by Sophia Gray
I lean on the counter, facing her. “You should know why he can’t. I mean, you’ve lived here your whole life.”
“Yeah, but I never heard of any rules which state members can’t be here. Just the opposite, really. They show their faces much more often than we’d like.”
I notice how she uses the word “we.” I never thought of her as being part of the town, not in that way. She’s young, vibrant, hip. I thought she was more open-minded than this. I guess I was naïve about a lot of things. But I know she’s my friend, and I can trust her. I need that right now.
“You wouldn’t know if there was any, you know, club rule stating they could only come to town so often.”
“I don’t think so,” Carly says, sipping a cup of tea. “Honestly, when you first said Christopher couldn’t come in, I assumed it had something to do with Michelle. There was an awful lot of drama when she died. I mean a lot of it. We thought it was crazy when the police were looking to close in on the gun trade. Oh, brother. That was nothing compared to what went down after Michelle’s murder.”
“Such as what?”
“They were all under suspicion. The police used it as an opportunity to get a closer look at the club. Bad publicity. Very bad. It was probably exactly what the cops needed, when you think about it.”
“You mean they needed a reason to get close, because they weren’t getting anywhere waiting for evidence of illegal guns being bought and sold.”
“Exactly.” Carly nods emphatically. “Michelle was just the thing. It gave them a chance to question everyone involved, right down to the most random fangirl. Everyone. Rumors flew for months.”
“It all came down to Christopher at the end of the day, though. Right?”
Carly nods again. “Right. As soon as they announced the caliber bullet used? Forget it. Case closed, as far as the court of public opinion was concerned.”
I shake my head. “Maybe it’s a matter of Christopher not coming to town because he brought so much bad publicity to the club, then.”
“That was my assumption, yeah. I’ve always had the impression he’s not closely affiliated with the club anymore, too. Maybe if he were, they’d be more willing to have his back.”
I think about this. That makes sense, doesn’t it? They’re shunning him, just as much as the town is. Oh, he’s so alone. I wish he would call back.
I hear a noise outside. My head turns automatically. Carly smiles, a little sadly.
“You’re waiting for him, aren’t you?”
I nod, miserable. I can’t deny it.
“Why don’t you go to see him instead of waiting for him to call you? Take matters into your own hands. You have the right. I mean, it’s your life. Isn’t it?”
She has a point. Why can’t I go to him? What’s the worst that could happen? He could throw me off his land. Big deal. I’d leave if he wanted me to. I know he wouldn’t hurt me. I know more than ever he’s not capable of that.
“I guess I will,” I agree. “Once we close up. I refuse to leave you holding the bag. I’ve done enough of that lately.”
“It’s okay,” she says, waving a hand. “What else would I be doing? Nothing. I love coming here.”
I smile. She’s such a rare treasure. “Then maybe you should leave early. You handled the entire rush by yourself today.”
“That wasn’t such a big deal either. Customers know when I’m here by myself, they need to calm the hell down and wait their turn. I don’t go for impatience. I’ll deliberately go slower if you give me a hard time.” I laugh. She can get away with that. She’s known them her entire life.
“So you’re staying? That’s what you’re telling me?” She nods. “Why do I feel like you’re guarding me somehow?”
“I’m not!”
“Yes, you are. What’s up? Do you think I’m in trouble or something?”
Her eyes cloud over. “Not in trouble. Just…you need a little time to recover from the stuff that people were saying in here earlier today.”
We haven’t gone into this yet—in fact, I’d forgotten entirely. “Right. What were they saying?”
“Oh, come on…”
“You can tell me!”
“People always say that, until they hear.”
“Wow. Is it that bad?”
She shakes her head. “Not terrible,” she says, “but not very nice.”
“Please. I think I have the right to know what they were saying.”
“Amanda…you can’t un-hear things like this. I don’t want it to color your opinion of the people here. They’re genuinely great people. You’ve said it yourself a million times. It’s just they’ve been living with this club hanging over their heads for a long time. They tend to jump to conclusions because, let’s face it, there’s not much you can put past those guys. There’s literal proof of the things they’ve done.”
“I get it,” I tell her. “I’ll take it with a grain of salt.”
“Okay.” She takes a deep breath, looks at the ceiling. “The main thing I heard was a ‘still waters run deep’ joke. You know. This whole time, everyone’s been wondering about you. Why you don’t date, why you’re so quiet. Such a pretty girl, why doesn’t she have a boyfriend? Now it’s, oh, because she likes bad boys. Who’d have imagined that from her? Still waters run deep. You know, with the wink and the nudge. The rolled eyes. It was kind of stupid, especially after the first or second time I heard it.”
“That’s it?” This seems tame considering the way she built it up.
“Yeah, I mean, with different variations every time. See, one version of the story was he spent the night. Another is you two have been shacking up together since you moved here. There are a dozen shades of gray in between. Get it?”
“I get it,” I say, my voice grim. “Well, let them say anything to me. I’ll very firmly but politely put them in their place.”
“Amanda…” Carly looks concerned.
I hold up a hand to stop her protests. “Listen. They need to know the sort of person he is. I’m not just talking out of my ass here either. I’m not some lovesick schoolgirl. Facts are facts. He saved my life. He saved me more than once, honestly.” My face clouds over as I remember the way it felt last night. I was so scared. Christopher came and made it all better.
“What’s wrong?” Carly stands, walking around the counter. My memories are clouding my mind at this point. “What are you talking about? More than once—what does that mean?”
I look at her, sizing her up. I’ve trusted her before. Can I trust her again? Then I remember how good it felt to finally get my past off my chest when I confessed everything to Christopher. There’s shame in secrets. Once those secrets are out in the open, the shame is gone. You might even wonder why you were ashamed in the first place.
“Sit down,” I tell her. “I’ll pour you another tea. I have a story to tell you.”
Chapter 27
Carly has tears in her eyes. I’ve told her everything, every last detail. Most of the time, my eyes have been on my coffee cup. Some of the memories are still pretty raw, pretty painful. Like that last night. The last time he hit me. The time I decided was the last time.
“I can’t believe you’ve been carrying this around inside you for so long,” Carly says quietly. “I can’t believe you’ve been walking around with this in your heart. You poor thing.” She reaches across the table, squeezing my hand.
“It’s okay,” I tell her.
“It’s not! You went through hell. Now…now I guess I understand a little more. Why you weren’t dating. Honestly? I used to question that myself. Why such a nice, pretty person didn’t have a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend, whatever. Why you were alone.”
“Now you know.” I shrugged. “It happened. It happens to a lot of people. We just don’t talk about it. Christopher was the first person I told.”
“Why did you tell him?”
“Because…he found me. Lucas.”
Carly’s rocked to her core. She covers her mouth
with both hands. “Oh, no! I can’t believe it!”
“He was texting me, sending me messages on social media. He’s insane, point-blank.”
“Uh, yeah. He sounds that way. When’s the last time he reached out to you?”
I look over at the wall behind the coffee machines. There’s that article, framed. Right where I hung it the day I opened the place. I point to it, explaining what I got in the mail yesterday. Why I called Christopher, why I didn’t come in this morning.
“Jesus. You should have called the police, too!”
“I wasn’t thinking clearly. Honestly, he just happened to call me a few minutes after I opened the mail. I was desperate. I needed him to protect me.”
“And he did.”
“He did. He came running.”
“Oh…” Carly’s eyes light up. “Even though he’s not supposed to be in town?”
I nod. Now she gets it. “You can see, then, can’t you? Why I feel the way I feel? I can’t turn my back on him. Within minutes, he was at my door. In the house. Inspecting every last inch, just so I would feel safe. Even the crawlspace.” We giggle. It’s so nice to have a girlfriend to talk these things out with. “I was too afraid to come in to work today,” I explain. “It was too raw, too fresh.”
“Why did you come at all?”
“I had to talk to you. More importantly, I can’t let Lucas rule my life. I can’t. He wins if I let him do that.” I shake my head, pointing to it as I do. “He’s in here. So deep. I have to get him out. He could be hundreds, thousands of miles away. But he’s planted seeds, you know? He might as well be right up in my face all over again, screaming about the butter being too cold to spread on his bread. That’s what he wants, too. I can’t let him have it.”
Carly gets up, gives me a hug. “You’re good people,” she says with a smile once she releases me.
“So are you,” I say.
“And so is Christopher,” she adds.
My eyes fill with tears. At least she gets it. One down, the rest of the town to go.
###
We finally close up shop. It’s much later than we have to, I realize. We sat talking for hours, long after closing time normally occurs. It felt so good to get everything off my chest, I completely lost track of time.
We stand outside the shop together, Carly and I. “Thank you for listening to me,” I say, hugging her again. “It means the world.”
“I’ve got your back. Just let anybody try to say anything against you. I’ll set them straight,” she promises.
“That means the world, too, but I don’t want you getting yourself into hot water on my account. Just steer the gossip mongers my way. I’ll be the one to set them straight. You don’t have to fight my battles.” I give her a smile and another hug. She’s such a good friend. I don’t know what I’d do without her right now.
“Are you going to Christopher’s?” she asks just before we part ways.
“I think I’ll take your advice and go over, yeah. First I want to go home to change.” There’s flour all over my clothes.
She smiles. “Maybe you should pack an overnight bag?” She giggles, and I swat at her with my gloves. We walk to our cars, laughing.
I drive home feeling oddly buoyant. I should write a book, I decide. All about the lies we tell ourselves. We have ourselves convinced no one will ever understand us. We can’t share our story with others. People will judge us, shun us. We’ll feel ashamed. That’s nonsense! I laugh at myself, out loud, at the thought. It’s total nonsense. We can’t live in our hearts all the time. When we’re hurting, we have to reach out and share our stories. Who knows? Maybe another person can relate, and our bravery will help them, too.
I’m feeling extremely confident as I climb the stairs, digging my keys out of my bad. I’m even humming, I realize. Something I haven’t done in ages. I can’t wait to get to Christopher’s. I know I can make him understand where I was coming from earlier today. Even if he’s listened to my message and is still brooding, I can get through to him somehow. I just need the chance.
I walk into the house, flipping the light switch as I do.
When the lights don’t go on, I feel sick. In a split second, everything becomes clear.
Then I’m hit over the head, and it all goes black.
###
Where am I?
I wake up, and everything’s dark. I’m moving, aren’t I? Being bounced back and forth, gently. Like being in a cradle. I’m rocking in a cradle. It’s actually kind of nice.
I close my eyes again, wanting nothing more than to sink into the darkness around me. It’s so sweet, so good, just relaxing like this. Not having to be worried, not having to defend myself or work my way through dark, confusing rumors. Just…being.
Wait.
No.
I can’t go back to sleep.
I open my eyes again. I stretch out my legs…only they don’t stretch all the way. Not even a lot of the way. They’re folded, my knees close to my chest.
I try to stretch out my arms, but they, too, are only going so far. There’s a wall in front of me. I try to roll onto my back. There’s a ceiling right above my head, so low I brush my shoulder against it as I turn. God, it’s so small. So closed in. I feel panic overtaking me. My heart is racing. I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe.
No. Calm down. Breathe. In. Out. You’ll be okay.
Where am I? I’m moving. That’s one of the first things I realized, right? I’m moving. Where? How?
What’s that smell? Exhaust? And the sounds. Traffic? Are those cars passing by? Oh, my God. The trunk of a car. This isn’t a ceiling. It’s the lid of the trunk.
“Hey!” I scream, pounding my fists on the roof. “Hey! Help me! Let me out! Please!” The car keeps moving, as though I hadn’t said a word.
I turn as best I can, trying to kick out the tail light. I’ve always read you can be found in the trunk of a car by kicking out the tail light and waving your arm. Only there isn’t enough room in the trunk for me to get up enough force. I can’t kick my legs hard enough because I can’t pull back far enough. I struggle, getting sweaty, crying with frustration. What’s going to happen to me?
I try pounding on the lid again. “Please! Let me out! I can’t breathe in here!” Whoever it is, they don’t care. I can tell from the hum of the engine the car doesn’t so much as slow down.
Who’s done this to me?
There are bits of clothing in here. I can tell them from touch. I might have to wrap them around my hands if I want to do any more punching on the trunk lid, so close to my head. It’s a blessing I’m not claustrophobic. I laugh harshly at the idea of a blessing in this situation. There are no blessings here. I’m in the trunk of a car, being taken God only knows where, and I’m counting my blessings. Amazing.
I raise one of the pieces, a shirt, to my nose. I know this cologne. Of course, I knew what was happening the split second I flipped the light switch. It’s Lucas. He found me.
I think back to that idea of writing a book. I’ll have to include a chapter on the moment you realize your abusive ex has finally come for you. You try to turn on the lights inside your house, and they don’t work for the first time. You know, in that instant, that it’s all come to pass. Your worst nightmare has come true. He’s here. Somewhere. And he’s been waiting for you. It’s all been for nothing, all your hiding and dreaming of something better. He’ll never let you go. He wasn’t joking when he said he’d never let you go.
And then he hits you and knocks you unconscious.
My head throbs painfully, as in response to my thoughts. He hit me hard. Now I’m glad I didn’t go to sleep when I wanted to, for fear of a concussion. I touch my fingertips to the sore spot on my head. It stings, and my fingers feel wet. I’m bleeding.
What’s he going to do to me? I could try screaming to him from the trunk, but that won’t do any good. He’s probably in a frenzy by now. He might even kill me.
I think about my parents. I wish I could have
spoken to them one more time.
I think about Carly. For the rest of her life, she’ll remember hugging me and laughing with me as we left the store. It’ll be one of those memories that plays in her head for years, over and over. Laughing and joking about taking an overnight bag to Christopher’s, just before Lucas kidnapped me.
Christopher. Oh, God. What will he do? Why didn’t I go straight to his house? None of this would be happening.
