Grace sat on her couch and looked around her apartment. She hugged a pillow to her chest and tried to concentrate on breathing. She had three choices she knew - she could accept that she was not as focused as she used to be (perhaps the tall, blond distraction in her life had something to do with that), she could believe that she was losing her mind or she could believe that someone was actually getting into her apartment when she wasn't there. She also knew that if she could just make it to Friday, she would be fine.
Grace had gone back to the doctor on Monday. He was more hopeful this time and said that the x-ray showed the ankle was healing nicely. She could get the cast off on Friday. He described a regimen of exercises and physiotherapy that would follow the removal, but she didn't hear any of it. She was getting the cast off on Friday. That's all she needed to know.
The cast had become the symbol of everything in her life that was wrong - the heavy weight that was dragging her mind down. It was as if she had two different lives. Before the cast and after. It should have been a good symbol, because it had brought her Nick, but it wasn't.
Grace was starting to lose it, she knew. The threatening emails were scaring her and she felt vulnerable. She was becoming paranoid, going to her window every five minutes to see if anyone was watching her. She couldn't shake the feeling that someone came into her apartment when she wasn't there. She had asked Gary and Jermaine, but they both said she had had no visitors and even if she had, they certainly wouldn't let anyone up. Neither of them had seen Matt around. Gary said that he would keep a special eye out.
If she could only have the cast off, she would feel like she could fight back. Exactly what it was she was fighting back against, she wasn't sure. Grace had made up her mind that if she got one more email from...she couldn't picture in her mind whether it was a woman or a man...she had assumed woman because she had figured it for a fan of Nick's, but now she didn't know. Whoever it was never mentioned Nick, and it just seemed somehow more like a man. But she was determined that if she got one more email, she was going to tell Nick and then maybe call the police.
Grace had contacted a couple of her Internet friends and asked them what they thought. She had laid it out as a hypothetical question, but she didn't fool anyone. TFN was particularly concerned and asked if she was saving the emails. Yes, she had them all in a folder labeled SFC. And that stood for? he asked. Stupid freaking creeps, she said. Only the word isn't freaking.
"Glad you're keeping your sense of humor, Gracie-Facie," he had written back, "But this is no laughing matter." And he had told her that there was very little she could do. But under no circumstances should she reply. No way, she had said, she wasn't going to do that. And if you get any more, he said, call the police. He understood the situation, with the notoriety and all, but maybe that would help. The police wouldn't just ignore her. Great, she thought, the tabloids would have a field day. Nick Carter's girlfriend stalked by fan over email. It would be Willa all over again.
When Nick mentioned that the email address was her phone number, Grace nearly freaked out right there. She stared at the monitor and took deep breaths, waiting for her hands to stop shaking and her heart rate to return to normal. Her phone number was easy to get. It was on her business website and her business cards. And her business website had been posted all over the message boards. She had actually found that quite amusing at the time. The posters to the message boards were all amazed. It was as if they were saying, "Hey look, Nick got himself a girl that can think."
Grace knew that the prevailing theory was that Nick was not very bright. It saddened her that he seemed to believe it himself. He was always putting himself down. He teased her once about using words he didn’t understand, hinting that he was stupid. She told him off and told him that not understanding a word she said once was okay, but there was no excuse for not understanding the same word a second time. He should just ask her what it meant. Or you could just use smaller words, he said. No way, she had answered back. I am who I am. Deal with me.
Grace was incredibly proud of herself for that statement and pretty surprised too. It showed her that she was truly moving out from Matt’s shadow. She had called Matt’s office to thank him for the flowers, but he was out of the office. Janice took the message in a frosty tone. Good, thought Grace, maybe the two of them would get together and then she would truly be free of him.
Think more good thoughts, she told herself. She looked around the apartment and her eyes settled on the gift from Nick’s father. She smiled in recollection of the look they had exchanged when she opened it. The other people at the table didn’t have the first clue what a special gift it was. But Grace did. She hadn't decided yet where to display it. Right now it sat by her desk, so she could look at it while she worked. Speaking of which, girl, get your butt up off this couch and get at it.
Grace looked up from her reverie and shook her head to clear it. Friday. If she could just make it to Friday. Everything would be fine. She laughed at herself mockingly. Friday would bring a whole host of new issues. Friday was S-Day. S is for sex, she intoned as if reciting from an alphabet book. And she was scared to death. And she couldn't wait. She wanted to be with Nick so much. And she knew he wanted to be with her. And she hoped that everything would work out. It had to. It just had to.
******************************As Grace sat down at her desk, a figure down below slipped back into the shadows and walked away. Grace had that creepy feeling again and looked out the window, but she could see no one.
******************************Two hours later, Grace stood up and stretched. Wow! she thought. I did good work there. She had been able to concentrate and it was just one of those times where everything fell into place. I’m getting out of here, she said to herself. I need to clear my head and get some fresh air. She got her waist pack and headed for the door. As she was locking it, she wondered if there was any way to leave a sign, like they did in the movies, to show if someone had been in the apartment. She tried to recall things people did in spy movies. Put a hair or a piece of tape on the door. The thought of the effort it would take to hobble back into the apartment, find the tape, rip a piece off, get it back to the door without having it stick to some place else…no, that would be giving in to her paranoia and just be too damned inconvenient to boot. Grace turned the key in the lock and then headed for the elevator. A voice in the back of her head said, "So you would just rather think you're crazy?"
Grace turned back to the apartment. She made her way to the desk, wondering why she hadn't placed the desk right inside the front door. Today, the ocean view was highly over-rated. She ripped off a piece of Scotch tape and made it three steps before it attached itself to her skirt. She peeled it off and saw that it was all linty. Damn. She retraced her steps and reached to peel off another piece. Use your head, stupid, she told herself. She picked up the tape dispenser and thought about how to get it to the door. Oh, for goodness sake, she thought. She pulled out the front of her shirt and shoved the dispenser down her bra. Now if she could just get it to the door without slicing off part of her boob, she'd be happy.
Eventually she made it to the door, and attached the tape firmly to the bottom. She wasn't sure if she should put it way down or way up. Did people tend to look up or down? She threw the tape dispenser into the room and closed the door. She locked it and bent down to fasten the tape to the frame. She lost one of her crutches and it fell to the ground with a clang. Finally, she got the tape secured, and the crutch picked up and made her way to the elevator. She was exhausted, she thought. Paranoia was looking better and better.
Grace nodded to Josh on her way out the door. She looked left then right. Bakery or bookstore? Food for the body or food for the mind? She turned left. She had her new baseball book to read. She had decided to ration herself to one video a day of the series Nick had given her. Except for two on Sunday because that was the first day she had it and she really wanted to get into it. And two on Monday to celebrate the news about the cast. But she had only watched one on Tuesday. She had been a good girl, she thought, got lots of work done during the day and played with Nick at night.
They had cut back a bit on the 'messing around', as Nick liked to call it, because it was stretching their nerves so taut, they both thought they might snap. They hadn't talked it over or anything, but it seemed of mutual consent. Nick would kiss her goodnight at the elevator and tell her to get a good night's sleep. They were sweet, delicious kisses and he would whisper 'Friday' in her ear and be gone.
Grace wasn't sure why the cast was such an impediment to him, but she knew that it was. Nick had assumed from the beginning that as long as the cast was on, there would be no sex. This wasn't a bad thing, mused Grace, it had given them over a month to get to know each other. And to fall in love, she thought, for at least one of us. But it had set a definite deadline. Friday was it. The pressure was on.
Grace went into the bakery and bought a Danish. She went next door to the deli and got a bottle of juice. She carried them both to the bench by the lamppost and sat down. She looked up at her building. She could see her apartment clearly. At least, she could see the corner where her computer sat. If she were sitting at it, she could be seen from down here. She looked around. The grass behind the bench seemed to be trampled down. This was the spot where she had thought she had seen someone standing. She didn't know what she expected to find. Cigarette butts with DNA slathered all over them. Pictures of Nick torn to bits. A signed note from the culprit.
She looked up at her window again and saw a shadow pass through. Someone was in there. Grace was sure of it. She grabbed her crutches and headed back to the front door of the building. She didn’t go in, but stood at the front door and watched. No one came out.
“Hey, Ms. Barrett, do you need some help?”
Grace just about jumped out of her skin. She turned to see Petey standing on the sidewalk hand-in-hand with a girl. She was petite and perky and looked up at Petey adoringly.
“Hi, Petey,” said Grace, and waited expectantly for the introductions.
“Um, Ms. Barrett, this is Tammy. Tammy, this is Ms. Barrett.”
“Grace. Call me Grace,” she said. “And you too, Petey. I think after the 500th pizza, you’re supposed to call the customer by the first name.”
They laughed together. Petey was thrilled. Grace was treating him like a grown-up. "Well, see ya," he said and then took a chance. "Say hi to Nick for me," he said, in as manly a fashion as he could muster. He gave Grace a look that said he was sorry if he was offending her, but he'd appreciate any help he could get. Tammy looked up at him. Petey had obviously told her about Nick, but Grace could see that she hadn't really believed him.
"I'll sure do that," she said, "and you know he wants us all to get together sometime. Maybe go out on his boat."
Tammy's jaw dropped to the pavement. Grace thought Petey would faint, but he recovered nicely. "Yeah, sure," he said, making a little gun out of his fingers and cocking it at her. "I'll get back to him on that."
They turned to walk away.
"Hey, Petey!" Grace called him back. Petey left Tammy standing on the sidewalk and came back to her.
"Thank you so much, Ms. Barrett...I mean...Grace. That was so cool."
"No problem, Petey. But I was wondering if you could do something for me..."
Tammy watched them talking. She guessed that Petey hadn't just been bragging when he said that he knew Nick Carter and his girlfriend. Grace. Amazing Grace. That's what Tammy called her, because Petey talked about her so much. Amazing Grace, the computer wizard. Amazing Grace, the big tipper. Amazing Grace, the Backstreet girlfriend.
Petey walked back toward her.
"What did she want?" Tammy asked.
"Nothing," Petey said. "Just a favor for a friend." He shrugged it off as if he and Grace were doing favors for each other all the time.
Tammy tucked her hand into his. "When do you think we'll get to go out on the boat?" she asked.
Petey smiled. "Well, we'll have to take a look at both our schedules," he said. "Nick's a pretty busy guy, new album coming out and all." He sure hoped that was true. Tammy leaned in close to him and kissed his cheek. They continued up the street. Petey looked over his shoulder to where Grace was still standing looking at the doorway of her building. Amazing Grace, he thought. She really was.
Grace finally gave up her vigil after talking to Petey. She went into the building and found that Gary had replaced Josh on the desk. She was a bit nervous about going up to her apartment by herself, but didn't know how to avoid it.
"Hi, Grace. How are you today?" asked Gary. Gary didn't call her Ms. Barrett any more. After the night he had stopped the fight between Matt and Nick, he figured he had earned the right to use her first name. And she had never objected.
"Good, good," muttered Grace.
"There's a parcel here for you...from Australia." He picked it up. "It doesn't weigh much."
The parcel wasn't very big, but Grace grasped at the lifeline. "Oh, Gary," she said sweetly, "do you think you could step away from the desk for just a minute and bring it up for me?" She motioned at her crutches and tried to look helpless.
"Sure thing, Grace. It won't take long." He accompanied her to the elevator.
When they reached the apartment, Grace looked down at the tape. It hadn't moved. She unlocked the door and took a deep breath. They went in. She looked around but didn't see anyone or anything out of place.
"Are you okay, Grace?" asked Gary. He could sense her nervousness. For some reason, her tape dispenser was lying on the floor. He picked it up and placed it on the kitchen counter.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little jittery for some reason." She looked around the room.
Gary pulled himself up to his full 5'11" and went into cop mode. "Would you like me to check the place out for you?"
"Would you?" she asked, "I feel so stupid for asking."
"Nonsense," he said, gruffly and made a sweep of the apartment. He seemed almost disappointed that he didn't find anything out of the ordinary.
After Gary left, Grace opened the parcel from her sister. It was a little stuffed platypus, the ugliest animal on the planet. Grace laughed at the accompanying note. Happy Birthday. This is in case you can't find "anything nice" to spend Mom's money on. Don't forget to name him.
Grace smiled. Family joke. Julie had had hundreds of stuffed animals when she was a kid and she had named them all. To this day, she could remember every one of them.
Grace set the platypus on the counter. She tweaked its nose and said, "Welcome. Your name is Friday."
