by Nikki Chase
I glance at Emily. She looks beautiful in a black dress that we just bought earlier today at the Westfield Center. She only had work clothes at my place and didn’t want to go home where she’d risk seeing Alice.
I love seeing her all dressed up like this. It reminds me of the way she looked when I first saw her in this very bar, wrapped like a present with a bow around her waist. That was the night when everything changed.
“Hey, Cole,” Shelley says when she spots me sitting at the bar. We’ve been waiting for a while as it’s a pretty busy, which is par for the course for a Saturday night. “What’s it going to be tonight?”
“A Macallan for me, and…” I turn toward Emily, prompting her to order.
“A Diet Coke for me, thanks.”
“Diet Coke, huh? I don’t get many orders for those here,” Shelley says as she pours our drinks into glasses. She winks at Emily and says, “I also don’t often see Cole show up with a date.”
Emily smiles and thanks Shelley when she serves up my whiskey and Emily’s soda on the counter.
“My name’s Shelley.” She points at the name tag on her black polo shirt. “Feel free to call me if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Shelley. I’m Emily,” she says politely.
“Nice to meet you, Emily.” Lowering her voice, Shelley says, “Keep an eye on your man here, or else one of the girls will steal him away. He’s Mr. Popular around here.”
With that, Shelley sashays away to deal with the growing crowd. A handful of guys have become pretty loud and aggressive as they fight to get her attention.
“So… Mr. Popular, huh?” Emily’s eyes twinkle as she teases me. “You really do come here a lot, don’t you?”
“I sometimes come here after work just to unwind.” I shrug.
“I didn’t peg you as a bar regular.”
“I only started coming for business. There was a guy from out of town. He stayed in a hotel nearby. I wanted to close a deal with him, so I started hanging out here to purposely ‘bump into him.’” I raise my fingers up to form air quotes, which makes Emily smile. “And then I just kept coming even after the contract was signed and the guy had left the city.”
“Your phone’s ringing again.” Emily looks at the phone in my jeans pocket. “You said you didn’t want to pick it up while driving in the car. Shouldn’t you check at least? It might be important.”
“You’re right.” I pull the phone out. I already know who it is. My father has been trying to get a reaction out of me, but I’ve decided not to give him the satisfaction. Besides, it’s probably safer if I make zero contact with him, at least until Tuesday.
“Hey, player.” Rick slaps my shoulder from behind and chortles. “A different girl again?”
“Hi, Rick.” I look back and give the tall, lanky guy a dirty look. Luckily, Emily seems to find it funny. “Don’t mind him, Emily. He thinks he’s funny.”
“Hi Emily,” he says. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Rick, and I am funny. Too bad ‘funny’ doesn’t pull as many girls as ‘handsome and successful,’ eh, Cole?”
“Hi, Rick. I keep hearing about these girls.” Emily grins.
“Oh, you want me to fill you in on that? I can tell you all the dirty, nasty, disgusting details.”
Emily laughs while Rick keeps shooting stupid jokes at her. Okay, so Emily doesn’t seem like the jealous type. This is good. I’ve made a good decision taking her to this bar. It scratches her itch of wanting to see a different side of me, keeps her away from my family, and helps her forget about the fight with Alice.
I look down at my phone as the two of them chat. Seventeen missed calls from my father. One text message. It simply says: “Check your email and call me right away.” I sigh.
Jesus. What is it this time? It’s Sunday night. Can’t he let me enjoy a weekend for once?
“I feel like I’ve seen you before, Emily,” Rick says.
“Don’t mind him. He says that to all the girls,” I say to Emily, raising my head up to join the conversation.
“I don’t know,” Emily says. “This place does look a little familiar. The layout, at least. I don’t remember the black chandeliers and the red velvet chairs, though.”
I tap the envelope icon on my phone to find an email from my father. No subject, no text, just attachments. What could this be?
“It wouldn’t be too weird if you’ve been here before. This place went through a big renovation last year. And it was all the rage one, two years ago. It’s still great now, but it’s not as hot as it used to be,” Rick says.
I tap the email open. As I scan the little previews of the attached pictures, tendrils of fear wrap around me. It suddenly feels cold and suffocating in here.
“What do you think, Cole?” Emily touches my arm, making me jump in surprise. She looks at me with concern. “Rick and I were just talking about whether I’ve been here before.”
“Oh, right. I’ve seen you here before,” I say distractedly, my eyes transfixed on the pictures on my phone. They’re obviously pictures of Emily and me, taken stealthily with long-focus lenses. I can’t believe this. He sent one of his fucking spies to check on me.
“Are you okay, Cole?” Emily knits her eyebrows together with worry.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just need to go outside for a while. Get some fresh air. Make a phone call.” My words stumble all over one another. I take a deep breath. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back before you know it.”
Fuck. This is the worst thing that can happen now. I didn’t expect him to move this quickly. I thought I had enough time.
When I’m outside, I lean against the wall and look up at the stars in the night sky. I gulp in as much air as I can into my compressed lungs. But as hard as I try, I can’t get any relief. I still feel like there are walls all around me, closing in on me.
I press the button on my phone again to turn on the screen. There they are. Fucking high-resolution pictures of Emily and me: us driving into the Westfield Center parking lot, us stepping out of Banana Republic with Emily’s new dress, us walking hand in hand into my apartment building.
There are even pictures of us getting into The Amber Room barely half an hour ago. Is this guy still here? Is he taking pictures of me now? Is my father looking at pictures of me hyperventilating right now?
I look around, trying to spot some guy with dark clothing and expensive camera equipment skulking around in the bushes, or sitting idly inside a dark car. I’m going to beat him to a pulp if I find him. Cowardly fucker, hiding in the shadows.
I clench my hands into hard fists and realize they’re shaking. I’m all wound up and I’m probably not thinking straight. It’s not a good idea to call my father right now. That’s only going to show him how much he’s gotten to me — although if the spy’s still hanging around he probably already knows anyway.
Emily.
Emily should be my priority. I have to keep her safe. I have to get back inside and take her somewhere safe. Explaining everything to her would be tricky, but the airport should probably be our next stop.
22
Emily
I wonder if Cole’s okay. He looks a little pale. I guess the fresh air outside will do him good.
I’ll just stay here and chat with Rick while he’s gone. That’s the whole reason I’m here anyway, to get to know his life outside the office.
I’m still a little disappointed that we can’t have dinner with Mr. Foster tonight, but there will be other nights. It’s not like I haven’t met the guy, although back then I was just another employee who wasn’t dating his son.
I look around me. This place really does look familiar, and not just because I’ve seen it in some magazine either. I’m definitely getting some strange déjà vu vibes. I wonder if Cole has really seen me here before.
Rick’s looking at me with a mysterious little smile on his face. "You know, he really likes you," he says. "I can tell."
"Yeah? Well, tell me more." I drop my elbow on the bar cou
nter and prop my head up, leaning closer to Rick. "What exactly has he told you? Give me exact quotes."
"Oh, you know Cole. He doesn't tell anybody anything.” He chuckles. "But I can tell he likes you. He looks a lot happier today than I’ve seen him for a long time."
"He makes me happy too.” I beam. Something — something about Rick, or something about this being Cole’s space, or maybe something about falling in love — makes me want to tell Rick things, things I don't usually tell people I've just met. Or maybe it’s just because I can’t tell this stuff to Alice. "I haven't been this happy in a long time either."
"Aw, you two are just too adorable."
I take another sip of my Diet Coke and playfully shrug. "I know, right?"
"Cole has been a grumpy son of a bitch since, oh, about two years ago."
"Oh, what happened?" I put my glass down on the bar.
Rick sighs. “There was this accident.”
"Oh. Like, a car accident?" My chest tightens. Any talk of an accident reminds me of my most painful memories, but I don't want to miss a word of this.
"Yeah. It wasn't his fault, but Cole has always been his own worst critic. He was pretty depressed for a while. But at least he stopped working so much and burying his face in his phone all the time after the accident," he says.
“He was too depressed to work?” I ask, my heart hammering so hard in my chest my legs are shaking.
I had no idea Cole and I had this in common. But I guess I don’t know Cole that much at all. Before the conference, we just said hello as we passed each other in the office hallways. Oh, and of course we spoke during the interview. But that’s all.
"Uh, yeah, sort of. I think he was trying to stop his phone from ringing when it happened. Probably another call from his father about work stuff," he says with some hesitation.
"So he was reaching for his phone and caused an accident?" I feel like someone has reached an icy hand into my chest, grabbed my pounding heart, and squeezed so violently it's about to burst. My legs are shaking pretty violently. If there wasn’t any music Rick would be able to hear the sound of my heels banging against the leg of the bar stool.
"You know, maybe you should talk to him about this.” Rick takes a deep breath and sighs. “It's really not my story to tell."
Rick is a good friend, but he’s told me everything I need to know. He doesn't have to say anything more. From the expression on Rick's face, I know I must've guessed correctly.
Here are the facts. Cole was reaching for his phone. He caused a car accident. He felt so guilty he scaled back on his workaholic ways. It happened two years ago.
It sounds familiar. Too familiar.
The whole room starts to spin. The veins on the sides of my forehead throb painfully. Blood roars in my ears, blocking me from my surroundings.
I remember these feelings from when I was here. Cole was right! I have been here before. I was drinking too much, which is why I don’t like to drink outside anymore. And I wanted to go home quickly. And Scott was rushing to get me home so I could lie down in our bed…
Oh my God.
I jump when Rick's hand lands on my shoulder.
"Emily?" He's looking at me with concern in his eyes. "Are you okay?"
"I, um, yeah," I stammer.
Not really, but it’s not like I can tell you I think my new boyfriend killed my old boyfriend in a horrible accident and has been lying to me about it the whole time. Just when I’m starting to let someone into my heart again.
I realize I must've completely zoned out and ignored Rick.
"Actually, I have a really bad headache right now. Please tell Cole I have to leave."
I hop off the bar stool. Grabbing my bag, I focus my blurry eyes on the club entrance. All I know is I have to get outside. It feels heavy inside the bar and I'm suffocating. No matter how deeply I breathe, my lungs just wouldn't expand to take in enough air.
"Emily!" I hear Rick shout behind me. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait for Cole to come back? He can drive you home.”
A part of me wants to turn my head and at least apologize for being rude, for just walking away like this. But I can barely maintain my balance as it is.
I can only do one thing at a time. And right now what I want to do is get out of this place and curl up under my blanket.
Just like two years ago on the night of the accident, when Cole’s and Scott’s cars probably collided, killing Scott on the spot, sending Cole into a spiral of depression, and changing my life forever.
23
Cole
I dash into The Amber Room with the kind of urgency I’ve never felt before in my life. Blood is rushing through my veins as worry and anxiety swirl in my gut.
Fuck. How did I let it get this bad?
I need to get Emily out of here before they get to her. My father isn’t as violent as he used to be, but we haven’t faced a problem of this scale for a while. Who knows what he’s going to do to her?
Inside, Rick is sitting at the bar by himself. Maybe Emily’s in the restroom?
“Rick! Where’s Emily?” I grab him by the shoulder and pull him back until he’s looking right back at me.
“She, uh, she said she wasn’t feeling well so she went home.”
“What? Why didn’t she wait for me?”
“She didn’t say. She looked like she was in a big rush,” he says nervously.
“Why didn’t you stop her?”
Rick is silent. I run my fingers through my hair, hoping it’ll help stimulate my creative juices. It’s not fair to blame Rick for this. But it’s strange that Emily just decided to up and leave.
Where is she even going? Definitely not to my apartment because she doesn’t have a key. She just decided to go home to Alice’s place, when just hours ago she wouldn’t even talk to her sister?
None of this makes any sense.
“What happened, Rick?” I ask in the same menacing tone I often hear my father use when he’s interrogating someone. I guess my upbringing has taught me some important life skills after all.
“I don’t know. One minute we were having a nice chat, and then she suddenly bolted.”
Rick deflates when I continue glowering at him in silence.
He hesitates before saying, “I may have told her about the accident. I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was—”
“Fuck!”
I storm out of The Amber Room without waiting for Rick to finish his explanation. He couldn’t have chosen a worse time to act like a blabbering moron.
Emily must’ve gone out the front door because I didn’t see her while I was panicking like an idiot in the parking lot behind the building.
I scan the busy sidewalk outside. Talk about the worst timing ever. This being downtown on a Saturday night, the sidewalk is packed with people.
I check the area near the main entrance to The Amber Room. It takes me a while to realize that Emily is definitely not around here anymore. She must’ve taken a cab to God knows where.
I rush back through The Amber Room and go straight to the parking lot. I vaguely notice Rick standing up and calling my name from the bar, but I ignore him. I don’t have any time for his idiocy right now. I have to find the only person that matters right now.
Emily. Where the fuck are you, baby?
I jump into my car and take the familiar route I’ve used so many times before to reach Alice’s apartment.
As I speed through the streets, I remember how I used to drive by, hoping to catch a glimpse of Emily, even for just a fraction of a second. I’d even park right outside sometimes and wait for her to show up.
She never did show up for the longest time. I guess she was too sad and depressed. But after a month or so, I started seeing her a lot more. Every single time, it was like a hit of cocaine straight in my veins. Seeing her made me feel like I was alive again. She still has that same effect on me now.
Fuck. I’ve gone and ruined everything now.
All of a sudden, I hear the
wail of a police siren behind me, along with the blindingly bright flashing blue lights.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. I just can’t get a break tonight.
I have a decent car, a BMW X5 M, which I’m sure is capable of going a whole lot faster than I usually do. But I’ve never seen cops lose a car chase in real life before. There’s no other choice. I have to pull over.
I roll down the car window and wait for the cop to approach. I grab my license and registration. I know the drill, and I want to get this over and done with as soon as possible.
“Good evening, Mr. Foster,” the cop says as soon as he stops by my car door.
I groan. Which cop doesn’t need to see my license to know my name? A cop that my father keeps in his pocket, of course.
“Your father has been looking for you,” he says.
“Oh, is that what the police do now? Is that how we’re spending tax dollars? On finding the ‘missing’ adult children of rich men?”
“I’m going to need you to follow my car, Mr. Foster. Or, if you prefer, me and my partner can take you in our patrol car,” the cop says.
“‘My partner and I.’” I correct his grammar.
“Excuse me?” He obviously doesn’t get it. His face is an infuriating mixture of indifference and sanctimony.
“I’m not getting in the back of your car like some fucking low-life criminal. Where are we going?”
“We’re going to your father’s house, Sir.” His calm and polite tone only makes me angrier. Fucking hypocrite.
“I can go there by myself.” I know he’s not going to let me go, but I have to at least try.
“I’m sorry, Sir. But your father requested that we escort you and your lady friend.”
“Escort, huh?” I burst out in laughter. This is just too absurd. “As you can see, Officer, I’m all by myself.”
“That’s unfortunate, Sir. But we still have to insist that you follow us.” His voice may sound cordial, but this is definitely a threat. I know a threat when I hear one.