JASON STARR - Panic Attack

Blackie was still barking like crazy.

“That’s okay,” Xan said. “I didn’t mind waiting.”

“Marissa’s not here right now,” Dana said. “Would you like to come in?”

“If that’s okay with you.”

“Of course it’s okay.”

She let Xan by her and then closed the door and locked it.

“I don’t know when Marissa left,” she said, “or when she’s coming back. Were you supposed to meet her soon?”

“Yeah, right about now, actually.”

“Oh, well, why don’t you sit down? Can I get you something to drink?”

He remained standing, not far from the table, and asked, “What do you have?”

“Whatever you’d like,” she said. “Coke, Diet Coke, orange juice, water, iced tea…”

“Iced tea would be great.”

As she opened the fridge she had the same feeling she’d had the other night, that he was watching her, checking her out. She took out the jug of iced tea, and then, noticing that Xan was still standing, not sitting, she reached up to the cabinet to get a glass, saying, “In the future, we usually use the front door.”

“Oh, sorry,” he said.

“No, no, it’s no big deal at all,” she said. “It’s just sometimes hard to hear the back doorbell. I wish that damn dog would stop barking.”

“I rang the front bell, but no one answered,” Xan said.

“Oh,” Dana said, “that’s strange.”

She wondered if it was possible that he had rung the bell while she was still asleep. No, at least a couple of minutes had gone by from the time she woke up to the time the back doorbell rang.

Pouring the iced tea into the glass, she said, “It really doesn’t matter one way or the other.”

As she handed him the glass he said, “Thank you.” He took a sip, then asked, “So is Mr. Bloom home?”

She wasn’t sure why he was asking this, but she said, “You can call him Adam, but no, he’s not here either.”

“And you said I can call you Dana, right?” He was smiling, looking right into her eyes.

“Yes,” she said, “Dana’s fine.”

“You didn’t have to do all this for me, Dana.”

She was distracted momentarily by his intense gaze; then she said, “All what for you?”

“Change, put on makeup,” he said. “You didn’t have to change just for me.”

Now she felt embarrassed, on the spot, and she said, “Actually I was in the middle of getting dressed when you rang and-”

“I’m just saying,” Xan said. “You’re the type of woman who doesn’t have to do anything. You look beautiful no matter what.”

She was aware that he was being inappropriately flirty, but in the state she was in- on the verge of divorce, with her self- esteem in the toilet- it was hard not to feel flattered.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” he asked.

Had he taken a step or two closer to her without her realizing? It seemed like he had.

“Um, sure,” she said.

“Are you attracted to me?”

“Excuse me?” She had an edge in her voice, wanting to let him know he’d crossed a very thick line.

“I’m not trying to offend you,” he said. “I’m just making an observation. I’m just an artist, that’s what I do- observe. I see the way you look at me, the way you were looking at me the other night, and the way you’re looking at me right now. I know what’s going on in your head.”

She was extremely uncomfortable and more than a little scared. This was not the same charming Xan from the other night. There was something creepy, even menacing, about him.

“I think you should wait for Marissa in the living room,” she said.

“I’m not trying to offend you, Dana.” He took another step toward her, but he was still a few feet away. He said, “I just think it’s, I don’t know, exciting.”

“I want you to wait in the living room,” Dana said firmly.

“Why’re you so nervous?” he asked.

“I’m not nervous,” she said, but she was trembling.

He took another step toward her and said, “Relax.”

She noticed that she couldn’t see one of his hands. It was behind his back; was he holding something?

An instant later he was grabbing her hard, turning her around, pushing her back facing the sink. She couldn’t believe this was actually happening to her. She felt his hands grabbing her ponytail, pulling on it hard. She might’ve said, Stop it; she wasn’t sure. She was dazed, shocked, too panicked to actually think the word “rape,” but she knew that was what was happening, was about to happen. She was expecting him to take down her jeans when he grunted loudly and she felt an enormous stunning pain in the middle of her back and then her legs felt like they were gone and she was on the floor, and that red puddle, God, that must be her blood. The pain in her chest and back and neck was awful at first and she wanted to scream but she couldn’t because something was suddenly clogging her throat. She saw him standing very far away, it seemed, watching her, saying, “It’s okay, baby, just let it go… Let it go, baby… Just let it go.”

This had to be some kind of high point of Johnny Long’s life. Maybe other great things would happen to him- hey, he was still young, right?- but it was hard to imagine living to eighty or ninety or whatever and looking back at his life and having a better memory than the time he totally fucked Dr. Adam Bloom and his whole uppity family.

Everything had been going perfectly, even better than Johnny had planned. On Saturday Marissa had come over to his place, and they’d spent the day and night screwing and getting “closer” to each other. They talked a lot, too. He was casual about it, but he picked up some important info about her and her parents and their habits that he hoped he could use later on. Like when she was talking about her father he slipped in questions like, “Does your dad work every day?” and “What time does he usually come home from work?” Not being obvious about it, just acting like he was curious, making small talk. She told him that Adam Bloom usually left for work at “like eight o’clock” and came home “like around seven or eight.” It turned out he’d need this info a lot sooner than he’d thought.

Marissa left his place at around eleven thirty on Sunday morning. After two straight nights together, they were planning to spend the day and night apart to give him “time to paint.” Johnny already knew that Adam was planning to play golf in the morning- the other night during dinner he’d mentioned he had a seven- thirty tee- off time- and Marissa had said that her mom was planning to go shopping at Costco, like she did every other Sunday. So Johnny figured that today could be the perfect opportunity to make his first move.

About twenty minutes after Marissa left, Johnny left. At 12:52 Johnny exited the Forest Hills subway station and headed toward the Blooms’ house. He knew he was taking a risk. He was gambling that Dana had already left for Costco and wasn’t home yet, and that Adam hadn’t finished playing golf, and that Marissa had beat him to the house. If one of them saw him he’d have to make up an excuse for why he was at the house. If they all believed him, he could go on to plan B, but if they started getting suspicious, his whole plan would be in trouble.

The Blooms’ Merc and SUV weren’t in the driveway- a good sign. Johnny had already written a note from “Tony from the gym,” and he slid it under the Bloom’s front door. He was walking away when he saw Adam Bloom’s Merc coming down the block, heading right toward him.

It was a good thing Johnny was paying attention, because if he’d taken another step or two, Bloom probably would’ve seen him. But Johnny turned quickly and went up the driveway.