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Loren
When the door to the coffee house slams shut behind me at exactly four o’clock, I breathe a sigh of relief and gleefully escape the noxious cloud that is otherwise known as my fellow counter mate, Jasper. For the immediate future, I am free from his poisonous tongue and critical eye. And as for the more distant future, well, what the hell do I know? Waking up each morning is a major feat in my opinion.
My skin prickles despite the scorching temperature as my thoughts return to him. The guy who strolled in at the crack of dawn, ready to pummel my jerkoff co-worker if I gave the order. The one whose thick, chestnut-colored hair I long to fist. The one whose deep brown eyes could melt my insides if given the chance. That’s part of the reason I kept avoiding his smoldering gaze. I knew if I stared for too long, I’d be rendered immobile, helpless, left to thrash about in the quicksand that was his intoxicating aura.
After so many weeks of solitude, save for customers and Jasper, I finally remember how nice it is to feel excitement, desire, and hope again. Except, I know it’s fleeting. Each day, I turn the knob of my apartment door, praying I’ll be alone once I step inside, that I won’t be greeted by the barrel of a gun, that I’ll be able to fall asleep of my own accord, and that my eyes will open the next morning.
Dammit! If only I could hit rewind on that last night, if only I would have stayed in the bathroom for a few extra minutes, or left with the rest of the wait staff for after-work drinks…anything to avoid witnessing that gruesome scene, inadvertently altering my life as I knew it.
Fleeing my past has catapulted me toward an extremely uncertain future, one that doesn’t have room for romance, or relationships of any kind, for that matter. Witness protection, my ass. It’s not like they assigned a full-time bodyguard to escort me from Point A to Point B twenty-four seven. I’m vulnerable, exposed, and for an organization with so much cold, hard cash in its coffers, it’s only a matter of time before they find me. It’s my reality, and I have to accept it.
I pull down the beak of my baseball cap to shield my face. Since I now live in Manhattan, I’m officially a Yankee fan. I figure it’s the easiest way to avoid unwanted attention and to blend into the mobs of people packed into this city. I squint in the late afternoon sunshine, even though a large pair of black sunglasses covers my eyes. My hair, now short and blonde, is gathered into a ponytail that barely grazes my bare shoulders. The sweltering summer heat deters me from covering up any more of my body than absolutely necessary. It’s not like I have a huge rack that’ll attract gawkers, and my ass is as flat as an ironing board. Truth be told, I’m not really sure why I was hired in the first place. I looked nothing like the others.
No! I can’t go back there. I refuse to allow those memories to percolate. Not now, when I’m so close to the one place where I can find peace in my otherwise toxic existence.
A shiver shimmies down my spine as I navigate the sidewalk like the seasoned pro I’ve become. Little beads of perspiration pop up along the back of my neck. Somebody is watching, always watching…I just can feel it. The paranoia always lurks, but it keeps me on my toes, ready to bolt at a second’s notice. I swallow hard, heading for Hudson River Park.
A sweaty hand grazes my arm, and I recoil with a gasp. Some beefy loser leers at me like I’m his dinner. “Yankee fan, huh? How ‘bout we watch the game tonight? My place or yours?”
I yank back my arm, bile rising in my throat at the thought of anything more than his disgusting fingers on my body. “Thanks for the offer, but I have a scorching case of herpes.”
“Aw, too bad. I’m not drunk enough for that shit.” He clutches his heart and stumbles over a sidewalk crack, knocking into me. Ugh, more sweat and God only knows what else is seeping from his pores.
I’m very close to hurling all over this asshole when the pier comes into view. Making it down to the water in one piece is my daily objective, and I’m almost there.
I twist around his massive body and jog the rest of the way, greeted by the sweet smell of salty air. Freedom, a brief respite from the perpetual nightmare that clouds my days. And I thought losing my entire family in one gut-wrenching instant would be the very worst hand I’d ever been dealt.
My sneakers pound on the wooden planks, my legs aching with every step. The lacerations have healed, the pain has long subsided, but what lies beneath is still very much ripped apart. Damaged, broken, and well beyond repair. Sweat drizzles down the sides of my face. The air is so thick, it practically chokes me, but I keep going, running as if my life depends on it. And it does.
Panting, I collapse on the bench closest to the calm water of the Hudson River, the exact spot my parents took me so many years ago. They craved the bright lights, huge crowds, and crazy excitement that defined New York City, but more so, they loved that they could escape and find a small slice of serenity amid the insanity.
How ironic that the chaos they craved is what ultimately destroyed them.
I can still remember everything about that night…the sound of huge raindrops pelting the windows of our house during the storm, the flavor ice cream my babysitter Annie had chosen from the freezer when I was too scared fall asleep, our cocker spaniel Buster’s loud barks every time lightening struck. But it was the ringing of the telephone that gave me goose bumps and filled me with dread. I could feel it, the second the sound pierced the still air. Something happened. Something very bad.
Annie had lunged for the phone on the first ring. She spoke in a low voice, but I heard everything. Tears streamed down her face as she listened to whomever was on the line. She fiddled with the phone cord, turning away from me. I cowered behind the couch, still watching, shivering in my thin Cinderella nightgown.
Until she hung up the phone and shattered my world.
They’d gone into the city for a benefit. The storm had gotten so bad, some of the main roadways heading into the city had been closed, and they had to take an alternate route of back roads. The winds were strong, and a large branch had broken off a tree, crashing onto the windshield. According to eyewitnesses, their car had swerved and skidded on the slippery surface, slamming into another tree. My parents had been killed on impact, words that were permanently burned into my memory.
I was only eight. I’d just lost my two front teeth. I wore my hair in pigtails. I still believed in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. I slept with a nightlight because I was scared of the dark.
But my parents were gone…forever. They were never coming home. They’d never tuck me in and kiss me goodnight again. No more bedtime stories, no more family movie night. It was just me. Alone. Who would protect me from the boogeyman? Who would help me with my homework? Who would force me to eat my vegetables for dinner? Who would comfort me if I fell and skinned my knee?
Who?
A sharp pain slices into my heart. I miss them so damned much. And they missed everything.
My vision blurs from the tears threatening to flow in torrents. I want to cry for the people I’ve lost, and beg for the life I’ve earned, and the strength I need to fight for it. In this massive city full of people, I am one hundred percent alone. It’s a pretty shitty feeling, especially with the class of people hot on my trail. They’ll always be back. They’ll never give me the peace I crave.
Except…I now have a shred of hope. He’s here…
My fingers close around the disposable cell phone in my pocket. I was warned not to do what I’m about to do, but I need to hear a familiar voice. I’ll destroy the evidence immediately, but now I just need comfort. I take a deep breath before dialing my best friend, Taylor.
“Hello?”
“Tay, it’s me,” I murmur, scouring the expansive space for anyone lurking for a second longer than necessary. The paranoia is back in full effect.
“Loren! Holy shit! Where the hell are you? It’s been weeks and radio silence? I’ve been freaking the fuck out!”
My throat tightens. “I can’t tell you where I am. I shouldn’t even be calling now, but I needed to hear your voice.” To make sure you’re alive, and that they haven’t come after you looking for me.
“Did you know there was a murder at the restaurant the same night you disappeared? Do you know how scared I’ve been? And you waited this long before calling me?” Taylor’s hysterical tone matches the one in my head, the one I’ve had to keep on mute since I fled upstate New York, in a quiet little town called Hollbrook, where nothing eyebrow-raising ever happens. At least, that’s what I’d thought.
“I just wanted to let you know that I’m okay. Please do not tell anyone about this call. It’ll put you in danger, and I can’t have that on my conscience.”
“Loren, I’m worried sick about you. The authorities have been swarming the town, trolling for evidence, interrogating everyone and anyone about the murder. It’s fucking scary!”
“I know.” My voice quivers, and I know I won’t be able to hold back the tears if I stay on the line much longer. “Listen, I love you. You’re the only family I have left, Tay. I just needed to hear your voice. Please be careful, and don’t tell anyone about this call. I’ll talk to you again soon. Hopefully.” I click the end button and say a silent prayer that her line isn’t tapped.
My shoulders droop forward and I sniffle, swiping at my eyes. I wait and wait, but the peace that evades me never comes. Tears run down my face, streaking my makeup. Mom and Dad, I need you. Please give me strength to get through this.
A somewhat cool breeze slithers under my thin top and my spine stiffens. I can sense the presence of someone behind me. I can’t explain it, but my senses tell me there is an unfamiliar presence watching, waiting. My eyes dart in both directions, looking if anybody is nearby. I have to remind myself that this is Manhattan. People in this city aren’t exactly known for being Good Samaritans, so once again, I’m on my own.
I clutch the sides of the bench, ready to dart, when a shadow from behind blankets me. My pulse throbs against my throat, my legs twitching. Go now! If you wait, you die!
“Hey, are you okay?”
My pulse throbs against my neck and I leap to my feet, spinning in the direction of the gravelly voice. I couldn’t be more surprised if one of those so-called scary motherfuckers was pointing a Glock directly at my head.
“You,” I sputter.
I’m greeted by a smile so bright, it makes me blink. Please, please, please let this be real…
“Yeah, me.”