Wide Open

by Tracey Ward

  I’m dead tired. Dragging ass kind of tired. Emotionally drained and physically spent. I’m dreaming of a warm cup of tea and the soothing lavender scent of my sheets. Of a long night’s sleep and a dreamless night. Of peace. That’s all I want. A stolen moment of carefully crafted peace.

  But life, as always, has other plans.

  The radio cuts out as the hands-free phone system kicks in over my speakers. A shrill ring stabs into my eardrums, surrounding me.

  I groan as I answer the call on my steering wheel. “Hey, Sean, what’s up?”

  “Derrick’s missing again,” he answers angrily.

  I hesitate, not sure I heard him right. “What do you mean ‘again’? He’s gone missing before?”

  “Travis didn’t tell you?”

  “No, Travis didn’t tell me. What are we talking about?”

  Sean sighs. “Dude has gone missing a couple of times. I don’t know for exactly how long this time. The Patriots had a bye week this week so we had three days off, but I tried to call him about what he wants to do at practice tomorrow and he’s not answering. We tried his apartment and there’s no answer. Lights off. Door locked. No one has seen him.”

  “Jesus,” I mutter, shaking my head at no one. “What is his problem?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s getting annoying. I know he’s ‘an artist’,” Sean says, his tone dripping in sarcasm, “but there comes a point where you have to get your damn job done, you know?”

  “I definitely do.”

  “You’re an artist and you don’t pull this on us. And, sorry to say it, but you’re better at this than he is.”

  “Aw,” I smile affectionately. “Thanks, Sean.”

  “I’m not trying to kiss your ass. I mean it. He sucks.”

  I laugh, turning down my street. “I’ll try to get ahold of him. Tell him to get back to work.”

  Sean hesitates. “I think you should have Travis do it. I tried to call him but he wasn’t answering.”

  “We just finished post-game interviews. He probably left his phone on silent. It’s fine, I’ll call Derrick myself. He’s more likely to answer if it’s me.”

  “Yeah, that’s why I think Travis should do it. He’s like his handler, right? Don’t you and Derrick always end up fighting when you talk?”

  I sigh tiredly. “Yeah, I know, but it’s just a phone call. It’ll be fine. Hey, tell me when he went missing before. I need ammo when I hit him with the Repeat Offender speech.”

  “He disappeared for a day back in September. I don’t remember exactly when.”

  I parallel park in front of my building. I take the only open spot. The one directly behind Kurtis’ Blazer. It’s in the same spot it sat the night his windshield was smashed, and suddenly something inside me clicks. My brow furrows as I put the car in PARK. “Early, late, or mid-September?”

  “Mid. Definitely. Why?”

  I stare straight ahead at the rusted bumper on the Blazer. I don’t want to believe it could be true, but an undeniable, unsilenced-able part of my brain is screaming for me to open my eyes. For me to understand what it’s trying to tell me.

  “I think I know where he goes,” I answer thickly.

  “Where?”

  “Call Travis for me. Keep calling him until you get him. Tell him everything you told me.”

  “Harper, what’s happening? You sound freaked.”

  “I am,” I answer honestly, a thin line of sweat forming on my back. I look at my building, at the lights on the front stoop. They burn bright and yellow, matched by several windows glowing in a similar color. People are home. People are awake. I’m not alone, I tell myself. I’m not alone. “I don’t know for sure, but I think Derrick has been coming here to L.A.”

  “He’s been going home? Why?”

  “Call Travis,” I repeat hurriedly. “I have to get some things from my apartment and then I’m going to his. Tell him to meet me there.”

  Sean pauses, digesting my strange instructions. “What the hell is going on, Harper?”

  “Too much to explain right now, but I need you to take over the Foxborough project for me for now. If Derrick is here, he’s not coming back to work.”

  “He’s fired?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Thank Christ,” Sean mumbles, relieved. “I can’t wait to be rid of this guy.”

  I lick my lips, hating they feel so parched. “Me too. Call Travis.”

  “I’m on it.”

  “Bye, Sean.”

  I unhook my phone from the hands-free and bring up my contacts. I type before I can think. Before I know exactly why I do it.

  I know what happened to your windshield.

  I send the text to Kurtis with my heart in my throat. It’s barely out of my phone and into the ether, and I’m already waiting for his reply. I’m already dreading the endless silence that could follow.

  I grab my bag and sling it over my shoulder as I step out of the car. The night is balmy, sticky. There’s electricity in the air that’s set me on edge. That makes it feel hard to breathe. I’m jingling my keys up out of my bag when I see a shadow cross my path. I freeze, my eyes following it up to the source. To the door.

  It doesn’t surprise me to see Derrick standing there. I was expecting it, really. Dreading it, definitely, but expecting it nevertheless. I’m sick of his shadow cast over me, tainting everything I do and think. He’s everywhere. In my work, in my life, in my head. I want him gone and the only way to make that happen is to face him head on.

  He looks natural standing in front of my apartment, like I’ve seen it before. Like it’s nothing new. But then I realize it’s not that I’ve seen it, that’s not what makes him look so comfortable there. It’s that he’s been there before, multiple times. Probably more than I know. More than I’d like to know.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask him evenly. “Your team is looking for you.”

  “Did Sean call you?”

  I squeeze my phone hard in my hand. “I just got off the phone with him. He’s pissed. So am I. You shouldn’t be here. You should be working.”

  “I wanted to see you.”

  “Why?”

  He grins. “You’re my muse.”

  “I’m your muse for filming a football documentary?”

  “You’re my muse in everything.”

  I rub the back of my hand across my forehead, feeling dizzy. My heart is hammering too hard in my chest. Can he see it? Can he hear it? I’m more afraid than I thought I’d be and suddenly I wish I wasn’t alone with him. I wish I’d told Sean to send Travis to my apartment, not his.

  “I saw your face when you got the flowers I gave you,” Derrick continues. He takes a step forward, a smile on his lips. “You looked so happy. So beautiful.”

  “Derrick,” I breathe nervously, “you can’t say things like that.”

  “Why not?”

  I lift my phone, quickly bringing it to life. My text message to Kurtis is still open. I quickly type a second.

  HELP

  “Harper,” Derrick barks sharply.

  I jolt as I hit SEND.

  “You’re not listening.”

  “We’re not dating,” I remind him nervously, lowering my phone. “We’re not romantic. We never were and we never will be. That’s why you can’t say things like that. They make me uncomfortable. ”

  He scowls, the light above him casting harsh shadows across his face, deepening the displeasure of the expression. “I’ve apologized so many times. I explained to you what really happened. How are you still angry at me?”

  “I’m not angry, but I’m not interested either. I don’t ever want to revisit where we were headed.”

  “You still don’t get it. You don’t understand what I was trying to do.”

  “I understand and I didn’t like it. I didn’t want it.”

  “No, you were scared because you didn’t get it.”

  “You don’t get to tell me how I feel.”

  “I can when you’re
lying to yourself.”

  “I’m not.”

  “I think you are.”

  “Agree to disagree.”

  “No.”

  His tone makes me shiver. It makes me sick, and I hope to God Kurtis gets my message. I hope he’s listening. I don’t live that far from the stadium and when I left tonight his car was still there. He could be here in minutes if he meant it.

  I look at Derrick, not sure what to say to him. What to do. He’s not hearing me. He’s not listening, and I wonder what’s different about tonight. The other times he was here – and I’m absolutely positive that he’s been here at least once – he didn’t show himself. He didn’t talk to me. He was happy to stay at a distance. So what’s changed?

  I feel my phone vibrate in my hand. I fight the urge to look at it. I know Derrick won’t like it, and I’m not looking to piss him off right now. I wish I could read it, though. I would feel less alone. I wish someone, anyone, was here right now, because as proud as I am, as strong as I like to be, I feel real fear looking into Derrick’s eyes. I always do when I see him and I hate myself for all the times I’ve forced myself to forget that.

  I need to remember this moment. I need to never let it happen again.

  I take a step back from him, shifting my keys in my hand. “I’m going to go get some dinner,” I tell him calmly. “I’ll be gone an hour. When I get back, you need to be gone and I don’t want you to come here again. Do you understand me?”

  “With who?”

  “I don’t want you to come here with anyone. Ever.”

  He reclaims the step I’ve taken, closing in on me slowly. “No, I mean who are you getting dinner with? That football player? The meat suit?”

  “He’s not a—“

  “What do you even have to talk about with a Neanderthal like that? Or is it not about talking? Is it all about sex?”

  I bristle angrily. “It’s not your business. I am not your business. Your work is. The project is, and after it’s done we need to go our separate ways. Professionally and personally.”

  He shakes his head slowly, his eyes in shadow. The light on the porch is at his back. I can’t read his face, but I can decipher his tone easily enough. He’s sad. “I don’t like that.”

  “I don’t care. It’s how it’s going to be. And you’re going to leave now and never come back to my apartment.”

  “No.”

  I flinch. “Stop saying that.”

  He takes a step closer. “No.”

  He’s in the lamplight now. His eyes are focused acutely on me. Bright and intense in a way that’s unnerving. Shining with tears that I don’t understand.

  “You never listen to me,” he tells me quietly. “That’s the problem with us. You don’t let me explain things to you. You never pay attention to what I want.”

  “What do you want, Derrick?”

  “You,” he answers as though it’s obvious, and I guess it is. It’s too intense, it’s a little psychotic, but it is obvious. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted.

  “I hear you and I understand that, but I don’t feel the same way. You have to respect that.”

  “Why? You’re not respecting how I feel.”

  “We’re not going to happen. It’s time to deal with that and move on. That’s why I’m letting you go. It’s going to be good for you. You’ll find someone else, someone who wants you as much as you want them.”

  “I’ll never want anyone the way I want you.”

  “And that’s probably for the best, because this isn’t healthy. This is bordering on stalking and it’s scaring me.”

  He recoils slightly, like I slapped him. “You’re scared of me?”

  “I’m scared of this situation right now.”

  “I’d never hurt you, Harper.”

  I swallow hard. “That’s a lie and we both know it.”

  “You see, this is what I’m talking about,” he snaps irritably. “You don’t listen and you can’t let anything go.”

  “Obviously neither can you.”

  The roar of an engine rips through the night, tearing through the tension between us. The sound severs a tie that’s held me helpless, and I stumble back a step, grateful for the ground I’ve regained. Derrick doesn’t try to take it back.

  “You should go,” I warn him severely. “This is your last chance to get out of here.”

  “I’m not going anywhere until you listen to me.”

  “I tried. We’re never going to agree on this, and if you don’t leave now, you’ll have to talk to him about it, and that’s not going to go well for you.”

  His expression is ardent, cold steel in his eyes. “I’m not afraid of him. I’ll fight for you if that’s what you want.”

  I sigh at the sound of tires squealing on asphalt. He’s almost here. He’s coming to save me and it doesn’t make me feel small the way I imagined it would. I’m surprised at how powerful it makes me feel. How solid and centered. How sad for the fool in front of me.

  “You should have left when you had the chance, Derrick,” I tell him slowly. “Now you’re in a fuckload of trouble.”

  He scowls at me, moving to step forward. To rush me.

  He stops dead in his tracks when headlights cut across the lawn between us. They level him in their sights. Pin him down and make him their prey as the brilliant green body of the Challenger effortlessly jumps the curb and comes to an angry halt on the grass.

  Kurtis leaves the engine rumbling as he steps out of the car. He’s nothing but shadow against the glare of his headlights. An ominous, hulking form made of muscle and vengeance bearing down on Derrick. His body moves with a surprising amount of grace for its size, but there’s an energy emanating from him. Something coiled tight inside his massive body and I think this is how he feels on the field before he strikes. Power building inside until it can’t be contained anymore. Until it bursts forward in a rushing force that pounds in his heart and his feet. In his fists.

  He surveys me quickly, looking for injuries.

  “Are you okay?” he asks gruffly.

  “Yeah. He didn’t touch me.”

  “Not yet.”

  “No,” I admit, finally appreciating the importance of the distinction. “Not yet.”

  His eyes swing to Derrick. “She doesn’t want you here. Fuck off.”

  I smile at the simple elegance of his warning. Kurtis has never been one to waste words. Why would he start now?

  Derrick glares at him angrily. “This doesn’t have shit to do with you.”

  “Leave.”

  “She and I have a history. We have a connection you can’t begin to understand.”

  “I understand your connection. It’s why I’m telling you to leave. Now.”

  “I’m not going anywhere without her.”

  “I’ve told you three times,” Kurtis reminds him darkly. “You’ve burned through all of my patience. This is your last chance.”

  Derrick surprises us both when he suddenly lunges to the right, darting around Kurtis. I take a hurried step back as he rushes toward me. His face is a grim mask of determination carved harshly into his normally handsome face by the headlights. I don’t recognize him. Not by sight. But something clicks when I see that look on his face. Something falls into place, like a missing page from a book has finally been found. Like his insides finally match his outside.

  He’s fast as he sprints toward me, but Kurtis is faster. He reaches out with his long arm and clotheslines Derrick, knocking him back off his feet to the ground. Derrick lands hard. He goes still, the wind knocked out of him. It takes three long seconds for him to cough, gasping for breath to refill his vacant lungs. He rolls over on his side and coughs again raggedly.

  Kurtis stands over him, waiting patiently. He’s a statue. A monolith. The world could pass for eons around him, washing away, eroding to nothing, but still he’d stand guard. Still he’d stay. As long as I’m in danger, Kurtis Matthews will not be moved.

  “Harper is going to go inside an
d pack a bag,” he tells Derrick’s writhing form. “She’s going to come to my place and stay with me for the next three nights. That’s how long you have to sort your head out. I’m being generous. I hope you appreciate that.”

  Derrick groans something I can’t hear. Something that makes Kurtis crouch down low next to him, his shadow engulfing Derrick in darkness.

  “You’re never going to see her again. You don’t work with her anymore. You don’t talk to her. You don’t think about her.”

  “You don’t speak for her,” Derrick argues roughly. “I won’t talk to anyone but her.”

  He sits up, moving to stand.

  Kurtis shoves his shoulder, effortlessly pushing him back down onto the ground. “Harper,” he calls over his shoulder to me. “Is he fired?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you ever want to see him again?”

  “Never.”

  He shrugs at Derrick. “There you go. She can speak for herself and she says to fuck off.”

  “She didn’t—“

  “Fuck off, Derrick,” I shout to him.

  He squints into the headlights, trying to see me better. He never can’t. He never could.

  Kurtis leans in to block him. “My address is 758 Greenbow. Apartment 17. Repeat it back to me. Where do I live? Where will Harper be?”

  Derrick doesn’t speak. He goes to stand up again. Kurtis immediately pushes him back.

  “What’s the address, douchebag?” he demands.

  Derrick glares up at him. “758 Greenbriar—“

  “Greenbow.”

  “Greenbow, apartment 17.”

  “Say it again.”

  “758 Greenbow. Apartment 17,” Derrick spits angrily.

  “Good. Now you know it. That’s where she’ll be. You need to remember that because you leaving her alone, that’s a choice you’re going to make. I don’t want you to stay away because you can’t find her because as soon as you can, you’ll be back to this shit and that’s not going to happen. You’re going to stay away because you know it’s the smart thing to do. A dumb thing to do would be to show up on my doorstep. If that happens, Derrick, I won’t be responsible for what happens to you. You read me?”

  “You don’t know who the—“

  Kurtis hits him.

  I jump, startled by the hard sound of skin and bone making contact. It happens fast, too fast to follow, but the end result is obvious. It’s all over Derrick’s face; a bright red river running from his nose, over his lips. He lays back on the ground, his hands covering his face as he moans.