The Woman Trapped in the Dark

by J. D. Mason

  * * *

  A few weeks ago, Jordan got a call from Phyl.

  “We’ve been to three stores, and she won’t buy anything,” Phyl said in a whisper over the phone.

  Jordan was in the middle of a workout with 225 pounds pressed above his chest.

  “This can’t wait, Phyl?” he asked irritably and out of breath.

  “I just don’t know what to do, boss,” Phyl admitted. “You said to take her shopping. Well, I’ve been trying and she won’t shop. So I’m stumped.”

  “Text me … the address where … you are and wait … for me.”

  Half an hour later, Jordan walked through the door of some women’s boutique in downtown Dallas, still wearing shorts, a sweaty T-shirt, and sneakers.

  “May I help you, sir?” a woman asked, greeting him.

  Phyl waved to him from across the room, and Jordan headed back in her direction. He was just about to ask Phyl what the hell was going on when Abby came out of the dressing room wearing a form-fitting strapless, shimmering gold gown that stopped him dead in his tracks. Apparently, she didn’t see him, though, as she stepped up on the center stand in front of the mirrors, followed by an anxious saleswoman who looked like she’d fallen in love with Abby in that dress. Hell, Jordan was in love with Abby in that dress.

  “Shoes,” the woman muttered nervously, rushing over to boxes strewn on the floor in one corner of the room, then knelt and slipped high-heeled sandals onto Abby’s feet. Then the woman stepped back, clasped her hands together, and gasped.

  Abby stared at her reflection like she was seeing herself for the first time. “This is so … Wow,” she said, in awe of her reflection. Jordan didn’t want to move. He didn’t want her to know that he was there, not until he’d finished soaking up the breathtaking view of this woman. It all worked. It was all perfect. She was perfect.

  “How much is it?” Abby blurted out, breaking the spell for every damn body.

  The woman suddenly looked like she was going to be sick.

  “Oh, boy,” Phyl muttered, shaking her head.

  It was obviously time for Jordan to step in. He walked up to where she was standing. The shoes and the fact that she was standing on that platform put her at eye level with him, and he appeared as if by magic when she turned back around from asking that ridiculous question to the saleswoman to face the mirrors.

  “Oh!” she said, startled.

  Jordan stood close enough to kiss.

  “What you are you doing here?” she asked, after composing herself. “Did Phyl call—” She turned to Phyl. “Did you call him?”

  Phyl came out of hiding. “I had to. You’re driving me crazy, Abby. We’ve been out here for hours and the only thing you bought was a belt.”

  “It was on sale,” Abby mouthed.

  “I like this,” Jordan said, ignoring the conversations around him and staring at Abby’s lovely breasts swelling at the top of that dress.

  “You shouldn’t be here, Jordan,” Abby complained.

  “You should get this one,” he continued, ignoring her protests. “Yes. You definitely need to get this.”

  She leaned in close. “The dresses in this place cost more than I paid for my truck when it was new.”

  He nodded. “It’s prettier than your truck,” he said indifferently.

  She looked appalled. “I cannot justify spending this much money on a dress that I can probably only wear one time. That doesn’t make any sense. I keep telling Phyl that if she’d just take me to Nordstrom Rack, I could buy a whole wardrobe for less than I’d pay for some of these dresses.”

  “But you’re not spending the money on this dress,” he corrected her. Jordan met her gaze with his own. “I am.”

  “Yeah, well, just because you have money to spend like that doesn’t mean you should.”

  “I hardly think that I need you to tell me how to manage my money, Abby,” he calmly explained.

  She looked offended and rightly so. But she couldn’t help herself. Abby was thrifty, and so was he. It was just that his thrift threshold was a lot higher than hers.

  “Let me do this for you,” he said, and softly kissed her between her eyes. “You’re making one hell of a sacrifice for me by moving out here with me, Abby,” he reminded her.

  “I haven’t actually agreed to move yet, Jordan.”

  “But you’re considering it,” he responded with a slight smile. “So consider this a thank-you gift. Just get the dress, sweetheart. Don’t worry about cost. If I couldn’t afford it, you wouldn’t be here.”

  “You know I’m blue jeans and T-shirts, Jordan. As beautiful as this dress is, it’s hard for me to justify randomly buying something like this when I don’t know when or where I’ll wear it.”

  “You can’t wear jeans and a T-shirt everywhere we go, Abby. And we’ll find a place for you to wear it. I’m sure something’s coming up,” he said, looking at Phyl, who nodded.

  “How about I put this back until we do,” Abby shot back.

  “But I really do love this on you.”

  Abby gave his argument some thought and quietly rescinded her protests. “It is pretty.”

  He smiled. “It’s gorgeous and you’re gorgeous in it.”

  She blushed and smiled. “I think I do, too, but…”

  Jordan leaned in and kissed her lightly on the lips.

  She was uncharacteristically over-the-top feminine. It was cute and he almost laughed, except that he would’ve ruined the moment and he didn’t want to do that.

  Abby batted those pretty eyes of hers. “There is another one that I liked, too,” she said sweetly. “I can’t decide which one I like better.”

  He shrugged. “Then get both.”

  Abby bit down on her lower lip. “And the shoes, too?”

  Jordan grinned. “And the shoes too, dahlin’. In fact, you can get the whole damn store if you want to.”

  She looked like she didn’t believe that he’d meant it, but he did. Jordan kissed her one last time. “I’m going back to my workout,” he said, leaving.

  He walked past Phyl and paused briefly. “You good?”

  She nodded and sighed. “Yeah. I think I can handle it from here.”

  You Work All Day

  RICHARDSON WAS A HALF HOUR outside of Clark City. DJ had asked James and Naomi to meet him at a Whataburger just off the main road cutting through the small town. He and James had been sitting there for fifteen minutes before Naomi rushed in like she’d been blown in by a tornado.

  “Sorry,” she said, breathless, glancing at both men. “I had to get my kids off to school and wait for Thomas to leave for work.”

  James looked at DJ, but DJ pretended not to notice. His brother had been dropping subtle hints about Naomi’s involvement. He didn’t know her, so he didn’t trust her. But James wouldn’t have trusted any woman. As far as he was concerned, the only thing a woman could do for him was give up that ass and make him a meal. They were half brothers, related by their father. James had been raised in a totally different household from DJ, because DJ would’ve have gotten a foot in his mouth by his momma. if he’d had the courage or stupidity to express that shitty attitude around her. James’s mom obviously didn’t give a damn about James’s low opinion of women.

  Naomi settled into the booth, pushed disheveled blond hair behind her ears, and looked anxiously at DJ, who covertly handed an envelope underneath the table.

  “We each get thirty thousand now,” he explained.

  James grimaced. “That’s it?”

  Naomi stared back at him. D.J. sighed. “That’s thirty thousand more than she was willing to give us at all. I told her we wouldn’t do it without some kind of payment up front. We’ll get the rest when it’s over.”

  Nay took a deep breath and seemed cool with that. DJ had told Naomi and James that they’d get five hundred thousand dollars each for doing this. DJ had lied to them, though. He was going to pocket a whole million when this was all said and done. In his mind it made sense tha
t he should get more. After all, he’d been the one who’d agreed to do this. He’d been the one the woman had approached first, and he was the one who’d organized all of this—including watching the woman’s house and setting up how and when they’d take her and where they’d keep her. DJ was in charge. So he believed that he should get the most money.

  He looked at Naomi. “Is she eating?”

  Naomi shrugged. “Sort of. I mean, yeah.”

  “Well, which is it?” James abruptly chimed in. “Sort of or yeah?”

  She glared at him. “She’s eating.”

  “Don’t you worry about her part, James,” DJ reminded him, stepping to Naomi’s defense. “All you and me have got to do is wait this out. We’ve done our part for now.”

  After Nay had nearly let that woman escape, DJ couldn’t help but admit to himself that Naomi was a weak link. If he hadn’t shown up when he did, just to check on things, she’d have gotten away and hell would’ve broken loose on all three of them.

  “For now.” He shrugged. “What’s left for us to do, DJ?”

  “We wait,” he said simply. “It ain’t hard. Nay checks on her twice a day, keeps her fed, and you and me just hang tight, J.”

  “And at the end of this?” James asked. “What happens when Friday rolls round, man?”

  “We let her go.” DJ shot back.

  “Dead or alive?” James asked, leaning across the table.

  “Alive,” Naomi said defensively. She looked around the room to see if anyone might have heard her.

  “Exactly,” DJ confirmed.

  The smirk on James’s face was meant to be unnerving. “Maybe I’m the only one who doesn’t believe in Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy. Doesn’t make sense to just let her go. That’s not real-world thinking, D.”

  “That’s how it’s gone be, man. It’s not up for debate. We ain’t killers.” He mouthed the last word. DJ leaned back and shook his head. “Man, chill with that, J,” he said, disgusted. “I told you what’s gonna happen. Now leave it alone.”

  “Seriously, DJ, you cannot be that naïve, man,” he said gravely.

  “It’s got nothing to do with being naïve. The only reason we’re doing this”—he remembered that he was sitting in a public place, leaned forward, and lowered his voice—“is because I was promised that she wouldn’t get hurt.”

  “She’s been hurt,” James said, looking too damn smug.

  “Hitting women is a punk move, man,” DJ said, challenging his gaze.

  Naomi shifted in the seat next to DJ. Her man was like James. He had no qualms putting his paws on a female.

  “Punk move or not, it helped us to get her little ass out of the house and into that car.”

  “Are we done?” Naomi asked. “I need to get to work.”

  DJ nodded, and Naomi picked up her purse and took off.

  James waited for Naomi to leave before continuing this conversation with DJ. “I’m gone make a suggestion.”

  “I don’t need your suggestions,” DJ retorted. “I need you to be cool and do what I tell you to do.”

  “Hear me out,” he insisted. “Maybe whoever is behind all this did tell you to just let her go when it’s all said and done.”

  “That’s exactly what she said. We let her go, or we don’t get shit.”

  “Don’t be stupid, DJ,” he shot back. “That woman you’ve been talking to, the one who put this together, she’s safe. You don’t know who she is, and me and your girl, Naomi, definitely don’t know. But little miss, locked up in that room? She knows us.”

  “She hasn’t seen your face, man,” DJ said, losing patience.

  James was too damn volatile, always looking to make something harder than it was. Complicating things. DJ was starting to think he’d made a mistake asking him to be a part of this.

  “But she’s heard my voice, and yours, and Naomi’s. They got technology, man. Think about it. All of a sudden the three of us come up with some crazy-ass money out of nowhere. This broad tells the police every damn thing about what’s happened to her, and they start to put shit together.”

  “Then leave town after you get yours.”

  “Yeah, that’s not obvious,” he said sarcastically.

  “Then don’t spend it, James,” DJ said coolly. “Sit on it. Business as usual. Don’t draw attention to yourself.”

  “You tell your girl to do the same thing?” he asked, meaning Naomi.

  “Why you so hung up on Nay, James?”

  He sighed and leaned back. “She’s shaky,” he said casually.

  “Shaky? What the hell does that mean?”

  “Looks like she’s about to jump out of her skin. First sign of trouble and she’ll lose it.”

  DJ studied his brother. “Honestly, I’m more worried about you losing it.”

  His expression told DJ that he’d taken offense. Heavy silence hung in the air between them for a moment.

  “This is your show, bruh.” James shrugged, standing up to leave. “We’ll play your way if it means getting my money, but I think you need to put some thought into what I’m telling you.”

  James decided to leave, and DJ was still sitting there five minutes later. James had a flair for the dramatic. Nobody was going to kill that woman. It had been made clear to DJ that when all this was over, they were to drop her off at some agreed-upon place and leave her there—alive. DJ wasn’t a killer. He wouldn’t have agreed to this if that’s what that woman on the phone wanted.

  His supervisor was going to let him go. DJ had been late with one too many deliveries, and he was walking a hair-thin line between having a job and being unemployed. He hadn’t told Nia or anybody. It wasn’t like he couldn’t find another job, but he wouldn’t find another one that paid him what he made driving trucks. And they needed the money. DJ had his own dreams. He was sick of driving and being away from home for days, even weeks, at a time. This money was going to allow him to buy his family a house and help him to get his own business off the ground. Fuck working for anybody else. This money was going to set them up and set him free to be his own damn boss, maybe invest in some trucks and hire drivers to work for him. And it would be easy. All they had to do now was keep that woman safe and fed, and then return her after they got paid. Half a million in a week. Shit. Easy.

  I Should Be Gone

  NAOMI RUSHED INTO THE KITCHEN carrying bags of groceries moments before the school bus pulled up in front of the house dropping off her boys. It was four. Thomas would be home by five.

  “Y’all wash up,” Naomi said to her sons, coming into the kitchen. “I need you to get started on that homework and get it done before dinner.”

  “Mine’s done,” TJ, her older son, said, reaching for a cookie in the cookie jar.

  Naomi absently slapped his hand. The twelve-year-old stared back at her, and for a moment, the way he hesitated and glared at her, she thought she saw his father coming through. But she couldn’t flinch. This was her son.

  “Not until after dinner,” she warned him.

  He slumped away with a chip on his shoulder that made her uneasy. TJ was getting to be a big boy who’d seen things he shouldn’t have seen at his age, and they were starting to rub off on him. He was the reason that Naomi had agreed to do this. She needed that money to save herself and her sons. They were starting to believe that the kinds of things that went on inside their house were the norm, and it was going to be up to her to unteach them everything that they learned from watching their father. Naomi was not going to let her boys grow up to be monsters like he was.

  It had taken her longer at the store than she’d planned. Naomi put a pot of water on the stove to boil for potatoes and seasoned and put a chicken in the oven for baking, then started to cut up a salad. She was worried about that chicken. Worried that it wouldn’t be done in time.

  “Shit!” she muttered, dropping potatoes into the pot. The water splashed and burned her hand.

  Naomi was rushing. She was nervous because she had hoped to make a
quick run to the bunker to feed that woman before Thomas got home. It’d be nearly impossible to do it after dinner. Thinking about that woman, she hurried and put a sandwich together, grabbed a bottle of water, and put them both in a brown paper sack on the counter. She hadn’t thought this through well. Could she trust those boys at home alone with that chicken in the oven for half an hour while she ran a quick errand?

  She glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was almost four thirty. It’d take her fifteen minutes to get there. Another ten for the woman to eat, and then another fifteen coming home. The thought occurred to her to stay home. It wouldn’t hurt that lady to miss a meal. If Thomas came home and she wasn’t here, he’d … Naomi took the bag off the counter and was just about to push it to the back of the refrigerator when her doorbell rang. For some reason she quickly raced to answer it before one of her boys did. Standing on her porch was DJ’s brother, James.

  Her heart caught in her throat as she pulled the main door closed behind her and stepped out onto the porch, glancing nervously around at the neighbors.

  “What are you doing here?” she whispered anxiously. “Where’s DJ? Is something wrong?”

  He grinned. “Calm down. Ain’t nothing wrong.”

  “You are not supposed to be here,” she said angrily. Naomi was on the verge of tears. “You can’t be here, James. You just can’t.”

  “You need help?” he said all of a sudden.

  “What?” she asked, confused.

  “Did you take her the food?”

  She shook her head. “No. No. I can’t. My husband will be home. I can’t do it tonight. Now, please go! He can’t know that you were here.”

  “Let me do it.”

  Her heart beat a thousand miles a minute. But no. She was … this was her job.

  “You don’t have to.” She swallowed, nervously glancing over his shoulder. “Just go, James.”

  He didn’t want Naomi involved. And if she wasn’t, then there’d be more money to be shared between James and DJ.

  “I think she’ll be all right for one night,” she said, turning to go back inside.