by B. B. Hamel
“Your choice. You’re the local here.”
He laughed. “Alright, I have an idea. Ever been to the Reading Terminal Market?”
I shook my head. I had heard of it, but I never bothered going. “No, never been.”
“We’ll go there then. One of my favorite places in the city.”
I loved when he showed me around. He was always going on about the history of the city, talking about different places we could go and their significance. It showed an entirely different level to him, something completely different from his meathead appearance. He genuinely loved the city and history, and he sometimes got pretty nerdy about it.
We dressed, him in his usual cut off jean shorts and tight black T-shirt, and me in high waisted shorts and an old, vintage T-shirt with a light beige linen cardigan over top. I was excited to go out in public with him; I realized we hadn’t been around other people together yet. We had been in the bar and on the Wharf, but we hadn’t been around regular people, living a normal life. Part of me yearned for normal. I wanted to be able to go to dinner with him whenever I wanted without worrying about a gang of Irish mobsters trying to kill us. Still, the excitement of being with him was beyond worth it.
As we walked along Market, through the midday crowds, passing men in business suits, kids in street wear, and homeless guys with signs, he talked about the history of Reading Terminal.
“In the early days of the city, there were a lot less buildings everywhere. Open air markets were really popular, and people went to them for their usual stuff.”
“Are there any left?”
“The city decided they were unhygienic, which maybe they were. To replace them, the city built closed markets, like Reading Terminal. People could rent out space, and apparently some of the guys still selling there are descended from the original stall owners.”
“Is that really true?” I couldn’t tell when he was bullshitting me sometimes.
He shrugged. “That’s what people say. I have no idea, honestly.”
“Look at you, Mister ‘Knows Everything About the City.’ Finally something you didn’t research.”
He grinned at me. “Can’t be perfect I guess.”
“What else do you know about it?”
“Well, it used to have a big refrigerated floor for the vendors to store stuff in, but they dismantled it in the 50s. Apparently, back before the suburbs became a thing, Reading Terminal was shipping food all across the country.”
“Why don’t they anymore?”
“Basically, the Terminal started to decline throughout the 60s and 70s because everyone was moving out to the suburbs, and it wasn’t until the mid-80s that they decided to revamp it. Now, it’s basically a historical landmark, but back then it was just another marketplace.”
“That’s pretty cool I guess. What’s so special about it?”
“You’ll see. Some of the best stuff is from the Pennsylvania Dutch and the Amish.”
“Seriously, there are Amish?”
He grinned. “Oh yeah. They make some awesome apple butter and pies.”
We moved through the streets, and he continued nerding out about the history. I was surprised all over again at how knowledgeable he was, especially for someone who spent much of his life outside of the school system, living with gangs and doing drugs. He was a naturally curious person, and although he was high most of the time, he said he was constantly reading, and sometimes stole history books from the public library. He felt bad about that now, but I couldn’t blame him.
We made our way across Broad Street toward 12th, where the Terminal intersected with Arch. There were groups of people all over as we walked by the city district courthouse. We entered into a large tunnel with the local railroad tracks above it, and walked into the Terminal.
It was packed. There were people milling about everywhere, and stalls covered pretty much every square inch of the floor space. The vendors were selling everything from fresh fish and meats to produce. There were spice vendors, candle makers, clothing sellers, and more. People sold old-fashioned ice cream, jars of jam and honey, and even wooden furniture. There were several restaurants, including a classic diner specializing in home-style farm cooking. I made a mental note of that place, and would try and get Rex to take us there later. It was incredible, the sheer amount of different people, all moving around the same space, buying food and whatever else.
“So what are we here for?” I asked him.
He moved closer to me and I felt his fingers slip into mine.
“We’re going to have some Dutch apple pie.
I laughed. “Seriously? How very American of you.”
“You’re laughing now, but you’ll see. It’s the best shit here.”
He led me to a stall covered in pies. There were all kinds of pies, and some I didn’t recognize. The people standing behind the counter all were dressed simply, the girls in bonnets and old dresses, and the men in white shirts with black vests and black pants. The men all had facial hair, and the boys were obviously trying to grow some as well, although they mostly looked scraggly and dirty.
“Two slices of Dutch apple pie please,” Rex said. The girl nodded and moved off. He looked back at me, and leaned in close.
“The Amish, as they live and breathe,” he said.
“They don’t look weird at all.”
He laughed hard and shook his head. “Of course not, they’re completely normal.”
“Yeah, but they don’t use electricity.”
He shrugged. “Nope, they don’t. But they’re still people.”
“Yeah, I see what you mean.” I had always imagined that the Amish were weird, mean people who scorned all modern technology, but these men and women were perfectly pleasant and happy. They laughed and joked with each other, and smiled at everyone who passed by.
Soon, the girl returned with our slices, and Rex paid for them. He thanked the girl then led me off toward a section of chairs and tables. We took a seat.
“Here’s to kicking some ass,” Rex said, holding up his fork. I tapped his with mine then we dug in.
It was the most delicious pie I had ever eaten. I wasn’t a huge pie fan, but that was rich and sweet and spicy, all cinnamon and sugar and apple mixed perfectly. The crust was crunchy and soft all at once. It was incredible.
“Holy shit, this is amazing,” I said between mouthfuls.
Rex grinned but didn’t answer, too busy demolishing his piece to respond.
We ate the last of our pie in silence then leaned back in our chairs. I felt stuffed.
“Pretty cool place,” I said.
“Yeah, it is. You should see it after work lets out, though. Gets packed.”
It was about 2pm in the afternoon, and the crowd was still pretty heavy. I couldn’t even imagine it during the evening rush. The lights were dim and the colors were vibrant, and I felt completely at peace and content sitting with Rex. That was the calmest we had been together since the beginning of everything, and I was savoring our time.
I turned to speak to Rex, but my breath caught in my throat when I saw his face. His eyes were hard and his face was serious. He was looking out across the crowd, and I could see the anger creeping into his expression. The swelling around his jaw and brow was much better, but the bruises were still yellowish purple, and that, mixed with the anger, made him look terrifying.
“What’s wrong?” I finally said. His attention snapped to me.
“Somebody is following us.”
That hit me directly in the gut. I wanted to look around and find whoever it is, and started to turn in my seat.
“Don’t,” Rex said, before I could move far. I looked back at his face and turned back into my chair.
“Who is it?” I said.
“One of Michael’s people.” His gaze returned to my face. “When they came to you, what did you tell them?”
“Nothing, I swear. I didn’t know where you were.”
He shook his head. “I know that. But about us, di
d you tell them we were over?”
I nodded, terrified.
“Fuck,” he said softly. “We should get out of here.”
“What’s happening?”
“They know we’re together again, which means you’re right back in danger.”
“Shit,” I said quietly.
“Come on, let’s move.” He stood and I followed him. He moved quickly toward the exit, long strides eating up the space. I had to hurry to stay close.
“I’m such a fucking idiot,” he said once we were outside. I slipped up next to him and grabbed his hand. I felt him squeeze my fingers.
“It’s not your fault, remember. Stop being such an asshole.”
He looked at me, angry. I stared back defiantly.
“You’re cute as shit when you’re trying to be tough,” he said.
“Fuck you, Rex, this is serious.”
“Yeah, I know it is.”
“What do we do now?”
“Now we go back to your place and wait it out there.”
I sighed as we continued walking. After a block, Rex quickly pulled me into an empty storefront and slipped back against the door.
“Hold on a second,” he said, then stuck his head out and looked back down the street.
“Is he there?”
“I can’t see him, but he’s definitely still following. He might have switched out with someone else when he realized we spotted him.”
We waited a few more minutes then started walking again. My heart was pounding and I was terrified, but I also felt safe with my hand in his. I knew that with him by my side, nobody would hurt me. No matter what happened, no matter who came for us, Rex would protect me. I wished I knew what was going through his head, but based on his serious expression, I could’ve guessed. I knew he blamed himself and was angry that he dragged me into that situation. I wished I could explain to him how alive I felt when he was around, even though he put me in danger. I wished I could tell him without sounding absolutely insane, but it was the truth. I loved hiding in doorways with him, afraid of being followed. I loved his body and his sense of duty. I loved how strong he was, and how protective he was.
As we walked back toward my apartment, my heart hammered in my chest. I knew that soon everything would be over, for good or for worse. In the meantime, despite the danger and the violence lurking behind every corner, I enjoyed being near him, enjoyed speeding through the city together. I imagined we were the center of the world, and everyone else on the street dropped away except for us. We were the most important people, and the streets were there for us. I was terrified, but I was alive and breathing and excited, and couldn’t wait for what came next.
Chapter Eighteen
We returned to my apartment and locked the door. Rex paced nervously around the room until I managed to distract him. Fortunately for me, at that point he was healed enough for some more vigorous activities.
The night slipped by that way, alternating between paranoid fear and passion. I was losing myself in his body, his finely sculpted chest and his incredibly attractive grin. I felt like such a cliché, but I needed him. Eventually, we fell asleep, his arms wrapped around me.
We woke up early the next morning, groggy from our over active night. Neither of us spoke as I went into the kitchen area and started cooking eggs. The next night was the big fight, and it was our last full day together. I thought about calling Amy, but knew better. Nothing good would come from telling her about it. Plus, it was too late for her and Shane to do anything to help. The best thing I could do for Rex was believe in him and to try to keep him as happy and content as possible. I didn’t know what kind of mental state he was in, but I assumed he was anxious.
I smiled at him as he climbed out of bed, his hair a mess, but still looking glorious in only his tight black boxer briefs. He grinned at me as he walked into the bathroom. I heard the shower turn on as the eggs began to fry. I scraped the pan and shuffled it, letting their yellow goodness fluff up and firm. I was a bad cook, but I could make scrambled eggs at least. I thought about Rex in the shower, and the image of his soaking wet body, shining clean and muscled, made me excited. I thought about giving up on the eggs and joining him, but decided against it. Neither of us had any alone time since the night he appeared at my door almost a week ago, and I figured he wanted at least the few minutes it took him to shower to himself.
As I jostled the eggs again, I heard something knock at the door. Startled, I took a step closer. Suddenly, the door burst open, followed by three huge guys all in black.
The door’s splinters flew at me, and I reflexively threw my hands up to protect my face. The first man through the door grabbed me by the shoulders and shoved me back toward the door while the two other men fanned out into the apartment. I could hardly think or react. I tried to scream, but the man shoved his hand over my mouth. It all happened in less than five seconds.
“If you scream, I’ll fucking kill you and your boyfriend,” he said. I saw he held a gun in his other hand. I nodded, eyes wide with terror.
The second man through the door motioned back toward the bathroom. The man holding me moved his hand from my mouth and pulled a black bag from his back pocket, jostling us out into the hall.
“Put it over your head.”
I stared at him, not comprehending.
“Do it now, bitch, or you both die.”
I pulled the bag over my head. The world went completely black.
I heard muffled steps, and I was pushed further down the hallway. The man held me by the shoulders and roughly moved me down toward the steps. I stumbled along, terrified and blind, barely able to keep myself upright. I heard the two other guys following.
“Hurry the fuck up, Clutch,” one man said.
“Fuck off, she’s stumbling like a fucking drunk asshole.”
“He’s going to be after us soon, hurry the fuck up.”
“Pick the bitch up.”
I suddenly felt shoulders hit me in my knees, and then lift me up. I muffled a scream as I was flipped upside down, and I could tell one of the men had picked me up onto his back. The blood rushed to my head, making me dizzy. We were moving pretty quickly, and it couldn’t have been more than twenty seconds by the time we hit the stairway.
“Alright hurry the fuck up, Spud.”
I felt myself bouncing against the man’s back as they ran down the stairs. I silently prayed Rex would stay away, back in the shower. They had guns, and although I was sure Rex could handle these guys normally, he couldn’t stop bullets.
Soon, we reached the landing of the stairs.
“Go, go, go,” one of the guys said. We pushed out through the front door, and I felt the cool outside air on my body. I was wearing short shorts and a crappy old sweater, not nearly enough to keep myself comfortable, but I hadn’t exactly had time to change. They moved down the stoop and I felt myself banging against the man again. I heard him hit the pavement and they started running.
“Throw her in.”
“She’s fucking heavy.”
“Fuck you,” I said under my breath. I wasn’t that heavy. Before I could protest more, I heard the door to a van open, and I was pushed inside. I heard another man follow me in, and the two front doors opened. They closed again, the engine turned on, and then we were moving.
“Hands straight out, bitch.”
I put my hands out, still blind. My head was reeling from being carried upside down. I felt a rope wrap around my wrists, tight.
“That fucking hurts,” I said.
“Shut up.” He tightened the rope further then knotted it off.
“Lay back on your side.” I complied and felt the van’s rough plastic bottom against my face.
“Cross your ankles.” I complied and he wrapped another rope around them. He tightened it, then I heard him sit back.
Blind and tied, I lay on the floor of the van, alone and terrified. I wanted to cry and scream, but I knew that would only make things worse for Rex. I had to keep my coo
l.
“Where are you taking me?” I said.
“Shut the fuck up,” the man in the back said.
I struggled against the ropes, then lay back, limp. I knew there was nothing I could do but wait for Rex to come find me. He would find me, and he would win. I had to believe in him; otherwise, I was done for. The van kept moving through traffic, slowing down and speeding up, and my body was thrown around at its whims. I had no idea where we were going, but I had recognized the name “Clutch.” I knew that was one of Michael’s guys, so I figured we were headed back to Drake’s. I didn’t know what Michael planned on doing with me, if he was going to kill me to get back at Rex or if he was going to use me as bait, but I was terrified.
The kidnapping happened faster than I had thought possible. They were obviously professionals, and moved fast and quiet. I doubted Rex even heard anything, which was why he hadn’t gotten involved. That was one small victory, at least. With Rex still out there, I had a chance. If he had tried to rescue me and had gotten shot, everything would be over. I’d be as good as dead.
As I bumped along the hard, rough floor of the van, I silently began to cry. I kept it as quiet as possible, but the tears forced themselves up through my chest. I was terrified, blind, and tied up, and I had no idea what was going to happen to me.
Chapter Nineteen
Finally, the van stopped. I heard the men climb out of the car and slide open the back door. Rough hands grabbed me and pulled me, and then I felt myself lifted again, upside down.
“Careful with her,” a new voice said. “How’d it go down?”
“No problems,” the guy holding me said.
“Good. Put her downstairs.” I thought I recognized the voice, but I couldn’t place it. I didn’t have any more time to think about it though, because the guy carrying me started moving again. We went through a door, down some stairs, and into a damp smelling area, probably a basement. They placed me down on a cold concrete floor. I guessed we were in Drake’s, but I wasn’t sure.
