Shadow of a Girl

by Shannon Greenland

  “Oh,” she sniffs. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  I lie back on the hotel bed. “Me, too, Bluma. Me, too.”

  “Are you safe?” She sniffs again. “Everything okay? Do you need anything?”

  I sigh, just absorbing her. “Everything’s fine.”

  “Good. That’s good. We don’t have much time. Don’t tell me where you are or what you’re doing. I don’t want to know.”

  I sit back up. “What’s going on?”

  She doesn’t immediately answer, and I find myself thinking about the moment I told Bluma all my secrets. Six months before she helped me run away.

  I can’t believe you’ve hidden this from me our whole lives. That’s what she said to me with such guilt in her voice. Like she thought she should’ve known or something. I just shook my head and hugged her and assured her she wasn’t to blame.

  There’s only one person to blame for the things that have been done to me.

  Bluma breaks the silence. “Now, I don’t want you to worry about me, but Gideon is having me followed. I think he suspects I had something to do with your escape.”

  I stop breathing for a second. “What do you mean he’s having you followed?”

  “I can tell. Everywhere I go, there’s a dark car that traces me. They’re good. It took me a while to figure it out, but I know now. Listen, I’m fine. I pretend the car isn’t there, and they have no clue I’m onto them. I just want both of us to be careful.”

  “What is he telling everybody about my absence?”

  “Oh, he’s good. At first you had the chicken pox, and then you went to visit a family friend, and now you’re on some remote island on a mission trip.”

  I huff. “Clever.”

  “He’s definitely that, and the mission part only adds to his own image and reputability.”

  “What about this world tour he’s kicking off in February? Doesn’t something seem off to you? I mean, I just can’t see him doing something like that without me.”

  “Yes,” she immediately answers, “something is definitely going on, and the other day Gideon came to talk to Dad, and they were inside Dad’s office forever. I kept waiting on something to happen, but then Gideon just left.”

  My brows furrow. “Weird.”

  “I know. Usually if they meet, it’s at Gideon’s offices.”

  Bluma’s dad is on Gideon’s staff, and though he has always been a wonderful man to me and Bluma, his loyalty to Gideon runs deep, and we in no way want him knowing any details.

  “I’m sorry, Bluma. I’m so sorry you’re having to deal with all of this.”

  “Hey, it’s okay. I promise. All that matters is we got you to safety. As far as everything else, I used cash and keep the burner phone hidden. No one knows anything.”

  Another couple of seconds pass.

  “Nesiah,” she uses my real name, and I frown. I hate that name. “Promise me you’re being careful,” she says.

  I nod, even though she can’t see it. “I promise.”

  “Be ready at all times to run if I tell you to.”

  I close my eyes, my head so full of everything I can hardly think straight.

  “Someone’s coming,” she hurriedly whispers and then just hangs up. I didn’t even get to tell her good-bye.

  I sit forever just staring at the phone, idly listening to Anne puttering around in the bathroom. What’s going to happen if I do indeed have to run? I’ll never see Anne again. Or West.

  Sickness suddenly sours my mouth as I think about the next thing. Being caught.

  No.

  I shake my head.

  No!

  I’ll do anything it takes to not be caught.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Pacing the room is doing me no good. I’ve lost interest in my guitar. It now sits in its case waiting to be picked up again. The Dallas scene outside my hotel window is the same repetitive thing—just people coming and going.

  I’ve spent the last couple of days warring with myself over things back home and at the same time obsessing over West. Maybe if I just come clean with him about everything.

  Hey, it’s okay. I promise. All that matters is we got you to safety. Bluma’s words come back to me and provide me some level of comfort. I know she’s okay. She’s got great parents. They’d never let anything happen to her.

  Anne walks in our room. “Okay, you’re coming with me. I am so sick of you moping around.”

  “Coming where?”

  She gives me a tolerant look. “Are you kidding me?”

  I shrug. Honestly, I don’t know what she’s talking about.

  “The holiday party. Didn’t you get the invite from Ms. Kelly?”

  I search through my brain and come up empty, but who the heck knows with how distracted I’ve been? “I guess.”

  Anne sighs, grabs my hand, and drags me out the door.

  On the first floor of the hotel, there’s an enormous conference center that Ms. Kelly rented out. As we step inside I immediately look to see if there are any reporters or cameras. But it’s a private one, with just the tour people and their plus ones.

  Four gigantic Christmas trees take up each corner, and twinkle lights drape from the ceiling. Food and drink stations sit along the walls. The place is packed, but the gigantic room makes it seem spacious.

  It’s both overwhelming and at the same time intimate.

  I take in everyone’s holiday clothes and then look down at my own usual jeans and screen print T-shirt. I’m underdressed. Big time.

  It’s only then that I realize Anne is very much in holiday mode. She dyed red stripes in her black Mohawk and is wearing a white sequined top with black skinny jeans. She’s traded her usual eyebrow hoop for a red ball.

  “You look nice,” I tell her.

  She gives me an odd look. “You saw me getting ready.”

  She’s right. I did. Have I really been that out of it?

  She turns to fully face me. “Listen, I don’t know what has been wrong with you, but you’re even more withdrawn than usual, and frankly, that worries me. Have some fun, okay? Have a drink. And if somebody comes up to talk to you, smile for God’s sake.”

  I hate that I’ve worried her.

  She gives me a hug, and I realize it’s the first one we’ve had since I hugged her in our hotel room back in Pittsburg. And God does it feels good, so good I give her one last squeeze before she saunters off.

  I stand for a second, listening to the holiday music and watching people laugh and talk. Such a normal thing. Even though I tell myself not to, I scan for West, but I don’t see him.

  After another minute of standing and looking, I go to pull my ball cap down and realize I left it back in the room. With a shrug, I walk over to one of the bars.

  The bartender gives me a friendly nod. “Want the holiday special?”

  “Sure.” I take the glass he hands me and note my hands are shaking. What am I even doing here? What if I freak out again like I did at the other party? I glance toward the exit door.

  “Everything okay?” the bartender asks.

  I nod and take a big gulp and cough.

  He chuckles. “Easy there, killer.”

  I chuckle with him and turn to survey the crowd again. Across the ballroom stands West and Simon with Illana and Kirstie. Of course Illana’s here. Perfect, gorgeous model Illana. Jealousy pings around in me, and it only irritates me. I have no place being jealous.

  I take another big sip. This is good.

  “So what’s your job?” the bartender asks.

  I turn toward him. He’s not really cute, but he’s got a pleasantness to him that pulls it out in me, too. “I’m a roadie. I work mostly in sound.”

  “That’s cool.”

  Someone comes up to the bar, and I turn back to the crowd and West. He’s staring at me now and gives me a tiny acknowledging nod. Come talk to me, I will him.

  Illana looks, too, and then touches his arm to draw his attention away.

  It
may be my imagination, but it seems to take him a few seconds too long to look at her. What is he thinking? I try to read his expression but come up blank. Does he want me here? I can’t tell.

  I finish off the drink and set the glass down.

  “Another?” the bartender asks.

  I nod. “Sure.”

  He quickly mixes it and hands it to me. “Probably should get some food. There’s more liquor in that than you think.”

  Good suggestion. But as I walk over to a buffet, I catch my step. Whoa. He’s right on the liquor. I load a plate up with meatballs, find a spot at an empty table, and eat them faster than I think I’ve probably ever eaten anything in my life. What can I say, I’m hungry and buzzed, and being buzzed makes me stop thinking.

  I wipe my mouth and look back across the room. Illana’s laughing, touching West’s arm, pressing her breast into him as she whispers into his ear. He’s smiling back, but he’s looking over to the bar where I just was.

  I want to wave so he sees me, but that’s idiotic.

  Her hand slides across his chest, and I grit my teeth. Her nails flex into him, and I take my drink and down half of it. It helps numb me even more.

  “You look kind of out of place,” says some guy who comes up beside me.

  I turn toward him and take in his shaved head and light brown eyes. “Didn’t know I was coming, otherwise I would’ve worn a dress or something.”

  He chuckles. “Yeah, but then Tweety Bird,” he nods to my shirt, “would’ve missed out.” He sits down beside me. “My name’s Jerome.”

  “Eve,” I tell him and take another drink. It rolls down, fuzzing my thoughts even more.

  Jerome shifts closer. “You here with anybody?”

  I give that more thought than it needs. “My friend, Anne.”

  “So not a date?”

  I giggle and then frown. Did I just giggle?

  He shifts even closer, and now we’re almost touching. “You’re the only girl in here with blue hair.”

  “I’m really a blonde.” My eyes go wide. Oh, no. Did I really just say that?

  Jerome leans in. “I’m really not bald.”

  I laugh at that as I glance back across the room to West. He’s staring at me again, and the hairs on my neck tingle with his dark gaze. Without really thinking about it, I finish off the drink.

  Jerome chuckles. “I’ll go get you another.”

  Still staring at West, I slowly nod.

  West doesn’t say anything to the group he’s standing with, just steps away, and comes straight toward me. Behind him, Illana says something, and he ignores her. I watch him the whole way, consumed with his presence. God, I’ve missed him, and the closer he comes, the more it hits me just how much I’ve missed him.

  Finally, he’s in front of me. “Hi,” I say.

  He doesn’t say hi back. “How many of those have you had?”

  “One. No, two.” I frown. “Maybe three.”

  Jerome comes back with my third. Or fourth. He gives West a confused look, then glances to me. I give them both a smile.

  West takes the drink from Jerome. “Thanks, but she’s with me.”

  “I didn’t know.” Jerome holds his hands up. “Sorry, dude.”

  He walks off, and I turn to West. I’m with him? That’s interesting.

  He doesn’t seem as amazed as I do. “Can you walk?”

  “Sure.” I shrug. “Why?”

  He arches a brow. I get up, the room tilts, and I reach out at the same time West grabs my arm.

  I giggle.

  West sighs.

  And that makes me giggle more.

  “What are you doing?” he groans.

  I take the drink from West’s hand and down another gulp. “Trying to blend in. Trying to be normal.”

  He plucks the glass right back out of my hand and sets it down. “Not like this, Eve.” He grabs my hand and leads me straight across the ballroom and out into the lobby.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To your room.” He presses the button for the elevator. “You’re buzzed and too naive to know how guys will take advantage of that. I don’t want to worry about watching you the whole time.”

  “I’m not naïve!”

  West clenches his jaw and leads me into the elevator. I stare at his hard jaw, and the more I stare, the more my buzz transitions into anger.

  The elevator dings and he steps out. “What room are you in?”

  “Room 843,” I tell him, studying the blurred number plaques on the wall.

  He holds his hand out. “Let me have your key.”

  I fumble in my back pocket and yank it out and slowly follow him down the hall. Hot tears unexpectedly press my eyes, and my bottom lip begins to tremble. I don’t want to be back here.

  West opens my door, turns, and catches sight of my face. “Why are you crying?”

  I sniff, “I don’t know,” and walk in my room.

  West hovers in the door. “Eve…”

  I fall back on my bed and throw my arm over my eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

  Quiet minutes tick by, and I find myself missing the party. The laughter. The music. The bartender. My drink. A tear slides down my face, and I wipe it with my hand. I’ve cried more since meeting West than I have in my entire life. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad.

  I blow out a breath and somewhere in the distance I hear the ice machine on our hall.

  What am I going to do? West is the first real thing I’ve ever felt, and I screwed it up. My past is crowding my present and making it impossible to have a future. He’s not even my friend anymore, and here I am right back where I always am. Alone in my barrier.

  I huff a laugh. I’m unbelievable.

  My hotel door clicks closed, and I shoot straight up in bed to see West standing inside my room. I give him a dark look. “You didn’t leave?”

  He shakes his head and flips the dead bolt.

  The click echoes through the room and my mind.

  I lick my lips. “What do you want?”

  He crosses the room and puts my key on my desk. He opens a water bottle and shoves it at me. “Drink.”

  “That’s a five-dollar water bottle you just opened!”

  His brows lift. “I’ll pay the five. Now drink.”

  I do, guzzling almost half of it, and when I’m done, I repeat, “What do you want?”

  “You and me? We’re having this thing out.” He jabs a finger at me. “I swear to God if you clam up on me, I will leave and I will never talk to you again.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  “Are you going to puke?” he asks a few seconds later, seeming not bothered with the thought.

  I narrow my eyes. Am I going to puke? What kind of question is that? “No, I’m fine.” Or at least I was until he said the word “puke.” I hold my hand out. “But give me the garbage just in case.”

  He does and then leans back against the desk and folds his arms over his chest. A chest I know is muscled and gorgeous. He doesn’t immediately say anything, then, “What am I going to do with you?”

  I shrug and look away. I have no clue how to answer that. I don’t even know what I’m going to do with myself. I take a swig of water.

  “Eve?”

  I swerve my gaze back to his. “What?”

  His lips twitch. “You’re awfully grumpy when you’re drunk.”

  “I’m not drunk.” I’m buzzed. Or I was. It doesn’t seem to be there anymore. I sigh. “Just tell me what you want to know.”

  “All right.” He pushes away from the desk and walks over to the door where he rips off my duct tape and turns to me. “Let’s start with this.”

  I push to my feet. “That’s none of your business,” I automatically hiss.

  A muscle in his jaw ticks, and somewhere way down deep inside of me this fist punches up, and out comes, “Aarrgghh!” as I turn and kick the bed.

  He doesn’t even move.

  I stomp over to him, yank the tape from his f
ingers, and shove it down inside my pocket. “You know what?” I blurt out. “No one will ever watch me again!”

  I pace over to the window, jerk open the curtains, and stand, raggedly breathing, staring out at a twinkle-lit Dallas. “I’m free now, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”

  In the window’s reflection West moves, and I spin around. “What?”

  He shakes his head. “Keep going.”

  I take a deep breath and pull at the collar of my T-shirt. It’s too hot. I can’t breathe. I finish off the water bottle before stomping over to the wall unit and punching it from 72 down to 65.

  I turn, and West is still standing there, watching me. His expression’s turned cautious, though. My insides feel like they’re clawing trying to get out. I dig my fingers into my hair, and I pull. I have to get rid of him. I’m about to explode.

  West shifts over to the chair that occupies the corner and slowly lowers himself into it. He props his elbows on the armrests as if telling me he has infinite patience with my obvious bad mood.

  I wave toward the door. “Why don’t you just go back to the party?”

  He shrugs one shoulder. “It’s boring.” And then he chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. “Who would’ve ever thought I’d say a party’s boring?”

  “But Illana’s down there,” I toss out.

  He tilts his head. “Illana and I are just friends.”

  “Didn’t look that way to me.”

  “Listen,” he points out. “This is so not the issue right now. Illana and I are not messing around, and if we were, it’s really not your business. You did make it painfully obvious you don’t want anything to do with me. So I don’t even know why you’re bringing her up.”

  He does have a point. “Listen, I’m in a bad mood. You should probably leave.” Although I really want him to stay. I do want to have this out.

  He stares at me for some quiet seconds. “I’ve got enough patience for both of us.”

  I take in his calm demeanor. Is he really that in control? Because I’m anything but.

  “What’s up with the duct tape?” he asks again.

  I get really still and my brain scrambles with damage control excuses.