by Marni Mann
The flights of stairs aren’t easy on my aching ribs, but they keep us out of the elevators and away from prying eyes. If anyone were to spot Clay, they’d follow him. And, now that we’re hiding out together, it’d put me in jeopardy, too. Working with Clay won’t be easy, but I trust him to keep me safe.
When we reach the bottom floor of the hospital, Camille tightly holds her purse, the slight tremor of her hands giving away just how nervous she is to say good-bye a second time. If she didn’t have a life of her own back in New York, I’d make her come with me. But this is where it ends for us—for now.
Her tears begin falling, and she can’t get a single word out. Like Nurse Rebecca, she doesn’t have to speak for us to communicate. I see the understanding in her eyes, feel the encouragement in her grip as she takes my hand, and trust the belief in her heart that everything will be okay.
“Adrian has my number,” she finally says. “I’ll be in touch soon.”
Nodding, I give her a sad smile and watch as she pushes through the hospital door and walks down the sidewalk. It’s like starting all over again—only this time, I don’t have a plan in place. All I have are the clothes I’m wearing and my faith in Clay.
“You ready?” Clay asks.
“I’m ready,” I tell him.
We walk in the opposite direction of Camille. I’m not sure where we’re going. But it feels right.
Clay
I hold Andi’s hand while we walk several blocks to where a taxi is waiting for us. She guards her ribs the whole time, showing me how much pain she’s in. I want her to lean into my side, allowing me to take most of her weight, but she’s adamant on walking herself. I understand. This is a massive decision. I want her to make it on her own and not feel influenced.
If she is hesitant, she doesn’t show it at all. She stays right beside me and climbs into the backseat of the cab. She doesn’t even ask any questions when the driver pulls away from the curb. It’s only then that she finally releases her ribs and leans her body into mine.
I feel her relax.
That’s when I relax. I wrap an arm around her and gently squeeze her hip.
“There’s a landlord in Philadelphia who’s expecting me to meet him and pick up the keys to my new apartment.” She turns her head to look at me. “That’s where I was going. I was leaving him for good this time. And then this happened and—”
“And you’re here, in this taxi with me, and he’s never going to touch you again.”
Her smile is small, but it’s there. “I believe you.”
I will never get tired of hearing those words. Besides my mom, it’s been so long since I’ve heard someone say them.
“How did he find you?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I called Camille from the hospital. I told her about the accident and gave her the address, but you and Camille are the only people I called.” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “Do you think he’s tracking her phone?”
“He could be. But, since there’s no way of us knowing right now, you’re going to have to be really careful when you call her. You’ll have to use a new burner phone each time.”
“Okay.”
Her voice is still so soft. I can tell she’s processing all of this.
“You won’t be able to tell Camille where you are,” I say. “If he’s listening, he’ll pick up on any hints you say. You’re going to have to keep your conversations short and not include any details that you’d normally talk about.”
“Should I tell my landlord that I’m not coming?”
I shake my head. “If Brooks knows about the apartment, he’ll be expecting you to make that call, and that’s where he’ll start tracking you. Let’s hold off for a little while before you call anyone.”
“Even Camille?”
There is panic in her voice, which tells me that the heaviness of this situation is finally hitting her. Being anonymous will eventually get easier, and she won’t feel so overwhelmed, but telling her that won’t help.
“I’ll set you up with a new email address that you can use to reach out to her. But you’re going to have to change that email address every time.”
As she tries to turn her head, I stop her, holding her chin steady, waiting until her eyes return to mine. Even if she doesn’t believe me, I have to tell her. She needs to hear some hope.
“It feels like a lot right now, and it is. I promise, you’ll get used to it, and it’ll become much easier.”
“Clay…”
“Trust me, Andi.”
“I do. But will I ever be able to walk down the street and not worry that Brooks is walking behind me? Or that he’ll be waiting for me in a restroom stall? Or on a train? There’s no limit to what he would do. He wants me back, and I don’t think he’s going to stop until he gets me.”
“He’s not going to get you,” I say through gritted teeth. Every time I think of his hands on her, my teeth grind together, and my hands clench into fists.
“Why does it feel so good when you say that?”
“Because it’s the truth.” I don’t want to touch her face; it’s still bruised, and her eye is swollen. So, I rest my hands over the sides of her neck. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, Andi. You have nothing to worry about while you’re with me. No one will ever lay a hand on you again.”
As I release her neck, she tucks her face into my shoulder, and we ride the rest of the way to the bus station.
At the ticket counter, I buy two one-way passes in cash, and we climb on board the bus. There are only three other passengers, all of them sitting in the front, so we take the last row. We have space. Privacy. We even take our hats off.
When the bus rolls out of the station, I watch her exhale, and I feel even more relief pass through her than I did when we were in the taxi. I have a feeling she’s been worried that Brooks was going to follow us here and stop her before we got away. Now, she knows she’s safe—at least for the moment. Soon, I’ll prove to her that I meant every word I’ve said. As long as she’s with me, she’ll always be safe.
She just needs to keep trusting me.
In order for her to do that, I owe her the truth.
It’s time for me to cut that wound open and show her what lies underneath.
“I want to tell you what happened to me,” I say. I roll the hat over my knee, watching the Devils logo swish around in circles, until it’s time to give her my face, my eyes, my honesty. “If you watched the news or the swimming trials while you were in the hospital, then I’m sure you heard plenty of shit about me. You need to know the truth about everything that went down.”
“I didn’t watch it. I couldn’t. The last thing I wanted to see was the crash replay over and over again.”
I nod, not wanting to see the aftermath of the crash either.
“Even if I had, I wouldn’t judge you, Clay. How could I? You saved my life.”
“I did what anyone else would have done—”
“Don’t.” She puts her hand on my chest, silencing me. “Don’t you dare downplay what you did for me. Not just anyone would have done that, so don’t take that away from me or from you.”
She tries to pull her hand away, but I don’t let her. A hint of a smile is back on her face.
“Now that that’s settled, tell me what happened to you.”
I slip my fingers off hers once I’m sure she won’t move them, and I lean my side into the seat. “I had this business partner named Ravi,” I say, starting from the beginning. “I’d worked with him on many deals. We’d flipped real estate together, invested in a restaurant. There was even a start-up that we went in on; it was a new way of securing information on your phone. What I mean is, we’d worked together lots of times before, and I trusted him.
“About two years ago, he came to me with an idea for a protein drink that we later named Endurance. It wasn’t for the general market. Endurance was a supplement specifically for athletes who trained at the same level as I did. They needed a face for the co
mpany, someone to test it out and make sure the claims were accurate. It looked legit, so I jumped on board. The purpose was to naturally enhance performance and pump you with healthy protein and vitamins. Sounded like something athletes needed with the amount of training we did.
“But a week into the trial, I started to get sick, and I learned the level of taurine in the drink wasn’t agreeing with me. My body was just sensitive to it, but that didn’t mean anyone else would get sick from it. They continued the trial without me, and the product proved to be successful. With my endorsement, it was given to the US swim team. We thought that, if it worked for our swimmers, we could expand to other teams.” I shake my head, pounding the side of my fist into the seat in front of me. “Everything went wrong—obviously.”
“Did you know that you were sensitive to taurine?”
“No. It came up in my blood tests after I got sick.”
“Who took those tests?”
I smirk, the answer making me even angrier. I know where Andi is going with this. My mind has gone there plenty of times in the past. “The doctor who was assigned to the trial.”
“Interesting,” she says. “Keep going.”
“More than half of the team started drinking it. They bragged about having so much more energy, faster times, higher metabolisms. The feedback was all positive. Ravi and I would talk a couple of times a week and discuss how much good we were doing for the team, how great of an idea this was. And, from an investor standpoint, how much money we were going to make.” I laugh as I think about all the lies he spewed at me. “We thought this was going to be an addition to every athlete’s daily routine.”
“And then the swim team got tested.”
I nod. “Yeah, that’s when shit really went down. They got tested over a three-day period based on their travel schedules. I was in Germany at the time, shooting a commercial, so I was the last one to go, and I was a week behind the others. A day after I went, the results were released.”
“Did your teammates know you couldn’t drink it?”
“No.” I sigh, wishing I had told them. “In my defense, I didn’t want to scare them. It wouldn’t look good if anyone found out I couldn’t take the product I was endorsing.” I run my hand through my hair, tugging the ends out of anger. “I know that makes me sound shady as fuck, and I know how wrong it was. But I didn’t know there were banned substances in the drink or that Ravi was putting all of our health at risk and ruining our fucking careers. That team was my family. My best friends. I wouldn’t have ever hurt them.”
“I believe you.” She pulls my hand out of my hair and holds it between hers. “Now, I know why you tested negative.”
I slowly gaze up from my fingers. “All the documents I signed said Ravi and I were equal partners, but when the news came out, those documents disappeared. Suddenly, Endurance was solely mine, and Ravi’s name wasn’t anywhere near it. He made it look like I tried to drug my teammates. But why the hell would I want to get them disqualified?”
“Less competition?”
“That’s bullshit.” I squeeze her hand. “I’m sorry. I know you’re just trying to piece it all together. I’m still fucking furious.” I breathe like I’m on my first flip turn during a two-hundred-meter freestyle, calming my heart rate before the last fifty-meter sprint. “But that makes the most sense.”
I glance out the window on the other side of the aisle. I need a break from the sympathy in her eyes, and I watch the bus move into the middle lane.
“I know I was targeted. I know it’s not just a coincidence that I wasn’t able to take the drink. And I know it’s going to be impossible to clear my name because any evidence Ravi had, I’m sure has been destroyed. The documents I have—the ones I kept in my safe—aren’t the ones I originally signed. Ravi must have changed them out. He’s one of the smartest people I know. He’ll continue to get away with this, and I’ll be the one who gets blamed.”
“You don’t know what I’m capable of, Clay.”
“Yeah? You think you can take down someone as connected as Ravi?”
She smiles and shrugs. “Don’t underestimate me. I’m going to help you uncover the truth and figure this all out. I promise.”
I want to believe her, but there’s no way she could have access to that kind of information or even know where to look for it, especially not while she’s in hiding.
Andi’s heart is bigger than any woman I’ve ever dated. She barely knows me, and she wants to help me. And she doesn’t want anything from me in return. That only makes me want to give her everything, things I’m not even capable of, considering I need to remain anonymous.
I’m not going to tell her that part. Not yet at least.
“We’ve got to talk about what we’re going to do when we get to New York,” I say.
“We’re not going to Philly?”
“We can’t. If Brooks knows about your apartment, he’ll be expecting you. We need to go somewhere he isn’t expecting.”
“Okay.”
The anxiety is back in her voice. I can tell it’s easier for her to talk about me. The present terrifies her. The future’s even scarier. I will do everything in my power to help change that.
“I have an apartment in the city,” I say. “A job. Enough cash saved that will get us to wherever we want to go and rent us a decent place to live for at least a couple of months.”
“You’ve been living off cash this whole time? What about your bank account? Or mine? I have enough saved that—”
“The second you access those accounts, Brooks will be able to track you. That money needs to stay there, and you can’t touch it. Your life is all about cash now. Manhattan is a cash city, and it’s a good place to hide out, but it’s too close to Brooks. I’m thinking we need to go to my place, grab my shit, and get the hell out as fast as we can.”
“Where do you want to go?”
“I can’t go west.” The expression on her face tells me she understands why. As much as I’d do anything to go back there, I can’t. It’s not safe. “I’m thinking we head south. Once we find a place to live, we’ll get jobs that won’t require our social security numbers.” I see the concern in her eyes. “Hey, don’t worry. I’m good at this. I’ll find what we need.”
“How far south?”
“Miami.” I planned this part out while my mom drove me to New Jersey. “It’s similar to New York where we can blend in with the chaos and stay anonymous.”
Several seconds pass before she responds, “Okay then, let’s go to Miami.”
“Are you sure?”
“The only thing I’m sure of is that you wouldn’t put me in danger. If you say we should move to Miami, then that’s where we need to go. I’m sure of you, Adrian.”
When she uses my real name, her voice changes. There’s so much emotion, so much rawness in that one word. She’s accepting me—the real me, the one beneath all this scruff and long hair. The one who is shamed all over the news. She never questions my story, never makes me feel as though she doesn’t believe me. She doesn’t make me feel guilty for anything that has happened.
She just sits next to the window with eyes that are so trusting, waiting for my next move. She has no makeup on her face; her hair is in a low ponytail. I’m sure she dressed in whatever Camille brought for her, which is a simple pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.
But she doesn’t need to be dressed up, her face full of makeup, her hair done. She’s much more beautiful this way. Vulnerable, natural, like she just stepped out of a pool. This is how I pictured her the whole time I was away from her.
“Things are going to get real busy once we get back to New York,” I say. “Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”
She doesn’t use the window as a pillow. She uses my shoulder instead. I feel the moment when her body fully relaxes and her breathing changes, indicating she’s fast asleep. She doesn’t stir, nor does she make a sound. It’s as though she hasn’t slept since the crash. I would like to think that she is
sleeping so soundly because I’m close to her, because I’m her comfort, but something tells me she still has pain meds in her system, and that’s what is keeping her asleep.
I don’t move her until we reach the bus station in New York, when we’re parked and the doors are finally open. I gently press my lips against her ear and tell her we’ve arrived. She slowly lifts her head and rubs her eyes awake. She’s even softer-looking now, sweeter. I want to graze my nose across her cheek and take in her smell, but I don’t. My mouth needs to stay away from her for a while.
Or for as long as I can help it.
“Come on.” I hold my hand out for her to take and lead her off the bus and into the first waiting taxi.
I give the driver my address and wrap my arm around her shoulders to keep her close.
Unlike Philly, New York has become familiar. I know shortcuts and restaurants that are so dark that no one would ever be able to see my face. I know which streets are busier in the morning and which paths are better to take at night.
Maybe it’s all become too familiar.
Maybe it’s time to move on, and meeting Andi has saved me from getting noticed.
When we arrive at my place, I throw some cash into the front seat and help Andi onto the sidewalk. We rush to my front door, and I lock it behind us. Making sure all the blinds are shut, I flip on the light and watch it flick a few times before it turns on.
“I just need to grab some things, and then we can go.”
I move over to the closet and reach to the very top, using my fingers to kick out the mock door I made along the side. It reveals a small space where I stuck a wad of cash. I pack that into a bag along with some clothes and an extra toothbrush I have lying around.
“How long have you lived here?” She looks in the kitchen and at the plywood coffee table and the air mattress I’ve been sleeping on.
“Just a couple of months.”
“You didn’t bring any of your things to New York?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t have time. I really had to get out of Colorado fast.”