by Fiona Keane
I couldn’t control what happened in my apartment. I didn’t know who that person was, why they wanted me dead, or how efficiently Julian ended the entire situation. It was quite eerily composed; murder was a rehearsed spectacle in his world, something he could comfortably and precisely execute. No pun intended. Ha. Shaking my head with embarrassment that my subconscious became my best friend, I dragged the suitcase from my closet and threw in whatever clothes and toiletries I could live with for at least a week. A week. I could do that—living somewhere else for a week before coming home to pack things. On further thought, I didn’t want anything I owned. Nothing in that place brought me pleasure anymore.
I had nowhere to go. I didn’t even have my wallet. Coffee shop. I could get in the back door through the alley using the security code and sleep on the floor of the office. It was my only option. No it’s not. My eyes wandered, following my brain to the cell phone tossed on my hardwood floor. Yes, it is my only option. Nodding to myself, hoping to reassure my false security, I made the decision to walk through the two feet of snow as soon as I changed out of the stupid clothes Julian found for me. Ugh, him.
I dropped the suitcase on my disheveled mattress and looked out the frozen windows. Everything was blurry in a haze of softly falling white flakes, but sure enough, through squinting eyes, I could make out the silhouette of a black Mercedes parked along the curb across from my building. Its engine was on, keeping its inhabitants warm in the cocoon of its luxurious interior, but it was there nonetheless. Watching me. Well, watch this! I switched clothes, pulled my damp, knotted hair into a messy ponytail, grabbed my suitcase, and headed toward the door. The door.
My mind filled with the haunting memory of a stranger demanding entry, forcing their way into my home. My home. My feet refused to budge as I stood paralyzed. I thought about my nightmare. I wish these Molloys would stay out of my dreams, stop watching me, and write me a letter about why they were so forceful and invasive rather than talk to me. It took twenty minutes of standing there, questioning how quickly the door was reassembled, to find the confidence to touch the knob and step into the hallway—officially declaring, with one trembling breath, that I wouldn’t step into that apartment ever again.
Descending the stairs of my apartment building with my suitcase banging against each step, I realized I hadn’t planned my escape. Julian had someone watching me, although it wasn’t closely enough, considering I almost died. I’m still tipsy. I couldn’t feel my face from the numbing pain and tipsy haze, so I thought it wouldn’t matter that I was about to walk ten blocks to the coffee shop. What time is it, anyway? I lifted the suitcase into my arms, quickly realizing through the glass doors of my building that nobody considered plowing the mounds of snow from the sidewalk. Wonderful. I always liked marching anyway.
The Mercedes was still in its stalking spot, surely watching me, so I lifted the suitcase even higher in front of my face while exiting the building. I couldn’t see anything, but there was no distance to be seen, considering it was still snowing.
“Ouch.” A laughing voice boomed as my suitcase and I slammed into its owner. “Watch where you’re going, dudette.”
“I’m so sorry,” I muttered, lowering the suitcase just enough to see the living barricade. “Mr. Greene? I thought you weren’t going to be around tonight.” It’s night. I’m alive. He squinted to see through the drifting flakes. I knew it was him; the smoke of marijuana lingered around him and the shaggy brown hair and wide brown eyes were enough to proclaim his presence.
“Miss Leary?”
“Yeah.” I blushed through the flakes, thankful something within me felt warm.
His eyes softened while he reached for my suitcase. “This looks heavy. Where are you going? Can I help you with it?” My neighbor reached for the case within my grasp. I don’t think he understands anything in the world right now. He is just buzzing along with his life while I almost died. I almost died. Let that sink in. I should be kissing the ground. I would, were it not covered in two feet of snow. I should be kissing other things too, as a thank you. Oh Lord, Aideen. You need to go back to the doctor. I politely shook my head, clearing those thoughts and acknowledging the young man standing across from me.
“I’m just going to my work,” I informed him. “I’ll manage. Thank you, though.”
“Hey! Wait.” He pulled the suitcase from me. “My car is over there. It’s really not bad on the side roads. Will you let me take you?” I don’t generally trust people. Men. As of late. I generally don’t trust men as of late. But he was my new neighbor and always nice in passing. Okay. Maybe I can. He did, after all, break into my apartment for me.
“I’m Aideen.” I smiled through the chilly air, nodding politely. “I’m sorry we haven’t known each other’s first names.”
“Jack. What do you say, Aideen?”
“You’re sure it won’t interfere with your plans?”
“No.” His head hung, the shaggy brown hair wiggling beneath the falling flakes. “It won’t.”
“No busy night of picking locks?” I inquired, rewarded with his kind, gentle chuckle.
“That’s top secret,” he teased, his shoulder nudging mine. “Strictly between you and me.”
I smiled at him, following his slow footsteps through the heavy snow as we marched toward his car. The city was hushed, the normal acoustics muted by the blanket of white to which Boston surrendered.
“I can keep a secret,” I assured him, humored by his charm, but then I felt queasy thinking about all the other secrets I kept. Just the secrets from today were enough to rip me apart. We approached the sidewalk at the end of our block, my back tingling with the sensation of being watched. Hunted.
Jack stopped outside of an aging Beetle, the soft blue paint meeting rust along the wheels. I waited near the trunk while he unlocked the driver’s side door and gently tossed my suitcase into the narrow backseat. He knelt on the front seat, reaching across to manually unlock the passenger door. When he wiggled free, standing outside of his door, he motioned for me to get in with a friendly smile.
“What time is it, anyway?” I inquired while climbing in once I noticed Jack do the same. He reached for his phone, tucked into the pocket of his coat, and slid the display screen until the digital clock appeared. Its evil reminder that I spent an entire day and night falling apart burned me with its haunting memory. Add it to the rest. At least, add it to what you know you can remember.
“Eleven-fifteen.” He sighed, dropping the phone in his lap before wiggling his key into the ignition. “Which way is your shop?”
Jack pulled from the curb, sliding into the snow-covered paths created by other cars. He was slow to make a Y-turn, his Beetle barely alive against the snow. I snuggled down into the passenger seat, the hairs on my skin on full alert while Jack drove directly toward the black Mercedes.
“Which way?” he inquired, glancing at me with a confused smile. “Um…are you okay?”
“No.” I was honest in my response. “I’m not feeling well.”
The Mercedes idled as we continued to lurch through the snow, each of us anticipating the other’s move.
Chapter Nineteen
“You’re sure you won’t take any money for gas?” I questioned, accepting my suitcase from Jack’s hands. He was happy, but I couldn’t decide if he was just generally good-natured or if he was high as a kite. Either way, it was strangely calming.
“Not at all. I like helping people.”
“But,” I shook my head, “this is the second thing you’ve done for me in a day, Jack. At least come here sometime soon and let me repay you with coffee.”
“Deal.” He extended his hand to mine, slapping our palms together in agreement. “You sure you’ll be okay alone? I can give you my number if you want someone to call. I can’t imagine it’s too cozy around here at night.”
“It certainly can be frightening to the unaware,” Julian’s words tumbled from my lips, “but I know my surroundings. Nobody in their righ
t mind would come out in this anyway.”
“Except us.” Jack laughed, his chuckle warming the snow-laden air. I was flattered with his humor and the gentle grin against his mouth. I couldn’t remember if he moved in before or after I went into the hospital, but I made a mental note to make him brownies or something sometime. Truthfully, I dreaded walking across the city in the middle of the night in a blizzard. It was Jack, my feet, or Satan’s luxurious, black chariot.
I spun from Jack’s departure, my suitcase in the protective grasp of my frigid arms, and studied the exterior of our shop. It was a monochromatic melody, the creamy bricks blending into the white night. Traffic lights flashed across the nearby intersections with no response, no movement. Nobody was out there. I was alone, vulnerable, but more aware than I’d ever been. I knew exactly what waited for me in the dangerous night: demons, one wanting me alive and the other wanting me dead, both for reasons I couldn’t comprehend.
The snow wasn’t plowed along the sidewalk in front of the building. Emma must not have come in at all today. That’s a few thousand down the drain. Rattling my mind to reprioritize thoughts, I trudged through the snow with my suitcase toward the alley entrance of the shop. The silence, itself muffled in layers of snow, enveloped me in a delusion of safety, of solitude, while I entered the code at the backdoor. Three beeps sang from the keypad, and I heard the lock switch, allowing my entrance. Shivering while I shook the flakes from my hair and shoulders, I entered the backroom and dropped my suitcase on the tile floor. The intense aroma of coffee was quickly sobering, reviving my soul to ease the transition back to reality. I was in the store alone before, enjoying the hum of only my own heart and mind, but knowing nobody was expected to interrupt, while my brain would surely reflect on the last two days, was painfully distracting. I kicked my suitcase while I walked, heading toward the office.
It was a chaotic mess, just as I left it. PJ. Pre-Julian. And there went my mind, flipping like an eager switch to him. And his damn smile. If he sincerely expected me to ever acknowledge his existence, he had a strange way of showing his interest and intent. Kidnapping someone and omitting information were two steps toward never speaking with someone again. My cellphone and purse were tucked into a drawer of the desk, waiting for me as though I only stepped out for a moment. A moment that altered my life, a moment that aged me. I noticed the flashing red light on the screen of my phone, informing me its battery supply was low, but it had enough life to tell me Elliott called one hundred and thirty-seven times and texted fifty. Talk about a stalker. A stalker with a guilty conscience.
I wanted to return his calls, a natural instinct to communicate with him, but I shut off my phone and dropped it back into the drawer. I had to stop somewhere. I closed my eyes. The morning would arrive faster than I wished and, from experience, I knew it was going to be an uncomfortable night on the tile floor of the coffee shop. I reached around the desk to where I dropped my suitcase, unzipping it to find a few things to use as a pillow. Stuffing the sweatshirt and cardigan into a ball beneath my head, I nestled onto the cold floor beneath the desk, wishing to make it through the night. Well, this fucking sucks.
I stirred from a dreamless sleep, so void of imagery that my mind woke feeling haunted. A clanking sound, metallic and rough, repeated its interruption.
“Shit,” her voice groaned while approaching the office. I wobbled to my feet, numbness tingling from my awkward sleeping position. She groaned profanities once more, shuffling footsteps bounding in my direction. I moved around the desk, my hand reaching for the doorknob just as her key wiggled into the lock. The panel crashed into me, stubbing my numb toes and knocking my elbows.
“Oh my God!” Emma shrieked, clenching her heart to subdue her fright. “Aideen!” Her eyes were quick to lock on the floor as she absorbed the fact I stood across from her.
“Sorry I scared you. I’m only here to work.” I glared at Emma, somehow expecting her to apologize for Elliott’s inadequacies as a human being. Watching Emma’s red eyes widen with worry, I felt my heart sink even further into my stomach. I can’t treat her like rubbish. She couldn’t have known Elliott was so demented.
“I’m sorry.” I approached Emma, wrapping my arms around her neck so tightly that my clavicle ached with the sharp pain of our embrace. “It’s not you. I just—”
“I talked to him,” she whispered beneath our hug, reminding me Elliott was real. “Elliott’s been calling me nonstop, Aid. He’s a wreck. What can I do? What is happening?”
“I’m drinking a lot.” How tragic.
Emma shrugged, fighting a smile. “Anything good?”
“Riesling.”
“I would’ve guessed margaritas, but whatever gets you through the night. God, Aid. I had no idea. I swear to you.”
I released our embrace as we stepped into the hall outside the office. The bright radiance of a snowy morning peered in through the windows, its glow reflected in the shop while we spoke.
“I don’t even know what to think, Emma. Your brother stole all my money, all our money, when I was barely alive because of your cousin, and then borrowed more money from someone Malcolm knew. It’s like he couldn’t just leave it be. He felt depressed. Well, Emma, I’m sorry, but that’s shit. Complete and utter shit.”
“He didn’t tell me all of that. Ell told me he borrowed money from the shop and couldn’t pay it back.” The contract. It hit me like a raging nor’easter wind.
“Elliott borrowed money from Malcolm that he couldn’t repay because he used up all of our money while I was in the hospital.” My eyes squinted while I processed the pieces and spoke to Emma, her posture stiffening with each detail. “Because of Malcolm. What does he do when we’re completely dried up?”
“What?” Her eyes were wide, naïvely eager for me to finish Elliott’s story. I covered my face, squeezing my forehead with both hands as the pieces fell.
“He signed a deal with the Molloys. For money.”
“So?” I wanted to kick Emma in the face. Kick her. A frustrated sigh left my lips while I stepped into the shop, scouring the refrigerator while thinking of how to explain what I could know to Emma.
“We’re out of almond milk,” I noted, moving cartons around on the middle shelf. “I’ll have to run out for some.”
“Wait.” Emma closed the door, catching my attention. “So what if he signed a deal with them? They’re politicians. They’re supposed to do helpful things for local businesses. What is the big deal?” I forgot Emma didn’t know. She wouldn’t know. I was the one who saw the gun, knew the evil behind Julian’s smile—well, only what he bestowed upon me. There’s so much more.
“I’m going to run to the store for more milk before we open.” And if I don’t get out of here right now, I’m going to explode and probably kill you just because you’re Elliott’s sister. She nodded reluctantly, her manicured brows furrowed above her large, round eyes. Son of a bitch.
He was sitting at a table near the back of the shop when I returned. I pretended not to see, my heart optimistic that he wouldn’t see me either. But he’s clearly there. He has to know I’m coming to work. I squeezed between some businessmen already lined up for their order, keeping my eyes to the ground. If I can’t see him, he can’t see me. But I did see him. I wanted to see him, in some twisted and totally wrong way. The tug was there. I needed to know I wasn’t having a nightmare, even though he brought me nothing but fear. Not true. He brought you a cell phone. And he did bring himself to save your drunk ass.
Keeping my eyes glued to the paper bag between my arms, I scurried toward the register where Emma retrieved change. She rocked on her feet, limiting how swiftly I could move behind her, so I stood like a sitting duck within fifteen feet of Julian. My back was on fire, burning with the awareness of him.
“Oh.” Emma blushed, noticing my return while I stood glowering at her. “I didn’t see you come back. You want bar or register?”
“Bar.” Because that means Julian can’t talk to me. I’ll
keep myself busy until I can think of exactly how to ask about the contract without him putting me off or threatening me. I dropped the almond milk into the refrigerator and quickly tossed my purse and coat into the office before returning, pausing at the corner to survey my surroundings. Emma leaned against her elbows and flipped through the screen of her phone with no customers in line. I counted, scanning the shop. There were two college kids at one table with their laptops and textbooks, an elderly man with his newspaper, and two men in suits sitting near the door. Let’s not forget you-know-fucking-who and his silver companion.
In the secrecy of my corner, I peered around to where Julian sat when I came in from buying milk. Just the sight of him tore through my chest, my eyes tingled with the searing promise of tears. My mind fell back to a day prior when he rescued me. He killed for me. God, I’m such a bitch. No. Not true. He hasn’t told me a thing and expects me to grovel at his feet.
He was relaxed, calmly sitting by the window. He leaned over the table, his cell phone pressed up to his right ear so his periphery was blocked. Whew! Stepping into civilization, I glanced once more at Julian. He wasn’t in his normal suit. Had hell frozen over? I couldn’t see his legs, but the top half of Julian’s body was covered by a dark charcoal cashmere sweater that hung snugly around every curve of his biceps, shattering Emma’s heart. Not mine. Nope. In fact, screw him. What the hell is he doing here?
“Hey.” Emma smiled, her face lifting from her phone to acknowledge the outside world. “Slow morning. You’re being watched.” Tell me about it.
“Aid.” She spun around to grab my hand, stopping my path as I dangled within her grasp. “Look at the window.” Nope.
“That’s cool. I guess we make good coffee if the elite want it. Why don’t you go and introduce yourself?” Emma’s face reddened.
