Finding Serenity
Page 8
“Taylor?” Marak waves a hand in front of my face.
I shake myself and give Marak my attention. “Huh?”
“I asked if you needed anything.” He smirks knowingly. If he saw me checking out Syn and mentions it in front of everyone, I’ll need the floor to open and swallow me. “Maybe something to eat?”
“Yeah, that’d be cool,” I mutter, dropping down onto the bed. “Thanks.”
“No problem. I’ll text Maverick with their selection when I get to the cafeteria, you can pick then.”
He heads for the door, but I stop him. “Why not just text me?”
He spins around. “I don’t have your number, silly girl.”
“Oh, right.” I grab my phone from its charger on the bedside table and press the power button while rattling the phone number off to Marak. “It’s charging, but there’s enough battery for it to turn on now, so you can text me if you want.”
Glancing up to be sure Marak heard me, I notice all the guys with their phones out. “Did you all just take my number?”
Maverick nods once, not looking away from his cell phone. “Just in case you need us, you can call us.”
My phone lights up to show it turned on fully before I have any time to think through how I feel about them having my number. Someone will probably share it with Syn also. Four hot men with access to my number and the ability to call or text me whenever they please. The idea brings butterflies to my stomach, but I push them away. They’re doing their job, nothing more. Of course, they aren’t going to sit there texting me about the latest movies or the weather.
“Okay, I texted you with my name, so you can put me in your phone,” Marak calls as he makes his way to the door. “I’ll text you with the selection in a few.”
Right on cue, my phone pings with a message. Then another. Then another. I drop the thing on my bed when it doesn’t stop pinging and vibrating. “Holy shit.”
“What in the hell’s wrong with yer phone, girl?” Grumpy stares down at the small device as if his signature knock it off glare will shut the thing up.
“I’m just loveable, I suppose.” Grumpy rolls his eyes, and I grin cheekily.
After a few more notification sounds, I pick the finally silent phone up and scroll through all of my messages and phone calls. Fifteen missed calls from Michelle, twenty from Evelyn, five from Dylan, forty-three from Grumpy, and seven from work. “Shit. Did anyone call my boss and explain why I wasn’t at work?”
“Yeah, I took care ‘a it fer ya.” Grumpy waves me off, picking up his newspaper again. “Ya still got yer borin’ ass, fancy pants job.”
“Gee, thanks.” I make a mental note to call work as soon as I get home. I need to be sure Grumpy didn’t scare them when he called, and I truly do have my job still. I notice two missed calls from Tim—I completely forgot about him and our date. Hopefully, someone at work filled him in so he doesn’t think I stood him up or quit my job and skipped town to avoid him. I’ll need to get in touch with him at some point, but he isn’t a priority.
My text message count proves worse than my missed calls. There’s easily over a hundred messages each from the girls and Grumpy. Dylan sent a good chunk of them as well, and one from Tim asking if I was alright.
A number I don’t recognize pops up as most recent, and I click on it. Marak’s name is the only content of the message, and I know it’s him sending me his number. While adding it to my contacts, I receive two other messages with Allistar’s and Maverick’s names. I add them quickly, then finish scrolling the miscellaneous messages from people who probably didn’t even know I was missing. The last message catches my attention, and I see red immediately. If steam could physically come out of my ears, it would right now.
“What in the holy fucking hell were you thinking?” I shout at Grumpy while jumping to my feet. “Are you insane? Have you completely lost all of your senses? What the actual fucking fuck, Grumpy!”
Maverick swoops in as I step toward Grumpy. He slides his hand around my waist and holds me in place. “Whoa, killer. Let’s not attack anyone today, okay?”
“Are you kidding me right now?” Spinning on my heel, I break Maverick’s hold on me and pin him with a glare. He remains undeterred, with a hand on my side as if ready to pull me back if I go after the old bastard again. “You don’t even know what he did. Where’s your gun? I’ll shoot him myself.”
“Oh, stop yer bitchin’, Tayter-Tot,” Grumpy huffs. He slams his newspaper down on the table and stands. “I’s worried ‘bout yer crazy ass. Sue me fer doin’ everythin’ in ma power ta try ‘n find ya. I called ‘er, I asked if she’d seen ya, ‘n that’s the end of it. She don’t know squat ‘bout nothin’ else, so calm yer tail down.”
“Anyone want to fill us in?” Allistar asks, raising his hand to gain our attention.
“No!” Grumpy and I yell to Allistar at the same time.
His eyes grow wide, and he drops his hand. “Okay, then.”
At the moment, my temper won’t allow me to calmly explain the situation to them. Instead, I drop the subject after one last glower to Grumpy. The logical side of my brain knows he only called her because he didn’t know what else to do when he couldn’t find me. I’d have done the same thing in his position, though I’d never admit that to him. The emotional side of me wants to smack him upside his stupid head for even thinking of calling her.
Debra Lewis isn’t the kind of mother to come running when something happens to her daughter. She would throw me off a cliff if it meant she would get paid in either money or drugs. She hasn’t always been as terrible as she is now. She played the role of mother when I was first born, though it didn’t even last a year. She willingly gave full custody to Grumpy and Grammy once they discovered her neglect. The older I got, the less involved she became. After Grammy died and left her with nothing, she snapped.
The little girl in me would like to think my kidnapping turned her around so she realizes what she missed out on while I was growing up. She would move back to our hometown and get involved in my life in a good and healthy way. She would stop drinking and using drugs. She would tell me she was proud of me and she loved me for the first time. But from the text she sent me, I know none of those things will ever happen. She’s as selfish and cold as ever, maybe even more so now.
Debra: Have you found yourself a rich man and run away with him? I won’t tell Dad if you did, it can be our secret. I sure miss my girl! Give your mama a call.
No question of my safety, no concern for me whatsoever. Her goal has always been and will always be to take, take, take. It’s no coincidence she asked if I found myself a rich man in the same text as telling me she supposedly misses me. Of course, I won’t answer her. She probably forgot all about Grumpy asking if she saw me and the text she sent by now. The message is dated four days ago, and if she hasn’t gotten the money for her next fix from me, she’s surely moved on to finding another source.
“Taylor?” Maverick calling my name breaks me free of my deep thoughts, and I look to him expectantly. He raises his cell phone and waves it slightly. “Marak said he texted you a list of options and hasn’t heard back. Did you get the text?”
When Maverick’s words click into place, I scoop up my phone. After reading the text from my mother, any thought of Marak and food flew out the window. Opening the screen, his name pops up with four unread messages. I scan them over and snort at the contents.
Marak: Okay, they have turkey, ham, or roast beef sandwiches. They have tuna also, but I don’t recommend that. I’m half sure it isn’t real fish.
Marak: If those sound shitty, they have salads. Caesar, chef, and the kind with dried fruit and nuts in it. I have no clue what that one is called. It looks decent, though.
Marak: I hope you’re not being silent because I said they have salad. I know chicks get really weird about that crap. If you want seven sandwiches, I’ll get you seven sandwiches. I don’t care what you eat.
Marak: Not that I don’t care, I do. I thi
nk you should eat a good healthy meal.
“Oh, god, men are so dumb sometimes.” I snicker as I type out a response to him. Maverick and Allistar share quizzical glances, but don’t ask me to elaborate.
Grumpy sulks while clutching his stupid newspaper. He won’t talk to me until he thinks I’ve had enough of the silent treatment, and I won’t talk to him until he speaks first.
Taylor: I’m highly offended by your insinuation I’m fat and need to eat a salad. How rude. That being said, I’ll take a turkey sandwich and a Diet Coke, please.
Roughly five minutes later, Marak walks into the room with his arms loaded with food and drinks. He sets the contents on the counter and spins to face me. “I didn’t mean it like that, I swear. It came out all wrong in the text.”
“Didn’t mean what?” Allistar raises a brow at Marak. “What’d you say?”
“He said I’m fat,” I answer. A little instigation never hurt anyone, right?
Maverick spins on his heel, facing Marak head on. I don’t have a view of Maverick’s face, but by the widening of Marak’s eyes and the step he takes backward, it can’t be good.
I scramble off the bed and pull on Maverick’s arm. He stiffens under my touch, but the second he spots me pulling on his arm, he relaxes. “I’m kidding, Maverick. He only thinks he called me fat, he didn’t really.”
“He... What?” He shakes his head slowly, his brow furrowing.
I hand him my phone, showing him the texts from Marak already pulled up on the screen. Maverick scans them quickly before barking out a surprised laugh. “Jesus, Marak. Sometimes you’re as bad as Syn.”
Marak frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you don’t know when to shut up,” Allistar elaborates while distractedly scanning the messages on my phone Maverick handed him.
“I resent that.” All heads turn to the doorway at Syn’s complaint. “I mean, I resemble it, too. But, mostly, I resent it. I can shut up sometimes, if I need to.”
Allistar rolls his eyes heavily. “You’re not helping yourself, Syn.”
While the men bicker back and forth, I grab my precious Diet Coke from where Marak dropped it on the counter. As an afterthought, I snatch up the wrapped turkey sandwich and sit down on the bed to dig in. While unwrapping the sandwich, I tune back into their conversation.
“Did you ensure someone will be sitting at Taylor’s house at all times until we find this guy?” Maverick’s tone is all business, and my spine stiffens as I wait for Syn’s response.
Syn picks up a bag of chips from Marak’s food pile and pops them open. “Yeah, they’ll have someone outside her place twenty-four seven.”
Maverick simply nods once, and the subject drops, which is perfect timing because the doctor enters the room thirty seconds later. She has a folder in her hands and excitement bubbles in my chest. The idea of being in my home makes sitting still nearly impossible, so I shift repeatedly in my seated position.
“Okay, Taylor, I have your discharge papers here.” She hands the packet to me, pointing out all the fine print and crap no one ever pays attention to. “There’s also a number here for some outpatient counseling if you find you need it. They have a wonderful team of counselors and therapists who will be available to help you and the other girls at any time. Do you have any questions for me?”
“Nope, I’m good.” I jump to my feet and wrap up my half-eaten sandwich. I’ll eat the rest in the car, on my way home.
Dr. Lenny chuckles. “Okay, dear. You’re free to go. Take care of yourself.”
“Thank you, doc.” I gather my things quickly as she strides to Grumpy.
She holds something out to him, and he takes it. “That’s my card. If you need anything or have any questions, call me.”
He blinks, dumbstruck and unable to speak. She giggles and exits the room. Holy shit, she hit on Grumpy. She’s quite a bit younger than him, I think, but she seems nice. Then again, this is Grumpy. He can’t date; That’d be too weird.
Pushing Dr. Lenny and Grumpy aside, I turn to the guys. The only bummer about leaving is the probability I’ll never see Marak, Allistar, Syn, or Maverick again.
Grumpy folds his newspaper under his arm and stands, stretching for a long moment. He grabs my bag and turns toward the guys. “Imma gonna get tha car ‘n bring it ‘round.” He doesn’t make eye contact with me when he speaks or even as he leaves the room, but I know his comment was made for me to hear. He’ll refuse to speak to me directly for a few more hours, probably. Stubborn ol’ bastard. Unfortunately, it means I can’t bug him about Dr. Lenny.
As soon as Grumpy exits the room, Marak speaks up, his eyes on the door Grumpy exited through. “He’s pretty mad, huh?”
“Not really.” I shrug, a smirk tugging at my lips. “He’s a stubborn ass, and he refuses to say he’s sorry when he’s wrong.”
Maverick tilts his head curiously to the side. “Do you say you’re sorry when you’re wrong?”
“I’m never wrong, so I don’t have to say I’m sorry.” The four of them laugh even though I was only sort of joking.
“Trish seems to like him.” Marak grins, and I wrinkle my nose. “Any thoughts on that?”
I shake my head hard. “Not even going there.”
Marak chuckles. “Fair enough. It’s a little odd.”
I shrug and change the subject. “I guess I should get downstairs to Grumpy before he gets any bitchier than he already is.” Everything I had with me went into my bag, so the only things I need to carry are my bottle of Diet Coke, my half eaten sandwich, and my phone and charger, which I shove into my pocket. “Thank you all, for everything. I’m glad I met you guys.”
“I’m sure we’ll see you again, Taylor.” Allistar frowns. “It’s not like we disappear into thin air the moment you walk out the door.”
While the thought of befriending the four, overly sexy men in front of me is thrilling, I halt my enthusiasm before it shows. Their job with me is done. There’s not a reason to come around anymore. They have more important and interesting things to occupy their time with.
Syn steps forward, wrapping his arms around me and hugging me tight to his body. The man smells like fresh rain during a summer storm, and I don’t want him to let me go. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
While pressed against him, words become too difficult to form, so I settle for a small nod. The rest of the guys say their goodbyes quickly and with a few quick side hugs. Although none of them hold me the same way Syn did, and I find myself somewhat disappointed. Maybe I should give Tim a call sooner rather than later. If throwing myself at these four seems like such a good idea, I might really need to get back into dating.
After I make my way to the car, Grumpy remains mute on the ride home, as do I. Part of me feels good about the two of us being back to our old antics. A larger part remains focused on the four hot men I left in the hospital room. If Evelyn was with me, she’d tell me to go out with one of them and have some fun. She isn’t shy about taking sexy men home or allowing sexy men to take her home. She likes fun and isn’t ashamed of it. Michelle, even before she was married, only looked for serious relationships. Her outlook on men and dating was, “If you don’t see yourself spending forever with the guy, why bother with him?”
My take on men and dating is complicated. I can appreciate a good-looking guy and dating can be fun, but men have a hard time keeping my interest. Maybe I’m too picky or high maintenance. While it’s hard for me to decide on what I want, I know what I don’t like and what I don’t want. It turns a lot of guys off for me to be straightforward about it.
Grumpy drops me off at my place, waiting for me to enter my apartment before he drives away. Everything in my apartment is as I left it when I went to work the day I was taken. Even my ladybug beetle sits idly in my driveway, mocking me with her lack of power. The only difference about going home is the cop car sitting on the opposite side of my street. The officer inside has a book in his hands, but on occasion, he glance
s up and scans his surroundings.
With nothing better to do, I sit on my loveseat and watch him for a while. He isn’t nearly as interesting as my SWAT men. Wait... mine? What the hell is wrong with me? The four of them were only doing their job by saving me and checking up on me. We don't even know each other, not really. Even their ages are a mystery to me. They probably all have girlfriends anyway, or wives; though, I might have glanced at a few ring fingers and found them bare. Grumpy never wears his wedding ring when he works on his garage building crap. Over the years he decided to put it on a chain and wears it around his neck instead. Maybe they don't wear theirs to work for safety reasons.
The fact that their relationship statuses interests me is annoying. Sure, they gave me their numbers, except for Syn. But only to use in case of emergencies. At least, I'm pretty sure that's why they did it. No other logical reason comes to mind.
Then, there's Tim. He and I still have a date to go on, and I can't bail on him, even if I sort of want to now. Tim is a great guy, and I don't want to hurt him or make things at work awkward by brushing him off. There’s nothing to lose by going out with him one time.
Mind made up, I grab my phone from the side table and pull up my messages with Tim.
Taylor: Hey, Tim. Some crazy things happened these past few weeks. I haven't been ignoring you, I promise. Maybe we could get a few drinks and talk?
Without thinking too hard about the message, I hit send. Hopefully, a date with Tim will help me forget all about the four sexy men who won't leave my mind.
8
Taylor
A little over a week after getting home, I find myself staring out my window at the newest cop sitting in his patrol vehicle across the street. The first guy read books all day. The second one kept a Gameboy in his hands, and if the angry scowl was any indication, he lost every game he played. About five officers rotate shifts, and currently, Gameboy guy is switching shifts with one of the newer guys.
On a normal weekday, I'd immerse myself in studies and work. When I called my boss, I learned Grumpy didn’t get me fired. My boss knew the bare minimum of what happened and suggested I take time from work to regroup and rest. He assured me it wasn't a big issue for me to take some time off, and my job will be there when I'm ready to come back. He agreed to give me an advance on my vacation time to avoid dipping into my meager savings.