“It is your fault I had to drop her off. You were supposed to pick Emma up this time.” Even though I can’t see his face, I can picture the look he’s giving me. Barry always had a way with snotty faces. “Don’t ask me to do any favors for you in the future if this is the way you plan to act after getting your way.”
“Noted,” I say through gritted teeth. I never planned on asking for another favor anyway. “Look, Barry, I have to let you go so I can drive. Stoplights and all that,” I say, disconnecting from his call at the turn onto the main road out of Pelican Bay — the one covered in trees and wooded acres and not a traffic light or stop sign in sight.
I turn the music up loud so I can legitimately say I didn’t hear if he calls back.
The weekend with Nate was wonderful. We spent time unboxing all our possessions and mashing two households together, and in the evenings, we threw a big barbecue in our new backyard with our friends. It was the first of many perfect weekends. I can’t wait to bring Emma home and have her look at her new place. She’ll love her big room and the fenced-in backyard.
I pull into the apartment parking lot in my favorite space, deciding to use my key one last time. I need to turn it into the leasing office tomorrow, but I can use it tonight to relive a few memories of our time in this apartment. It is, after all, a place that led to so many other good things. I’m one of those women who likes to live the sappy all over again anytime possible. It’s important to hold on to the good memories and special times while we can. It’s also why I watch the Hallmark Channel Christmas movies over and over again during the month of December. We all know how they will end, but we watch anyway because the ending doesn’t matter, only the journey. Nate better brace for many holidays spent with mugs of hot cocoa watching small-town romances on the big screen.
I step onto the sidewalk as a car pulls up to the space I just vacated. The driver rolls his window down.
“Hey!” he hollers.
Two men are in the front seat, but the one in the back seat puts me on high alert from the start. Anyone with three men in a vehicle would make me a little jittery, but I do my best to remember we’re safe here.
“Can I help you?” I ask as I move closer to the car believing he wants directions.
“Yeah, you the hoe who stole our merchandise?”
I look around, and my body freezes at the mention of drugs. Who are these men and how do they know me?
18
“Who me?” I ask, putting a hand on my chest like it’s not possible they could mean me. But my wide eyes give me away. They dart around anywhere and everywhere except looking at the men in the car as I back up.
The one behind the wheel, an overweight white man with slicked-back hair and dark sunglasses I only thought California troopers wore, laughs. “Yeah, that’s her. Grab her, boys.”
Two car doors open and I turn, my eyes wide like a bunny stuck in a trap. I run in the first direction I can. Straight ahead. It’s Sunday, and the office is closed, but if I can reach an apartment in the building, there’s a chance someone will help me. I veer left, turning hard and heading toward the apartment building, but something finds my back like a heavy bag of potatoes and knocks me to the ground.
I open my mouth wide, preparing to scream, but he clamps a hand over my lips and pushes so hard I can’t even bite down. The man on top of me smells like he dumped a bottle of cologne on himself to cover up the fact he bathes in an old ashtray, and I try to gag but the pressure from his hand stops even that.
“Here’s what you do, sweetheart. We’re going to walk to the car together nice and slow. You scream and my friend will shoot you. It’s that simple. Do you understand?”
I nod because what else can I do in that situation? I suck in a deep breath but don’t get much oxygen because his hand blocks my mouth and nose as he pulls me up to standing. The two of us march back to the car with the other man following close behind, his angry eyes never leaving my focus.
“Why do they always run?” The guy in the front seat asks out his window.
I’m thrown into the middle of the backseat, each man flinging an arm over my chest to make sure I can’t get out of the car and roll away. Which was my first and only thought at the moment. It’s a tight fit and all three of us are breathing deeply as the driver puts the car in drive and pulls out.
“Who are you? What are you going to do?” I ask, gasping for breath from my unsuccessful attempt at escape.
Nobody answers.
“Where are you taking me?”
The driver’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror and he sneers. “Listen up, lady. I’m the one who asks the questions, not you. Shut her up back there.”
A hand slaps my face and the skin under my cheek burns as I rub away his red finger marks using the mirror to look at my swollen skin. My hair is a wild mess and my lip hurts as if a tooth cut it when I fell down.
Is this a kidnapping? I’ve never been kidnapped before? I’m not sure what you’re supposed to do. Call the police or not call the police? Not that they would let me call 911, anyway.
I mentally kick myself, too scared to move in the car unless they find another way to shut me up. This time permanently. Why didn’t I listen to Nate when he told me he wanted to come with me? I was so worried about getting Emma on time that I told him I couldn’t wait for him to get back from the office. It would’ve been maybe an extra five minutes, but it would have meant a very different ending to the situation. All the things people say about small towns being safe are crap. They didn’t poll this town.
What will happen to Emma if they kill me? She’d be forced to live with her father and the horrible babysitter as the only people to take care of her. I can’t allow that to happen. As we drive further out of town headed into Clearwater, the two years of her life pass before me. The time she cut her first tooth and kept me up all night crying. When she took her first steps and then fell against the couch and bumped her head on the leg. Trick-or-treating and her first birthday party with all her family and friends. We’re only a few months away from a birthday — one I couldn’t wait to spend with her and Nate.
The events I’ve lived flash before my eyes but also all the stuff I’m missing out on in the future. A life with Nate. The children we would have, with his beautiful eyes and maybe my smile. Definitely his hair, the thick dark strands, which look like they take a ton of time to fix just right, but in reality he only runs his fingers through and goes. Would we have another daughter or son? We’ve talked hypothetical children here and there, but nothing concrete. Does he want one or two or five? I believe I’m particular to three myself, but if I wanted to live in the little yellow house for a lifetime, we’d better stop at two. There are all the barbecues we haven’t had together. Our friends hanging out at our place on weekends. Homecoming games and prom dances for Emma and her siblings. Teaching her to drive. It’s not the past, but all the things I’ll miss out on hurt the most.
Calm down, Josie. Everything will be fine.
