River

My feet rhythmically pound the sidewalk on my late afternoon run, and the low sun almost blinds me. Off-season workouts are so light, I feel guilty if I don’t put in a few miles every day when they’re over.

Today, I’m not thinking about the distance of my run or my form like I usually do. I have much more interesting things occupying my thoughts. For example, I spent the first mile imagining how Angel’s skin would feel against mine. Then, for a quarter-mile or so, I thought about her hair sliding through my fingers.

I cleared my thoughts for a half-mile to calm the wood growing in my shorts by thinking about my sisters playing with their dolls when they were little and my mother praying the rosary at church on Sunday.

I got my shit together and tried to think about something else, anything, but it was useless. It wasn’t long before I was daydreaming about spreading her out on my bed and burying my face between her legs.

Pussy whipped before the first date. Unbelievable.

The Sparks Stadium is beautiful at this time of day, with the sun glinting off the glass panels that cover the front of the massive structure. I slow my pace to a walk and approach my car.

I should go in and grab my bag from the locker room, but I’m running short on time. I was already late for Angel’s class today. I will not be late for our date.

As soon as I left the dance studio, I called to make a reservation at Poppy’s, my sister, Olivia’s, restaurant in San Jose. It’s an hour-long drive, but the food and the laid back atmosphere are more than worth it. And there is nobody better at playing cupid than my big sister. If she ever quit the restaurant business, she would have to work for E-Harmony. She has never met a person she deemed incompatible. She uses her restaurant to network for her business, but I swear, sometimes, she just does it to meet new people to match.

I look up and see Kyle striding across the lot to his Hummer. When he’s within earshot, he calls out, “Hey, man, you forgot your phone in your locker. It’s been blowing up. Didn’t wanna be nosy or nothing, so I let it keep ringing.”

“Thanks, I’ll run in before I go. You headed home?”

“Yeah, the wifey got a sitter so we can have a date night.”

“You gonna show her some of your new dance skills?”

“Fuck naw. I’m gonna show her something else, though,” he says, waggling his eyebrows and wrinkling his big black head.

“All right, all right, no need to elaborate. Have fun.” We high-five when we pass between the cars, and I power walk to the stadium to see what the hell is going on with my phone.

I hope it’s not Angel calling to cancel. No, can’t be. I didn’t give her my number. She could have gotten it from the office in the studio, though. Shit.

I pass several teammates on my way through the building until I’m standing in front of my locker. I snatch my phone off the top shelf and see six text messages from an unknown number.

I press my thumb on the security pad, and it opens to a text from Misty.

You there?

Text number two is from my mom, asking me to come to a family dinner tomorrow night. I tuck that into my list of things to do on date number two and continue to the third text.

I heard you’re asking about us.

The only person who knows I’m looking for her is Millie. That old coot had her phone number all along.

I scroll on, and text number four is also from Misty.

Please don’t.

Please don’t? What the hell? My sister-in-law and niece and nephew disappear, and I’m not supposed to look into it? How do I even know the person on the other end of this thread is her?

Next on the list is an alert that my dry cleaning is ready to be picked up, and the last is, again, from Misty.

We are safe. Don’t look for us.

I blow out a short, quick breath and head back out into the heat to my car. Why would she be on the run with the kids? What the hell did my brother do to them? What kind of trouble is he in?

Every cell in my body wants to find him right now, beat him to a pulp, and leave him in the middle of a busy street.

Angel has no idea that when she agreed to go out with me tonight, she helped me avoid murder charges because if it weren’t for her, his blood would be on my hands.

In the car, I exit the lot, gripping the steering wheel with enough force to snap it in half if I had a mind to.

Focus on Angel, the date, and the time that I’m going to spend in the small confines of my car, smelling her, feeling that electric wave of magic that flows between us, and learning about her.

That’s always been my favorite part of starting a friendship, figuring out a woman’s favorite things. Not just the mundane things, either. I mean, it's good to know her favorite color and whether or not she’s into sports, but I want to ask the hard questions right up front, like Do you believe in God? Or maybe What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done to another person? and Do you speed when you drive?

I make a lengthy mental list of questions, trying to distract myself from my brother’s mystery situation, but’s no use. Misty and David are on my mind. I need to call Mom and ask her if she knows anything.

I tell the automated system to call my mother, and in seconds, her soothing, warm voice is filling the cold air-conditioned car.

“Mom?”

“The one and only. How is my favorite son?” she asks. We are all her favorite when we call. Nobody takes it personally, though. She’s done it all our lives.

“Fine, Mom. Do you know anything about Misty taking off with the kids?”

She’s quiet for a beat too long.

“You do, don’t you?”

“Well, now, I didn’t know she’d left, but I suspected something like this was coming. David’s been a terrible husband, and now look at him, bringing trash like that to our family dinner. Who could blame her?”

“I think there’s more to the story. She texted me today saying not to look for her and that they are safe. What is she safe from?”

“I don’t know. I try not to interfere much in your lives, but I never suspected . . .”

“Abuse?” I ask. The question lingers on the line between us as she considers that possibility.

“David’s always been a little different, but I didn’t think he would hurt Misty or the kids. Oh Lord, River, you don’t think she’s gone forever, do you? I can’t even think about never seeing my grandbabies again. Did she say where they went?”

“I spoke to their neighbor this morning, and she told me a few things. I think she knows more than she’s letting on, though. I’ll go back tomorrow and talk to her. Is Dad home tonight, or is he on the road?”

“He’s on the road. Won’t be home until tomorrow night. Are you coming for dinner?”

“Of course, and I might be bringing someone.” I shouldn’t get her hopes up like this, but maybe if I speak it out loud, it will come true.

“A girlfriend? Oh, River, have you finally met someone?” I can just imagine her clasping her hands over her heart and her giant blue eyes sparkling with hope.

“Not a girlfriend. Tonight’s our first date. I’m taking her to Olivia’s place. She’s a dancer.”

“A dancer? Like one of those girls who takes off her clothes in a nightclub?” she asks. I think she’s in shock. First, one of her sons has a runaway wife and children and a prostitute for a girlfriend. And now, she thinks her other son is dating a stripper, the poor thing.

“No, Mother, you know me better than that, don’t you?”

“I thought I knew your brother, too, but it seems I don’t.”

“It’s going to be okay, Mom. We’ll find Misty and the kids. I promise.”

“Does Mark know they’ve gone missing? He could help. He knows all of the police officers.”

My brother, James’s, husband, Mark, is a paramedic, and that’s always come in handy, but I hadn’t even thought about him being friends with the cops.

“No, but we can talk about it tomorrow night at dinner.”

“No, we shouldn’t talk about our family problems if you’re bringing a date. I’ll call everyone tonight. Speaking of your date, what sort of dancer is she?”

“She’s a professional ballet dancer. She’s teaching the team how to be more graceful on the field. That’s how I met her.”

“That’s wonderful, ballet . . .” she sighs as if dancing were her long lost dream.

“She’s amazing. I can’t wait for you to meet her— if she comes, that is.”

“Don’t be silly. What woman wouldn’t want to come to family night with a handsome man like you?”

A skittish, beautiful, sassy dancer. That’s who.

“Aw, Mom, you’re an ego booster for sure. See you tomorrow at six?”

“I’ll see you both tomorrow at six.”

“Okay, bye, Mom.”

“Goodbye, honey.”

“Mom, wait.”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“Oh, I love you too, my baby boy. Now go and sweep that dancer off her pink-toed feet so she’ll come and meet me tomorrow.”

“I will.”

I press End and pull into the long drive that leads to my house nestled in the woods. I’m focused when I hit the door and stride through the house to shower and change. I need to hurry. I can’t be late to sweep my dancing Angel off her feet.