by Cate Masters
Her argument was weak. “That’s insane.” Yet it made perfect sense. She’d ignored her own needs for months, possibly years, focusing on her career.
“When did you last go out on a date?”
“That’s totally irrelevant.” Besides, she couldn’t remember. Didn’t want to, because it had been with Brad, and she had no wish to think of him now.
“It’s absolutely the point. Come on, we’re going out.”
What an ego! What nerve. What a…great idea. “Where?”
His signature lopsided smile appeared. “Where do you want to go?”
Oh, how much time did he have?
Chapter Six
The proverbial walk through the park never held such charm. Sunlight dappled the path, gilding the canopy of leaves above. Such beautiful scenery, she’d be hard pressed to describe it. She needed to get out of her loft more often.
“Look, an ice cream cart,” Jake said. “Let’s get some.”
“You go ahead.”
“Come on, they have mocha chocolate chip. Your favorite.”
“You did your homework. But no, I can’t.” With her slow metabolism, her thighs would bloat for months.
“Jody, come on. Live a little. One ice cream isn’t going to ruin your diet, though frankly, I don’t see why you need to.”
“Now I know you’re teasing.” Her curves could give a guy whiplash.
He bumped his shoulder into hers. “It’s unhealthier to curb your appetites.”
Warmth shot through her. More dangerous to give into temptation. Still, a little bit wouldn’t hurt. They had walked all over the city, along the river and through the park. He’d tugged her onto the carousel, nearly deserted. Very romantic. He’d made her feel like a woman, not simply a writer.
“All right, I’ll have a scoop.” And order that damn exercise machine upon setting foot in her home.
His smile came so easily it might have been infectious. Her mood lightened, and strolling along beside him, her senses took in every detail. How he glanced at her every few seconds as he spoke, gauging her reaction. How his body moved with the grace of a wild animal, with an ease attesting to his well-developed muscles.
Surprising herself by finishing off the cone, she dabbed a paper napkin to her lips in great satisfaction. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Talking me into that ice cream. And into coming out today. It’s such a gorgeous day; it would have been a crime to spend it in a cab.” Besides, she didn’t want to think about going home.
Where would he go? Would she ever see him again? Maybe she could talk Mimi into hiring him for another signing. And schedule that event soon.
They came to the edge of the park and stood there, on the edge of civilization, neither wanting to return.
Turning toward her, he said, “I could use a drink. How about you?”
“Yes, me too.” Anything to delay the inevitable.
Strolling casually along the street, neither hurried to find such a place. When they approached a café, he glanced over, eyebrows raised in question. Nodding, she followed him to the door. She’d always wanted to have a guy with whom she could communicate without words. Ironic she’d find that guy in Jake Emerson, who existed only in words.
He led her to a small window table, lit by the late afternoon sun. Over chai latte and coffee, they talked about music, art, politics. Life.
“Thank you,” he said, “for agreeing to come out.” Turning serious, his pace slowed. “I’m curious, though.”
“About what?” she asked absently.
Hesitating, he waved it off. “I shouldn’t ask.”
“No, tell me.” He made her feel so good about herself, she trusted him not to hurt her. If he asked her to stay with him, she’d probably give in to the urge to throw it all away on him.
Wincing, he said, “Brad. What did you see in him?”
Good question. “He seemed like a good idea at the time.” Cute and playful, he’d paid attention to her. She’d sold herself down the river for his attention. “But the more I wanted him, the less of himself he gave. I made excuses for him until I caught him with another woman.”
“Never sacrifice yourself, not for anyone,” he said.
Reaching for his hand, she traced his knuckles with her fingers. “Easy for you to say.”
Sliding his palm across hers, he squeezed. “Why would you say that?”
“Because you’re…” Perfect? Or a chameleon who can fit any situation? She admitted, “I don’t know who you are.” Whether he spoke the truth about anything.
Sure, he walked the walk and talked the talk. But if she believed he truly was Jake, did that mean she’d completely lost her mind?
“Who are you really?” she whispered, regretting it immediately.
Hurt filled his face. “You know in your heart.” Releasing his grasp, he eased back. “But you never listen to your heart.”
Her face warmed in a blush. “You don’t know me.” Saying it felt like a lie. This man knew her better than she knew herself.
His sharp breath and brief sad smile made her ache to take back the words.
He opened his mouth, but closed it with a shake of his head. After a long look at her, he stood and strode out the door.
Fighting the urge to call him back, she gripped her cup. He’d be back.
Several minutes passed, and the spot where he’d sat felt like a terrible void.
“Jake?” she whispered. Clutching her handbag, she rushed outside, hoping to find him leaning against a parking meter. Waiting for her with a grin.
But he was nowhere in sight.
In the late afternoon sun, shadows along the street stretched long. A few cars passed by, and fewer pedestrians. The world had lost much of its luster with Jake gone.
Could she risk it all for someone she wasn’t sure was real?
He made you feel more real than anyone else had.
A taxi wound around the corner, with no passengers in the back.
What luck. Jody waved excitedly, and the driver pulled to the curb. The middle-aged woman behind the wheel peered out the window.
Climbing inside, Jody said, “I need a ride to the hotel.” Might as well get her things and go home. She had no reason to stay now.
“Are you sure?” the woman rasped in a voice sounding hoarse from too much hard liquor. Oddly familiar.
“Yes, why?”
“Just askin’. You didn’t seem sure, that’s all.”
“If I knew where to look for someone, I’d ask you to take me there. But I don’t know where he went.” Why tell the driver? She had her own problems.
To Jody’s surprise, the woman turned, edging her elbow over the seat. “Lover’s spat?”
Jody wished. She’d never had the chance to know whether Jake lived up to his reputation. “Something like that.”
“Honey, the way you look, if you don’t find him, you’ll be sorry a long time.”
Exactly. “You’re right. It’s crazy, but I’ve never met anyone like him. He’s charming and sweet and funny and completely irritating, but he makes me feel wonderful. Like it’s okay to be myself.” Why hadn’t she called him back to the table when she had the chance? “But I have no idea where he could have gone. Can you maybe drive around awhile?”
With a hoarse chuckle, the driver turned. “Honey, you had me at charming. Let’s go find this Casanova.”
“Jake,” Jody said, for no reason except she liked the sound of his name.
“Like Jake Emerson. I can’t get enough of those books.”
“Yes, exactly like Jake Emerson.” Excited, she gripped the back of the seat. “He came to the writer’s conference with me.” The best conference she’d ever attended, made memorable by his warm smile and even warmer presence.
In the rear view mirror, the woman stared at her. “You’re not Jody Feather, are you?”
“Yes, that’s me.” Pathetic author who had no real life.
“No kiddin’. Wai
t till I tell Al. I’ve yakked his ear off for years about your characters.”
“What a sweet thing to say.” Though the woman’s voice held a strange bitterness incongruent with her compliment, making Jody a little nervous.
“It’s true. How do you come up with such crazy ideas?” The driver emphasized crazy in a grating tone.
“I guess being crazy helps.” Like now. She’d never done anything so off the wall as search for her hero. Yet it felt right. “I’ll be happy to send you an autographed copy of the newest book. I really need to find Jake.”
“Honey, you will. I’ll make sure of it.” The driver punctuated her determination by pressing down hard on the accelerator.
The taxi zoomed off, sending Jody against the seat. Yes, crazy only began to describe this weekend.
****
The driver tuned in a radio station of oldies, singing along with Elvis and the Everly Brothers in a croaking pitch.
Lost in her thoughts, Jody finally glanced out the window. How long had they been driving? Shimmering dusk had given way to inky evening, halos rimming the streetlights. Without asking for instructions, the driver had kept going, like she knew where to go.
Buildings receded into a growing haze. “That’s odd. Is it supposed to rain?” She thought the forecast called for clear skies, though she’d paid scant attention.
The cab careened around a bend, causing Jody to grasp the seat. Why the sudden rush? Righting herself, alarm filled her when she again glanced outside. The mist had thickened to an impenetrable fog.
The mission seemed crazier by the minute. “Listen, I should forget it.”
The driver didn’t so much as brake, and steered a hard turn. “We’re almost there. Hang tight.”
Now she told her. Jody could’ve used a warning before smacking her shoulder against the window. “Had I given you the hotel’s address?” No way to tell if they headed in the right direction with that fog.
When the woman didn’t answer, Jody leaned forward. “Are we close?”
The taxi spun in what felt like a one-eighty turn, then came to rest with a jolt. Jody felt like Dorothy whirling through the air in her house, coming to rest in Oz.
Touching the window, she gazed in amazement. A hotel stretched beyond the clouds, its windows setting the mist aglow. A huge neon sign winked letters in succession: S-t-a-r-d-u-s-t M-o-t-e-l.
“Stardust Motel? Where am I?” She had a feeling she wasn’t in Pittsburgh anymore.
Leaning an arm over the seat, the driver looked less middle-aged than timelessly ancient. “You wanted to find Jake.”
“Yes.” Afraid to ask how the woman knew he’d be inside, she froze.
“Come on.” Heaving a grunt, the driver climbed out, trudged to Jody’s side and opened the door.
Nervous about getting out of the taxi and possibly never seeing civilization again, she shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Rolling her eyes, the woman sighed. “That’s your problem, Jody. When it comes to your characters, you’re one hundred percent certain. Fearless! But in life, you’re…. eh, wishy-washy.”
Ha. Mimi’s term. Were they all in cahoots? It had to be a setup.
“Exactly. It’s fiction.” Ergo, no one dies for real. Anyway, what did this woman know about her problems? A niggling suspicion took root. The driver did seem oddly familiar. Glancing at the taxi registration with her ID, Jody broke out in a clammy sweat. Ginny Rogers, the same name as the female taxi driver in her third novel. The accomplice and lover of the novel’s villain, who Jake fought to the death.
Staying in the cab no longer appealed to her. “You’re right.” She grabbed her purse and then the door handle. “What do I owe you?”
Jody could have sworn the woman mumbled, “A rewrite.”
“Pardon?” She leaned closer, then decided against it. The meter read zero.
Digging in her wallet, she drew out a twenty.
Ginny waved it away. “Let’s go inside, honey.”
Swallowing hard, Jody remembered to say thanks before following the woman into the lobby.
The night air echoed with the bass guitar of Steve Miller’s Space Cowboy and his teasing refrain about Maurice. Not even Steve knew who Maurice was. “And I have no clue who Jake really is.”
Did it matter?
What she knew for sure: he made her happy. He tempered his rough edges with a gentlemanly touch. He looked out for her. Brought out the best in her. Challenged her.
Leaning over the desk, Ginny murmured something to the desk clerk, whose beady eyes bore into Jody. With a jerky nod, the man scurried into an adjacent room.
The hair on Jody’s neck stood up. Something seemed off. “What’s going on? Has he seen Jake?”
Ginny cackled a laugh. “He sure has.”
From the same room, a burly man emerged, the desk clerk right behind. “That’s her.”
Oh good. Finally someone who could help. Jody opened her mouth to ask where Jake was, but the bouncer type grabbed her arm without a word.
“Hey, what is this?”
“Shaddup.”
A glance back at Ginny revealed she had no intention of helping. Instead, she waved, her irritating laughter giving way to a glare. “Now you’ll know how it feels to watch your lover die. A long, horrible death.”
Horror gripped Jody. Struggling against the brute proved useless. “No. Let me go.” She grabbed the door jamb as he shoved her inside, but only managed to hurt her hand in the process. “What the hell are you doing?”
Pushing her down into a chair, he bent near her face, his breath like a stale cigar. “You want to see Jake. So do we.” Chuckling, he twisted her arms behind the chair and duct taped her wrists.
“Well good luck,” she bluffed. “He’s gone.”
“You better hope not,” he sneered.
A sickly lump hardened in Jody’s stomach. She hoped Jake had gone far from here, somewhere safe. But then who would save her? All her hopes lay with someone she’d met two days earlier, who claimed to be a fictional character.
The only part of this that seemed real was that she’d really lost it.
Chapter Seven
Waiting was never Jody’s strong suit. The neon blink of the Stardust Motel sign cut through the room’s darkness. Instead of a hypnotic effect, it made her want to kick out the windows. Too bad her ankles were duct taped to the chair.
“Why can’t you be real, dammit,” she muttered behind taped lips.
Jody cursed her stupidity. Her misplaced sense of loyalty. Her misplaced sense, period. What did she possibly hope to accomplish in finding Jake?
But then, none of this made sense, unless Mimi hired Ginny too. To what end? Extreme motivation? Mimi expected results, and Jody didn’t deliver them fast enough. But this pushed the enveloped too far.
Her cell rang again in the tone reserved for one person: Brad. The idiots hadn’t even confiscated it. If she could reach it, she’d not hesitate to give him her opinion. Why must Brad be so persistent now? She could’ve used a reliable guy months ago, but no, he’d left her to boff the bimbo. He’d come to his senses a little late. Maybe she should make him suffer a little longer, and at least date him once. Once couldn’t hurt, could it? At least he had an identity recognized by the government, unlike Jake.
Despite it all, she’d be hard pressed to complain about this weekend. Except, of course, her current situation. Trapped in a dark room, uncertain of what might happen next. Definitely not among her Top Ten times.
Spending time with Jake ranked up there, though. Top Two, maybe. And if she had to put up with a little inconvenience to see him again, well, so be it.
A headlight swung through the room. A motorcycle’s roar faded to a rumble, then stopped. After a few beats, shouting erupted in the lobby. Thuds and grunts accompanied banging against the wall and groaning.
“Where is she, dammit?”
Jake!
The hoarse response came: “In there.” Another thud, and something—or
someone—slid down the outer wall.
The following seconds lasted an eternity. Jody froze, staring at the door, willing it to be Jake who walked through, rather than the thug who’d left her here.
The handle jiggled, and a man mumbled curses. Blam! The door flew open in an explosion of light. The silhouette of a well-formed guy stood in the frame, lowering his arms and leg after kicking in the lock.
“Jody?”
Relief gushed through her. Squealing, she did her best to call his name through her bound lips.
He reached over and flicked on the lights. “Oh, baby.” In three strides, he stood over her. “We have to get you out of here. Now.”
His pocket knife gleamed as he flicked it open and cut away her bonds. Wincing, he pinched the end of the tape across her mouth. “This is going to hurt a bit.” Quick as a snake bite, he tore off the tape.
More startled than anything, she shook the pain off and threw herself into his arms. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
His voice rumbled through his chest. “You can’t get rid of me.” A quick hug, and he eased away. “Got your sea legs back?”
An inside joke, from book four. “Yes. Let’s go.”
He planted his lips against her forehead then guided her through the lobby.
Pride welled within her at the sight of the thug splayed unconscious on the floor. Though no one else appeared, uneasiness hung over her. “This seems too easy.”
She hadn’t needed to tell him. With sharp glances, he hurried them into the night.
Uneasiness shifted to dread. “A motorcycle?” Too much of this weekend had been a recurrence of events in her novels. Scenes she’d crafted to keep readers turning pages, make them gasp.
She really didn’t want to live them. No time to argue. Already, he revved the engine and gestured her behind him. At least this bike had a tall back to keep her in place. Still, she slid her leg behind him, pressed her legs against his, and hugged her chest to his back.
If they went down, they’d do it together.
****
The sole headlight lit the dark road ahead with scant light. No other lights—or cars—appeared. It was rather beautiful, actually. Jody’s body melded against Jake’s more fluidly, leaning into bends as he steered the bike along the winding road. The mist thinned, and bright stars pierced the veil above. No longer caring where they headed, she let the rhythm of the road soothe her.
