Page 118 of A Matter of Time

“If he is,” Andy said, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror, “then I’ve got first dibs.”

But when the car stopped in front of the club, I spilled out and went inside with the yelling, cajoling, and calling behind me. I wasted no time pushing my way into the crowd and losing myself. I could feel the thump of the trance music inside my body as I danced. They were playing vintage tracks, and I closed my eyes and moved. It was like drowning in sound.

I had many partners, but nobody could get me off the floor, so they lost interest. Even as ready for a one-night stand as I was, there was no bathroom action for me. Screwing in a stall while other people peed had never been my idea of a good time. So I stayed and danced until Andy came and dragged me off the floor with strong arms wrapped around my chest. I gulped down copious amounts of ice water, even though he tried to get alcohol in me. Still on cloud nine from my talk with Dane, when I saw Nick sitting at a table near the back with some of his friends, I decided that I would give it one more try. It was almost Thanksgiving, after all.

All eyes on the table rose to me until Nick noticed that the focus was behind him and turned. His gaze came up from the floor to my face very slowly. I smiled wide for him, and I watched his jaw clench.

“Hey. Can I talk to you?”

He stood up and put a hand flat on my chest before he shoved me back. “Get lost, Jory.”

“Nick,” I said, reaching for him. “Please, just c’mere for⁠—”

“What? You wanna say sorry for the way you treated me?” He shrugged. “Like it matters? Like you didn’t do me a huge favor. I mean, for shit’s sake, Jory, what the fuck was I thinking? I’m going to be a doctor and you’re just some trash I picked up at a club. You’re the fuck-and-forget kind, not the forever kind.”

“Nick—”

“You’ve got one-night stand written all over you.”

One last try, because I owed him. In karma, I owed him. “Nicky, please let me just⁠—”

“What? You want me to fuck you?” The whole table laughed at once, and I got that everybody else knew that I’d treated him badly. They were enjoying me begging him, trying to apologize, and getting just what I deserved instead. Payback was a bitch, and he was giving it to me with both barrels. I was in for embarrassment and humiliation galore. “Let’s go to the bathroom, Jory, I’ll tap that right now for you.”

I just looked at him.

“No? You wanna take me back to your place, Jory?”

I remained silent.

“It’s a shithole, but you’re a fuck boy, so it makes sense. How many guys you have through there a night? Five? Ten?”

I nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay what? You wanna go to your place?”

I shook my head.

“Well, you’re not coming home with me,” he said snidely. “I’d have to burn my sheets afterward. And don’t get me started on how many condoms I’d have to wrap up in. I can only imagine what you’re carrying.”

I took a steadying breath and a few steps backward, then turned around and left. And it was weird, but I almost felt better. I had let him hurt me, give me all the venom he had, then said nothing and walked away. It was somehow cleansing. My debt was paid. But I couldn’t stay. Getting your ass handed to you is a buzzkill no matter what.

When I ducked outside, I realized how cold it was. I needed a jacket or a cab right away. I shoved my hands into my pockets and started down the street. After a couple of minutes I realized something was moving out of the corner of my eye. Untrained in the art of surveillance and stalking myself—as in how to do it or how not to let on when someone is doing it to you—I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and looked to see if there was anyone there. The van that was clearly following me did the same. It came to a stop, and as the side door flew open, I bolted. I heard the firecracker pop close to me and ran down the alley to my right. I heard the revving engine and was up and over the six-foot chain-link fence in seconds flat. Give it up for my gym membership. Yes, I exercised to look good, but cardio worked no matter the reason.

I ran on, never once looking back, having seen way too many horror movies where the hero got it like that. The rusted dumpster I ducked around got hit, and the reverberation of metal hitting metal panicked me.

When I reached the next street, I heard screeching tires as I went up and over cars stopped at the light, trying to get my bearings and see where I was. I nearly got hit by another car that ran the red, and ran flat out once I got across. The only thought I had was that I had to lead whoever it was as far away from my apartment as possible.

The stairs leading up to the L were there suddenly, and as I ran I heard the engine. Too close to get up to the platform, and I was getting dangerously close to my neighborhood. I swerved sharply and heard the crunch of metal. I instantly reversed and started back for the club. I could feel my lungs starting to hurt even as I pushed and felt the kick of speed. Again, all those hours on the stair climber and hundreds of laps in the pool were paying off big-time. Funny the things that go through your head when you’re running for your life.

It was hilarious, or it would have been, but when I came careening around the corner, I saw Nick and his friends coming out of the club. I went around the parked cars into the street so I wouldn’t run past him and his group. I stopped suddenly, and the van blew by as I looked around.

“Jory!” Nick yelled at me, and when our eyes met, I registered the fear there before I checked the van. It swung around, and I bolted across the street. I heard the tires and more firecracker pops before I flew down another alley. I saw a dumpster and above it a roof ladder.

Adrenaline is amazing. I felt like Spider-Man or something. I got up on the closed dumpster, leaped for the rung, and did a chin-up to the second one. Once my legs were under me, I got up fast as the van came to a screeching stop beneath me. Not that I looked down, I just heard it.

There was yelling, and then there were sparks in front of my face, on all sides, as I climbed. Luck was on my side, and the shots missed me. I fell over onto the roof of the apartment building and lay there for a minute trying to breathe, trying to get my heart and lungs not to explode. I pulled out my phone and dialed the police precinct. I asked not for Sam but for his partner, Dominic Kairov. I sat there as I was forwarded.

“Mr. Keyes?”