Two years later in Chicago…
“Here.”
“Thanks.”
A small item was handed over, a twenty-dollar bill given in exchange and the two participants parted, lost in the shuffle of morning commuters swarming the sidewalks.
Hands shoved into his pockets, the courier headed on his way, not in the least interested in why he’d been hired to make the delivery or what it might have contained. Legal, illegal, it was all the same to him. It wasn’t like anyone’s fate rested on what he did, right? It was just a job. Pick up an item, deliver it, get a large tip to forget about it. Yep, easy money.
Later that day on the other side of the city…
The hands on the clock eased forward, settling on the twelve and the two, an event that brought a silent sigh of relief to the waitress who had been working since early morning. She arched her back and wiggled her toes in her shoes, thinking longingly of sitting with her feet up once she got home. Too bad it wasn’t going to happen for another three hours. When she’d agreed to fill in for a friend at the drop-in centre after work, she hadn’t anticipated being this tired. At least when she was done, she could relax. Her community college classes had finished—she’d taken summer session courses hoping to fast track through her program—and now had a few weeks of freedom before starting more in the fall.
“I’m done for the day.” She called out to the cook.
“See you, tomorrow, Lou.” Jeff the chef—not his real name but rather his stage name as he referred to it—replied to her from the kitchen. He was flipping a burger with one hand while lifting a basket of fries from a tub of hot oil with the other. Jeff was a small, wiry framed man with aspirations of being famous, maybe one of those fast-talking guys you saw on late-night TV selling speciality knives and kitchen gadgets. In the meantime, he was gaining ‘real life experience’ as he called it. The others often laughed but she figured everyone had to have some kind of dream to aspire to.
“I won’t be in tomorrow. I have the day off.”
“Lucky you!”
“Yep!” After waving to Jeff, she took her purse from a hook in the employee closet and dropped her tips into it.
Gin, one of the other waitresses, exited the small utility room just a few feet away and began to take off her apron. “Another day in the hellhole done.”
“Hey, this place is a regular palace compared to some of the places I’ve worked!” Jeff called out.
She had to agree. The diner wasn’t exactly fancy, but it wasn’t that bad. Mostly it was worn, like an old sweatshirt or a favourite chair that really should be thrown out except it was comfortable and familiar, so you kept putting off replacing it.
Gin didn’t appear to agree with Jeff’s opinion, her expression dour as she tapped her foot, waiting for her turn to access the small closet.
“I’ll be out of your way in a second, Gin.” Giving the closet a last scan, she snagged her box of tampons off the shelf. No point leaving them there for the month. She tucked the box into her purse and tossed a general ‘goodbye’ to the others before heading towards the door.
Just before exiting, she paused to take out her bus pass, idly noting the words fuck-off had been scratched on the glass door. The vandalism wasn’t surprising; the King’s Plate was a promising name for a restaurant but did little to promote truth in advertising. Located on an obscure street on the wrong side of an urban renewal zone, it was a typical tired, greasy spoon, its one claim to fame—if it could be called that—was being next door to a bowling alley, so the clatter of plates and pans was often drowned out by the rumble of bowling balls or tinny music if it was a ‘rock and bowl’ event.
“What are you looking at?” Andrew, one of the regulars was waiting to enter.
“Someone left a comment.” She nodded towards the epitaph.
His brows beetled together. “A nice girl like you shouldn’t have to see profanity like that.”
“I’ve heard and seen worse at the drop-in centre.” She patted his arm. “You know that.” Andrew stopped by the centre from time to time, mostly looking for company and a free cup of coffee rather than the counselling that was offered.
“It’s still not right.” He shook his head again. He was typical of the diner’s clientele. Rough around the edges with a heart of gold.
“Maybe they didn’t like the chilli,” she suggested while adjusting her purse over her shoulder.
He laughed and held the door open for her. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
As she stepped into the sunshine, her first thought was that it was even hotter outside than inside. She untucked the shirt of her uniform in the hopes a bit of a breeze might waft under the hem and cool her skin. The old air conditioner mounted in the diner’s window was wheezing as it tried to combat the summer heatwave. Water dripped constantly from the corner of the machine and trailed across the sidewalk creating a muddy streak before disappearing over the curb and combining with the dirt and debris in the gutter.
“Got plans for the evening?” Kathy, one of the other waitresses, appeared beside her, looking around as if expecting someone.
“Nope. I’m doing a shift at the drop-in centre until five then picking up some groceries and heading home. I have tomorrow off, and I don’t even plan to leave the apartment.”
The woman nodded. “Sounds nice and relaxing. Me, I’ll be wrangling the kids.”
As Kathy turned to leave, the edges of their purses somehow caught. Both bags landed on the ground beside each other and the two women bent simultaneously to pick them up. Like a slapstick routine, their heads banged together.
“Ouch!”
“Ow!”
Rubbing her head, Lou grabbed her own purse, thankful it hadn’t spilled its contents on the sidewalk.
Kathy muttered an uncharacteristic curse while retrieving her own.
“Sorry.” Lou apologized. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Kathy opened her mouth as if to say something and then hesitated. “Umm…”
She looked at her expectantly but the bus was approaching. “Sorry, I have to run. I don’t want to be late for my shift at the centre. Talk to you later!”
“Hold the bus!” Gin hurried out of the diner. She arrived just in time and slid into a seat across the aisle. Beyond a tired sigh, she made no attempt to start a conversation.
Lou placed her purse on her lap and tried to zip it shut. After the close call on the sidewalk she didn’t relish the idea of another accident which could very well result in her possessions rolling about under the bus seats while she crawled around trying to retrieve them. She gave the zipper an extra firm tug and the lid of the tampon box caught in it. Muttering under her breath, she freed it then tucked the cardboard flap into the little slot that locked it shut. Once again, she tried to close her purse.
“That’s never going to zip up with that box in it,” Gin observed. “Here, I have a shopping bag with me. Use it.”
“Thanks.” She accepted the offering and dropped the box into the bag, then closed her purse securely. Finally feeling organized, she sat back to look out the window.
A digital sign caught her attention. It revealed the temperature was in the high nineties and she wished she hadn’t looked. Knowing the number seemed to make the heat even worse. If past experience was anything to go by, her short shift at the crisis centre would be busy. Rising temperatures seemed to correlate to escalating tempers and bigger problems; the reception area at the centre would likely be full.
“I hate summer,” Gin grumbled.
Taking the remark as an invitation to talk, she responded and they discussed the weather. It wasn’t a scintillating conversation, however, considering it was with Gin that wasn’t surprising.
The bus approached her stop and she stood up, purse strap slung over her shoulder.
“Don’t forget your stuff.” Gin jerked her chin towards the shopping bag that sat on the seat.
“Thanks.” She should have just left the darned things at work!
Once at the centre, she stowed her items under the reception desk and started her shift. Clients came and went, some for counselling while others used the pool table or cooled off in front of the large fans that were strategically positioned around the building.
“Hey, Lou!” Neil, one of the counsellors, gave her a wave. He was a nice guy and had shown an interest in her, but getting involved with someone wasn’t part of her plan. She had her eyes set on earning a degree and in the meantime worked at the diner to pay the bills and helped at the centre to gain experience.
While she wasn’t allowed to counsel the clients at the centre, she helped with filing and fielding non-emergency phone calls, made sure the pamphlet racks were filled, sorted mail and offered a friendly smile to those who were waiting in the reception area. All the while she was watching and listening to the professionals. It was knowledge that might help her in her own career one day.
“Hi Neil. Looks like a full house today.”
“Yep.” He handed her a file and lingered to talk for a few minutes before heading back to his office for his next appointment.
If she were looking for someone, Neil would be the kind she’d choose. There was nothing remarkable about his appearance, but he was calm and steady and seemed the sort who would stick around for the long run. In her experience, most men were about as reliable as an ice cube in the desert. If you found a good one you had to hang on to him with both hands or he’d melt away.
One hour passed and then another until it was closing time. She and Neil checked no one was left inside and locked the door.
“Can I give you a ride home?” Neil paused at the bottom of the steps. “The car’s air-conditioned.”
She nudged her glasses up on her nose, sweat already dewing her skin even though they’d only been outside a minute. “Tempting, but no. I have to get groceries on the way home.”
He nodded, his shoulders slumping. “Then I’ll see you in a couple of days.”
“Right.” She gave him a polite yet distracted smile, not wanting to encourage him. “Here comes my bus. Bye.”
He watched until she was inside and seated, then gave her a wave through the window. She nodded and sank down in her seat wishing he hadn’t.
It was awkward, constantly rebuffing his attempts to start something between them.
It wouldn’t have been a problem years ago, her old self reminded her. We would have accepted anyone who’d shown an interest.
“And look where it got us,” she countered. “Nowhere.”
Folding her arms, she firmly ignored the voice in her head. Chicago hadn’t always been her home, but she was making a new life for herself here. She had goals and she was sticking to them. The mistakes of the past—expecting to find the perfect man to complete her life and make her happy—wouldn’t be repeated.
As the bus wound its way through the streets, she mentally reviewed her shopping list and, at the stop for her local grocery store, jumped off the bus to join the throngs on the sidewalk, all of whom looked equally hot and tired now that their workday was over. When she reached the store, she lingered inside longer than necessary, enjoying the cool air until one of the clerks began to look at her suspiciously.
He glanced at a sign on the wall. “No loitering.”
She gave him a broad smile. “Just getting my second wind before heading back out.”
“Yeah, well do that somewhere else. We’re running a business here, not a cooling station.”
Part of her wondered if he would have been so rude if she’d looked like she used to. Glasses and mousy brown hair didn’t gain her special favours the way blond hair and tight clothing had. Not that she was complaining; her current appearance was better suited to her goals.
She smiled sweetly at the clerk. “And you have a lovely day, too.”
Not surprisingly, he took no notice of her comment.
Back home, people lingered in the stores chatting with the owners or other customers, her old self said, but not here.
She had to agree. Everyone was always in a rush to get somewhere, not quite meeting each other’s gaze. She’d found it odd at first, still did if the truth be told. Not everyone was like that, just enough that it could get discouraging.
The groceries paid for, she stuffed them in the shopping bag Gin had given her and started the walk to her apartment.
Her old self made disparaging comments as the heat reflecting off the concrete made it seem hotter than it already was. Back home, the streets are lined with trees, their leaves rustling gently and casting shade onto the sidewalk.
Giving her head a shake, she halted her journey down memory lane. This was home now. No point in moaning about what you no longer had. Instead, she focused on getting to her apartment, taking a shower, cool clothing, a fan pointing straight at her…
She twitched her shoulders as she paused at an intersection waiting for the light to change, a sense of discomfort coming over her as if someone was studying her. Looking around, she didn’t see who it might be. No one appeared to be paying attention to her. Maybe it was the heat getting to her. Sweat dripping down your spine was enough to make anyone twitchy.
The light changed colour and she crossed the road, walked one more block, then turned the corner. A bunch of young men were gathered near a car, looking under the hood, laughing and jostling each other. They barely glanced her way.
Just a few years ago, she would have put an extra sashay in her walk to draw their attention instead of ducking her head as she did now. Funny how life changed a person.
Her building came into view and she quickened her pace, the image of a cold glass of water acting like the proverbial carrot. When a blur of movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention, she instinctively turned her head towards it, half-stepping aside in expectation of a skateboarder or a cyclist. Instead something…someone…rammed into her shoulder.
With a cry of surprise, she stumbled, her arm tightening on her bag of groceries, the other shooting out to offset her shifting centre of gravity. “What the…?”
Two words were all she managed before the momentum had her crashing into a brick wall. Her glasses went flying, her teeth clicked together. Sickening pain exploded in her head while the bag of groceries slid from her now limp arm and the skin was abraded from her cheek by the rough surface of the wall.
A kaleidoscope of self-defence pointers from a class she’d taken swirled through her head. Before she could even grasp onto one of them, someone snatched her purse.
Some say your life is worth more than your luggage. Too bad her reflexes hadn’t remembered that. As the strap slipped down her arm, she automatically tightened her grip, jerking it back towards her.
“Give it to me!” The mugger yanked harder on the purse.
Kicking sideways at her attacker, she tried to use her elbow as a weapon but somehow her finger became caught in the strap, her nail ripped back and she cried out, instinctively pulling away. It was enough to change the balance of power.
Her assailant gained possession of the purse and fled down an alley.
She took a staggering step after him then stopped. It was pointless. He’d moved incredibly fast and super-human speed hadn’t been covered in her class. Maybe she should ask for a refund. The small huff of laughter that accompanied the thought threatened to dissolve into tears and she blinked hard, pressing her trembling lips together.
Falling apart isn’t an option, the voice inside reminded her.
Right. It was a fact she’d learned young in life. When things went wrong, you pulled yourself together and carried on, trying to find a hint of a rainbow amongst the rain. She wasn’t injured—at least not much—and now she had an excuse to buy a new purse. Yeah, that was a cause for celebration. Sort of.
She leaned against the wall, cradling her hand to her body and trying to steady her nerves.
“Hey lady! You okay?” The sound of pounding feet accompanied the shouted words and then she was surrounded by the young men she’d seen moments before.
“My purse…” Still stunned, she mumbled the words.
“Where’d he go?” One of them asked.
She nodded towards the alley and a few of the men took off running in search of the mugger.
“Are you hurt?” Those who remained behind hovered around her not seeming to know what to do, some shifting their attention from staring at her to picking up her groceries.
She reached up to check her head. No blood. Her finger throbbed where her nail had ripped and her cheek and arm hurt, but it could have been worse.
“I’m fine. Thanks. Just a bit shaken.” She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled while trying to believe her own words. “Do you see my glasses?”
Someone found them and handed them to her. At least they weren’t broken. Another bonus.
Sliding the glasses on helped, and the world coming back into focus gave her a sense of control. She took another deep breath and watched her groceries being stuffed back into the shopping bag. The carton of milk must have survived; there was no puddle on the pavement though the bread looked lop-sided from its rough treatment and tampon box no longer sported sharp ninety-degree corners.
“Maybe we should call the cops?”
“No!” Her reply was sharper than intended yet no one made a comment. In fact, they seemed relieved which had her wondering if they’d been hot-wiring the car rather than fixing it. Or maybe they just didn’t want to waste time being interviewed by the police.
“This yours?” One of those who had chased the mugger reappeared holding her purse.
“Yes, it is! Thank you.” She reached for it, hope momentarily surging. Getting her things back was better than a new purse any day.
“We found it tossed in a corner. He probably took your money then dumped it.”
“Right.” She did a quick search of the contents. Her phone was still there. Her tips were gone though, and so were her wallet and ID.
“Can we walk you home or call someone?”
Wetting her lips, she tried to control the panic that was filling her at the thought of her missing ID. “I…I live over there.” She gestured towards her building. “I’ll be fine. Thanks for the offer.” Forcing her lips to curve upward, she looked at her rescuers. “I really appreciate your help. It’s good to know there are heroes in the neighbourhood.”
“Hey, no problem.” They puffed up at her choice of words, no doubt pleased with themselves. “If we’d noticed what was going down, we would have got here sooner. The bastard wouldn’t have stood a chance against us.”
“I’m sure.” She smiled again, accepting the bag of groceries that was handed to her, hugging it and her purse to her chest. “I’m going to head home now. Thanks again.”
Not wanting anyone to see how truly shaken she was, she walked away with her head up and her pace steady. When she reached the entrance of her building, she glanced back. The young men were still standing at the sight of the mugging, talking and high-fiving each other. The tale would grow to epic proportions before the night was over. At least her name wouldn’t be part of it. Anonymity was one of the bonuses of living in a big city.
She entered the building, only relaxing when the door shut behind her and she was safely ensconced in the familiarity of the foyer.
When she’d first come to the city, she’d envisioned living in some swanky high-rise, maybe even meeting a rich executive like you’d read about in a book. Now she was happy to be in her old walk-up with no air conditioning. It had been a nice enough place in its day but, like the rest of the neighbourhood, it was showing its age. In a few years, it would probably be turned into upscale condos but for the time being it was shabby yet affordable, the latter being the important consideration.
Before heading upstairs, she took one last look outside, scanning the street. Not that a mugger would stay in the area, she assured herself. He’d be off spending her tip money or trying to use her credit card. She’d need to cancel it and her debit card, too. And replace her ID. Damn!
She began the climb to her apartment. The stairs were good for her butt, or so she told herself each time she made the trek up the numerous flights. Unfortunately, it was also hotter, the warmth from the other units rising to hers while the sun beat down on the flat roof, turning her place into an oven. It had been hard enough to find an apartment within her budget and close to work, amenities like A/C were out of her reach.
By the time she was at her door, sweat had her glasses sliding down her nose and the tendrils of hair that had escaped her ponytail sticking to her cheeks. She fumbled with the key, trying to fit it into the lock and had just succeeded when the door suddenly swung open.
“Hey there, Lulu. Perfect timing.” Roxi, her roommate, grinned at her not seeming to notice her reaction. Instead, she reached for the bag of groceries and emptied the contents on the entryway table. “You remembered the bread. Yay! I’m starved.”
“Yes, I remembered.” She pushed the door shut and locked it then gave the handle an extra tug just to be sure.
“How was your day?” Roxi didn’t wait for an answer and continued talking as she made her way to the kitchen. “Mine was miserable.” She frowned at the misshapen loaf. “What happened to this?”
“I...er…dropped it. What made your day miserable?” She didn’t want to talk about her own experience yet, needing some time to absorb the comfort and safety of being home behind a locked door. On autopilot, she picked up the milk and cheese from the table where Roxi had dumped them; the girl really was a slob.
“I had a go-around with my mother again.” Roxi was smearing peanut butter on a slice of bread, her shiny black hair pulled back in a high ponytail that bobbed with each movement.
Roxanne Dominique Accardo was perpetually hungry yet never seemed to gain an ounce, her figure model-thin whereas Lou’s tended to be more rounded. It wasn’t a fact that bothered her too much; the world needed a variety of shapes to keep things interesting, right?
“I should have known better than to call her.” Roxi spoke around a mouthful of food.
“Is she upset because she hates your new boyfriend, Joe, or whatever his name is?”
“No. I dumped him last night. Good riddance, too. He was a douche. Make that an asshole and a douche!”
“Oh.” She side-stepped around Roxi to put the groceries away, then took an apple out of the fridge, not because she was hungry but because it gave her something to do while she listened to Roxi’s diatribe.
In the time they’d been roomies, she’d learned Roxi’s family relationship was volatile, mostly due to Roxi not wanting to join the family business. Exactly what that business was, she wasn’t sure; Roxi was always vague on that point. Once she’d had even asked, half-jokingly, if it had to do with organized crime.
Roxi had laughed. “Not every Italian is part of the mob, you know! Besides, do you think I’d be living in a place like this if I had connections?”
“I suppose not.”
“Well, there you go!” Roxi had cracked her gum and then widened her eyes so she looked exceptionally innocent, which had left Lou wondering how truthful her answer had been. However, she was a decent roommate so it was probably wise not to ask too many questions.
Now, it seemed Roxi’s mother was complaining about her current job. “Mom doesn’t like me working at a dry cleaners. She said she’s read about the chemicals being bad for you.”
“I’m sure they are.”
“Yeah, but I find great stuff in the pockets of the garments people bring in.”
“Stuff? Like money?” The comment caught her attention.
“Sometimes, but I return that. I mean bits of paper, receipts. You never know when there might be interesting information.”
“Should I ask what you do with those interesting bits of information?” She shifted, not feeling comfortable with where the conversation was going.
Roxi cocked her head and appeared to think for a minute before grinning and giving a wink. “No. Probably not.”
Past experience had taught her she didn’t want anything to do with shady dealings; it had almost gotten her killed last time. Nope, she’d play deaf and dumb to that aspect of Roxi’s life. Setting down the uneaten apple, she blurted out her own news.
“I was mugged on the way home.”
“What? Why didn’t you say something?” Roxi turned in the middle of getting a glass from the cupboard and fixed her with an incredulous stare.
“I…”
In typical Roxi fashion, she didn’t wait for a reply, beginning an inquisition while turning her this way and that. “Are you hurt? There’s a scrape on your arm and your cheek. I can’t believe I didn’t notice. I’ll call the cops and—”
“No. I’m okay. You don’t have to call anyone. The guy is long gone.” She brushed Roxi away. “I’m just shaken up.”
“Well, yeah, of course you are! Who wouldn’t be?” Roxi planted her hands on her hips. “The bastard didn’t do anything to you, did he? Grab your boobs or something like that?”
She gave a snort of laughter. Roxi was always to the point. “No. He wanted my purse, not my body.”
“You fought him off?” Roxi nodded towards the purse that she’d dropped on the chair.
“I tried. Sort of. It all happened so fast.” She glanced down at her finger and wiggled it experimentally. It wasn’t dislocated just a bit swollen and there was a streak of blood showing under the nail. “We had a tug of war over the purse. He won and ran off before I could even think to do anything else. Some guys saw what was going on and came to my rescue. They found the purse minus my tips and wallet.”
“Guys? The ones at the corner working on the car?” Roxi glanced towards the window. If you craned your neck just right, you could see the location in question. “I saw them earlier. Some of them are sort of hot.”
“I didn’t notice. They were real nice to me, though.” She adjusted her glasses, wondering if one of the side pieces was bent—the whole world seemed askew—or maybe it was just the greasy smears from the fingers of the young man who’d picked them up. Did automotive grease wash off easily?
“Hmm...” Roxi tapped a finger to her lip. “Next time I walk by, I might have to thank them for saving you.”
She barely managed to stop herself from rolling her eyes. “Sure, you do that.”
“So you’re going to spend the night on the phone, reporting all your cards stolen?”
“Something like that.” Her stomach gave a nervous twist as she considered one call she’d have to make.
“Want me to cancel my shift? Stay with you and keep you company?”
“No, I’ll be fine.” Wrapping her arms around herself, she winced as she encountered the scrape on her arm and angled the limb so she could see the injured area. “I should go wash this off and put some peroxide on it.” She stared at the abrasion but made no move. The simple act seemed gargantuan.
Roxi poured some milk and watched her over the rim of the glass as she drank. After finishing, she rinsed it out. “I think you’re more shook up than you’re letting on.”
“Probably, but I’m a big girl. Hundreds of people get mugged every day and the world keeps turning.” She tried to inject some life into her voice. “I’ll make some phone calls, have a shower, watch a comedy. You don’t need to fuss over me.”
Roxi looked doubtful. “I can mention what happened to Jimmy, have him watch out for anyone hanging around the building if it would make you feel any better.”
Jimmy lived on the first floor and was the building superintendent. A retired cop, he also served as a watchdog for the building…most of the time. A love of alcohol and increasing age hindered his abilities on occasion. However, when he was sober, he could still be imposing having never lost that commanding stare and authoritative bark.
“No. Well…okay.” She hesitated. “The mugger probably won’t show up around here again, but I suppose it can’t hurt.”
“Okay. I’ll give you a call later on to make sure you’re all right. And if you need something, let me know. I can close up early.”
“And lose your job in the process.”
“So?” Roxi shrugged. “It would make my mother happy.”
She laughed and gave the girl a hug. “You don’t have to jeopardize your career in laundry for me. Now scoot or you’ll be late.”
Roxi grabbed her purse and keys. “Lock up behind me.”
“I always do.”
After Roxi left, she secured the door and then stood in the small entrance way. She was alone in the apartment, just like most nights. It wasn’t very big; a kitchen on the right that was separated from the combo dining/living room by a half-wall with a countertop that served as a breakfast bar. Straight ahead was a hallway leading to two bedrooms and a bathroom. It was simple but fulfilled her needs.
Since the incident a few years back, her life had been quiet.
No evenings at the bar or having fun with a boyfriend, her old self mourned.
“Right, because our life is going in a different direction this time.”
It’s not very exciting, nothing like we dreamed city life would be like.
“But it’s safe and respectable and no one can judge us.”
She pushed off from the door and, after checking the lock on the window that led to the fire escape, headed to the bathroom to inspect her scrapes.
The abrasions were minimal as she’d suspected, stinging more than anything else. Planning to tend to them after her shower, she shed her work clothes and stepped under the soothing spray to wash away the cares of the day. When she finally felt clean, she lowered the water temperature until she was covered in goose bumps and then turned off the water.
It was good to be chilled. Too bad it wouldn’t last. Padding to her room, she donned the coolest clothes she could find and was just going to start combing out her hair when a sound had her pausing. Were the floor boards creaking in the hall outside her apartment? Her stomach did a flip-flop as she remembered her stolen ID. The mugger would know where she lived.
Slowly, silently, she set her comb down and focused her attention on listening. Minutes ticked past as she stood, muscles tense. Only the sound of her own breathing reached her ears.
No one was there. It must have been her imagination or maybe the heat was making the wood expand. She wasn’t sure if that was possible, but clung to the explanation because it was preferable to thinking someone had been outside her door. The apartment was at the end of the hall and there was no reason for anyone to be walking by.
Her old self came to the foreground. No cowering.
Picking up the baseball bat she kept by her bed, she stepped out of her room.
The apartment was quiet.
The door to the hall was closed and locked.
No shadow showed under the crack near its base.
Gaining confidence, she took a deep breath and walked towards the entrance then looked through the peephole. It showed the familiar faded beige wall opposite her apartment and nothing else. No shadowy shapes, no inexplicably burned out light bulbs. Just…normal.
She exhaled loudly, her shoulders slumping. Obviously, the events of the day were playing games with her mind. That had to be it. Giving her head a shake, she returned the bat to its place beside her bed and finished combing her hair. Next, she tended to her scrapes and finally grabbed her small fan. She’d set it by the window and draw in the relatively cooler night air.
Her actions stuttered to a halt as she caught a glimpse of a black limo disappearing around the corner and her mind transported her back in time...
The black car outside the apartment. The door opening. An explosion of pain then lying in a pool of blood, feeling her life force fading away… She felt faint as memories from the past washed over her.
It couldn’t be. Not after all this time…could it?
Panic tightened her chest, any remnants of her braver former self fading away. Her vision blurred, and she struggled to breathe. Without thinking, she grabbed her phone and, crouching in the corner on the far side of her bed, placed a call to the only person who could help her, the only person who knew the truth. She said she’d never make contact again, that that part of her life was over, but she didn’t know what else to do.
Her hands trembled as she brushed the hair from her eyes and listened to the phone ring. Was the number even correct? After so many years, it could have changed.
Please answer, please answer. She mentally chanted the words, her fear growing each minute.
“Hello?” A familiar, gruff voice sounded in her ear and, like some miracle drug, it filled her with relief.
Her tense muscles relaxed, a sense of safety washing over her. Memories of another time, another life, rushed in as if a plug had been pulled and unexpected tears pricked her eyes.
“Hello? Who is this?” Impatient, demanding; he’d not changed.
Her breathing hitched. She opened her mouth to speak then paused, wondering if she’d made a mistake, but it was too late to change her mind now. Besides, she needed him, needed his help. Her ID was gone, and he was the only one who knew, who would understand why she couldn’t just replace it.
She wet her lips and forced herself to reply. “Hi, Ryne. It’s me.”