Why were we turning down the road leading to the airport?
The car slowed as it approached a gate, and the driver lowered his window while an attendant walked toward the car. The driver handed the attendant a piece of paper.Am I being abducted? Where the fuck are they taking me? They can’t take me somewhere without my knowledge and consent.
“Follow the green cones, and it’ll take you right to the aircraft. Have a good evening,” the attendant said.
“Thank you,” the driver replied. He rolled the window up as the gate rolled open.
I stared at Atlas as the car followed the path toward the green cones.
“Relax, it’s dinner.”
“On a plane?”
“A jet.”
“Fine. Is the dinner on a jet?”
“No. But we need the jet to get to dinner.”
This wasn’t making sense, and I was starting to lose it.
“Why are we taking a jet to dinner? There are lots of places we could go for dinner in L.A. Tons of places. Lots of celebrities and athletes love places in L.A.”
“Ryder, please relax,” Atlas said.
A man wearing a bright blue jumpsuit with a yellow reflective vest waved illuminated sticks in the air. The Bentley crept forward and stopped at the spot where the man pointed with the light stick.
“Ryder.”
I didn’t turn my head to look at Atlas. Instead, I focused on everything going on around me. I looked closely at the two men getting out of the Bentley. I needed to be able to tell the police what these clowns looked like. They shut their doors gently and then stood by my door and Atlas’ with their backs against the glass.
“Ryder.”
I lowered my head so I could look at the identification numbers and letters on the tail of the jet. I could remember it.
“Ryder,” Atlas said again, more firmly. I turned to look at him. “I need you to relax.”
“I can’t relax.”
“You can.” His calm tone was back.
“I can’t leave L.A. tonight. I need to work tomorrow. Twice. I have a shift at the library from when it opens until four. Then I need to be at the grocery store from five to eleven.”
“I’ll have you home tonight.”
Oh. I swallowed hard and glanced at the tail of the jet again.
“Besides, I gave Mr. and Mrs. Craig my word that I’d have you home tonight.”
I winced at that and shook my head. I didn’t think his word was worth shit. I remembered his rehearsed lines from the bullshit he fed us the other night.
“Do you not trust me?”
“I don’t have a reason to trust you.”
“I haven’t given you a reason not to trust me,” he quickly said.
Being in and out of foster homes when I was younger, I learned that people’s words and promises meant nothing, but their eyes wouldn’t steer you wrong. Remembering the comfort that I felt the other night each time Atlas looked at me, and feeling it again tonight in my living room, I pulled my gaze from the jet to look into his eyes to see if it was still there. Maybe it was that comfort and trust I’d seen in Atlas’ eyes that made me hold on to his card after Roger beat me that night. I was terrified it wouldn’t be there again. I was afraid I’d been duped and lured into false trust. But when I looked into his eyes, I felt the same comfort I’d felt the first time he looked at me.
