by Shay Savage
Aiden and Mo came out of the door as they sped off.
“Goddammit!” Aiden turned and kicked the door closed with a bang loud enough to make me jump. He jerked his head up and looked at the jeep.
“Where is she?” Aiden screamed. He spun in a circle, darting his eyes all around the complex.
“I got her!” Lo yelled back. “She’s fine, Hunter! I got her!”
Aiden looked toward me, and our eyes met for an instant. I had no idea what he might have been thinking, only that his shoulders slumped a little as I stared back at him. He shook his head once and then turned to Mo.
“We have to follow them,” Aiden said. “We can’t lose them!”
“Not now!” Mo replied as he grabbed onto one of Aiden’s arms. “Holy shit, Hunter, have you lost your mind? The police are on their way!”
“And they’re going to do what, huh?” Aiden snapped. “They can’t do a fucking thing, and you know it!”
Lo stood and ran to Aiden’s side. In the distance, I heard sirens.
“You gotta relax, man,” Lo was saying. “You gotta go calm your girl down before she freaks out completely and says something stupid.”
They surrounded Aiden with their huge forms and coaxed him back to Lo’s Chrysler. Mo opened the door, and Aiden sat in the back next to me, but he didn’t look in my direction. He had his hand clenched into a claw where it rested on his thigh, and the other one still held his gun. His chest rose and fell as he took long, labored breaths which he hissed out through his teeth. His leg began to shake.
Suddenly, Aiden screamed.
He screamed at the top of his voice and repeatedly punched the seat in front of him until his knuckles began to bleed. I crawled to the other side of the car and pushed my shoulder against the door, pulling futilely at the handle. Aiden kept yelling, and I curled my feet up and wrapped my arms around my head.
The tears came, followed by choking sobs.
“Oh, fuck, baby,” Aiden moaned. “No, no, please! I’m sorry, Chloe. Fuck! I’m sorry!”
I felt his hand on my arm, and I lurched away.
“Don’t touch me!” I screamed as I pressed my body into the door of the car.
“Please don’t,” Aiden begged. “Please don’t do that, baby. I’m sorry—I’m so fucking sorry! I didn’t mean for you to get caught up in this, I swear. Please, Chloe…”
He gripped my arm again, pulling me away from the door and into the center of the car. I fought against him, screaming and crying. He could have forced me to him, but he didn’t. He let go, and I crawled back to the other side of the car and continued to sob.
“Shh, Chloe, please,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”
Over and over again, he whispered those words to me. He reached out and touched my hand, but I pulled away. Mo was calling his name from just outside the car, and when Aiden looked up, Mo shook his head slowly.
“What’s happening?” I finally choked out. “Aiden, what is going on?”
“It’s a long-ass story,” he said. “I didn’t want you tied up in any of this shit. I didn’t even want you to know.”
“Know what?”
“We gotta move,” Mo said through the car door.
Lo was suddenly on my right, opening the door and helping me out.
“Fuck!” Aiden slammed his fist on the bench seat before running his hand over his head.
“Company has arrived,” Mo said with a sigh.
“Yeah, I see that,” Lo responded.
The sound of sirens invaded my ears as several police cars pulled into the lot. Aiden got back out of the car and went around to the front where Mo stood. They leaned close together, speaking quickly and glancing in the direction of the sirens as my heart raced.
There was no capacity for comprehension in my head. It was just too far beyond my experience. Guns? Running into restaurants and chasing people out? And now police? I couldn’t cope with it all.
I shook my head slowly from side to side as I stood in the parking space next to Lo’s car. I couldn’t speak. As tears flowed down my cheeks, I could only watch.
“It won’t do any good,” I heard Mo say. “People in there know you.”
“Fuck my life,” Aiden muttered.
“It’s still progress,” Mo said as he placed his hand on Aiden’s shoulder.
I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t cope with this. Everything inside of me revolted against what was happening. Whatever this was, I couldn’t deal with it.
I took a few steps back, just behind Lo and out of his view. He didn’t move, just kept watching Mo and Aiden as they spoke to each other. Police were getting out of their patrol cars, and some had their weapons drawn. I stepped back again, but no one seemed to notice.
One of the police officers addressed Aiden and his friends, telling them all to put their weapons down. Aiden raised his hands up over his head, the revolver dangling by his thumb near the trigger. He lowered it slowly to the ground and backed away from it, leaving his hands on top of his head.
Just like a pro.
I realized I was still walking backward when I hit the edge of a car several spots away from the scene. I jumped and stopped a scream from coming out of my throat as I covered my mouth with my hand and smacked myself in the shoulder with my wrist-purse.
I have to get out of here.
I turned and looked around quickly. No one seemed to have noticed me at all—everyone’s focus was on Aiden. I had everything in my purse I needed to get myself out of here. I walked swiftly around to the far side of the vehicle and ducked down a bit until I was sure no one had seen me. Sweat dripped between my shoulder blades and down the side of my face, mixing with my tears. My breath was coming in choppy gasps. I looked over to the other side of the street and saw a gas station and a restaurant.
My hands were still shaking, and I could barely keep my knees from giving out on me. All of my instincts had been dead-on, and I hadn’t listened to them. Aiden was a criminal. He carried a gun, shot at people in restaurants, and God knows what else.
Was I going to be arrested? Would the police even believe me if I told them I didn’t know anything?
I was an idiot and had nearly been trapped by Aiden and his accomplices. I’d heard Aiden say that the police couldn’t do anything to them. What did that mean? Was he so big in the crime world that the police couldn’t touch him? Was he that corrupt? What would he do with me now that I knew more than I should? I had to get out of there. I had to get out of there as fast as possible.
I ran.
Nearly tripping over the curb, I raced across the street just as the light was changing. My legs were scratched by bushes as I pushed through them and into the parking lot of the gas station. That was when I heard Aiden screaming.
“Chloe! CHLOE!”
I turned my head and looked back over my shoulder. Aiden’s wide eyes were clearly visible in the bright Florida sun. The same sun gleamed off the shiny handcuffs around his wrists as two police officers pushed his head down and shoved him into the back of one of the cars.
Terrified, I kept running.
And with that, I’d had enough excitement.
FIFTEEN
More than two weeks had gone by, and I was still having nightmares.
Sometimes they were about being in the parking lot surrounded by gunshots and sirens. Sometimes I was trapped in the back of a car with Aiden screaming, his face contorted. I’d even had one where I went out on the patio to watch the sun rise over the water and found the bodies of the couple who had run from the restaurant, covered in blood, lying near the fire pit.
Sometimes I dreamed he was making love to me on the beach.
That was the worst.
No, it wasn’t. The worst was waking up and realizing I was only holding my pillow.
I hadn’t told anyone what had happened. The cashier at the gas station had pointed out a nearby hotel that had a shuttle to the airport, and I gave the valet a twenty to get me on it. I h
ad to pay to have my plane ticket changed to a later flight, but I’d gotten myself back to Ohio. Eventually, I found a taxi driver willing to let me pay an outrageous fare for him to take me all the way to the north side of town and home.
Once I had my phone plugged back in and charging, I’d found a dozen text messages and missed calls from Mare. Not wanting her to hear my voice over the phone, I texted her back to let her know I was home, safe and sound. She had sent me several texts over the next week, asking about my time away, but I had dodged them by saying I would tell her in person. Since then, I had avoided being alone with her.
We had been friends for far too long for her not to know something was wrong, and I didn’t want to answer her questions. If I did, I was going to break down and tell her everything, and I couldn’t risk that. I didn’t want to admit how stupid I was, and I was also terrified to say anything about my last few minutes with Aiden. I didn’t want to even think about what had happened outside that small, Cuban restaurant my last day in Miami.
I’d made an absolute fool of myself by not listening to my inner alarms, and I was positively ashamed. The last thing I wanted to do was admit my stupidity to someone else.
Aiden had tried to call three times that first week I was back. I didn’t answer, and he didn’t leave a voice mail. He didn’t try to call again after that. For all I knew, he was on his way to prison.
I just wanted to forget it all.
So I was back to my normal, boring routine. Chia Head was pissed that first Monday morning, and he gave me quite a lecture on giving vacation notice, but he didn’t fire me. He did make it clear that my actions would be reflected on my next review, though.
Asshole.
I was tired of putting up with Kevin and his idiotic Chia-head demands. As much as I hated the idea, I decided it was time to find a new job. I told Nate I was in the market, and he said he’d get his old recruiter to call me.
In the meantime, I got up with the alarm every morning. I fought traffic on the way to work but still managed to be there on time every day. I went to meetings, answered emails, and kept projects on track. Gabe called to let me know he’d already found a car and didn’t need my help. Mare must have told him about my spontaneous trip because he asked me how I liked Florida, but he got another call, and we didn’t have time to talk about it, thankfully.
I’d avoided any happy hours at Thirsty’s Oasis with excuses ranging from extra workload, to car problems, to headaches. I knew there would be questions, and I didn’t want to answer them. It was also the place I had met him, and I didn’t need the reminder.
I was doing everything I wasn’t supposed to do when it came to getting over a loss. I was avoiding talking about it, thinking about it, and ultimately, I wasn’t dealing with it at all. My thoughts had me tied up in knots, but I didn’t know what to do about it. I had actually considered calling Lo to find out what had happened after I left, but every time I picked up the phone, I couldn’t bring myself to make the call.
At night, I went to bed early and tried to force the memories from my head. It rarely worked, and my sleep was fitful at best. I woke up every night feeling cold and alone, refusing to admit that I missed his presence beside me. I considered bringing Buffy to bed but couldn’t bring myself to be quite that pathetic.
Maybe I needed a cat.
So I trudged on, denying everything.
“I’m going to need updates on all your projects before you leave today,” Kevin said as he appeared at my desk right before five o’clock. “I need the budget numbers and all the key performance indicators.”
“The budget numbers won’t be accurate until accounting gives their final blessing,” I said. “We just talked about that in the last meeting.”
“Well, I need something for my presentation tomorrow.”
“The KPIs are in your email.”
“I need the budgets!”
I looked up at him and felt my stomach tighten.
“I don’t have all the budget numbers,” I repeated. “Like Jeff from accounting said, they can’t confirm anything until the board meeting on Thursday. They’ll sign off on them after the third quarter numbers are in.”
“I don’t know why you are trying to undermine me,” Kevin snapped. “I ask you for the simplest things, and you just can’t seem to deliver.”
I sat up straighter in my chair, trying to figure out just where this tirade originated.
“I’m not sure what you expect me to do,” I said, feeling my face beginning to warm. “I can’t give you something I don’t have, and I can’t just make up budget numbers.”
“I promised them to the execs for tomorrow’s meeting!” He raised his eyebrows and stared down at me like he thought the numbers might just start scrolling across my forehead. “You already have one strike against you due to your mismanagement of vacation time. I really don’t think you can afford another.”
I stared back at him. Was he really threatening me because of something he’d done wrong? I took a deep breath. I felt as if my toes were on the edge of some deep chasm, and the urge to jump was strong.
Kevin leaned closer to me.
“So why don’t you get off your pretty little ass,” he sneered, “and get me the fucking numbers.”
I froze. My face felt tight, and I clenched my teeth against the sensation. In the back of my mind, I heard the door on the side of a plane open, and the wind began to howl outside. I stood up and mentally moved to the edge. I looked at Kevin and in my head saw the vast openness of the ground far, far below.
I jumped.
“If you have promised something to the execs that you can’t deliver,” I said, my voice getting louder, “then maybe you need to inform the execs that you made a bit of a mistake. Or maybe you can go to accounting and ask them for numbers they don’t have. Better yet, walk into the board meeting and ask them for the budget.”
He took a half step back, but I just stepped forward and stared up at his Chia-head face. Others in the cubicle-farm were taking notice. There were a few people who had stopped in the hallway as well.
“And the next time you refer to my ‘pretty little ass,’” I practically screamed, “I’ll just invite you to the next meeting with HR!”
I kept my eyes on him, completely unmoving. His face had gone white, and he checked over his shoulder at a few of the people who were standing around, listening in.
Including his boss.
I smiled. My chute opened, and I began to float.
“I’m heading home now,” I stated, “because I already worked through lunch to get you all the things it is within my power and job description to get you. If you have a problem with that, we can discuss it with Mr. Thompson in the morning.”
I nodded toward Kevin’s boss as I picked up my purse and prepared to leave.
Kevin just stood there, mouth agape. As I turned down the aisle to the stairwell, I heard Mr. Thompson’s voice.
“Kevin, I’d like a word with you.”
I landed in the circle in the middle of a green, grassy field, and my smile grew wider.
The autumn wind was cold as I marched to the parking lot to find my car. I had to break down and start up the car’s heater to ward off the chill. The air smelled dusty and burned my nose the entire drive home from work. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I had said and how fabulous it felt to stand up for myself.
Just like jumping out of a plane.
I pulled into the garage, switched off the heater, and tried to remember if I had ever gotten around to having my winter jacket cleaned last spring. I was going to need it soon.
I bet it’s warm in Miami.
“Shut up,” I said to myself. I didn’t want my mood ruined, but apparently that was all it took. Memories began to flood my head, and despite the good ones, they all ended with that last afternoon in a strip mall parking lot.
I switched on the Tuesday night sci-fi movie and found that my favorite channel was playing The Fifth Element. I groaned and swi
tched to the home and garden channel instead, then decided to polish up my resume.
I updated my work experience and shot out a couple of emails to people I thought would give me good references. I hated the whole job-hunt thing, but it was a great distraction, and maybe it would help keep me from losing my mind.
“It’s probably already happened,” I mumbled to myself. I glanced up at Wonder Woman, who seemed to agree.
I got up to make myself some dinner. The only thing that sounded good was breakfast food, which I had totally refused to make for myself ever since I returned home. I pulled out the half-dozen eggs I had in the refrigerator and threw them in the trash before dumping some cottage cheese and pineapple into a bowl and calling it a meal.
“I can’t even turn the damn stove on,” I muttered.
I shook my head. I had to stop thinking like this. I had to stop letting every little thing that reminded me of Aiden Hunter get to me. It was like when my dad had first died, and I couldn’t even bring myself to look at his picture for the longest time. Every time I did, it brought tears to my eyes.
Walking across the room, I grabbed the picture of my father off the bookshelf and held it in my hands. I ran my finger along the edge of the frame and smiled sadly.
“I miss you, Dad,” I said. “I have the feeling you’d be really disappointed in me right now, but I still wish I could talk to you about it.”
I didn’t even take any pictures of Aiden.
A tear slipped down my cheek, and I wiped it away quickly. I placed Dad’s picture back on its shelf and headed to the bathroom for a shower. I had run myself clear out of shower gel and ended up using shampoo to wash off. Once I was as clean as I was going to get, I stepped onto the bath mat and tossed the empty shower gel bottle into the trash. It hit the white, cylindrical pregnancy test I had taken the week before.
Negative.
Thank God.
My period had started the very next day, and I’d sat on the toilet and cried for an hour. I should have felt relieved at the additional confirmation, but all I felt was emptiness. I had even considered going to one of those clinics that tested for STDs, but I didn’t actually seek one out. I was due for a yearly exam next month and figured if there was some kind of bad news, it could wait until then.
