The Escape: Soren's Saga

by Nicky James

  Ash walked close enough our shoulders brushed together, and I knew if I allowed it, he’d have clung to my hand as well. At the bus stop, the weight of his gaze was penetrating.

  “Wanna talk about it?”

  “What?” I mumbled, irritation simmering to the surface. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “You’ve been walking around in a fog all week. Tonight, you were a little snippy with the customers. Or am I imagining it?”

  I peered down the road. The headlights of the bus grew brighter as they approached. “I don’t know, just wasn’t in the mood tonight. Got a lot on my mind.”

  Ash pivoted on his feet and moved in front of me, breaking my view of the oncoming bus.

  “It’s not just tonight. Donny is watching you, Sor. He notices everything. You don’t want to piss him off.”

  I stared deep into his eyes, their color washed away with the night and leaving them even darker pits, brimming with concern. Forcing a smile, I adjusted my backpack and moved so I could keep watching the bus. “It’s just a funk. It’ll pass. Stop worrying.”

  Only, the funk had been getting worse, not better.

  Ash knew enough to drop it and as the bus pulled up to the curb, he grazed my arm with a gentle touch, making me turn. He smiled softly.

  Ash was too innocent and soft for our lifestyle. How he’d lasted two years in back, I had no idea. When Donny had hired him, he was a barely sixteen-year-old runaway, begging to earn a buck so he wouldn’t starve on the streets. Donny kept him busy doing odd jobs until he could serve and dance legally—which was only four months earlier, but the backroom carried its own set of rules, and like all of us, that started when Donny decided.

  For the longest time, Ash lived in one of the rooms above the club where Donny could, “keep an eye on him”. When Ash had shown promise, Donny found him a shithole bachelor apartment and moved him in, covering rent and most bills, leaving him to pay the extras. It was what Donny did. Almost every one of his dancers were under his thumb one way or another from a very early age. Most of us rejected by our parents and tossed into the street. He took care of us, in a way, but it came with a hefty price. It kept us from wandering elsewhere and ensured we behaved.

  I’d avoided it for a long time. When I’d run away from home, my brother had taken me in, but last year, things had gone array and I’d moved in with Ash.

  We took our usual spot at the back of the bus. I spread out across the seats, leaned against the window on one side, while Ash did the same on the other side so our feet crossed in the middle. There was no one else riding, and the driver was familiar with the pair of us, we didn’t need to pay attention to ring for our stop.

  The bus rumbled along in the night. Ordinarily, Ash would talk my ear off, but I must have given him hint enough that I wasn’t in a small-talk kind of mood. After a silent twenty minutes, the bus slowed and came to a stop at the curb two blocks from our apartment.

  We thanked the driver and hopped down the back stairs. The pizza shop was a street down and we both headed in that direction, still not speaking. As we closed in on our destination, Ash sighed heavily.

  “I think we need new jobs.”

  After having not spoken in nearly a half an hour, the statement rang loud down the empty streets and made me laugh. Ash was so naïve.

  “What? We can’t do this forever. Don’t you have aspirations?”

  “Sure, but I call them daydreams or wishful-thinking, not aspirations. I’ve never done anything but bartend and dance, what exactly do I put on a resume? Sucks a mean cock? Can effectively flirt, grind, and carry a tray of shooters without spilling anything all at the same time? I’m sure employers are eagerly lining up, just waiting for me to run in their front doors.”

  “Tactfully worded, we could transfer those skills onto a resume.” Ash held open the door to the shop so I could enter.

  “We make decent money. Rent and such is covered. We’d have to move and work twice the hours doing a shitty regular job to make up the difference. We’d never make it.”

  Ash played with his tongue ring as he thought. He knew I was right. Once a month we had the same discussion and it always ended with us staying right where we were at. Last month he’d suggested we both return to school and apply for student loans. I’d put my foot down and told him if he wanted to put himself in debt, that was his choice, but I wouldn’t do it. Besides, I never did well in school and had no future prospects outside dancing and bartending. Why waste money on uncertainties?

  Ash decided to order a foot-long pizza sub and I ordered my usual slice, the deluxe with all the funky toppings. It made Ash’s nose curl. He was a cheese and pepperoni kind of guy and my combination of items were apparently gag-worthy. Once we paid for our meals, we headed back out into the night and turned down a back alley toward home. It was a shortcut that led in behind the pizza shop and eventually exited onto our street, a few buildings down from our own.

  I walked with my head down, the growing aversion to my job weighed heavy on my mind. I didn’t know what I would do about it, but faking it was becoming harder.

  Ash bumped my shoulder, drawing me out of my head and slowed his pace, making me glance up. Ahead, parked directly in front of our building, were two police cars with their lights flashing.

  “Ten bucks it’s the Carmichael’s again,” I said.

  “Nope, I say it’s the freak on two, the one who talks to himself and was going all Samurai swordsman on the railing last week with a broom.”

  Without taking my eyes off the cop cars, I stuck my hand out to Ash who promptly shook it. Our building was home to a plethora of interesting characters and the police were called in a minimum of once a month for one reason or another. Guessing why had become a game between Ash and me.

  Without another word, we continued down the road toward home.

  Chapter Two

  REMY

  The voices coming from within the lobby grew louder the longer the team was inside. Whoever the deranged man was they were trying to control, he seemed to be escalating not calming.

  I leaned against the blacked-out SUV and crossed my arms over my chest. It wasn’t exactly how I foresaw my first night back in the country. The half-drank coffee I’d left behind at the all-night diner was still fresh on my mind, and I regretted tagging along on the call, wishing I’d at least asked the waitress to put it in a to-go cup.

  I yawned and scanned the dark streets. It had been twenty-seven hours since I’d last slept, and I didn’t even know how I was standing anymore. Movement across the main road and down a half a block caught my eye, and I squinted into the darkness.

  Two people approached and only when they passed under a street light could I tell they were two young men. Both had backpacks slung over shoulders and each carried plastic bags in their hands filled with what looked to be take-out. They were headed in my direction, eyes scanning the building and the flashing lights on top of the two other marked police cars.

  I glanced back to the glass doors which entered into the lobby. Two officers stood outside talking, while another two were inside dealing with the man who’d lost his marbles. The crazy-man currently brandished a mop, and raved about something coming to get him. If I had to guess, I would have said he suffered from mental health issues.

  Approaching feet on the pavement made me turn back to the two men. They’d crossed the boulevard and stepped down onto the turn around where the emergency vehicles were parked.

  They didn’t seem fazed by the commotion and looked as though they intended on walking right into the middle of it. Even though it wasn’t my place, I pushed off the car and held a hand up, stopping them.

  “I wouldn’t go in there just yet, if that’s where you were headed. Give the officers a minute to at least control the situation.”

  Two heads swung toward me simultaneously, surprise on their faces. They’d been so caught up in the goings on inside they hadn’t even noticed me.

  The brown-haired man with
the pierced eyebrow spoke first. “Is it Samurai Sam again?”

  “Samurai who?” I asked.

  “Crazy man from two.”

  It was the blond who answered that time. He stood behind his friend, and in the half-second we’d been conversing, his shoulders squared and his posture stiffened.

  The lighting at the front entrance of the building wasn’t bright, but his blue eyes radiated when he pierced me with an unimpressed glare.

  I wasn’t quite sure what had brought on such a negative reaction, when all I’d intended was to save them the trouble of being asked to wait outside.

  His friend on the other hand, smiled softly and his dark eyes took a passing moment to examine me head to toe. It was intended to be subtle, unfortunately, he failed. When his eyes returned to my face, his cheeks reddened and his gaze turned to the building.

  “I’m not sure who crazy man from two is, but if I were to guess, I’d say yes, considering he is rambling about conspiracies and people who are coming for him.”

  The brown-haired man whipped around to the blond and smacked his shoulder. “Ha! I told you. You owe me ten bucks.”

  Blond man rolled his eyes and the corner of his mouth wanted to curve into a smile, but he fought it off and his stoic, cold countenance remained. He watched me with an eye of skepticism and distrust. I didn’t break his gaze and offered him a smile to let him know I wasn’t a threat.

  We still examined one another when brown-haired man flipped around to me again. “We call him Samurai Sam because he always arms himself with a make-shift weapon and sword fights with all the inanimate objects in the lobby. I don’t think Mrs. Scott in one-oh-three likes it. She’s always calling it in. We think he’s schizophrenic or something and gets a little weird when he forgets to take his—”

  Blond elbowed him in the side, cutting his words off and again, rolled his eyes to the heavens. I couldn’t contain my amused smile. His indignation bordered on cute which was probably the exact opposite of what he intended.

  “I’m sure the nice officer doesn’t give a shit what we think. Come on. I’m hungry. Let’s go eat on the curb while they take care of this.”

  “Actually, I’m not—”

  “Giuseppe!” All three of us swung our heads toward the front entrance where my brother, Alessio, had called out to me. “Smettere di essere un flirt.” He winked and laughed. “Grab me another pen from the glove box, would ya?”

  “Culo,” I said under my breath. I’m not flirting. Turning back to the two men, I dipped my head in an apology while smoothing a hand over the back of my close cropped, dark brown hair. “If you’ll excuse me. Go ahead and enjoy your food, I’m sure this will be taken care of soon.”

  Blond turned, intent on heading back to the street curb, but his friend idled in place. His smile remained fixed on me and his eyes lingered.

  “I like your accent,” he said almost dreamily.

  I sighed internally, knowing my extended vacation home was likely the cause. Two months in Italy with the family had made it thick on my tongue. It would take months to dwindle again.

  Blond snagged his friend’s arm in a vice grip and dragged him away. When their backs were turned, I couldn’t help taking an extra second to scan the testy blond. His inner fire simmered under the surface, while his friend had been noticeably calmer. I wondered if they were together and if the irritation was jealousy to a degree, since the young brown-haired man had been overly attentive.

  At the curb by the road, blond peered over his shoulder. Our gazes locked and I couldn’t help giving him another warm smile. There was something about him that drew my attention. A self-assuredness or a confidence maybe. He was feisty, I could tell.

  “Giuseppe, seriously, a pen!”

  Breaking eye contact, I swung back around and pulled open the car door. Figures I would hammer in Alessio’s point and be ogling after the men instead of responding to his request.

  I pulled open the glove box and searched inside until I came up with a ballpoint. I slammed the car door and closed the distance to the front entrance where Alessio waited. I compulsively straightened my polo shirt as I walked, brushing the wrinkles free with a swipe of my palm. I felt more disheveled than I probably appeared.

  Travelling often left me with a sense of being bedraggled, even if I wasn’t. I needed a shower. Desperately. The overwhelming urgency had peaked hours ago and I’d needed to shut my brain off or go crazy thinking about all that I’d come in contact with that day. My skin crawled at the mere thought. I hated the sensation of being dirty.

  Alessio’s eyebrow rose as I approached. “Making friends, fratello?”

  “Lay off. I was just advising them to wait outside until you guys are finished. You’re welcome.”

  “And you weren’t ogling after them?”

  Our dark gazes met and held. Alessio never let an opportunity to annoy me pass. Especially when it had to do with attractive young men who might have caught my eye. My parents may turn their nose at my sexual preferences, but that was why I kept an ocean between us. Alessio always had my back, but it didn’t stop him from tormenting me every chance he got.

  “Don’t you have a job to do?”

  Alessio laughed and smacked my shoulder before retreating inside. I shoved my hands in the pockets of my dark jeans and returned to his unmarked car. Checking the time on my phone, I sighed at the late hour. I knew agreeing to a coffee with my brother had been a bad idea. I should have had him drop me off at home and gone to bed. At the rate I was going, I’d sleep half of the following day just trying to catch up.

  Back against the car, I picked at my manicured nails while subtly glancing in the direction of the two young men. They sat close to one another while they ate, heads together, talking quietly. Every so often the brown-haired one snuck a look in my direction. In those moments, I focused more intently on my nails until he looked away.

  If I were to peg an age on them, I’d have guessed young twenties, although the brown-haired man looked possibly even younger. Concerning, considering he was definitely not being shy about his interest. Although it was also somewhat flattering that at thirty-five I could still catch the eye of younger men.

  Man, not men. The blond had done nothing more than scowl.

  A commotion at the front doors to the building made me avert my attention. Alessio and his partner, Ricky, guided Samurai Sam by the arms out the door and toward one of the police cars. He walked willingly, although he scanned the night with frantic eyes the minute he was outdoors. His trust diminished every step he took away from the safety of inside. His muscles tensed as he pulled against the restraint.

  At the police car, they helped him in the backseat and slammed the door shut. Alessio talked to his partner a while longer. The two men who’d been guarding the door joined them. As they finished talking, I pushed off the car. I’d been given the perfect excuse to chat with the two young men again. I hated that Alessio was right. My actions had turned from good Samaritan to creepy old guy, itching to impress two young, attractive men. Shameful.

  Running a hand over my hair and smoothing out my shirt as I approached, I considered engaging them in further discussion. Perhaps prying more information out of them; like their names for starters. It had been a lot of years since I’d played the single guy game.

  They stopped their conversation when I approached, and both pairs of eyes lifted to mine. One set of blue the other brown.

  “I just wanted to let you know, you are probably good to head inside now. They’ve removed this Samurai Sam.”

  Brown-hair craned his head and looked where the team of officers stood by the patrol car. Blond stood and urged his friend up.

  “Thanks,” he mumbled with as much sentiment as he could, considering he still held himself stiff at my presence.

  “So,” I wasn’t sure where to begin a conversation, “you two work late or are you just night owls?”

  “Oh, we work downtown at—” Blond yanked on brown-haired man’s arm, hal
ting him and bringing a confused look to his friend’s face. There was weariness in blond’s eyes as he dragged his friend toward the front doors of the building, not letting him finish his sentence.

  “Nice to meet you, officer,” the brown-haired guy called over his shoulder.

  I sighed. I’m not a police officer. They were already too far away to bother correcting him. Not like it mattered. Friendly chit-chat was apparently not in the cards. I wasn’t getting names so feisty blond would just remain a mystery.

  As they entered the building, the blond gave me one last distrustful glance and disappeared out of sight. Again, I wondered what I’d done to make him so uncomfortable.

  With defeat, I returned to the car. That time, I got in, leaned back, and closed my eyes to rest as I waited for my brother to finish up. I just wanted to go home.

  It was another half an hour before the driver’s side door opened and Alessio got in.

  “Sorry about that. So many nights of peace and quiet while on shift, I thought we’d have time for a coffee.”

  “No worries, but I need a shower and my bed.”

  Alessio started the engine and followed the patrol cars back onto the street. From there, we turned in the opposite direction, toward the west end of town and my apartment.

  “Make new friends tonight?” Alessio adjusted himself in his seat and dashed a look in the rear-view mirror. His face split into his usual amused smirk, the same one that told me he was prepared to tease.

  “Why do you always mistake my kindness for flirting?”

  “Because your kindness is always flirting.”

  “It’s not.”

  Alessio laughed, but didn’t antagonize me further. “Have you talked to Cole?”

  “Not since I left, hopefully two months away will be hint enough that I’m not taking him back.”

  Alessio braked at a red light and tapped on the steering wheel as he waited. “And what if he shows up again? Are you going to cave?”