by Miranda Kavi
FLEE
by
Miranda Kavi
Copyright © 2012 MIRANDA KAVI
Published by:
Midnight Blackbird LLC
This novel is a work of fiction. Any and all names, characters, places and events are the product of the author’s imagination or are used in fictitious manner. Any resemblance to persons (alive or dead), organizations, businesses or actual events is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved by author. It is unlawful to copy and/or reproduce this novel in any way without the express written consent from the author. The author is a litigation-happy, super-ninja attorney that gets angry when people steal her book.
(Print Edition)
ISBN-13: 978-1480266827
ISBN-10: 1480266825
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Other works by Miranda Kavi
Chapter 1
I can fly. It’s not as cool as it sounds. Actually, it really sucks.
“Are you sure you can handle this?” my mom asked.
“I’m a grown up now. Right?”
“Right.” She didn’t look convinced. She leaned forward to give me a peck on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you. Who would have ever thought my little girl would go to law school?”
“All right, all right.” I tossed my purse into the front seat of my battered old car. “I should go.”
Her green eyes followed me as I got in. I rolled down the window. She hovered nearby, arms crossed over her chest. She still wore her light blue scrubs from the night shift. Her hair, a pretty light blond unlike my chestnut brown, was pulled into a ponytail.
“Okay. Off I go.” I turned the key in the ignition.
She leaned in my open window, her face serious again. “Don’t let your guard down. I’m still not sure about this.”
“Mom, I’ll be okay. I can’t stay in Wichita my whole life. We talked about this.” I kept the gear in neutral, but tapped the gas to rev the engine. “I need to go.”
She studied the back seat of my car, filled with boxes and bags. “Are you sure you can see out the back window? Is your cell phone charged? If you can’t make the drive all in one day, just pull over.”
“Mom, please. I do need to go. Today would be best.”
“Fine, kiddo. Love you.” Her smile was weak, but it was there. She pressed several twenties into my hand. “Bye!”
I saluted her, then drove away.
***
Exactly forty-eight hours later, I stood in small crowd of strangers. Many fingered the collars of starched dress shirts and fidgeted with ties in the humidity and Texas heat. It was the first day of law school. Orientation leaders had divided us into small groups to tour the campus, get our schedules, and pick up books.
“I feel like I’m back in high school, but we’re the nerdy, overdressed freshman,” I whispered to Bree, a friendly girl who I’d been chatting with all day. She was built similar to me – short and petite. Her hair was platinum blond and short and her eyes were a bright blue.
She leaned closer to me to answer. “Agreed. Have you noticed all the 2L’s and 3L’s here are in shorts and flip flops? They probably told us to dress up so we would look like complete morons and they could have a cheap laugh.”
“2L?”
“Yeah. We’re 1L’s, first year law students. A 2L is a second year law student, a 3L is a third year law student.”
“How did you even know that? It’s the first day and I’m already out of the loop.” I used the campus map to fan my face.
She snickered. “You’re not out of the loop. I read it on some message board.”
We followed our guide out of the bookstore. He paused to point out some of the other buildings on the campus. The white stone chapel dominated this end of the campus. It had a statue of the Virgin Mary in front of it, surrounded by what was probably a very pretty courtyard. Right now, vans, cameras, and trailers were piled inside its perimeter. Large silver screens leaned against the side of the building.
“Are they filming something there?” I asked Bree.
“Huh. Looks like it.” She raised her voice. “Um, excuse me, tour guide person?”
He pivoted to face her. “For the fourth time, my name is Joseph. See?” He pointed to his nametag.
“Okay, Joseph. I have a question. Are they filming something here?”
“Yes. It’s the movie adaptation of Blue Leaf. They’re filming at the University and some of the old missions around town.”
“Are there any famous people here?” a very sweaty guy in a suit asked.
Joseph shrugged. “Supposedly, but I haven’t seen any.”
“Like who?” I asked.
“Try Mira Tavana, Savannah Gessner, Troy Archili and Gavyn Dhaval on for size.” I turned to the speaker. She was tall, and tan, and was carrying a handbag worth at least four times as much as my car. “You haven’t heard? Everyone is talking about it.”
“No. Just got here today. Right?” Bree turned her back on the girl. I smiled at her, but followed Bree as she walked away.
We walked in the heat to the part of campus housing the law school structures.
“Have you noticed anything odd about this place?” Bree asked as we climbed the stairs of the main law school building.
“Well, besides the awesome taco stands, a bunch of spoiled twenty-two-year-olds who drive luxury cars, and the unbearable heat?”
“Something far more sinister. There are no hot guys. None. Absolutely none.”
I laughed so loud people stared at us. “Maybe it will get better when school starts for real and all the other students are here.” I pulled the rubber band off my wrist and used it to tie my long hair up off my neck.
“I freakin’ hope so.”
We walked into the large and wonderfully air conditioned building that held the majority of the classrooms for the law school. Long folding tables lined the wall of the lobby, manned with 2L’s and 3L’s handing out schedules. I got into the “A-L” line so I could get my schedule.
Bree found me leaned against the cool stone wall reviewing my classes.
“Okay. So there are eight sections. Which one are you?” She stood on her tiptoes to peek at my schedule. She’s one of the few people in the world shorter than me.
“Er...blue, I think.”
“Sweet! Me too. Our schedules will be identical.”
“Cool. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” I shouldered my way too heavy backpack. She was nice, but I wasn’t the type to have close friends. As my mom always said, it’s easy to keep a secret when you don’t have anyone to share it with.
I walked out the glass double doors, relieved to be alone again. The hot weather hurt my lungs. It was like walking in an oven. The oven turned into an incinerator once I got in my car.
I jacked the AC as high up as it could go. It moved the air around in the car, but it wasn’t cool yet. I used the back of my hand to wipe a layer of sweat of my forehead. “Yucky.”
My car offered a squeal of protest as I pulled out of the parking lot. The side streets surrounding the campus were crowded with early evening traffic.
I rolled to a stop at the first stoplight. I heard the sickening crunch before I felt the
impact.
“Crap.” I glanced in my rearview mirror at the dark blue car now attached to the back of mine. I did a quick self-check. Nothing was hurt or bleeding. I tried to get out of my car, but my door was stuck closed. I pounded on it with my shoulder until it popped open.
I tumbled out, and ran smack into a solid, warm body. “Oof.”
“Are you all right? Should I call an emergency vehicle?” His voice was soft, but with a heavy British accent. He wrapped a strong hand around my arm and pulled me off the ground.
“Emergency vehicle?” I echoed. I dragged my eyes up to his face. He was wearing sunglasses. Wild black hair escaped in tendrils from the dark gray knit cap pulled down over his ears. He was lean, muscular, and dreamy. His t-shirt strained around his broad shoulders.
He smiled, and it was perfect. “Or, ambulance, whatever you call it here. Are you okay?
“Yeah, I am. Do you require emergency vehicular assistance?” As I tried to flirt, I remembered I was covered in sweat and wearing an unflattering pair of slacks and suit jacket. My nametag with the law school’s logo clung to my lapel.
His smile got wider, but he dropped his hand away from my arm. “Not today. I’m fine, Miss,”—he moved closer to read my name tag—“Lockette?”
I met his eyes again. My train of thought evaporated. “Um, yes. What happened?” I shielded my eyes from the fading sun to examine the wreckage.
“My driver said the brakes failed and we slammed right into you. I will see to it personally you are compensated accordingly. I am very sorry.”
“You have a driver?” I said.
A burly man wearing a cap approached us. “Miss, I’m driver of that vehicle.” He pointed at the dark blue car. “Are you okay? Should we exchange insurance info? I’ve already called the police.”
“Sure.” I retrieved the insurance info out of the glove box. A nice traffic jam was forming behind us, one car at a time squeezing past the wreckage. To my dismay, several of the cars contained fellow law students who had plenty of time to take in my wrecked piece-of-crap car and my sweaty, distraught appearance.
I leaned against the door and closed my eyes. My legs and arms were shaking. I needed to concentrate to keep it from happening. I counted back from twenty, picturing each number as it passed through my concentration. The calm came, slowly at first, but then I felt normal. My feet remained firmly planted on earth’s surface.
“Miss? The insurance?” The driver was standing in front of me. “Are you okay?”
I straightened my posture. “I am. Thank you. Here you go.” I gave him a copy of my insurance card. He plopped it down on the trunk of my car and began copying over the information to a notebook.
My emergency lights were flashing and it was starting to get dark. I sat on the curb and kicked off my heels while we waited for the police. I closed my eyes and tried to find my happy place, which right now was anywhere but here.
It occurred to me it might look weird for me to sit shoeless on a street curb with my eyes closed, so I opened them. The handsome British guy had one sneakered foot on the curb, just a few feet away from me. He had removed his hat and sunglasses, revealing light brown eyes and matching caramel colored skin. He was ridiculously handsome. And rich, judging by the luxury car now entangled with my economy ride and the fact he had a driver.
He looked vaguely familiar. I racked my brain, trying to place him. Oh, my God. Shock rippled through me when I realized who he was: Gavyn Dhaval. The lead actor of Blue Leaf Gavyn Dhaval.
He was watching me. His eyes met mine and he smiled. I smiled back, a little embarrassed I was caught staring.
My smile must have been an invitation, because he closed the space between us. “Why don’t we go inside, Ms. Lockette? I’m sure he’ll come get us when the police officers get here.” He gestured at the small Mexican restaurant halfway down the block.
“It’s Aurora, and yes, let’s go inside. I’m hot.” I flushed at the double meaning of the words, but managed to retrieve my handbag from the ground, put on my shoes in relative short order and follow him into the restaurant. The air conditioning was nothing short of heaven.
The food was delivered five minutes after we ordered. I stared at my plate in silence. My stomach was sour and food didn’t seem like a good idea anymore. I took the opportunity to remove my suit jacket, straighten my blouse, and use some napkins to dab my sweat soaked face.
“So, Aurora. What do you do?”
“I’m a law student.”
“Law student? Hmmm.” His beautiful smile came back full force. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m doing here?”
I took a bite of my food while I gathered my thoughts. “I was getting there. What’s your name?”
“Gavyn.”
“And what do you do, Mr. Gavyn?”
He leaned back in his chair and chuckled softly. “You’re funny. Where are you from?”
My thoughts scattered. He was way too good looking. “I’m not really from anywhere, but right now I live here,” I answered after a too-long pause for such a simple question.
“What do you mean you’re not really from anywhere?”
“Well, I move around a lot. I don’t have a place I would call home, well, except maybe for Kansas. I lived there for ten years. What about you? Where are you from?”
“London. Born and raised, but my father is from India.” He scooted his chair perceptibly toward me, eyes watching me. “Pardon my staring, but you have the most unusual eyes. Gray, like a dark storm cloud. Very beautiful.”
I felt the heat rush to my face. “Storm cloud, huh? Thanks.” I pushed my food around my plate, desperate to fill the silence. “So, your dad is from India?”
“Yep. My mom’s British. They met in college.”
My palms, one of my few hold out non-sweating parts, were sweating now too.
“So, what exactly does being a law student entail? I’m afraid I am completely unfamiliar with the American legal education system,” he said.
“Just started. Ask me in a week.”
He threw back his head and laughed. After a moment, he took another bite of his meal. I took the opportunity to take a bite of my forgotten food.
“You,”—he paused before continuing—“are very interesting.”
“In a boring law student sort of way, I suppose you’re right.” I forced myself to take another bite of my meal, thinking of ways to continue to be interesting to him. “Does that mean I don’t get to hear about what you’re doing?”
The driver appeared in the doorway and motioned for us to come. “Police are here. They want to talk to you.”
I stood up too fast, knocking over my near empty water glass in the process. I snatched it up, which resulted in my fork flying off the table. “Excuse me. Nice to meet you, Gavyn, and thanks for the burrito.”
He picked up my fork and placed it near my plate. “Pleasure was mine.”
The tiredness and stress of the day was buzzing in my body. I had to be careful, or else it would happen. I focused on calming down, keeping my cool, and my feet planted on the ground.
My thoughts bounced around aimlessly while I waited for the police officer to finish his report. I’d just met a movie star, which is great. Unfortunately, I meet him in a too-large discount suit, covered in sweat, and God only knows how bad my hair was at this point. Did I flirt? More importantly, did he flirt?
Hours later, I finally arrived at my apartment in a compact red rental car I couldn’t really afford. I flopped on the bed and examined the textured ceiling. I couldn’t believe I had a conversation with Gavyn Dhaval. The most amazing part was he seemed like a normal guy. Definitely not the narcissistic snob I would have expected.
Too bad I would never see him again, except maybe on a movie screen.
I turned off the light, effectively ending my daydreaming.
Chapter 2
My laptop sputtered to life in front of me. Small rectangular squares of light were booting to life around the aud
itorium style classroom. A few holdout students had notebooks and pencils instead. We all had red bound, obnoxiously thick textbooks parked on our desks.
Our civil procedure professor was standing in the front of the room, trying to clip a small microphone to his button-down shirt.
I opened my search browser and searched for “Gavyn Dhaval.” His picture spread across my screen. There were many fan sites and links to movies he had done, but not a lot of tabloid stories.
“Hey!” Bree sat down next to me and booted up her laptop. I clicked all my windows shut to get Gavyn’s face off my screen, and hopefully, my mind.
She scooted her computer close to mine and typed. Hey. This will be a lot easier than passing notes.
Yep, except everyone behind us can read them, I wrote back on my screen.
She messed with her settings then started typing again, this time in a much smaller font. Can you hear me now? J
Yep. Isn’t it weird to have all the same classes with the same exact people?
Yeah, especially since there are only three cute guys in our section, of which two are checking you out right now.
She gestured her head to the right. Sure enough, two guys sitting next to each other on the other side of the classroom were watching us openly and smiling. One with broad shoulders and sandy brown hair, one smaller guy who had spiky blond hair.
I nudged Bree and wrote, Checking you out, blondie.
She wrote back, Checking us out . . .
A loud tap on his lapel where the microphone was, and the professor had our attention. “All right, section blue. Let’s get started. I’m Professor Tolane, and this is Federal Rules of Civil Procedure.”
I poised my hands above my keyboard, ready to capture every word, when it happened. The buzzing sensation started in my head, and then quickly flowed down my body into my hands and feet. I felt my bottom rise out of the chair a fraction of an inch.
Concentrate, Aurora. I wrapped my hands around the bottom of my seat to keep myself firmly attached. Not here, not in front of everyone, not so soon. I pictured the numbers in my head, 20, 19, 18, counting backward. Once I had the calm, the control followed easily. 17, 16, 15...
