by Zoey Derrick
"Thanks, Laura, but I'm alright.”
“So then why were you in the hospital last week?” Nyssa asks.
I sigh. I don’t want to go into all the details regarding Mikah and his money, so I just say, “Because the day after I fainted here, I turned around and vomited in a public place. Someone there was worried enough about me to take me to the hospital."
Nyssa was the first to say anything. "I’m glad you went. You were wasting away in front of us. No matter what we did, you wouldn't let us help you."
I blush, sheepish. "You're right. I realize now that I was doing a pretty poor job of taking care of myself, but I’ve been able to get some more permanent help that’s making a difference, and that’s what I need right now. But I can’t in all honesty say I’d let you help if I needed it. I don't like to be taken care of."
She nods, but I can tell it upsets her. "Nyssa, please know, I've done this my whole life. I've struggled and survived. It's all I know. It's very hard for me to take a handout."
She nods again. "I understand, and I will try hard to remember that." She gives me a hug.
I smile, then frown. "I have a follow-up appointment with Dr. Alston tomorrow morning. She’s the one who set me up with food stamps. I've been eating like a pig." I laugh.
"That explains why you've gained so much weight," Laura says.
"Ha! Not that much weight," I retort. Again the idea of telling them about the pregnancy comes to mind, but right now, I’m just not ready to do so. When it’s necessary, I will tell them.
"Enough to fill in all of your beautiful features," she says as she squeezes my arm.
"Thanks. Now can we get back to work?" I ask.
And then I realize that Nyssa’s shift has been over for a while; she should’ve been gone when I got here. "Nyssa, are you staying tonight?"
"I stuck around just in case you didn't show up. You know, after the cop was here and all, I wasn't sure what was going on. I'm more than happy to stay if you want to go home."
"No, I'm good. I feel safer here than at my own apartment right now." I shudder slightly. Talking with Nyssa and Laura has been a good distraction from the Riley situation, but now it’s at the forefront of my mind again.
Suddenly the bells on the door clink against the glass. We all turn.
TWENTY
When I see Detective Stevens, followed by two cops in uniform, I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.
"Hello, Detective. Who's your friends?"
"Hello, Vivienne. Ladies." He nods his head in their direction, almost like he's tipping his hat to them. "This is Officer Ruiz and Officer Hoffman," he says, pointing to the man and the woman in turn. "We were in the area and thought we would pop in for a bite to eat."
"Wonderful," Laura says, grabbing three menus from the stack. "Follow me."
They dutifully follow her to the one of the tables in the center of the diner. I head behind the counter to wash my hands.
Nyssa follows me over and asks again, quietly, "Are you sure you don't want to go home?"
"No, Nyssa, I'm good. I'll be fine. And besides, you've already been working all day."
She sighs. "I know, but I really want to help you out. Any way I can. I like you a lot, Vivienne, and I..." She trails off. "I just wanted you to know that."
I dry my hands off. "Thanks, Nyssa. I appreciate your concern and your willingness to help me out when it comes to work,” I say, remembering that Nyssa saved my skin two weeks ago when Mikah took me to the hospital. I have no doubt that she would do the same again, if needed.
"Vivienne,” Laura says, coming behind the counter and reaching for a tray. “I'll grab their drinks, but it's your table."
"That's not necessary," I say back. I’m more and more certain that Laura’s been giving me the tables to be nice. Now that the financial burden is not as great as it was even a week ago, I feel self-conscious about continuing to accept all the tables.
"I know dear, but...you know," she says as she scurries off with their drinks.
After the cops are done eating, I take the bill over. "Can I get you anything else?" I say as the door chimes again.
All heads turn in that direction except for mine. The presence of the three cops in front of me is a comfort. If Riley were stupid enough to walk in here right now, these three would protect me.
I look over in Laura’s direction. She’s smiling toward the door. I look up then, my heart fluttering at the prospect that Mikah might’ve walked in the door. But it’s not Mikah - it’s another regular that Laura is friendly with – and my heart sinks.
"No, I think just the check will do," Detective Stevens says.
"Did you guys want it split or all on the same?"
"It's my turn to pay, so just one, thanks," Officer Ruiz says. I hand him the bill. The scowls on the other two's faces are almost comical. Officer Ruiz looks it over quickly, then hands me a fifty dollar bill. "Keep the change."
"Oh no, that's way too much," I say before I can stop myself. I purse my lips, feeling like I’ve been rude.
"You did a fabulous job, and you had to put up with us. It's not too much." He is smiling warmly at me.
"Thank you." I nod in his direction. "Would you guys like some more coffee?"
They all shake their heads and stand.
"We're good,” Detective Stevens says. “Need to get back at it. That was good. Thank you, Vivienne."
"Anytime, Detective. And thank you."
After a short while, we start to get busy. Several tables fill up with customers, and once again we’re met with some of the better-dressed, don't-belong-in-this-neighborhood type.
Once the crowd dies down, I tell Laura, "I'm going to go help BJ with the dishes. Holler if you need me."
She scowls at me. I don't normally do the dishes in the back, but I kind of need a break from running around. My feet are a little sore tonight. Plus, washing dishes means that I can stay out of sight for a bit. Each time the bells chime on the door, I jump slightly. I’ve been getting edgier since Detective Stevens and the officers left, and going to the back will - with any luck - help me relax just a little bit.
After about fifteen minutes, Laura calls back for me and I dry off and head out front. When I come through the door there are five more tables with new people at them. I look at Laura and shrug. Back at it we go.
Around eleven thirty, the diner is finally empty and BJ is out mopping the floor while Laura and I clean up the counter. Filling bottles and sugar containers is boring work, but somebody has to do it.
"Sit," Laura demands.
"I told you, I'm not made of glass and I'm the same person I was yesterday."
"I know, but there is no reason to stand up while you're filling up containers."
"Alright." I take a seat on one of the stools and she slides all the containers my way. I start to marry the ketchup bottles together, then work on the mustard bottles, topping them off and putting them back in the wire baskets that go on the tables.
At some point I realize I’m inadvertently working a little slower than I normally would. Going home is not a high priority tonight like it normally is; the prospect of being at home alone makes my flesh crawl.
TWENTY-ONE
It's a quarter to midnight when Laura says, "Screw it, let's lock up."
I shrug at BJ and head to the door to turn the deadbolt.
I look out the door. No one seems to be anywhere in sight. Not even the cops. As I turn the deadbolt, my eyes spot something across the street in the small space between two shops. It looks white, almost like a t-shirt. It's unmoving. Goose bumps crawl up my arms. I try to shake it off; it’s probably just my eyes playing tricks on me.
After we pull down the chairs and BJ shuts down the kitchen, we grab our stuff and head out as a group.
"How long until the next bus, Viv?" BJ asks.
I look at my watch. "About three minutes," I say, heading in that direction. He follows right behind me. On instinct I know that Laura
has told him about the detective today. I'm not going to argue.
When I get to the bus stop and turn to BJ, I see that Laura has followed, too. I want to roll my eyes, but I can't deny that I feel safer knowing they're here with me.
I look back to the crevice between the buildings, and the white shirt I thought I saw earlier is gone.
I hear the bus approach from my left. It stops, and the doors swing open. It's Al.
"Hi, darlin’," he says as I climb up. I place my money in the box. "How you doing, sweetheart?"
I smile at him. "Good. Tired, but good."
I look over my shoulder. "Thanks, guys," I say to Laura and BJ. They smile and turn to leave.
I scan the bus, terrified that Riley might be on it. When I realize he isn’t, the tension in my shoulders eases by a fraction. Then I noticed a gentleman sitting toward the back. Buzz-cut, dark blond hair, black t-shirt, good looking. Not the type to normally be on this bus this time of night.
I grab the sideways seat behind Al instead of the forward-facing one opposite him. If I need to, I want to be able to make a quick escape.
I look back to the gentleman and he smiles at me. Warm, friendly. Then his hand slides out from behind the seat.
My heart pounds.
I see what's in his hand.
A shield. He's a cop. I start breathing again. He smiles again and nods in my direction slightly. I give him a half-smile in return as my heart rate returns to normal.
A few minutes later, the bus stops to pick up another passenger. I hold my breath again, but it’s only a female cop in uniform. "Hi, Al," she says as she climbs up. "How we doing tonight?"
"Great, thanks. Don't usually see you guys this time of night," he says as she slides past the box.
"I'm just taking a ride down the street, back to my car. Had some vandalism at one of the stops, so I've been checking some other ones. No biggy."
She acknowledges me with a nod as she takes the seat I usually sit in, but it’s not clear that she knows who I am. Whether she’s been assigned to me or not, I feel safer with two cops on board to protect me.
But she gets off two stops later, and then, at the stop just before mine, the male cop pulls the chain. He stands up as Al brings the bus to a halt, looks at me, smiles.
"Have a good night," he says as he hops down the back door of the bus. I'm not sure why he's decided to get off now.
We rumble up to my stop. "You okay, darlin’?" Al asks as we slow. Maybe he can sense my nervousness.
I nod. "Yup, just tired.”
“Have a good night. Be safe out there."
"You do the same," I say as I climb down the front steps. Al lingers until I reach the corner.
Headlights fire up behind me. I’d almost completely forgotten about the Mercedes. The headlights break up as Al passes in front of the car.
I quicken my pace.
The street looks different. It takes a minute to realize why. The light over the door to my complex is out. Great.
As soon as I hit the door to my building, the headlights pass, just like always. I wish I’d thought to find a way to wave down the Mercedes. It’s starting to bother me that he’s so close yet so far away. I visualize seeing him sitting in the driver’s seat, watching me, his beautiful blue-green eyes. Maybe tomorrow I’ll call him.
I turn to smile at the car and notice a police car parked in the same spot as this morning. In the dark I can just make out a silhouette in the driver’s seat. I give a little wave; it’s too dark to see if they wave back.
Stepping inside, I unlock the inner door. Tonight I skip the mailbox and head straight up the stairs. I won’t rest easy until I’m locked safe in my apartment.
As I pass Mr. Crowley’s door, I notice it’s slightly ajar. It’s dark inside. He’s probably just answering a call from a tenant and forgot to shut his door all the way, but the thought of calling out or going in to investigate makes me scared enough to want to scream. I climb the stairs faster. My scalp prickles as I climb the last flight of steps, and I rub at it.
I reach my door. Do a quick glance around. Nothing jumps out at me or seems out of the ordinary. My heart is pounding, pumping blood through my ears as I place my key in the top lock and turn it. Then the next lock, and finally the knob. I push open the door, letting my breath out in a whoosh.
I’m about to step inside when a hand covers my mouth and nose.
TWENTY-TWO
"Well, well, well...what do we have here. The little whore is all alone."
Riley!
His hand is tight over my nose and mouth, blocking my air. I start to fight back, but he wraps an arm around my chest, squeezing hard.
He pushes me inside my apartment, slamming the door behind us.
I can't breathe.
I claw at his hand over my mouth but my grip is weak and my strength is failing the longer I go without oxygen. I scratch at his arm with my nails.
"Bitch, please. That shit don't hurt. But I have more than a few things that will. At least before I kill you." Panic washes over me as his determination registers.
The next thing I know, he releases me and his hand comes away from my mouth.
I gasp for air.
He pushes me hard.
I bounce off the bed, and then I’m falling toward the floor. I put my hands out, hoping to catch myself before I hit the ground. There is a loud popping sound, and blinding pain races through my body from my right wrist. I cry out and roll onto my side.
Blinking through the pain, I look up and see him looming over me. His dirty blond hair is mussed in short spikes. He’s wearing a white t-shirt and black jeans. His eyes are dark, drawn and detached. A look I’ve seen more times than I care to remember.
“And here I thought this was going to be hard, though I had to deal with your nosey neighbor first.”
Mr. Crowley. No. That’s why his— No, no, no!
“But yet here you are, just like I like you.”
He reaches for my leg. I pull it back and swing hard, narrowly missing his face as he flinches away. The momentum of my kick has sent me rolling back onto my stomach and onto my broken wrist. I scream as pain stabs across my body.
“Bitch!” he says as he reaches once again for my legs.
Before I can react and swing again, he comes down hard with his knee on the back of my leg. “You’re mine, bitch! You’re going to pay for what you’ve done to me.”
In a flash all of Riley’s narcissistic words come rushing back to me. It doesn’t occur to him that his own actions put him in jail; it’s that I put him there.
“I’ve done nothing to you.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I brace myself for his retaliation.
Something comes down hard and heavy across the back of my skull. All I can see is brilliant white light.
CHAPTER TWO
Give Me Hope
One
***** Mikah *****
"Let them in," I tell Red. The familiar hum in my back dulls out, and I take it to mean that there’s no immediate danger. "I haven't a clue on earth why they're here, but let them in."
He turns for the door and opens it to reveal two men dressed in police uniforms. The man in front is about my height, stocky, and a little pudgy around the midsection. I estimate that he’s well into his forties, with graying, short, military-style hair. He has a very intense look about him, like he’s unsure of me, but he’s confident in getting what he’s after. The combination is strange, but he has a rather stoic, typically neutral expression.
There is another officer behind him and to his left who is much shorter but well-built and rather young.
Both men are very confident in their uniforms, and they both radiate authority. The intention is clear on their faces: They’re out for information. But what?
"Mr. Blake?" The older one asks.
"Yeah, that's me. What can I do for you?"
"May we come in?"
I nod. They stalk into the room like giants, their boots echoing off the t
ile and entryway walls.
"I'm Detective Stevens, and this is Officer Ruiz. We are with the Minneapolis Police Department. We'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind."
"Of course I mind, but I'm not going to stop you from asking."
Stevens’s face remains impassive, and he is quick to continue with what he came here to do. "Would you please tell us what your car was doing on the corner of Lake and Chicago about thirty minutes ago?"
Vivienne’s apartment. A sharp warning stab zings across my back, and I’m not sure I should trust these men. “Excuse me?”
“Doesn’t seem like the type of neighborhood you’d usually be caught hanging out in,” Stevens says, gesturing to the marble floor and the leather couches before turning his attention to his notepad.
I bristle at the word caught. “That really doesn’t seem any of your business. Have I done something wrong? Broken any laws?”
Stevens looks up from his notepad. “We never said you did, we just want to know why you were there.”
Thinking about Vivienne’s apartment sends another sharp zing across my skin. Something is off. “I was... checking up on a friend.”
Stevens’s eyes widen slightly, and then a scowl forms. “Do you know Riley Bennett?” he asks sternly. Zing.
Riley Bennett. Why does that name ring bells? Something about that name... "No, I can't say that I do. Does he work for me?" I ask back.
"What about Rebecca Black?"
I shake my head.
"And lastly, Vivienne Callahan?"
All the breath in my lungs rushes out of my body. I feel my knees shake violently and I try to steady myself. The hum surges like a shock of electricity across my entire body, pulsing with each frantic beat of my heart. "Vivienne? What about Vivienne?" Then it dawns on me like a bolt of lightning. "Riley! Riley is Vivienne's ex-boyfriend. The bastard that put her in the hospital."
The cops look at each other, and Stevens turns back to me. He shifts his feet as he does, taking a rather defensive stance. "You know about that?"
