Friends List Read online

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

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  Friends List

  By Rob Watson

  FRIENDS LIST

  Copyright © 2017 by Rob Watson.

  All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: December 2017

  Limitless Publishing, LLC

  Kailua, HI 96734

  www.limitlesspublishing.com

  Formatting: Limitless Publishing

  ISBN-13: 978-1-64034-283-5

  ISBN-10: 1-64034-283-4

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  For Robert Randolph Watson, Sr. Everything and anything that is good in me, I owe to you. I shall spend my life trying to live up to your name—your name, which I am greatly honored to share. I love you, Dad.

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

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  CHAPTER ONE

  ROOMMATES

  Kimberly Clark sat in front of her laptop computer wearing only knee-high athletic socks and a California State University, Long Beach long-sleeved sweatshirt. Her shoulder-length, strawberry blonde hair alluringly framed her heart-shaped face that housed a dazzling pair of emerald green eyes. She yawned, her black-painted fingernails navigating to the homepage of the Roommates website, an online virtual community whose members created their own virtual rooms where their friends, or mates, may visit, leave text messages, or IM chat.

  Her off-campus apartment was dark. The only source of illumination, the light from her laptop, eerily reflected off of Kimberly in such a way that her makeup-less face appeared cold and lifeless. Posters of alternative rock bands and modelesque young men adorned the walls, and cute stuffed animals lined the shelves, as one would expect to find in a young woman’s “I’m no longer a child, but don’t wanna be an adult yet” apartment.

  Although it was a safe neighborhood, the front door was locked because of recent reports of prowlers in the area. Wary from these reports, Kimberly was considering signing up for the women’s self-defense class at the university.

  I’ll check it out, she thought. Maybe after my abnormal psych final. Maybe.

  On her laptop screen, Kimberly moved the pointer to the “MEMBERS” icon and clicked her mouse’s button. The homepage changed to the login screen with the message:

  Welcome to Roommates. To enter your room, please type your username and password.

  Kimberly typed in the information and then hit the Enter key. The laptop screen dissolved to a screen with a picture of a door with a name plate that read:

  Kimber’s Room.

  The door opened and the screen dissolved into the graphical representation of a young woman’s bedroom. A busty avatar representing Kimberly appeared and winked. The virtual bedroom contained many icons and links, and an address book on the desk graphic. The address book listed Kimberly’s best friends, or “Mates,” in numerical order, with Lexa Rhodes topping the list.

  Kimberly moved the cursor to the jukebox graphic and selected track number twenty-two. Her avatar walked over to the jukebox graphic, pressed a button, and danced about as dark and brooding alternative rock music blasted through her laptop’s speakers.

  She moved her mouse and clicked another icon, and a pop-up window appeared on screen:

  Kimber’s Blog.

  Kimberly typed:

  Going to Catalina for a week or so. Looking forward to putting some distance between me and my soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend. Or, as Lexa calls him, The Fuckwad. Maybe this will give me the time and space (and opportunity) I need to work through a dilemma I’m facing.

  Kimberly let out a deep, wanton sigh after catching sight of a framed picture sitting off to the side of her desk. The photograph was of herself posing seductively with her best friend Lexa Rhodes, a sexy, dark-haired young woman of twenty-two.

  Kimberly’s glance became a long, lustful stare. She moistened her rose pink lips with her tongue as she studied every feature of Lexa’s toned, nubile body. Her thoughts confused her.

  I’ve never been a lesbian, or even bi-sexual. And even if I was, it would be so wrong to try and get with my BFF. My straight BFF at that.

  Kimberly’s lusty gaze caressed the photographed image of her friend.

  But every time I see Lexa, or just even think about her—ooooh my god!

  As Kimberly gazed longingly at the photo, Lexa and herself came to life inside the picture, turned toward each other, and kissed passionately. Like frothy ocean waves erasing hand-drawn words in the sand, her reservations for lusting after her best friend were quickly washed away by the wetness building between her thighs.

  She rubbed her finger across her wet lips, and then down over her hardened nipples. Just as she moved her hand down between her thighs, the telephone rang. Kimberly sighed and turned down the music’s volume without breaking her gaze at the photograph.

  The answering machine picked up the call. “Hi, this is Kimber, you know what to do.” After the answering machine beeped, a wave of party noises jolted Kimberly out of her erotic daze and she picked up the phone.

  “Hey, where are you?” asked Paige, Kimberly’s outgoing, charismatic classmate and coworker.

  Kimberly frowned. “Look, Paige, I already said—”

  “I know what you already said, but I decided not to listen,” Paige interrupted in a voice that was barely audible above the background noise. “I decided to take it upon myself to make sure your precious
youth isn’t prematurely wasted by missing yet another sick rave. Besides, I can’t dance with all these gorgeous guys by myself. Not all at the same time anyway. So hurry up and get your sweet little derrière down here, okay?”

  After Paige abruptly hung up, Kimberly put down her phone, picked up a pencil, and opened the notebook lying next to her laptop. She wrote “KIMBER + LEXA” on the inside cover, turned the music back up, and then turned her attention back to her blog. She let out a desperate sigh as her head battled with her heart.

  Do I take a chance and tell her how I feel? she typed.

  The music’s volume lowered and knocking echoed through the speakers. The words “Someone’s Knocking” appeared next to the door graphic. Kimberly closed her blog window and moved her avatar to the peephole.

  Another dialogue box appeared, inside which Kimberly typed:

  Who’s there?

  The peephole widened and an avatar of a hooded figure appeared. A dialogue box popped up next to the avatar, and inside the box appeared the screen name IWNTUDED.

  Kimberly typed:

  Do I know you?

  IWNTUDED responded:

  Yes. But not the way u think u do.

  “Seriously, this is so not the time for this,” Kimberly muttered to herself. She typed:

  Doug, is that you? Look, I know you still love me, but it’s over. It’s nothing you did, it’s just that I’m going through so many changes right now. She sighed. I’m sorry. Tell you what. I’ll give you a weekend of goodbye sex when I get back, okay?

  After a few uncomfortable moments passed, IWNTUDED responded:

  Sounds like fun, but I’m not Doug.

  “What the hell?” Kimberly whispered as the ambient light from the laptop’s screen eerily illuminated her pretty face. She stared at the screen and typed:

  Who is this?

  There was a long moment before IWNTUDED responded:

  The last person you’ll ever see.

  “Okay, fuck this,” Kimberly blurted. She clicked the “KEEP OUT” icon next to Iwntuded’s screen name, and the “LOCK DOOR” icon on the keyhole graphic.

  “So long, creep.” She picked up the Starbucks cup sitting on her Abnormal Psychology textbook, took a sip, spun her chair around, and reclined with her back to the computer.

  While she sat there thinking how much easier life would be if it was this simple to get rid of people in the real world, the word “Unlock” appeared on the door graphic, and the Iwntuded avatar entered the room and approached the Kimber avatar.

  Finished musing over the inherent advantages of Cybering, Kimberly turned back toward the laptop screen and was dumbstruck when she saw Iwntuded’s avatar standing next to hers.

  “What the hell?” She placed her Starbucks cup on the desk and then typed:

  How did you get in here?

  The Iwntuded avatar held up a key graphic, and then IWNTUDED typed:

  I have a key.

  Kimberly’s heart skipped a beat. She sank down in her chair and wrapped her arms tightly around herself.

  Should I be scared of this creep? She shook her head. Of course not, this is just some acne-covered kid with nothing better to do on Datenight USA, or some overweight, balding pervert who gets off on scaring the shit out of young girls.

  Her fear morphed to anger and she sat up straight in her chair.

  She typed,

  Look, jerkoff, the Roommates website recorded your IP address when you logged on. So get out of here and leave me the fuck alone before I report your perverted ass.

  IWNTUDED replied:

  Okay. But first, will u do me a favor?

  Kimberly typed:

  What?

  May I have a sip of that coffee?

  What the fuck?

  Kimberly typed:

  What coffee?

  After a few tension-filled moments, IWNTUDED replied:

  The Starbucks next to your keyboard.

  The words on her laptop screen leapt out at Kimberly as if they were in 3D. She glanced at the Starbucks cup, after which she jumped to her feet and scanned nervously about her dimly lit apartment.

  Oh my God—someone’s here! But how did he get in? And where is he now—watching me?

  Just as she reached for the phone to dial 911, Kimberly spotted the webcam atop her computer’s monitor and a wave of relief washed over her. “You little hacker.”

  She sat back down and yanked the USB cable from the webcam. “Show’s over, jerk wad.” She smirked at her laptop screen and held her middle finger up to Iwntuded’s avatar.

  That wasn’t very nice.

  Kimberly replied:

  What—ending your little peep show?

  IWNTUDED typed:

  No, giving me the finger.

  Kimberly jumped to her feet. She glanced wildly around the room and then back at the monitor. Fight or flight mode started setting in as she typed:

  Who are u and what the fuck do u want?

  I told u—I’m the last person you’ll ever see. As for what I want…

  On the opposite side of the unlit apartment, a closet door quietly opened. A hooded figure emerged holding a smartphone in one hand and a sixteen-inch hunting knife in the other. While Kimberly sat staring at her computer screen, the hooded figure typed on the smartphone’s keypad, and the reply displayed on Kimberly’s laptop screen:

  It’s all in my name. What’s my name, Kimberly?

  Wide-eyed, her hands trembling, Kimberly typed:

  IWNTUDED.

  IWNTUDED instantly replied:

  That’s what I want!

  Kimberly studied her tormentor’s username with the urgency her situation demanded. Then, in a dread-filled whisper, she read aloud, “I…want…you…dead.”

  Her eyes widened when she saw the hooded figure’s reflection on her screen. Before she could turn around, the hooded figure plunged the hunting knife into her throat.

  Arterial spray splashed the monitor as the figure violently thrusted the blade in and out of Kimberly’s neck. Her life force gradually faded to black.

  The hooded figure moved a couple of paces back, using the smartphone to take pictures of the bloody remains.

  ***

  The hooded figure sat in a filthy, unlit room typing on the keyboard of an old and dusty desktop computer that had the appearance of something Dr. Frankenstein would have fashioned together in his laboratory. Upon a rickety, worm-ridden desk was an old CRT monitor. Displayed on the flickering screen was Lexa’s Roommates page, specifically, the Friends List section where members ranked their friends, or Best Mates, in chronological order.

  The hooded figure plugged a USB cable from the smartphone into the tower. On the CRT screen, a skull-shaped cursor moved to Kimberly’s picture, the one occupying the number one spot on the list. Gnarled and dirty fingers typed on the keyboard, and the word “UPLOAD” appeared on-screen. The cursor moved over Kimberly’s picture, and with one click of the mouse, it was replaced with a picture of her severed head laying in the lap of her mutilated corpse.

  CHAPTER TWO

  LEXA AND ALEX

  Lexa Rhodes, a comely dark-haired twenty-two year old, sat in front of her meticulously organized dresser thinking of exotic, faraway places. With haunted green eyes, she gazed at her reversed image in an antique silver hand mirror. As she brushed her long brunette hair, she fell into a solemnly pensive state of mind.

  Who is the person staring back at me from behind this reflective glass? Is she the same person that’s staring into it? Will I ever figure out the answer? And if I do, will I like what I’ve learned?

  ***

  Amanda Rhodes, a slender woman in her mid-fifties, cut into the neck of a large goose on a cutting board in front of her. She set the butcher’s knife down on the kitchen island’s quartz countertop. Her 1980s pantsuit and feathered hair made her seem out of place in her modern kitchen with its stainless steel appliances and subway tile backsplash.

  “Lexa, hurry or you’ll be late!” she yelled,
wondering whether or not she’d made the right decision.

  ***

  Her aunt calling her name pulled Lexa back into the dreary existence she called reality. She stopped brushing her hair and gazed deep into her hand mirror.

  Here we go.

  She took one last glimpse of herself before placing her brush and mirror upon her dresser. When she stood up, her hand mirror slid off the brush and crashed to the floor. Expletives echoed throughout her mind at the thought of damaging one of the few things she owned that once belonged to her real mother. Lexa bent down and picked up the mirror. As she beheld her mirror image, a rogue tear trickled down her face at the sight of a jagged crack bisecting her reflection.

  ***

  Lexa carried a small piece of luggage down the staircase. When she reached the bottom, she pasted on a smile then headed into the living room. It was a warm, inviting space whose perfectly placed furniture and immaculate appearance gave it the impression of a model home. Next to the continuously burning fireplace was a small table with two chairs. Upon the table sat an antique chessboard with large hand-carved pieces. Lexa walked up to the table. After staring at the board for a lasting moment, she moved her bishop and grinned.