Stay or Go

by Kelly Wood

  “I’m just checking in. To be clear, you are going to be the one to tell Mom I’m running off with a stranger, right?”

  “I already told her.”

  “But I just decided.”

  “I knew your decision hours ago, twinsy.”

  “What’d mom say?” I asked.

  “That you were running off to live in sin and that she raised you better than that. She did say you’d better have a good time and call her often, so she knows you’re not dead.”

  I laughed. Peyton’s voice and inflection sounded just like our mother.

  “I guess that covers it. I’ll call you when I land.” I started to end the call when I heard Peyton yell for me to wait.

  “What?”

  “I’m sending you a text with links to apps.”

  “Why?” I picked up a pen out of the set on the desk. I hastily used it make notes in my book about the apps. The pen felt good in my hand, long and sleek and sturdy. I felt better writing things down and then crossing them off my list. It helped tame some of the chaos I felt bubbling inside of me.

  “On one, you call iPhone to iPhone over Wi-Fi. Another is free international texting.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Yes. There’s another app where you can take pictures of your trip and send them as postcards.”

  “You’ve been busy.”

  “It’s all I could do to help from here. I’m also texting you a packing list, so you don’t forget the essentials.” Love swelled inside me for her.

  “Thanks, sis. Say your prayers I don’t die. Love ya.”

  I slipped the pen back into its holder, slapped my notebook closed and headed for the door. I struggled to catch the opening of my purse to slide the book inside. It kept getting hooked on the zipper and sliding down the outside instead of falling in the bag. I stopped paying attention to where I was walking and looked down at the bag in my hand.

  In a relatively empty restaurant, I managed to bump into someone when I looked down. My head hit the person’s chest with the accuracy and speed of a football player making a tackle. Both of us went down with a harrumph.

  Glass shattered around us. My brain acknowledged that something was wrong but couldn’t put it together quickly enough. Liquid soaked into my shirt followed by the smell of whiskey. I gagged from the strong odor while trying to dislodge myself.

  In my haste, I’d run into Carl, our delivery man. My brain snapped into focus. Carl had been delivering to O’Kelly’s for twenty years. Peter and I barely checked his order, let alone watched his every move in the storage room. I sat back on my heels and pulled Carl’s coat open. Half smashed bottles of vodka, whiskey, and scotch were attached by the neck to the inside of his jacket. I’d found our missing inventory.

  Chapter Nine

  1:47 P.M.

  “How long have you been stealing from us?” I asked. Shame spread across Carl’s face.

  “Carl!” Peter declared. “Why?”

  I looked up to see Peter, Jax, Seth, and Anais staring down at me. I eased away from Carl, wanting to separate myself from him. Peter whispered something to Seth who promptly walked away.

  “I was trying to make ends meet,” Carl said that one statement and abruptly stopped talking.

  This moment was one that will forever be rolled up as good and bad all in one. This moment set back my trip to the airport. It sparked a chain reaction of obstacles and time restraints. I was happy that we had figured out where the missing liquor was going but was anxious to be on the way. Once I made a decision, I wanted to accomplish it instantly. I wanted, right now, to be at the airport trying to find Gray.

  Seth returned and said the police were on their way. Peter hauled Carl up by his arm and led him to our table. Carl sat quietly. No use in trying to fight it. There were witnesses, and he’d been caught red-handed.

  I eased down into my seat and prayed for a quick response from the police. If we were lucky, the local beat cop would be by shortly, but I dreaded the questioning and the delay. I used the time wisely, adding to my sister’s packing list. Her whole list consisted of underwear, towel, and comb. She lived a much simpler beauty routine than I did. I added makeup, deodorant, and all the necessary shower accessories. Mentally my bag filled up with even more when I added phone, computer, e-reader and all charging apparatuses.

  I breathed a sigh of relief when the door opened for two police officers. Peter explained the situation while the rest of us looked on. Carl sat staring at his lap through the story. The two officers started with me and worked their way through the group. I checked my watch every thirty seconds, willing them to speed up the process. I talked quickly, my words racing out like I was the guilty party.

  After Peter gave his account, he called the delivery company and updated them. Until a new driver could get here and finish the route, the truck was to stay parked at the curb with the blinkers on. The cops let Peter shut the rear doors of the truck to safeguard the contents from thieves.

  I bounced from foot to foot as the cops said their goodbyes and explained the next steps to Peter. As soon as they reached for the door, Peter turned to Jax and me, yelling, “Run!”

  I hugged Anais and gave her a kiss on the cheek before following Peter’s orders. The three of us made a hasty retreat through the kitchen and into the freight elevator. Peter jumped off again before Jax could close the doors.

  “Wait. We’ll need boxes.” Liquor and beer boxes were broken down and piled next to the elevator to be disposed of later. Peter grabbed a few along with a roll of packing tape off the storage shelves. The doors creaked closed as Jax pulled the rope down after Peter got back on the elevator.

  “It’s my luck we’ll get stuck in here,” I said.

  “Don’t jinx us, Regan. You sound like the voice of doom. Happy thoughts.” Peter pointed to his face while exhibiting a huge smile. Jax started to pull on the release before the elevator had shuddered to a stop. I stepped over the lower door and hunched down under the upper one to step out even one second sooner.

  My eyes searched the parking area for Peter’s car. The sound of the alarm beeping brought my gaze to it. I opened the door and threw myself and my purse into the back. Jax rode shotgun. Her attention on her phone as she looked at it.

  “Take Lake Shore. Traffic is clear,” Jax told Peter.

  “On it.” Peter started the car and shifted to reverse. His tires chirped as he floored it out of the parking space.

  “You’re going the wrong way.” I hit his shoulder as I yelled.

  “This is faster. Trust me.”

  Parking for O’Kelly’s owners and the other surrounding businesses was down another level next to the marina. Chicago was a maze of parking and delivery areas under the main streets of the city. If you knew your way, you could drive across downtown without ever seeing the sunlight. I’d always hurried out of the underground areas as efficiently as possible for one reason. Rats. Without any natural predators, the rats grew to the size of dogs down here. And not the little purse-sized ones.

  I cracked the window for fresh air as Peter weaved through parked cars and delivery trucks. The drying alcohol on my clothes was giving me a headache from the fumes.

  “You have to shower when we get to your place,” Jax said.

  “I don’t have time for that!”

  Jax turned in her seat to look at me. “You smell worse than a distillery. Make time. You aren’t running off to meet your Prince Charming smelling like a wino.”

  I sniffed the front of my shirt and nearly passed out. Along with the booze, I had dried floor goo stuck to me, too.

  Peter emerged into the sunlight four blocks east of O’Kelly’s. He honked his horn at the crosswalk for the pedestrians to clear the path. Many gave dirty looks and hand gestures. Peter ignored them and turned right onto Illinois. The traffic was light enough here where Peter could swerve around the slower cars.

  I lowered the window even more, feeling nauseated from the wild ride. Peter jumped the on-ram
p to Lake Shore Drive and floored it. The engine opened up, and we zoomed forward. I never realized how much pep a Lexus had under its hood. The car shot forward making short work of the miles until the Addison exit. With each passing exit, my heart slowed down. I was able to take deep breaths and relax. I felt like we might actually make it.

  My leg bounced up and down at the congestion on Addison. My heart started racing again. I bit my nails as the anxiety mounted. We sat through two green lights, barely moving toward the intersection. The light turned to yellow as we neared it. The car in front of us stopped. I let out a sigh of frustration.

  Peter swerved around the stopped car, laid on his horn and blew through the intersection. Oncoming traffic veered to the right to avoid a head-on collision. I caught the light turning from yellow to red, and we passed it. In Chicago, this passed for driving without a second glance from the other drivers.

  The last few blocks were clear. Peter turned right onto Wilton. I slid across the backseat from the momentum of the turn. I barely had time to right myself before Peter slammed on the brakes in front of my building, double-parking the car.

  Chapter Ten

  3:27 P.M.

  I fumbled with the lock. My hands shook with excitement as I tried to fit the key into the door handle. Peter finally swiped the keys from me and shoved me out of the way. My shoulder hit the wall, but I didn’t care.

  The door flung open, and the three of us tried to squeeze through all at the same time. Peter took a step back and used his hands to push us inside. My foot caught the edge of the doorway, and I fell onto my hands and knees. My right knee took the brunt of my weight. I stood up and rubbed it, trying to ease the throbbing.

  Jax took control of the situation. “Regan, get into the shower and then gather any personal belongings you want to take with you.” She pointed to Peter. “You, go into Regan’s closet and pick out some clothes for her. I’ll start packing up your stuff.”

  Peter headed to my bedroom while I headed to the bathroom. I pulled my long, dark locks into a bun. I wouldn’t have time to blow dry if I washed my hair, too. Luckily, my hair escaped the mess of the broken bottles and the floor during the tackle. It wasn’t nearly as dirty as my body. I scrubbed and washed and shaved as quickly as I could before I slathered myself with lotion.

  I donned my robe and left wet footprints on the wood floor as I hurried to the bedroom. My bed was covered in a pile of clothes that Peter had thrown there. He stood in front of my dresser with the top drawer open. He reached in and plucked out underwear one at a time, throwing them over his shoulder as he went. I watched as they landed in a heap on the edge of my bed. One pair missed the mark and slid down onto the floor. I bent down to retrieve them.

  “Don’t just stand there. Get dressed.” Peter nudged me aside. He picked up a stack of clothes and handed them to me. I rifled through. Jeggings, short-sleeved top, and a cardigan for the plane. I nodded my head in approval and started to dress as Peter explained his choices for me. It was like having a personal wardrobe consultant. Peter kept his back turned while I pulled on the clothes. I didn’t have time to worry about modesty right now. Plus, since Peter preferred the company of men, I knew he wouldn’t look twice at me.

  “Everything I’ve picked can be mixed and matched, giving you many outfit choices. You get one pair of jeans—which you’re wearing on the plane—one sweatshirt, one cardigan, shorts, a handful of tops and tanks, and one dress. For shoes, you get sneakers, flip-flops and sandals. You’ll be wearing your sneakers on the plane, too. Got it?”

  “That’s great.” I nodded along with his instructions.

  “Grab your travel backpack.”

  I reached up onto the top shelf of the closet. I shook the bag out and laid it on the bed next to the pile. I smiled at the memories the bag had been though. I originally bought it to backpack through Europe in college. I’d used it as a pillow, sleeping in bus stations, airports and train depots. The nylon material was worn and broken in. When I put it on, I knew it would already be formed to the contours of my body and the straps would be the perfect length. It’d been tossed around and beat up over the years. For the last few, it had sat on the shelf, only coming down as I moved from place to place. A thrill went through me to be using it again.

  Jax came into the room carrying zip-lock bags filled with shampoo, conditioner, and other personal hygiene items.

  “Hey, I filled one with band-aids and other stuff—eye drops, first aid cream, sunblock. You get it. What else needs to go into the bag?”

  “My laptop, e-reader, cords, notebook, pen.” I racked my brain for any other items. “Oh, and grab some snack bars from the pantry. The pantry! What am I going to do with my food?”

  “We’ll box it up, and I’ll take it. All electronics are already packed into your carry-on. I’ll put your toothbrush and paste in there, too.” Jax responded.

  “Okay. Good.” I looked around the room for any clues on what I might be missing, not seeing anything that I’d need with me. One good rule of traveling was ‘ounces make pounds.’ With nothing but a backpack, you learned to take only the essentials. If I did forget something, I could always pick up a replacement item in Costa Rica.

  Peter folded and packed the clothes he’d picked for me. I trusted him with the choices. I’d probably be better dressed than if I’d done it myself.

  “Did you pack running clothes?” I asked, thinking about my chance to run on a beach every morning.

  Peter nodded and continued on his task. I emptied out my purse and transferred the essential items into a small cross-body purse. I stuffed my purse into my messenger bag, I was using as a carry-on.

  “Go do your hair. This is the last time you’ll be able to for a while. The curling iron is plugged in,” Jax said.

  I picked up my watch and fastened it to my wrist, checking for the time as I did. We were still good. If we left in thirty minutes, we’d get to the airport on time. I put in some small earrings and went into the bathroom. Jax had laid out some makeup for me, too, next to another plastic bag. My hands shook with excitement causing me to drop my brushes and shadows. I took a deep breath and calmed myself to freshen up my face before I made a mess of it.

  The scuffles with Peter and the fall on Carl had left my hair in a ratty mess. I dragged the brush through it, hoping I wasn’t ripping out all of the strands. I grimaced each time the brush caught on another tangle. It was a hopeless mess. I tossed my brush and settled for messy hair, hoping to pull off sexy, not unkept.

  Jax came in and quietly packed up the makeup along with extra hair ties and clips. She left just as quietly. Peter yelled, “All done,” from the bedroom. He walked down the hallway with my bag.

  I checked myself in the mirror and went to help Jax and Peter. We made a mad dash through the apartment throwing all personal items into boxes. We left decorations out and up, only taking the few sentimental ones I’d actually unpacked down. I didn’t want them to get broken while I was gone. The rest I didn’t care about. It could all be replaced if I needed.

  The roundup was easy since I’d lived here for only a few months. Most of my things were still in boxes, never having gotten around to being unpacked. The three of us breathed a sigh of relief as we made one final walk-through. The apartment had lost all of its charm. It looked like a model for showing. Nicely appointed, but with no heart. Except for the stack of beer boxes in the living room.

  Peter and Jax would move the boxes out later and clean the apartment for rental. Jax would handle the money and deposit any ‘earnings’ into my account for me. I left her a stack of deposit slips from the back of my checkbook. Peter lived three doors down so he’d be able to easily keep an eye on the place. All-in-all I was set to go. Everything was checked off my list.

  Peter picked up my bag while I slung my carry-on over my shoulder. I handed my keys to Peter to lock up. As I passed through the doorway, a chill spread through me. I was forgetting something, but what? I just knew my mental to-do list wasn’t compl
ete. The realization came back to me with a jolt. I’d forgotten the most important thing.

  “My passport.”

  Chapter Eleven

  4:27 P.M.

  Peter unlocked the door, and we fell through it.

  “Where is it?” Peter asked.

  “I don’t know. I’m thinking.” I glanced around the room. Where had I seen it recently? Since I'd not unpacked and fully moved into the apartment, it wasn’t as organized as I normally would’ve liked.

  “Check my desk drawer!” I said as I raced to the bedroom. I threw down my carry-on in the hallway, hoping I didn’t break anything. I pulled open my nightstand drawers one at a time, shuffling through the remaining items. Nothing.

  “Peter?” I asked. The strain was evident in my voice.

  “It’s not here, Regan. Where else?” Jax asked.

  “I don’t know.” I dropped to my hands and knees to look under the bed. My right knee screamed in protest. I let out a scream of frustration when I only saw dust bunnies. I jumped back up and ran into the closet. I looked for my IPB. My Important Papers Box. It wasn’t sitting in its normal place on the shelf. Crap. Now, where had that gone? The closet was empty of all items, it made the search quick and easy. And disappointing.

  I opened every drawer in my dresser, but they were all empty from the packing earlier. I shoved my hand down into the pillowcases. I pulled the bed linens apart, shaking them. Hoping the passport would go flying. I ran my hand between my mattresses. I moved back to the bedside table. I lifted the lamp, looking underneath it. I moved the curtains aside and looked along the baseboards hoping it had fallen and I’d just not noticed.

  Slamming doors and drawers could be heard from the kitchen and living room. Hands shuffling through items sent up a symphony of noise followed by grunts and sighs of frustration. Peter met me in the hallway. He shook me by my shoulders.

  “Where, Regan? Think!” Peter said.

  “I don’t know.”