The app loads, displaying an array of cars driving on streets fairly close to my location. I click on the few buttons I need to secure a ride and stand on the edge of the sidewalk waiting for the app to notify me one is on its way.
A door opens, hitting against the side of a building. I jump as the sound echoes across the sidewalk. “Don’t pull shit with me, Richie.” A deep man’s voice filters out from further down.
I step back into the shadows to not draw attention to myself and cross my fingers the Uber gets here quickly.
The two men walk down the sidewalk, coming right at me, but they’re too involved in the conversation to notice where I stand.
“I want my cut,” one of the guys argues.
“Richie, you don’t have a cut. You need to learn your place.”
Richie stops walking. The temperature drops a few degrees as a black car speeds up around the corner and stops on the curb. Two men get out but don’t approach the argument. The other man pulls something from his coat pocket and sticks his arm out in Richie’s direction. There’s a loud pop like someone stepped on a firecracker and a flash of red from where the two men stand. The second falls to the ground.
I scream, drawing attention from the three men still standing.
“What the fuck was that?” one of the men from the car yells. His head whips in my direction as I place a hand against my mouth to silence any other screams. They’ve seen me now and I can’t run. “Take care of her.” One man nods his head to the one standing by the driver’s seat.
I search out an escape in either direction, but there’s none to be found. My back flattens as close to the wall as possible and I sit on the ground.
I close my eyes waiting for the inevitable. I’ve seen enough movies to know this won’t end in my favor.
“Amanda?” a man’s voice I recognize asks.
I look up, my eyes widening. Drew stands at the edge of my feet, a gun held to his side but not pointed in my direction.
“Fucking shit,” he says and I tense. “Like I didn’t have enough shit.” Drew rubs his forehead, lines forming in the space. When he opens his eyes, they’re dead set on mine. “Get down and stay quiet, okay?” he whispers.
I nod, covering my mouth tightly. A tear leaks out of the corner of my eye, falling to the pavement. He raises the gun, the barrel at my level but pointed to the left. A shot rings out, the smell of smoke sizzling in the air, and my ears ring. I squeeze myself as tightly as possible to the brick building and the staircase I’ve hidden behind.
Drew leans down, burying his face next to mine. “You can’t tell anyone you saw me here. Promise me, Amanda.”
“I promise,” I say, nodding my head.
He turns and walks off, returning to the vehicle and closing the door.
The other man who got out of the car punches the shooter in the face causing him to step back. “You’re done. You better run and hide because you’re on your own this time. Let the police have you.” The man spits at him and turns before getting in the passenger side of the vehicle and slamming his door.
Then as quickly as the car pulled up, it pulls away from the curb and speeds off into the distance.
It tookme over an hour to get the story out to Hudson. On multiple occasions I had to stop talking in order to cry. Not because the story was so scary or sad, but because it’s taken me so long to tell it. I hadn’t realized all the emotions and feelings over this event have grown larger each day. Now the monster is so big it takes up my entire consciousness. Telling the story to Hudson made the burden less heavy, but it’s something I’ll be carrying around for a while.
It doesn’t take away from the fact Drew, Clare’s roommate, is doing something he shouldn’t be doing.
“Are you sure he’ll come?” I ask Hudson, who sits next to me on one side of the booth.
He nods. “If he knows what’s good for him.”
It took me longer to tell Hudson my story than it did for Hudson to figure out a solution. After that it was only a couple of minutes before Hudson called Drew to set up this meeting. Hudson’s calm and optimistic about the outcome, but I’m not so positive. Drew gave me one instruction — don’t tell anyone. Who knows what he’ll do once he realizes I have. Who knows what Clare will do when she finds out I ratted out her best friend. Does she know what Drew does on the darkened streets of San Francisco?
“Don’t worry, Amanda. I have it under control,” Hudson says squeezing my fingers. An older couple walks past us and smiles, thinking we’re a cute couple sharing the same side of the booth rather than two people ready to confront a friend. Hudson smiles back like he doesn’t have a care in the world. He’s not nervous. He probably has these meetings all the time. I’m not in the circle of knowledge on how criminals work, but we’re in the tech capital of the world. Something tells me criminals in San Francisco aren’t hiding out in seedy back rooms. In the digital world it only makes sense criminals have gone online too.
“What are you thinking about? Hudson asks.
I shrug. “Nothing.”
“Amanda,” he presses, all joking aside.
“Oh fine. I wonder how much criminal activity has gone digital, especially here with all the tech companies.” There, I hope he’s happy and not one of those people who wants me to express every thought I have. Sometimes I want to think about stuff privately.
