Desiree
Junior Tacone is stalking me.
It’s been three weeks since he dropped me off at my apartment. Three weeks of getting to know my son again, loving him, playing with him, soaking up every second with him. And working my three twelve hour shifts that end at 7:00 p.m.
And every night when I walk out to my car, Junior’s black Maserati is parked somewhere in the vicinity. The first night I pretended I didn’t see him. I fully expected him to get out and corner me against my car, but he didn’t. Nothing happened. I got in my car and drove off, checking in the rear view mirror to see if he followed.
He didn’t.
The second night I marched over to his car. “What are you doing here?” I demanded when he rolled down the window.
“Just making sure you get to your car safely. I don’t like you wa
