Special Delivery

by Reagan Shaw

  “What are you going to do?” Marc called after me.

  I threw open his apartment door, then looked back over my shoulder at him. He was diminished, sinking in on himself, not the man I’d known all these years. “I’m going to find her,” I replied.

  Noah

  I knocked on the door so hard my knuckles pained. Three great fucking bangs that resonated into the apartment beyond, and down the hall on my side.

  Waiting for shit to happen had never been my forte. This was no exception. In fact, this was worse on every single level. I banged again, and a squeak sounded from within, followed by a soft, “Just a second.”

  It wasn’t Erika’s voice. It was her friend’s. The petite redhead with a personality too big for her body and a voice that didn’t match it. The latch on the door drew back, and Luna appeared. Her expression fell from concern into irritation.

  “What the hell do you want?” she asked.

  “I think you know,” I replied. “Where’s Erika? I need to speak to her right away.”

  “She doesn’t want to speak to you.”

  I placed a palm to the door and leaned on it, lightly. Luna fumbled backward, opening up all the way.

  “I don’t care,” I snapped. “She’s going to speak to me. We have unfinished business.”

  “I think you made it pretty damn clear that you don’t have any business with her this afternoon.”

  “Where is she?” I asked and marched into the apartment. I circled the living room, then walked down the hall and peered into the first bedroom. It was flowery, definitely not Erika’s style. I moved onto the next.

  “Hey!” Luna rushed up behind me, tugged on my arm. “What the hell are you doing? You can’t just walk in here and—”

  “I can do whatever the hell I want,” I growled. Not true, but I was blinded by this anger. By the need to find out where she was. I moved on, opened another door and stared. The room was half-empty. Boxes everywhere, the bed in disarray. The closet open, clothes spilling out.

  “What is this?” I asked.

  Luna didn’t answer.

  I turned on her. “What is this?” I repeated. “Where is she?”

  “It’s none of your damn business where she is,” Luna replied.

  I inhaled slowly, counting to ten in my mind to keep from losing my shit. “Luna, I need to speak to her.”

  “You had your chance today. Oh, yeah, she told me what happened. She told me what a total asshole you were to her, and after everything that happened between you two?” She clicked her tongue, did a little head wobble. “I have a question for you, assmunch. Why couldn’t you just leave her the hell alone? Huh? Why did you have to do what you did?”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked. It didn’t really matter, in truth. Erika wasn’t here, and that meant this little escapade was a waste of my damn time.

  “I’m talking about you leading her on, telling her you cared, playing her after all these years. That’s what I’m talking about.”

  “She cut contact with me,” I replied, then walked past her and back into the living room.

  Luna followed me, spitting like a cat on a hot tin roof. “You have no right to come here after what you’ve done. You have no right. Don’t you get it? Don’t you understand how she feels about—”

  “Enough,” I said, and drew my hand through the air. “Enough. I don’t want to hear this from you. Where the fuck is she, Luna?”

  “Gone.” The redhead folded her skinny arms. “Gone away, and when she comes back, if she comes back, it will be to pack her stuff and move out. And you can bet your ass I won’t tell you where she’s going, when she’ll be back, or what her number is.”

  I made to sit down, to wait, but she stomped her foot at me. I raised an eyebrow at her. “Are you finished?”

  “No, I’m not damn well finished. Far from it. Do you have any idea how long it took me to convince her to come live in New York? That this was the place she should be? And now she’s leaving. And it’s all your damn fault.”

  Leaving. For where? “Back to Chicago?” I asked.

  “It’s none of your damn business!” Luna snapped, all but shrieked it. She smashed her foot into the boards again, eyes practically glowing red, like some avenger of the damn apocalypse. “And you can bet your scumbag ass that I will call the cops if I find you anywhere near this building. Or near her. She deserves better than you.”

  Scumbag? I wasn’t the one who’d run off with my ex. I wasn’t—stop, not the time. “I need to speak to her,” I said, my voice straining out of frustration. “Today. Now. It’s of the utmost importance.”

  “Of the utmost importance.” Luna put on a British voice. “Dream on, jackass. She doesn’t want to talk to you. And even if she did... Well, I’d damn well make sure she didn’t. Anything you have to say to her can take place through a lawyer or in a court of law.”

  Huh?

  “Now, get the hell out of my apartment.” She pointed to the door.

  I wasn’t a man who lingered where I wasn’t wanted. Neither was I one who took commands easily. Always had a problem with authority figures. I strode to the exit, tugged the door open myself. “I’ll be back.” Finally, I stepped through.

  “Whatever, Terminator,” Luna snapped. “You come back, and I’ll go Robocop on your ass. A-buh-bye.” She slammed the door shut, then stomped off, her feet hitting the floorboards in her apartment so hard I could make out which direction she’d headed in. Back to the living room.

  “Fuck,” I muttered. “Fuck.” Maybe I was wrong. Maybe there weren’t any answers. Or my questions were bullshit. The only thing I’d consolidated during this little escapade was that she didn’t want me around.

  And that, once again, I was on the verge of doing something I’d regret for the rest of my life.

  Noah

  Noah – Aged 18

  * * *

  Marc’s nineteenth birthday bash was fuckin’ hopping. His parents were out of town, the house pumped with music, with the ebb and flow of young flesh. Hopeful eyes. Pretty women. Seventeen- to eighteen-year-olds, all ready for the next step.

  Of course, someone had brought in a keg, even though we weren’t legal.

  People danced in the hall, in the living room. Couples made out on the stairs. Another group had split off and was jumping into the pool repeatedly, howling out triumph at aging another year. At defying their parents.

  Fuck, it would’ve been pathetic if I weren’t one of them.

  I strode out of the back door and onto the grass, scanning the place for my best friend. Marc had disappeared with Jessie a half hour ago and been missing ever since. His bedroom was empty.

  “Hey, Noah,” a girl breathed on my neck. “There you are.” The smell of cheap beer assaulted my nostrils, and I clenched my jaw.

  Nancy tottered into view, grinning like she’d just won the fucking lottery. “Oh my gosh, I’ve been looking for you everywhere. You know, we never got to finish what we started at prom. Everyone might think we had sex but—”

  “They think we had sex because you spread that damn rumor.”

  “Yeah, well, a girl’s gotta maintain her reputation,” Nancy continued and leeched onto my arm. “I mean, what else was I supposed to do?”

  I stepped away from her, made my way to the edge of the pool and scanned the faces within. None of them belonged to Marc. The asshole had simply disappeared. His sister hadn’t.

  Erika sat by the edge of the pool, cupping a diet soda in both hands, her glasses riding the tip of her nose. I forced myself to look away from her, to ignore the urges that bubbled up the minute I laid eyes on her.

  Trouble was, looking away brought me face-to-face with Nancy again. Christ, she was a nuisance.

  She looped her arm through mine again and sighed. “So, we didn’t fuck. It’s such a pity, right? We totally should have, and now, we’re both here, we’re both tipsy.”

  “I’m not.”

  “But I am,” Nancy breathed, lean
ing in. “And I am totally bendy when I’m tipsy. Like, it will be unforgettable.”

  “Will it?” I asked. Judging from the heavy stench of beer, it would’ve been entirely forgettable for her. “That’s a hard no from me.”

  “Aw, come on. You know you want to taste this pussy,” she said, leaning in, but not modulating her tone at all.

  “I have a refined palette, I’m afraid.” I removed my arm from her grip and she tottered backward on those impossibly high heels. She flung her arms out, let out a shriek and careened toward the pool.

  Totally over the top, totally melodramatic.

  I turned toward her, a smirk on my lips, but it died almost immediately.

  Nancy tippled toward the pool’s edge and thrust out one arm toward a passerby. Who just so happened to be Erika. She grabbed onto the front of Erika’s blouse, and a terrific rip shredded across the pool.

  The front of Erika’s shirt ceased to exist, and her bra appeared, plain white. cupping her breasts for the world to see. Except the world didn’t get that much time to see them.

  Nancy continued toward the pool, still squealing, and this time, hooked her arm around Erika’s waist.

  Both women fell into the pool with a splash. Water sprayed upward and pattered down on my shoes. “Jesus H. Christ,” I muttered.

  Applause rang out from every direction. Guys cheering and girls laughing hysterically. The whole incident had taken less than a minute, but it had gone slow-motion in my mind.

  I spurred myself to action, marched to the edge of the pool, and bent, extending a hand to Erika.

  She spluttered, fingers seeking purchase on the ledge, and her hair plastered flat against her head. Her glasses were splattered with droplets. Even sopping wet, she’s gorgeous. Fuck, what am I saying? Especially sopping wet.

  “Here,” I said, prompting her to take my hand. She didn’t. Instead, she glared up at me.

  “You think you’re so funny,” she hissed, water dripping from her lips. “You and Nancy both.”

  Nancy had already emerged from the pool, her white minidress clinging to her curves. She did a little bow for all the applause, blushing, fucking simpering. She was toxic as ever, but none of my concern.

  “Get real, four-eyes,” I said. “You think I care enough to dunk your ass?” I shoved my hand toward her, but she still didn’t take it. Instead, she flopped her arms onto the concrete siding and proceeded to pull herself out.

  I stood up, retracting my hand, and watched her. If she wanted to make a big deal out of nothing and refuse help, so be it.

  “Hey there, are you OK?” A guy stepped up beside me. Brock, couldn’t remember his last name, might as well have been Dipshit. Brock Dipshit from the baseball team. Blond hair, fucked a lot of girls, thought he was hot shit. He held a towel over his arm and had that classic jock tan.

  Not that I was one to talk.

  Erika quit heaving herself out of the pool and looked up at him. “Um, I’ve been better.”

  “Here, let me help you.”

  The smirk returned—no way she’d let this asshole help her if she wouldn’t let me.

  “Thanks,” Erika said and accepted the hand Baseball Prick had offered. He heaved her out of the pool and she let out a little squeak. He settled a towel around her shoulders, smiling. “Thanks,” she repeated.

  “Any time,” Brock replied. “It’s not every day I get to save a damsel in distress.”

  “That’s not what Christie said last night,” I put in, tucking my hands into the pockets of my jeans. This motherfucker was a sleazebag. Total player. Wasn’t a chance in hell I’d let him near Marc’s sister. It was just the principle of the matter—had nothing to do with the raging, jealous beast in my chest. The one that had roared the minute he’d touched her.

  “Cox,” Brock said. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t Erika ask you to leave her alone? That was what it looked like when she refused your help.”

  “You’re so fucking smart, Brock, damn. It’s a miracle you didn’t get higher than a six hundred on your SATs.”

  Rumors spread like wildfire in the school, but the baseball player seemed unaffected by the jab. “Whatever, dude.”

  I stepped in real close, and Erika took a step back, shaking her head. “Listen, you motherfucker,” I said, quietly, dangerously, “you say one more word that irritates me, and I’ll have you thrown out of this party on your ass.”

  “Ugh, that’s it,” Erika hissed and grabbed Brock’s arm. “That’s enough, Noah. He’s not getting thrown out, because he’s my guest now. And in case you’ve forgotten, this is my house.” She challenged me with a stare—the same one that gave me bad and good dreams—then pulled on Brock’s beefy arm. “C’mon,” she said. “Um, let’s go have hot chocolate or something.”

  “Hot chocolate?” I asked, turning my head, quirking an eyebrow at the idiocy of hot chocolate at a house party.

  But they ignored me flat. Erika led Brock off toward the house, smiling as if she’d just won the lottery, and my stomach turned.

  I forced myself not to storm after her. To ask her what the hell she thought she was doing with him. Fuck’s sake, Brock Asshat was everything she didn’t need in a guy. He was a player. He’d screw her and leave her behind, then tell all his buddies about it afterward. He was what she thought I was.

  “Dude?” Marc’s voice cleared my thoughts.

  I turned as he approached with Jessie on his arm. “There you are, man,” he said.

  “Yeah, here I fucking am,” I snapped.

  “Whoa.” Jessie pulled a face like she’d smelled a hot turd. “What’s your problem?”

  “Nothing,” I replied, and pushed past them both. I moved past the pool and toward the flowerbed, lined with bricks. Insanity had taken hold of me. A swirling in my gut. A promise that I’d make this guy pay. Them pay. Her pay. What the fuck ever that meant.

  I wouldn’t feel this way if... Feel! I didn’t fucking feel. I acted.

  I bent and dislodged a brick from the verge. “This party’s getting a little too quiet for my liking,” I yelled. “What do you think?”

  Everyone cheered. They hadn’t noticed the brick in my hand yet. Marc had.

  “Dude, what the hell are you doing? Put that down.” Barely audible over the laughter, the clapping, the shrieks from the girls in the pool.

  “I agree!” I yelled back, then turned on the house. I hefted the brick and tossed it through the window, into the kitchen. The glass shattered inward, and a shriek rang out from within.

  “Noah!” Marc roared. “What the fuck?!”

  Blood whistled in my ears, I detached another brick from the edging and moved to the next window. A bedroom? A study? Fuck, I was too hazy-minded to care. I threw the brick. Another crash. More screams. This time from everywhere.

  I didn’t stop. Brick after brick, window after window, until red and blue lights flashed in the windows, reflected from the front. Until hands clamped down on my arms and cuffed them behind my back.

  I laughed all the way to the cop car, laughed at myself, at everything I “felt,” and at how I wouldn’t have to feel it much longer.

  Erika

  September 2019

  * * *

  “I told you, Luna, there’s no point in talking about it. I’m fine,” I said, and paged through my worn-out copy of What to Expect When You’re Expecting. It was an oldie but a goodie, and even though I knew the process intimately, I still enjoyed reading it.

  It was just part of the experience. I’d be a mom soon, and I wanted to experience that fully. Every aspect of it.

  Luna perched on the edge of my sofa, shaking her long, crimson locks at me. “No, you’re not fine. I mean, I understand hormones to some degree, but this is just—” She cut off, searching for the correct term. “It’s just worrying.”

  I sighed.

  This past week, she’d taken to sleeping over at the house. I was due, well, yesterday, and she wanted to be there for every ache, pain, and vagina-spl
itting moment. Eugh, was that necessary?

  Regardless, the fact that she’d been here meant that she’d heard me crying last night. And the night before. And the night before that. It wasn’t that I cried myself to sleep. It was that I woke up in the middle of the night, after a particularly vivid dream.

  Of Noah. In his office. On the day I’d gone to tell him I was pregnant.

  It was a replay of what’d happened. Him telling me that he wanted nothing to do with me, to get out, and me barely holding back tears at the fact that my baby wouldn’t have his or her daddy. I’d refused to find out what the sex was.

  “It’s just a dream,” I said, for the umpteenth time. “A recurring dream. Vivid dreams are normal during pregnancy.”

  “Not ones that make you cry like a friggin’… Oh, you know what I mean.” Luna reached for a piece of bread from the platter we’d placed in the middle of the table. It was a mixture of all the cravings and treats I’d eaten throughout the course of my pregnancy.

  M&Ms, bread slices layered thick with butter, apples—the sour green kind—and chips in mounds. There were also black olives, which Luna had avoided like they were cursed, and Danish feta cheese, parmesan, and dried pasta.

  The last one, neither of us had touched. It’d been Luna’s idea to celebrate the end of my pregnancy with a cravings smorgasbord. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but I didn’t have any cravings right now, except for pizza. Greasy, delicious pizza.

  “You’ve got that weird look on your face again,” Luna said, between bites of bread.

  “Which one?” I asked and surreptitiously cleaned a bit of drool off my lip with a paper napkin. I placed my hand on my distended belly and adjusted my body so my ribs didn’t ache quite as much.

  “That faraway look, like you’re dreaming with your eyes open. Were you thinking about him?”