Rock Bottom

by Canosa, Jamie

  “Your parents are . . . alright. I mean . . .” He sighed, resigning us both to the ugly truth. “I don’t know what you want me to say. They’re healthy . . . physically. They’re still together. But your disappearance . . . it tore them up, Ry. Your mom was—is—devastated. Your dad tries to hide it, but anyone can see how messed up he is. You know your parents better than I do. I’m sure you already know all of this. Please don’t use me to torture yourself.”

  “I’m not. I swear I’m not.” It was just a side effect of my vicious curiosity. “I just need to know what happened after I left. Please?”

  His gaze dropped to the comforter bunched between us and he shook his head.

  Fear that he was going to refuse to tell me rooted in the pit of my stomach in the form of a cold, hard lump. Not knowing would kill me. “Please, Elijah.”

  “After you left my place, I went looking for you. Called your number a million times. Checked everywhere I could think of . . .” His voice was flat, almost robotic, reciting events as though on auto-pilot. I wondered how many times he’d repeated them. “When I hadn’t heard from you by Monday, I caught Angela and Carrie at school. Asked if either of them had seen you. They hadn’t, so I left and went straight to your house. Your dad wasn’t thrilled to see me there, but I didn’t care. I needed to know you were alright. That you were safe.” His gaze turned distant and I could see the grief I’d caused him. “When he told me you weren’t there . . . that you hadn’t been there since . . . He thought you were with me. We called the police. Filed a missing person’s report. I told them everything I knew.

  “The cops talked to some people from school. I know they were looking for Rafe for a while, but by then he’d cleared out of his old apartment and left no forwarding address. Then they found your car at the bus station. Your parents tried to tell them that you wouldn’t just leave on your own. That someone forced you or tricked you, but no one knew anything, and with the recent drug use on your record . . . the case stalled. They labeled you a runaway and . . .”

  He didn’t finish, but I knew that was the end of the story. The police had given up on me, but he hadn’t. Not Elijah. He’d never given up on me. He still hadn’t.

  “What happens now, Ry?” When Elijah’s eyes found mine again, they’d turned to steel. My knight in shining armor. My Prince. He was preparing for battle. But the fight had already been lost.

  “Nothing. Nothing happens now. You found me. You can stop looking, but you can’t tell my parents. Please. Don’t tell them about any of this. Let them hold out hope that I’m living some happy, selfish life somewhere. It’s the best I can offer them.”

  “They don’t want hope, Ry. They want you. We want you. Come home.”

  “I can’t. As of tomorrow, Rafe’s planning to rent me to a friend of his. If he decides to keep me, I won’t work the streets anymore. I won’t . . . be able to see you anymore.”

  “He’s renting you out?” Elijah’s jaw clenched so tight I feared for his teeth. “No. This is insane. I’m not letting that happen.”

  If only life could be so simple. “Elijah—”

  “No, Rylie! No way. Come with me. Run away with me. You don’t have to ever go back.”

  And if wishes were fishes . . . “Elijah . . .”

  “Don’t you want to? Don’t you trust me? I know I’ve let you down before. I know that. And there aren’t words to tell you how sorry I am for that. But I swear to you, I’ll keep you safe. I won’t let you down again, Ry. I swear.”

  “No. Elijah. Of course I want to. And I trust you with my life. That’s not the issue.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “Rafe. The debt I’ve built up to him . . . I could work all night every night for the rest of my life and never come close to paying it back. Not even my parent’s money could put a dent in it. He owns me and if I try to run . . .”

  “That’s bullshit.” The edge in his voice matched that in his grip on my shoulder. I think he wanted to shake sense into me, but he refrained. “You don’t owe him a damn thing, Rylie. You’re scared. I get it, but I can protect you.”

  “And who’s going to protect you?” Scared was one word for what I was feeling. Terrified, horrified, and petrified were a few others. But the bulk of that fear wasn’t for myself. “The kind of money I’m worth to him . . . He won’t stop until he finds me and he won’t think twice about going through anyone standing in his way.”

  “Then we’ll get help.” Determination flared to life in his eyes like a flash of lightning. “Rafe can’t touch you if he’s behind bars.”

  “You want to go to the police?”

  “He’s a pimp and a dealer, Ry. He forced a minor into . . . prostitution. There has to be some serious time associated with that.”

  I wracked my brain for the million reasons why this was a bad idea—and I found them, and more—but none sounded as bad as allowing myself to be sold and owned for the rest of my life.

  “Can we talk about it some more in the morning?” My head wasn’t in the right place to be making important decisions.

  I struggled to keep my eyes open and Elijah’s softened. “Of course. You must be exhausted, but do you think you can stay awake just a little longer? I’d really like you to try and eat something before you sleep.”

  “I’m not sure I can.”

  “Try? Just a little? I have some peanut butter and bread.” The mattress bobbed as he climbed off and I forced myself to watch him slap together a sandwich just to stay awake.

  The minute he handed it to me the smell started my stomach rolling. “I don’t think—”

  “Just a bite, Ry? Please? I’m really glad you’re off the drugs, but your body needs nutrition. The calories and protein in the peanut butter should help you feel better.”

  What he said made sense, as usual, so I held my breath and took a bite. Chewing slowly, I savored the flavors. It’d been so long since I’d truly appreciated food. Since I’d truly tasted it. The soft bread and smooth, creamy filling stuck to the roof of my mouth, making it difficult to swallow, but when I did . . . nothing happened. I was prepared to run for the bathroom should the situation warrant it, but my stomach seemed to appreciate the donation. There was slightly less caution behind my second and third bites. Before I knew it, the sandwich was gone and my stomach was happier than I could ever remember it being.

  “That’s my girl.” Elijah’s words made my heart squeeze with equal measures of joy and pain. “Now, come lay down. Get some sleep. We’ll figure the rest out in the morning.”

  I snuggled into the soft pillows and felt Elijah crawl in behind me. His warm arm wrapped around my middle and he whispered into my hair, “Sweet dreams, Princess.”

  And I knew . . . I already knew, no matter what kind of wrath it brought down on the both of us, I couldn’t walk away from him again.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  I knew I was alone before I opened my eyes. The warmth I felt—the tingles under my skin—whenever Elijah was near were absent. Reluctant to open my eyes and face what the day might bring, I groped blindly to confirm my suspicions. As expected, the sheets on his side of the bed were empty and cold, but the crinkle of paper under my palm roused my curiosity enough to peek one eye open.

  I drew the page torn from the hotel notepad closer, squinting at Elijah’s sloppy scrawl.

  I didn’t want to wake you, but there was a work thing I couldn’t get out of. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Please be here.

  I love you, Princess.

  Everything will be alright now. I promise.

  The warmth I’d been missing wrapped around me. Clutching his words to my chest, I threw back the blankets and dragged myself up. Elijah asked me to be here and there was nowhere else I wanted to be. Rafe could go to hell. I was thinking clearer than I had in a long time and for the first time in just as long, I felt like I had an ounce of control over my life. I felt . . . alive.

  The bathroom mirror disagreed. Dark circles rimmed both eyes, che
ek bones jutted out sharply enough to cut glass, and my skin had taken on a yellow pallor. Limp hair hung lifelessly over my shoulders. I was still wearing my clothes from the night before. In the light of day, they were humiliating.

  After a shower that lasted long enough to drain the entire establishment of hot water, I rooted through Elijah’s drawers, wrapped in a towel. I didn’t think he’d mind when I pulled out a pair of drawstring sweats and a dark gray hoodie. I had to roll the sleeves and pant legs several times before I could see my hands and feet, but I welcomed the extra coverage. It felt like a barrier between me and the world. A shield that I could hide behind.

  I folded Elijah's note and tucked it in my pocket before settling down on the bed with the remote. I didn’t know how long he’d be gone, but I’d wait until the rains dried up and the whole world turned to ash if that’s what it took. The television was a fifteen inch box with crappy reception—fuzzy pictures and jumbled voices—that did little to distract me from my morbid thoughts.

  What if Elijah goes back to his real life and realizes what a lost cause I am? What if he wakes up one day and can no longer stand the sight of me? What if he can’t get past the image of me standing on that damned corner?

  Part of me couldn’t help wondering if there would ever come a day when I could go without looking over my shoulder. Without the shadows chasing me in the dark and ghosts haunting my mind.

  What if he doesn’t come back for me at all? What if he does come back and Rafe—?

  A commotion from outside caught my attention and I eased off the bed to take a peek before deciding it was a bad idea. I had enough trouble to worry about. I didn’t need to go looking for more. Perching on the edge of the mattress, I turned the volume up.

  Sounds of a scuffle outside my window were difficult to ignore. The pounding on my door was harder. It reverberated through me, shaking my bones. I sat frozen, staring like a deer in headlights at the drawn curtains that afforded me no view whatsoever.

  It can’t be Elijah, he wouldn’t knock. Unless he forgot his key?

  Maybe he didn’t pay for another night and it’s check-out time?

  I glanced at the clock. Nine a.m., a little early for check-out. Impatience beat through every pulse-pounding knock and I fisted the blanket in my lap.

  Or maybe Rafe hunted me down, and he’s come to drag me back to hell and sell me to the devil himself.

  Whoever it was, they weren’t going away. I crept closer to the door, my bare feet silent on the carpet, and put my eye to the peephole.

  What the—?

  The door opened only as far as the flimsy chain would allow. “Declan?”

  He was standing beside a man in a wide straw hat, with leathery skin and a pale handlebar mustache.

  “Can you tell the gestapo here that you know me so he’ll let me go?”

  The man held Declan’s shoulder in a punishing grip. “Ma’am, this creep’s been sitting in the parking lot for the past hour watching your room. If you want I can call the police and let them—”

  “No. That won’t be necessary. I know him.”

  Declan’s smile oozed irritation as he ripped his arm free.

  “But thank you,” I added, belatedly. It was good to know someone was paying attention.

  “Alright.” The man eyed Declan, obviously reluctant to let him go. “Well, if you need anything, dial zero to phone the office. I’d be more than happy to call the cops on his punk.”

  I shut the door long enough to disengage the lock and when I opened it again, ‘the gestapo’ was gone. Declan pushed his way inside, mumbling something about stupid favors and kicking Eli’s ass.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Eli called.” Declan surveyed the room and paused to take in my outfit. “Said he had a gig he couldn’t flake on and asked if I’d come and . . . keep an eye on things.”

  “Keep an eye on me, you mean.” I snatched the remote from a tangle of sheets and hit mute. “Make sure I don’t go running off again?”

  Declan’s shrug was entirely unapologetic. “It is a bad habit of yours.”

  Couldn’t really argue with him there.

  “So . . .” He looked so uncomfortable standing in the middle of the room that I might have laughed if I was capable of feeling humor anymore. “Eli told me what you guys are planning. You really gonna turn Rafe into the police?”

  “Do you think I shouldn’t?” He’d known Rafe long before I ever came into the picture. “Do you think it’s a bad idea?”

  “No.” Declan shook his head and looked me in the eye for the first time since I answered the door. “I think it’s the right idea.”

  I nodded absently, allowing my thoughts to run away with me. There were so many of them it was easy to get lost. “That’s what Elijah thinks, too.”

  “But you don’t?”

  Is that what I made it sound like? Is that the truth? Do I think this is a bad decision? Do I even trust myself to make good decisions anymore?

  “I don’t know.” There was only one thing I knew with absolute certainty. “I . . . I’m scared.”

  Declan straightened and looked at me like I’d just told him I was capable of levitation. “Eli’s not going to let anything happen to you.”

  “I know he says that, but—”

  “He just got you back, Ry. There’s no way he’s losing you again.”

  I wanted to believe him. With all of my heart and soul, I wanted that, but I’d always been a realist. And realistically, Rafe was a criminal with some pretty serious connections, and Elijah and Declan . . . well, they were just a couple of teenage guys. Of course they thought they could take on the world.

  "You don't have a clue, do you? You have no idea what he's been through. What he’s done to find you."

  A wave of irritation hit. I wasn't naive, not anymore. I knew I screwed up. I knew my decisions affected more than just me. I knew that. "I know he's been looking for me for months. I know he—"

  "Dropped out of school? Did you know that?"

  A punch to the gut would have been less effective at winding me "What? Why? Why would he do that?"

  "Why do you think? He spent every free moment walking the streets of this city with a picture of you. Just hoping someone would recognize your face. He was obsessed. Kept trying to tell me it was his fault. That he had to find you. I told him he was out of his damn mind, but when it got too expensive to keep coming and going, he dropped out of school and started taking some photography gigs to support his search. The minute he turned eighteen he got the hell out of that crapheap he was living in and moved here. To be closer to you."

  Minutes stretched like strings of molasses. I stared at Declan. He sounded angry, but he looked . . . he simply looked resigned.

  "I can't believe he did all of that. I . . ."

  But couldn’t I? This was Elijah Prince we were talking about. Mr. All-in, Jump-first-and-ask-questions-later. When I really thought about it, nothing Declan told me came as a surprise. Except that he’d do all of that for me.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m not gonna lie, I don’t really understand it, either. But I’ve never felt about anyone the way he feels about you. Maybe someday it’ll make sense. Maybe he’s just fucking crazy. I really don’t know. What I do know is that he will give up everything, his entire damn life, for you.”

  The wall paper quickly became fascinating and I studied the blue swirls like they held all the answers to my insanely confusing life. All I found were more questions. “What about you? What are you doing here, Declan?”

  “I told you. Eli called and asked me to—”

  “I mean in the city. What were you doing at Damien’s party that day?”

  "That was a fluke. I work for the catering company he hired."

  "You live here, too?"

  "You really think Eli could afford a place here by himself? He takes some good pictures, but not that good."

  “You moved here with him so he could look for m
e?” I don’t think I blinked for a solid minute.

  “Why not?” Declan shrugged as though it were no big deal. “I was here all the damn time anyway. Couldn’t let him look for you alone.”

  I kept staring. The room could have caught fire and I don’t think I’d have noticed.

  “Look, I fucked up giving you that joint at school, okay?” I wouldn’t want to be the rug on the receiving end of that scowl. “I don’t know what the hell happened between then and now, but I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try to find you. Eli’s my best friend. He was in hell not knowing what happened to you.”

  I scrubbed at my face.

  “I’m sorry.” God, I was such an idiot. I wanted to go back in time and slap myself. I’d been so convinced I had no one, and yet how many lives had I affected? None for the better. “I screwed up everything. For everyone. I know it doesn’t change anything or make it better, but I am sorry, Declan.”

  Through bleary vision, I saw Declan's face soften. A look I rarely saw from him—compassion—warmed his eyes.

  “I know.” He sighed, looking as worn out as I felt. “I know you are. I talked to Eli. He didn’t tell me everything, but I heard enough. Hell, I saw enough at that party. I know this isn’t what you wanted. I know you didn’t mean for all of this to happen. Yeah, you screwed up—big time—but we all screw up now and then. The way I see it . . . you’ve more than paid for your mistakes. You don’t have to apologize to me.”

  Gratitude swamped me, turning my defenses to dust. I blinked hard, holding the tears at bay, but the fire in my throat rendered me speechless.

  “Besides, I figure now that we found you, you’ve got the rest of our lives to make it up to me. Weekly dinners, cleaning my apartment, ya know . . .”

  My lame excuse for a sniffling laugh was drowned out by the blaring of a car horn. Elijah stood inside the open motel room door, watching us.

  “Didn’t I tell you to wait in the car?” His voice was equal parts annoyed and amused.

  “Yeah.” Declan glared at him. “But you failed to mention that the desk clerk moonlights as head of the friggin’ neighborhood watch.”