I guessed the time to be four forty-five a.m. when I found myself standing next to my bed. I was an excellent judge of time, which Mom believed was a gift, but I figured she was just reassuring herself she didn't have a freak for a daughter.  I reached for my phone to check the time. Four forty-two. I was slipping. 

I knew I had been sleepwalking, but for how long? I couldn't be sure until I checked the apartment. Hopefully, I hadn't done something stupid, like raid the refrigerator or unfold all the towels. After a quick walk-through, I found nothing out of place, which probably meant I hadn't left the bedroom. I took the opportunity to use the toilet, and it was when I headed back to bed that I heard the growling. 

It didn't come from any of my neighbors. Pets weren't allowed in the building. It originated from outside. And the fact that I lived three floors up didn't matter. I had the hearing of a dog, which was probably why I could tune into their shenanigans whenever they decided to have a row under my window. 

The thing was, dogs rarely turned-up in the alley. It was used exclusively for the trash bin, which stayed behind a locked gate. This thought crossed my mind as I walked to my bedroom window and pulled back the curtain, fully prepared to whistle them away if need be. I had a pretty shrill whistle. Only what I saw in the alley was no dog fight. It was a man fight, but they were battling it out like dogs; rolling on the ground, clawing, biting. And, yes, growling. 

The more I watched, the more I realized there was something unusual about them. Both where cloaked in black. In fact, someone passing by might not notice them if they weren't making such a racket. And each one had the stature of a giant, with large objects resting on their shoulders like backpacks. Or, wings. 

My muscles tensed as I watched them tear each other apart like animals out for blood. One man lifted his opponent over his head and threw him against the trash bin. It had to hurt like hell, but the guy got up, appearing completely unharmed and angrier than before. He rushed his attacker and dragged him to the ground, his mouth opening wide to expose sharp teeth as he dove for the man's throat. Jesus. What kind of underworld shit was this?

I glanced at my phone across the room, contemplating calling the cops. What would I tell them? They probably got calls about alley fights all the time. Would the fight be over by the time they arrived? When I looked back, one of the men had the other in a headlock, and with a violent snap, the subdued man's head jerked then fell limp in his assailant's arms. A scream escaped my throat, and I slapped my hand over my mouth as I stumbled away from the window.

Holy shit.

I stood immobile in the middle of the room, not wanting to believe what I'd seen. Did I just witness a murder? Had anyone else seen it? Was it time to call 911? With a trembling hand, I retrieved my phone and walked back to the window, dreading the scene that awaited me. I damned sure didn't want to be seen by the murderer. What if he was scanning the building for faces?

I swallowed hard as I stealthily peeked through the curtain, and my eyes met with an empty alley. There was no sign of either man. I opened the curtain further to get a better look at the surrounding area. Still nothing. Where the hell did they go? No one could have escaped over the gate in that amount of time, especially if they were carrying a dead body. Was my mind playing tricks on me? Did I even witness a murder? 

Shaking and nauseous, I crawled back into bed, grabbing my spare pillow and wrapping my limbs around it. It was times like these that I really missed Sylvie. We shared a bed for nearly a year, and she had become a great spooning partner. When I moved in with Heath, he and I rarely slept together because he worked nights. Of course, after things went to hell, I was grateful for his absence.

When the sky had begun to lighten, and I was tired of fighting off the visions of men gouging each other's eyes out, I crawled out of bed and made a slow, uncertain trek toward the window. I needed to confirm there were no dead bodies below my apartment. I pulled the curtain back and blinked the alley into focus. Once again, it held nothing except the trash bin, and the guilt that had plagued me for not calling 911 subsided a little. 

Maybe the man had faked out his attacker and escaped to seek medical attention. That was the most logical explanation, and that's what I told myself as I slipped on my sweatpants and made for the kitchen to brew an extra strong pot of coffee. The first thing I noticed when I arrived at the counter was the full trash bag I still needed to take down to the bin. It stood there propped between the fridge and the door like a sign I couldn't ignore. I knew deep down I wouldn't be able to shake the guilt until I made sure there wasn't a man dying behind the dumpster.

Grabbing my cell and my keys, I picked up the bag and headed out the door. The street greeted me with the usual quiet of predawn and one hardcore jogger taking advantage of the calm. I took some comfort in the jogger's presence as he blasted by, and I pretended I was simply taking care of my daily duties as I unlocked the gate and entered the alley. First rule of city living - never show your fear.

I flicked on my cellphone's flashlight and directed it at my feet as I walked over to the dumpster, tossing the bag through the open lid. With that accomplished, I did a quick scan around the back of the bin and found nothing. Relief flooded me, and I decided to go with the theory that the injured man had gotten away safely. It just felt too real to have been a dream.

As I made one final three-sixty turn, my phone chimed, scaring the shit out of me and making me cry out. I swiped the screen to find a text from an unknown number, and my heart thumped like a bass when I read it.

Go back inside, Reese.

As a fresh wave of fear swept over me, I looked up at the windows of my building. The row of closed curtains told me the call probably didn't come from a neighbor, and Mr. Pearlman's window faced the road. Besides, he didn't own a cellphone, which meant someone was watching me from an undisclosed location. 

Shit. 

Now, I was afraid to leave the alley. Was a stalker waiting around the corner to jump me? A stalker who knew my name and phone number? 

Double shit. 

As I stood there in a fear-induced stupor, I reminded myself that I was no slouch when it came to psycho bitch fighting skills. I had given Heath some good wallops during our relationship. Without further hesitation, I walked confidently through the gate and locked it as I scanned the area coolly. Then I hightailed it inside and locked the door.

Safely ensconced inside my apartment, I threw myself onto the couch and studied the unknown number. It had a New York area code, but that was all the information I could get without putting a trace on it. So, I scrolled through my call log to find the number Vincent had used to call me Monday night. The numbers didn't match. Maybe he was using a different phone. Being a wealthy mogul, he probably had more than one. Of course, I was assuming the mystery texter was Vincent, and I contemplated calling him to confirm this. But what if it wasn't him? What if it was Chuck Taylor?

With nothing else to do but go about my day, that's what I did. It was still too early to check on Mr. Pearlman, so I powered up my laptop and responded to an email from Shane. I'd been avoiding it, since his message included a request for a date. He'd also chosen the photos for his article, so I had no choice but to reply. 

I hated giving guys the brush off after we'd had amazing sex. It was another reason to stop the demoralizing practice of hooking up with men I had no intention of seeing again, and it made me wonder why I was trying a different approach with Vincent. I was actually interested in finding out what he had to offer other than mind-blowing sex. I'd already decided it would be mind blowing based on the kiss that nearly had me blacking out. 

As I sipped on my honey-infused coffee, I composed a tactful response to Shane, telling him his choice of photos was inspired, and letting him know that I had met someone who I was currently giving my full attention to. Since this was the truth, I felt no guilt when I sent it off.

At ten o'clock, I dressed for my morning walk and left my apartment, knocking on Mr. Pearlman's door to make sure he was alive and remind him of his appointment. His groggy I'm still breathing was all I needed to hear before I headed down the stairs. As I entered the foyer, Lilly was leaning against the mailboxes reading a celebrity magazine, and when she saw me she broke into a satisfied grin, as if she'd been waiting there to ambush me.

"Good morning, Reese. How was your date with Vincent?" She closed the magazine and shoved it under her pit, giving me a pat on the arm like we were besties and I owed her details.

"It was nice," I said, leaving out every detail as I made for the door.

She stopped me with a discretely placed hand on the frame. "Oh, I'm guessing it was better than nice. I happened to hear you return from your date, and when I opened my door I saw you two giving each other serious mouth to mouth. I thought you were going to trigger the smoke alarm." 

"It was just that one kiss. He was a perfect gentleman, otherwise."

"C'mon, Reese. Everyone knows what a player Vincent Valentino is. Don't tell me you didn't hit that."

If I did, I wouldn't tell you.

"It was our first date, Lilly." I left my explanation at that and squeezed by her to open the door. "Shouldn't you be at work today?"

Lilly glanced nonchalantly at her professionally manicured nails. "I'm between jobs, right now. I had a run-in with Dr. Barrow's wife." And with that, she slunk back to her apartment, waving at me with her magazine. I didn't have to ask the reason she had a run-in with the dentist's wife. She was fucking him. 

Out on the sidewalk, the refreshing chill of autumn nipped at my nose as I plugged in my bluetooth earbuds and queued-up my alt rock playlist. There was nothing like disappearing into the intense beats of Placebo to forget about nosy neighbors and people being murdered in your alley. As I started my usual three block circuit, it wasn't long before Vincent popped into my head, and I revisited his version of mouth to mouth and the resulting cold shower. Did every woman he kissed react that way? He'd admitted to engaging in emotionless sex. So, how long had it been since he'd kissed a girl? 

I was still reminiscing about Vincent when I hit the shower, and as the water pulsed against my back, I replayed the kiss over and over as I massaged myself to orgasm. Maybe I could convince him to go against his better judgement again tonight. I couldn't think of a better way to get to know each other. The remainder of the day was spent distracting myself with music and updating my website with new photos, and when it was time to get ready for Mr. Pearlman's appointment, I went another round with my closet. 

As I stared at my selections, I remembered what Vincent had said about wearing dark colors. I couldn't deny his logic about blending into the shadows, especially after the alley fight I may or may not have witnessed. I ended up choosing a charcoal sweater and black jeans. I also spent more time on my hair and makeup than I usually did for a trip to the VA. I rarely adjusted my habits for a guy, but I was willing to try a little harder if it would earn me another kiss from Vincent.

When I left my apartment, Mr. Pearlman was waiting on the landing, looking like he'd rather be back inside with his coffee and cigarettes. We met the shuttle out front, found a seat, and once we got settled, he started his questioning.

"So, which of those handsome men are you going to choose?" he asked. "I'm going to guess the second fellow, Vincent. You introduced him as your friend, and there was no slamming of doors after his visit."

I offered him an exaggerated head shake, which was my innocuous way of letting him know he really should mind his own business. Of course, he never seemed to get my subtle hints. Or, maybe he just didn't bother heeding them. 

"I'm currently dating Vincent. In fact, he asked to join us at Shuster's after your appointment. If that's okay with you."

Mr. Pearlman shrugged his indifference, although I could tell he was more interested than he let on. "He had a good handshake. Firm but not overdoing it. Some men think they have to crush your fingers to prove their worth. In my day, a man's worth was proven by his devotion to family and career, not whether he could pound you into the dirt or pull the trigger on a gun."

The conversation stifled from there, mostly because I didn't have anything to add, being born well after his day, and he took to staring out the window for a while. I knew he was thinking about his wife and daughter, both of whom died of cancer. He had a grandson, but the turd had only visited once since I'd lived there. When we arrived at the clinic, I walked Mr. Pearlman to Dr. Travejo's office. As usual, the doc was running fifteen minutes behind, so I popped off a text to Vincent while we waited.

Should be at Shuster's around five-ish.

I didn't expect to get a response so quickly, but Vincent's text arrived less than a minute later.

Looking forward to it.

Maybe I was reading too much into it, but something about his message had me giddy. He didn't respond with Okay or See you there. He said he was looking forward to it, like he had put thought into his reply because he meant it, and I rode that high until Mr. Pearlman and I were walking to Shuster's. The place was just starting to get busy when we arrived, but we managed to grab an empty booth next to a window, giving me a view of the street. Would Vincent drive his Bentley, or would he opt for a cab? No way could I picture him taking the subway.

It was ten after five when I checked the time, but I wasn't worried. Traffic was a bear that time of day. The waitress took our drink orders and brought them to the table, promising to return shortly when our third party arrived. When she came around for our food order, I was starting to worry. We sent her away again and I texted Vincent.

You stuck in traffic? I can order for you.

Another few minutes passed before my phone chimed.

I'm sorry. Something came up that I can't get out of. I had to wrestle my phone away from Amelia to send this text. Enjoy Shuster's without me. I owe you.

And so it began. The life of a successful businessman whose career came before his personal life. Although I shouldn't have given a shit, I felt the sting of his bail like I'd walked face first into a spider's web. Mr. Pearlman and I ordered our dinner, and I explained to him how Vincent was a prominent figure in New York, which meant he could be called away at any moment. 

Mr. Pearlman offered a sympathetic nod as he dug into his meatloaf and mashed potatoes, and I pretended to be unaffected as I picked at my Reuben sandwich. My appetite had taken a dive, which wasn't my norm. It seemed I was only hungry for Vincent's lips. Hopefully, I wouldn't starve before I tasted them again.

PLAYLIST SONG: In Flames by Digital Daggers