Man Down (A Rookie Rebels Novel)

by Kate Meader

  LonelyHeart: Taking a break.

  Her heart hitched painfully. Of course. She took the plunge into a pool in which she might drown. Are you talking to anyone? About what you’re going through?

  LonelyHeart: Doing it right now. With you.

  But this couldn’t possibly be enough. Sadie: But these are only knock-knock jokes.

  LonelyHeart: Never underestimate the power of a good knock-knock joke.

  Oh, that was nice to hear. Feeling a little smug herself, she got back to the job that paid the bills.

  5

  December

  Kelly: Happy New Year!

  Kelly: Hey, have you blocked me or is this an AT&T conspiracy?

  Gunnar smiled and started typing. Stop seeing conspiracies everywhere. No one’s blocked anyone. Happy New Year to you.

  Kelly: Yay! How are things?

  Gunnar: You mean, am I still a miserable bastard?

  Kelly: Well, I assumed that. More a query as to your general health.

  Gunnar cast a look to the clear Maine sky. A burst of fireworks lit up the inky night not far from his current location, his brother’s house at the ski resort he ran. Behind him, sounds of muted revelry echoed like ghosts through the windows. He moved further out into the dark of the yard, closer to the forest perimeter. Kurt would come looking for him soon enough. No one could leave a widower alone. He took a swig from the bottle and cursed the fact he was still sober.

  He carefully placed the bottle against the tree and plonked his ass down with his back to the bark. Cold as fuck but he wouldn’t be here long.

  Gunnar didn’t feel his day had started properly without a daily text from the woman who had Kelly’s phone number. Usually it was a joke—a morning funny, she called it—which sometimes led to exchanges about other things. Nothing especially deep, though he felt they were hovering on the edge of something significant, if only he’d take a leap from the precipice. He stared at the phone, and that stare seemed to bring in another message.

  Kelly: So, what’s on your mind?

  Gunnar: I haven’t figured out how to get back into it.

  Kelly: It?

  Gunnar: The groove of life. I feel out of step.

  Kelly: Everyone’s moving forward and you’re stuck in one place.

  He thought about that. Not even one place. A million places. Everywhere I look reveals a memory, every memory is a stab to my heart.

  A light dusting of snow had grazed the trees earlier, hardly worth the effort. Now new flakes fell, attempting to stick to the ground and be counted. That’s all anyone or anything wanted, even snowflakes. To stick, to make a damn difference.

  Danny had loved the visits to Maine, adored making snowballs and angels. Janie, not so much. She was a Cali girl through and through. “It’s too cold, Daddy! Wrap me up!” And he would, inside his jacket like he was a kangaroo and she was a shivering joey who needed his body heat.

  He indulged that sharp-fanged memory for a moment while the phone buzzed in his hand.

  Kelly: What can I do to help?

  Such a simple question with a complicated answer. He needed a distraction.

  Gunnar: Tell me more about you.

  Kelly: Oh hell, really? Like what?

  Gunnar: What you do. How you got here.

  Kelly: Like, on this earth? LOL. My life would bore you to tears. In fact, hearing about me might actually be the kickstart you need, bud, because then you’ll be dying to return to reality. Where should I begin my epic journey?

  This Angelino was funny. But she probably wasn’t from there. No one in LA was.

  Gunnar: Where are you from originally?

  Kelly: Right into the in-utero stuff, huh? Well, I landed topside in Chicago and after several life changes and big moves, ended up in LA, which is sort of home.

  Gunnar: I lived in LA for a while. Pretty fake.

  Kelly: Oh, definitely. And I’m contributing to it with my career choice which props up a snake oil saleswoman who sells shit to sheeple who want to be fooled and … my life is filled with all kinds of suckage. Happy?

  She was doing that for him. Selling herself short to make him feel better about his miserable existence.

  Gunnar: What would you rather be doing?

  Kelly: Be my own boss. But I’m in a competitive field and I need to stand apart from the crowd. Hard for someone who usually prefers to blend in.

  Gunnar: You don’t seem like the shy and retiring type.

  Kelly: On here, we can be whatever we want, right? Much easier than out there, especially in LA where everyone’s hawking something.

  So true. Texting with someone who had no preconceptions about you—apart from whatever she’d gleaned from his misery-laden messages—was freeing. And oddly safe. In real life, he couldn’t imagine connecting with any woman, not even this one, where the reality of a physical presence created a whole other series of expectations. Not being able to see her in the flesh kept it inside the lines.

  He aimed for a return to the easy, breezy tone of their previous exchanges. What’s going on tonight in LA other than the usual fakery?

  Kelly: I’m sitting in the booth in the corner of a very trendy bar watching as everyone gets trashed and vows to do better next year. The cycle begins again.

  Gunnar: Hey, I’m the hardened cynic here. Stop trying to steal my crown.

  Kelly: No, you’re not. You’re the guy who’s a little out of step with life. Who talked to someone he lost long after they left the path you both were on. Nothing cynical about that. If anything, it’s lovely to want to keep that connection alive.

  That froze his texting fingers. It might sound lovely but the pain definitely diminished the romance of it.

  Kelly: I’m sorry I interrupted the conversation with your wife.

  He sucked in a sharp breath, appreciating her directness while hating its effect. So many people danced around his pain.

  Gunnar: Not much of a conversation if it’s one-sided. I need to plug back into this world. Hearing from you hurt at first, but not now. Or not as much.

  Was he trying to make her feel better or … might he actually mean that?

  Kelly: I hate the idea I might have inflicted any pain on you. Can we still blame AT&T?

  Gunnar: We can and should.

  He took another slug of Jack, enjoying the warm burn while his ass muscles rapidly cemented into ice. The fireworks burst in fiery sprays off in the distance. A couple of minutes passed without a message. He wondered if she’d signed off for the night, finally tangled in the revelry of her life in LA.

  Then at last: Sorry about that. I’m trying to fend off the multitudes here.

  Gunnar: Really?

  Kelly: No, not really. If you saw me and saw my wing-girl you’d think that comment hilarious. She’s a twiggy supermodel, and I’m, well, not.

  Gunnar: Maybe you could send a pic.

  Shit. What made him text that? He knocked over the half-drunk bottle of Jack, watching as the future of even more poor decision-making seeped into the thin blanket of snow. No more alcohol for him.

  Ominous dots blinked on his screen and his pulse rate picked up. He had to admit he was curious.

  The next communication was a gif of someone familiar. Ah. The blonde from Clueless pushing some loser away.

  He smiled, glad she saw the humor in his request and half-relieved that she knew instinctively that sharing photos was not a good way forward. It turned what was happening between them into something where the optics overrode the foundation. This was not what he needed, some weird texting-slash-flirting relationship with a stranger. Sure he missed sex. Mostly he missed the comfort of Kelly. He missed the way she accepted his brute strength and turned it into their joint power.

  Yet his cock had stiffened, just like that.

  Was he so devoid of a friendly ear that the first woman to give him the time of day was turning him on? Damn, he was in a bad way.

  He ignored the throb of need pushing against his zipper and instead drew
on his prime directive: to protect. He used to do it well on the ice. He used to protect his family, even if he’d failed at that final hurdle. Those instincts couldn’t be completely dead.

  Gunnar: So you’re with friends right now? She’d said she was, but he was really trying to nose out if she had a boyfriend.

  Kelly: I am. Why?

  Gunnar: Just wanted to be sure you’re safe. Security in numbers.

  Kelly: Aw, so sweet! I’m starting the celebrating early but I think you said once you were on the east coast so maybe the new year is already upon you? I wanted to get in during that special witching hour when the year has yet to be stained with mistakes. When anything seems possible.

  He liked how she phrased it. Possibility flowed around him, energizing, waiting to be drawn upon.

  Or the whiskey was finally working its magic.

  Gunnar: I’ve been offered a job. In Chicago, as a matter of fact.

  Kelly: Is that a good move for you?

  Gunnar: I think so. It feels like the right time.

  Kelly: Then congrats!

  He had a talent he was currently squandering on gutters and firewood and Jack Daniels. If he didn’t do this now, he might go to his grave never having realized his full potential. He had to restart somewhere.

  He couldn’t imagine coming to that conclusion two months ago. Before this woman had answered back.

  Gunnar: It’s a good thing. I need to feel useful again.

  Kelly: Ah, usefulness. No one would ever accuse me of that.

  Gunnar: You’ve been useful to me.

  Kelly: Really? I hoped but I didn’t want to overstep.

  Gunnar: You didn’t. You haven’t. It’s easier to talk to someone I don’t know. Who doesn’t have any expectations.

  Kelly: Same. Big time. Which is why I need to go, while there’s still a chance I don’t screw this up.

  This? He wanted to ask what she meant by that.

  Stay safe, was what he texted back instead of the orders he wanted to bark: Don’t drink and drive. Don’t get into a car with someone you don’t trust. Don’t die senselessly.

  Kelly: Take care. That was how she always signed off, and he’d been trying to do exactly that. Go easy on himself.

  He pulled himself upright, rubbing his frozen ass to get the circulation back in. Before he went back into the house, he opened up his contacts, hit edit on Kelly’s name, and changed it to Angel for his guardian angel from Los Angeles.

  Swiping at his half-frozen tears, he headed into the warmth.

  6

  March

  Sadie parked her car on the side of the road near the entrance to Allegra’s gated community, ten minutes before she was due to work. Once on site, she wouldn’t get a chance to make any personal calls, so it was now or never.

  The phone rang once, twice, and was answered with what sounded like brisk efficiency.

  “Good morning, this is Brenfort Academy. How may I assist you?”

  Sadie took a quick breath. “Hi there! I’m trying to get in touch with one of your students. My sister, actually. Lauren Yates?”

  Slight pause. “Lauren’s in class right now. No, I’m forgetting, it’s Monday. She’d be in practice. Is this an emergency?”

  “Oh, no. Not at all! I just—well, I don’t have the number of her personal phone—”

  “Who did you say you were?”

  Sadie swallowed. “Sadie Yates. I’m Lauren’s sister. I was really just hoping to check in with her. Not a big deal.”

  The ruffle of papers, a muffled voice, then the speaker came back, her tone now more guarded. “You’re not listed as an approved contact, Ms. Yates. We have to be mindful of our students’ privacy and security. You’ll need to contact her father—Mr. Yates—and ask to be added to the list. Or perhaps get her personal phone number.” Midwestern disapproval raced across the country.

  “Of course. Sorry to disturb you.”

  The woman hung up. Damn.

  Sadie did not want to go through her father to make contact with her sister. Jonah Yates had made it clear long ago that he wasn’t interested in cultivating any relationship with his oldest daughter or encouraging a connection between Sadie and his youngest child. But Lauren’s mother was gone and her father was about to be sentenced, possibly incarcerated. If not now, when?

  She called her father again, for once wishing he would answer so she could have this out with him. While she appreciated the security consciousness of Lauren’s boarding school in Wisconsin, she did not appreciate the subterfuge her father was forcing her to undertake. Family was important, and Sadie was only starting to realize how much.

  Blame LonelyHeart. Without his wife, the man was broken. In those texts to her, he was trying to hold on to something precious and long gone. What if something happened to her father or Lauren, and Sadie never got a chance to make it right?

  The call went to voice mail.

  “Hi, Dad, it’s Sadie. I wanted to check in and see how Lauren is doing. How you’re both doing. I was thinking of coming out to see you, or maybe a visit to Lauren at school. Does she get a spring break?” She floundered, unwilling to beg for crumbs of affection yet needing to do something. “Anyway. I’m thinking of you both. Call me back when you can.”

  She hung up and stared at the screen, waiting for a sign.

  A text came in … from Allegra. Gah. Could you stop at Starbucks and get me an iced soy honey flat white with one and a third Splendas? Please ensure they mix the Splenda into the espresso before they make the drink.

  Sadie typed back, Of course! *Smiley face*

  Nothing from her father, which said it all. She put the phone down, but picked it up when it buzzed again. It was from LonelyHeart!

  LonelyHeart: Missed my morning funny today. You’re slacking.

  Sadie: Sorry. Running behind and … maybe you could come up with the jokes, bud?

  LonelyHeart: Me? I haven’t got a funny bone in my body. But you’re right. I’m putting too much on you.

  Sadie: Just kidding! Feeling overly sensitive. It’s one of those days that’s barely started and I just want to crawl back into bed and sleep through the rest of it.

  LonelyHeart: Know what that’s like. Sometimes it would be nice to pull the bedcovers over my head and forget about the world outside. Especially these days.

  Sadie waited a moment. He had started his new job in Chicago last month and was fairly quiet about it. Maybe it wasn’t going well.

  Sadie: How’s the job? All you expected?

  LonelyHeart: It’s good. Except I’m being eased in slowly when really it would be better to go at it full tilt. I have the skills, I just need the bosses to put me to use.

  Sadie: And how are things otherwise?

  LonelyHeart: Not exactly better. Just different. I feel disconnected from people, especially the ones I work with. Which isn’t good because this job requires teamwork and a sort of telepathy. I worry my state of mind is holding me back.

  Sadie knew something about that. When you felt frozen in one aspect of your life, it was hard to thaw the rest of it.

  Before she could respond, another text came in. I’m in LA.

  She dropped the phone.

  Holy shock to the heart. Did she read that right? She picked up the phone and inhaled deeply.

  LonelyHeart: I’m in LA.

  Omigodomigodomigod. He was here. In the same city as her. She’d asked for a sign and look what the goddess had provided. Play it cool, Sadie.

  Sadie: Oh, that’s nice.

  Nice? She told him it was nice?

  LonelyHeart: I leave tomorrow night, but I’m working all day. Would you be interested in telling some of those bad jokes to me in person?

  Sadie put the phone on the seat and waved her hands over her face, trying to fan away her anxiety. Her heart refused to slow. Her hands refused to steady.

  He wanted to meet.

  So did she.

  At New Year’s he’d asked for a photo, in a jokey way, she’d tho
ught, and she had resisted. Too soon for that kind of thing. A photo placed them on some strange footing where appearances mattered. But an in-person meeting? That jibed better with her gut on this. She could wow in the flesh.

  Sadie: I take offense at the notion my jokes are bad. But I would love to tell you some brilliant, witty, clever jokes to your face.

  LonelyHeart: Okay. I have work this afternoon but maybe we can meet for coffee at 6 p.m.? I’m staying at a hotel near the Staples Center. Could cab anywhere.

  She didn’t know downtown all that well, but she could figure it out. 6 p.m. it is! I’ll scout locations and send you a place to meet.

  LonelyHeart: Sounds good. And if this seems out there, or you’re feeling pressured, just say so.

  Sadie: I don’t. Feel pressured, that is. I’d like to meet. Really.

  Allegra: Sadie, where the hell is my coffee?

  Sadie smiled, then texted to LonelyHeart. See you later.

  Gunnar checked his reflection in the mirror. He needed a haircut and a shave, but short of putting his travel day suit back on, there wasn’t much he could do to make himself more presentable. What did a clean button-down shirt and jeans say about him? Making an effort but not trying too hard, perhaps. He no longer had that sunken, hollow-eyed look but there was no missing the scar marking the left side of his face, from cheek to chin.

  He wouldn’t want to miss it.

  Maybe this was a mistake. He had a good thing going with Angel right now. Dumb jokes interspersed with deeper dives when he needed it. No expectations. No pressure. A meet in real life would take it to another level—or it might prick the bubble of safety he was living in now. He liked it here.

  But the act of deliberately not meeting Angel when they were in the same city assigned this thing between them more importance than it deserved. Not meeting her meant he was afraid he might be attracted to someone other than Kelly. He would not be, and the only way to know for sure was to meet Angel.

  Having talked himself into going through with this for the tenth time today, Gunnar checked his wallet and room key and headed for the door. It opened just as he touched the handle.