The Society #StalkerProblems Read online

  The Society #StalkerProblems

  By Ivy Smoak

  Copyright 2021 Ivy Smoak

  All Rights Reserved

  Want a behind-the-scenes look at my journey as an author? The ups, the downs, the movie deals…I’ll share it all!

  And as a special thank you for joining, you’ll get an exclusive copy of my book, The Society #Tanner.

  CLICK HERE to join the party!

  To anyone who dares to join the Society.

  You’re invited...

  CONTENTS

  Title

  Chapter 1 - My Stalker

  Chapter 2 - Stranger Danger

  Chapter 3 - Under Arrest

  Chapter 4 - The Invitation

  Chapter 5 - A Million Dollars?!

  Chapter 6 - Handsy Hassan

  Chapter 7 - Literally Dying

  Chapter 8 - Tax Codes

  Chapter 9 - Yes, Doctor

  Chapter 10 - Homeless Rutherford Strikes Again

  Chapter 11 - The Contract

  Chapter 12 - Hermit Weekend

  Chapter 13 - #HorseFacts

  Chapter 14 - Blueberry Pie

  Chapter 15 - Smooth Floors?

  Chapter 16 - Double, Double, Shower Trouble

  Chapter 17 - JUMP!

  Chapter 18 - The Escape

  Chapter 19 - Holy Meaty Goodness

  Chapter 20 - “True Love”

  Chapter 21 - The Elevator Incident

  Chapter 22 - Tanner Rhodes

  Chapter 23 - Two Rude Surprises

  Chapter 24 - Clause Fourteen

  Chapter 25 - Odegaard Gangbang

  Chapter 26 - My Fashionista

  Chapter 27 - Cash or Credit

  Chapter 28 - Special Delivery

  Chapter 29 - Jerkface

  Chapter 30 - Tanner’s Secret

  Chapter 31 - The Fourth Incident

  Chapter 32 - An Unexpected Guest

  Chapter 33 - Super Sexy Lunch Date

  Chapter 34 - Garlic and Holy Water

  Chapter 35 - My Second Wish

  Chapter 36 - Hazing the Noob

  Chapter 37 - So Much Awkward

  Chapter 38 - Flint Ironside

  Chapter 39 - Swimming with the Sharks

  Chapter 40 - Sauna Surprise

  Chapter 41 - Archer, Mustang, and Vandal

  Chapter 42 - TOP SECRET

  Chapter 43 - Son of a Dick

  Chapter 44 - Refund Emergency

  Chapter 45 - The Bookshelf

  Chapter 46 - The Secret Door

  Chapter 47 - Buggin’ Out

  Chapter 48 - My Third Wish

  Chapter 49 - DODO

  Chapter 50 - Matthew Freaking Caldwell

  Chapter 51 - Taken

  Chapter 52 - The Sex Auction

  Chapter 53 - The Onyxies

  Chapter 54 - Gray Sweatpants GIFs

  Chapter 55 - They’re Back

  Chapter 56 - Best Member

  Chapter 57 - House(boy) Arrest

  Chapter 58 - They’re Back Again!

  Chapter 59 - Absolutely Delicious

  Chapter 60 - Better Than Cake

  Chapter 61 - Drenched

  Chapter 62 - Highlight of My Life

  Chapter 63 - The Spaceboy Collection

  Chapter 64 - Monkey Party

  Chapter 65 - A Kool-Aid Proposal

  Chapter 66 - The L Word

  City of Sin

  A Note From Ivy

  Chapter 1 - My Stalker

  Tuesday

  I stared at the different smoothie flavors. The strawberry banana was calling to me. But I’d promised myself I’d try a new flavor every time I came here. I was kind of celebrating though. I’d officially signed my divorce papers this morning. Goodbye, Joe Dickson. And good riddance. I thought I might get emotional today, but I was feeling pretty freaking fantastic. Strawberry banana kind of fantastic. Maybe…

  “Next,” the barista called.

  Oh no. I hadn’t made a choice yet. I hated when this happened. Indecision was the worst when there was a line. And I’d rather drink anything than make someone else feel annoyed waiting.

  “Any day now, sweetie,” the barista said and put his hand on his hip.

  I hated when he sassed me. So I blurted out the first flavor my eyes made contact with. “Could I please have A Date with Buckwheat Hemp?” Ew, what? The name was kind of cute, but the actual smoothie sounded freaking terrible. I didn’t want buckwheat or hemp anywhere near my mouth. And the date part of the name made me shiver. I hated the taste of dates. And I hated all actual dates. I’d stopped going on them after…the incident.

  The barista laughed. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the name of the smoothie or the look of horror on my face.

  It was probably my face. Which was fine. Be scared of me, barista man. I preferred my men at a safe distance anyway. That way I couldn’t accidentally set them on fire. Damn it! I promised myself I’d never think of the incident ever again. But it just kept popping up. And now that I was thinking about it, I couldn’t stop. It was like it was happening all over again. My heart started racing as I pictured Matthew Caldwell’s dick catching fire. Because I’d set it on fire by accidentally knocking a candle into a saucer of oil and flinging it at his junk. The shriek of horror out of his perfectly kissable mouth haunted my dreams. It was the worst thing that had ever happened to me…and I hadn’t even been the one in flames. God, if I ever saw Matthew Caldwell again, I’d just die.

  “That’ll be $9.25,” said the barista.

  I tried to shake the image of Matthew Caldwell out of my head. “$9.25?” The strawberry banana one was only $7.

  He shook his head and pointed to the sign behind him.

  All the sass. Why did something so gross cost so much? I pulled out my card and swiped it through the reader, trying not to wince. Please let me have $9.25 left in my account. My card cleared and I breathed a sigh of relief. Being unemployed really sucked. My now-official-ex-husband taking all our assets in the divorce sucked even more. And if I didn’t figure out something soon, I’d end up like the homeless guy in my apartment. I mean, he didn’t live in my apartment. If he did he wouldn’t be homeless. But he broke in all the time and liked to lick my freshly delivered pizzas. Homeless Rutherford and I were not on good terms.

  I stepped to the side as I waited for my smoothie to be made. I’d had an interview today for my dream job. And I thought it went pretty well. But I’d had to pee the whole time and was too nervous to ask where the restroom was, so I’d almost peed my pants. They probably thought there was something seriously wrong with me as I’d sprinted out of the room. Why had my bladder failed me at the worst time? Almost. Almost failed me. I hadn’t actually peed my pants.

  The barista was still looking at me weirdly as he placed my smoothie down on the counter. Jokes on you, buddy. I’m not interested in dating you. Besides, I was almost positive he was gay.

  “Smoothie for Ass.”

  “It’s Ash! Not Ass. How many times are we going to have this discussion?”

  He just shrugged.

  I grabbed my smoothie. There was only one man I was actually interested in anyway. And I was about to go stalk him. Er…view him from a safe distance where I couldn’t accidentally set him on fire. If anything, he was stalking me. But I kind of loved having a stalker. The way he stared at me…

  My phone started buzzing in my purse.

  I jumped, causing some of my smoothie to splash out onto my pants. Gross. Does hemp buckwheat stain?

  I fumbled with my phone as I pulled it out. I didn’t recognize the number. What kind of psychopath calls someone’s phone? Had they not heard of texting? Or email? I debated not answering because they were basic, but it w
as ringing and everyone in the smoothie shop was staring at me. “Hello,” I whispered, trying not to disturb anyone.

  “Hi, it sounds like you’re breaking up. Is this a bad time?”

  Yes this is a bad time! There’s millions of people staring at me! “Who is this?” Apparently I’d forgotten how to have a normal conversation. Not that I’d ever known how. I tried to huddle in the corner of the shop so everyone would leave me alone.

  There was laughter on the other end. “It’s Bee. From…”

  “Bee Inspired Media Group.” I held my breath. She was the woman I’d interviewed with earlier today. The same interview that I’d sprinted out of because of my bladder. My dream job.

  “That’s the one,” she said. “We loved your ideas. We really think you’d be a perfect addition to the team. If you could start next Wednesday…”

  “Yes!” I screamed into the phone and somehow managed to spill some of my smoothie onto my shirt now too. Now everyone really was staring at me.

  “That’s wonderful,” Bee said. “We’re so excited to have you. I’ll see you at 9 am next Wednesday morning.”

  “It’s a date.” Oh my fucking God, what did I just say?! Did I just ask my married new female boss out on a date? Why? Really…why?

  Bee laughed. “See you Wednesday, Ash.”

  I squealed when she hung up. At least, I hoped she’d hung up. Because I really didn’t want to break my new boss’ eardrum. “I got a new job!” I yelled to the sassy barista.

  “Cool,” he said.

  How was he not excited for me? Oh, he didn’t know why else I was so happy. “And I’m officially divorced!” This was the best day of my life!

  “Shocker.”

  Rude. I needed to start going to a different smoothie place. If only there was another one so close to my stalker’s residence and my spin class… But alas, there wasn’t. So I was stuck with this rude boy.

  “We’re closing,” the barista said. “So you need to leave.”

  Shit. I looked down at my phone. It was almost 8 o’clock. I was going to be late! I ran out of the smoothie shop and sprinted as fast as I could. My best friend always made fun of me for wearing sneakers…but in this case, they came in handy.

  I realized about halfway to my stalker’s apartment building that I had smoothie stains all over my shirt and pants. I started blotting at them as I ran, somehow spilling more of the pungent smoothie everywhere. Did buckwheat have some kind of weird magical attraction to clothing?

  I skidded to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk when I saw someone come out of my stalker’s building. He lived in One57. It was the most prestigious apartment building in the city. I couldn’t even fathom what someone did for a living to afford a place in there. But I didn’t have time to daydream about his profession today. Because it wasn’t my stalker that had just walked out onto the sidewalk.

  No.

  No, no, no.

  Matthew. Freaking. Caldwell. The man whose penis I’d set on fire.

  I couldn’t face him. I’d seen him once after the flaming pants incident and I’d jumped into a lake to avoid him. It hadn’t worked. I’d wished I’d drowned.

  I ducked into an alleyway before he could spot me. There was an open dumpster calling to me. It was overflowing with bags of trash. It would be the perfect place to hide. But I was deathly afraid of germs. It was like at the top of my list of greatest fears. Right under being late. This was what I got for being late for my stalker’s stalking. God. What do I do?

  I started fanning myself because I was breaking out in a sweat. There wasn’t really a choice here. Screw my life. The dumpster was the only option. I was just about to fling myself into it when I thought I should probably at least check to see if Matt was coming this way.

  I peered around the corner toward One57. And…Matt was nowhere to be seen. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. He must have been going the opposite direction. Or maybe I’d just imagined him. I often dreamt of running into him again and having to hurl myself into oncoming traffic. Phew. Today really was my lucky day!

  I debated emerging from my hiding spot. On Tuesdays and Thursdays at exactly 8 o’clock, I always sat on the bench across the street from One57. For my stalker’s optimal viewing pleasure. But today I had stains all over myself. And I was sure my face was flushed from running and almost having to dumpster dive. So it was probably better to keep hiding. This was why I always brought binoculars with me. Just in case.

  They weren’t creepy stalker binoculars. Because I wasn’t a stalker. He was. These were like fancy opera watching binoculars. Or ones you’d use to watch the Kentucky Derby. I wasn’t doing anything weird. I pulled them out just in time.

  My stalker emerged from One57. God, he was so handsome.

  I audibly sighed. The only reason I put up with his stalkery tendencies was because he was gorgeous. His expensive tailored suit stretched perfectly across his broad shoulders. His jaw looked like it had been chiseled by a sculptor. What I would do to lick it…

  And his smile. God. He smiled down at his driver, a little man in a butler’s uniform that always seemed to be bowing and scurrying about. Honestly it was hard not to laugh at his driver in his little costume. But my stalker didn’t laugh at him. I liked that he treated his employees like the humans they were. He was kind and warm and compassionate. I assumed.

  But it was his confidence that really made him intriguing. His suits were always colorful. Today the fabric was crimson with black polka dots. The sides of his head were shaved, with the top kept long and pulled into a man bun. Who the hell is confident enough to dress like that? God knows I wasn't. And I think that was why I was so attracted to him. Er…I mean, that’s why I didn’t report him to the cops for being a stalker. Because he dressed, walked, and probably talked with so much confidence.

  I had no idea what his name was. Even though I assumed he knew mine. I didn’t even know what he did for a living. But if he lived in One57, he was definitely filthy rich. Was he a powerful CEO? No, a CEO wouldn't dress the way he did, or have a man bun. He was unique. Danger oozed off of him. Maybe he was in the mafia. Or maybe he was the owner of a club. It was easy to picture him sitting in the VIP section, a cigar in his mouth and each arm draped around a beautiful model. Ew, no. Scratch the models. I amended my vision to include a few bouncers keeping the hordes of club girls away from him. Except me. If I were there, we'd lock eyes, and he'd tell the bouncers to let me approach.

  I watched as his eyes darted toward the bench I usually sat on.

  He scowled.

  Oh my God, he scowled! He was sad that I wasn’t there. He really is stalking me! I’ll be honest, for a few months there, I’d been a little worried I was the stalker.

  I adjusted my binoculars. This wasn’t all in my head. Sometimes I wondered if I just imagined us making eye contact every Tuesday and Thursday evening. But this proved that I wasn’t just daydreaming. My stalker really did stare intently into my eyes twice a week. The only explanation I could think of was that he was stalking me. I didn’t condone stalking. But I really liked the way he stared at me. He made me feel…beautiful.

  And honestly, this was the only kind of relationship I trusted myself to be in these days. I got to ogle him from a safe distance so that I’d never repeat the incident. And he…I don’t know what was in it for him. I was pretty sure he was just madly in love with me. Such a stalker.

  I watched as his driver opened the door of his black Rolls Royce Phantom limousine. My stalker glanced once more toward the empty bench.

  God, I could watch him like this all day. I took a sip of my smoothie, forgetting for a moment that I’d ordered one with hemp and buckwheat. I started gagging. Why did I keep trying superfoods? Superfoods were the freaking worst.

  When I looked back at my stalker, he was staring at me. Holding my binoculars. With smoothie dribbling down my chin. I’d been caught looking every bit the stalker in this situation.

  Kill me now.

  Chapter 2 - Stra
nger Danger

  Tuesday

  I swore my stalker laughed at me. But it happened so fast, I couldn’t be sure. The next thing I knew he’d climbed into the back seat and his driver had sped off. The limousine drove past me, license plate number B783... Just kidding. I totally didn't have his license plate memorized or anything. Because that would be crazy. And I wasn’t crazy. He was. The guy was nuts.

  Such a stalker.

  I stared at the car disappearing into traffic as I took another sip of my smoothie. I immediately gagged again, somehow forgetting the disgusting flavors from a few seconds ago. Gross. Trying new things sucked. I threw the smoothie into the dumpster. The sight of it made me shiver. Did I really almost jump in there?

  That would have been crazy.

  As soon as my stalker’s limo was out of sight, I emerged from my hiding spot. That was a close call. Yes, he’d seen me spying on him. But I’d seen him looking for me. I was already in a good mood. But him missing me? That was the icing on the cake. I smiled to myself. I wanted to dance and jump and sing in the middle of the sidewalk. But if I didn’t hurry, I’d be late for my spin class.

  My ex-husband had royally screwed me in the divorce. The stupid cheating asshole had blackmailed me with a sex tape I’d made for him a few years ago. He had only left me with two things in the divorce: enough money to pay three months’ rent in the dingy old apartment we’d gotten when we first moved to New York, and a membership to this stupid spin class right in the center of Manhattan. He’d given it to me two years ago for Christmas. I’d taken it as an insult and never gone. So of course he left it to me as one final jab at my self-confidence.

  The joke was on him, though, because I’d been coming here for months, focusing on getting the best damned revenge body in the history of revenge bodies. And I was confident-AF. Most days. I also didn’t mind that coming here gave me an excuse to lurk outside One57 at 8 pm on Tuesdays and Thursdays so that my stalker could get me out of his system. Did I say lurk? I meant casually lounge on a bench. Those biweekly encounters were probably the only thing keeping my stalker sane and preventing him from showing up at my house with a knife or something crazy. That was a scary thought.