd told him this morning that Nev would be driving a silver SUV.

So where the hell were they?

The fan had started moving again now, but she still hadn't turned to face the club. Eric's forehead furrowed as he watched. What the hell was she doing out there? She'd just made her way over to the far corner of the lot, and now she'd started walking down the shoulder of the road.

A tingle of alarm made its way down Eric's spine as he watched her go. It couldn't be safe. She'd be nearly invisible to any passing cars, dressed as she was in dark clothing. What was she doing? Did she need some kind of help? Should he call out to her?

Eric hesitated but didn't move, unsure what to do. He merely watched the figure's slow progress with his eyes until the last shadow disappeared around a bend in the road.

Not a fan after all, apparently. Eric's face twisted into a scowl. His audience of one had just evaporated before his eyes. Back down to an audience of zero.

He jammed his hands into his pockets and kicked his foot at a loosened stone, sending it skittering out across the pavement of the parking lot.

The empty parking lot. . . .

Or mostly empty, at any rate. The handful of cars scattered before him belonged to the club's staff, plus the rental car that Maury had driven here from Dallas. Eric's own car didn't occupy a space. When he'd arrived a few hours ago, he'd pulled around to the service entrance at the side of the building and ditched his Ferrari back there. He hadn't wanted to draw too much attention to its presence, just in case some deranged fan decided to stake it out and follow him after the show.

Follow him. What a joke. There were no fans here tonight. He could've ditched his car on the side of the road with a big red "For Sale" sign in the window, for all it would've mattered. No passersby at all, except for that one weirdo.

Eric turned his head to look in the direction she had gone. Or he had gone? Had it been a man after all? Some kind of drifter, perhaps, trying to hitch a ride into town?

He didn't have much time to speculate. His ears had perked up again all of a sudden, listening to a faint sound growing louder. The unmistakable hum of an engine. Perhaps the engine of a silver SUV?

Eric took his hands out of his pockets and stood up tall, unconsciously straightening the rabbit's foot that hung around his neck.

"Here we go," he muttered to himself. "Show time."

Two beams of light came into view. Eric leaned forward expectantly, waiting for the car to emerge as well. But he only saw the headlights, peeping out from just around the bend. He watched for a long moment, until finally the two lights moved again. Still not coming closer. Instead, they seemed to swing around in a wide arc. For just a moment, the white beams were replaced by the faint red glow of tail lights. And then the total darkness fell again.

Not Tessa either. Eric's face fell with disappointment as he listened to the fading sound of the engine as it drove away. That guy out there must've gotten a ride. Someone just picked him up and did U-turn.

"Dammit Tessa," he growled.

This was getting downright irritating now. Suspense was one thing, but the warm glow of anticipation had all but faded as his disappointment grew. Nothing was going to happen. Not tonight. After all that, she wasn't even coming. After he'd spent this whole, long day imagining the moment - imagining what she would do and say, and the way her face would look.

And now here he was, standing alone in an empty parking lot, freezing his ass off.

Eric drew in a deep breath, trying to tamp down his growing annoyance. Maybe it wasn't too late. The night could still be salvaged. The show obviously wasn't happening - not without the star audience member in attendance. But maybe if he DM'ed her, he could still wheedle her address out of her and go meet her at her house. He had to try, right? Tomorrow night he had another tour stop in Sante Fe, and then Denver the night after that. Whatever happened tonight, he would have no choice but to leave again tomorrow morning. He only had one chance to meet her. He only had tonight.

Maybe he wouldn't have to work too hard to convince her. Maybe she'd already DM'ed.

He pulled out his phone to check, and then let out another little huff of disappointment at the sight of his twitter home screen. No little blue flag on his message tab to indicate an unread message. She hadn't DM'ed. Twenty minutes late now, and not one word of explanation?

This was bad. This was very, very bad. Had she lost her nerve completely?If he messaged her, would she even respond? He flicked onto his messages and began to compose a text. "What happened? Are you-"

But he broke off in mid-sentence. His eyes had just registered the last message on the thread. He squinted at it in confusion. Wait a minute. Not just one DM, he saw as he scrolled up. A whole back-and-forth exchange. Timestamp 15 minutes ago?

Which could only mean-

For a split-second Eric stood completely still, paralyzed, his mind a total blank. Then the reality crashed down over him in a raging torrent, the thoughts racing through his mind faster than he could process.

Messages.

To her.

From him.

But not from him.

It could only mean one thing. Hacked. Hijacked. His worst nightmare, coming true. All this time, worrying that what happened to Dorian Cromwell could so easily happen to him. All it would take was one lunatic. One crazy, delusional fan. How many times had he looked back over his shoulder to see if someone was following him? And someone had been! Not walking down the street perhaps, but following him just the same. Following his every word. His private conversation. Someone must have hacked his phone and found the second account. Some psycho. And she'd followed his whole relationship with Tessa, stewing in silent jealousy. Biding her time until she'd followed him here. Here. Tonight.

What happened to Dorian was horrifying enough. But this-this was unimaginable. This nutjob hadn't gone after him. She'd gone after the one he loved. She'd gone after Tessa.

And Tessa had no idea.

Would Tessa go with her?

Would she fall into the trap?

Would Tessa think-

Eric's mind race back over old conversations, now all hopelessly jumbled inside his head.

"Don't you ever watch Catfish," she had asked him, not so long ago. "It's pretty much the same thing every time. . . . Are you secretly a girl? . . ."

Tessa. No!

She couldn't think that. Not after last night. Not after he told her how he felt about her. She couldn't still believe he was a girl. Could she?

But wait.

Last night.

That final conversation.

Not what he'd told her, but what she'd told him. That whole story. That disgusting creep. But she couldn't identify him. She couldn't have picked him out of a line-up, even if she'd tried.

Because she never saw his face.

Was it possible? Not his worst nightmare. Hers.

Hacked, but not because he was Eric Thorn. Not someone following him at all. Someone following her. Someone lurking silently in the shadows. Waiting for her to let her guard down. Waiting for her to step outside, to show her face.

Eric's eyes skimmed back over the messages, searching for a clue.

Timestamp 2/20/14 6:05 PM

Taylor: Tessa, this is stupid. Wayyyy too crowded here. Pull over and pick me up.

Tessa: What?

Taylor: Tell Nev to pull over!

Tessa: Hold on. Pulling over. Where are you?

Taylor: Look up, dummy. I'm the one with the rabbits foot walking toward your car.

But who did Tessa see when she looked up? Her living, breathing nightmare or his own? Eric didn't even know which nightmare frightened him more.

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