by Gina Drayer
“I did,” he snapped. Cash was trying to help, but he was just pissing him off. “Lee looked me straight in the eyes and chose whatever her secret is over me. I can’t even look at her right now, let alone talk to her.”
“Well, I’m sorry you got your feelings hurt, but you screwed this up,” Cash said and took a drink. “The basic rule of thumb of loving someone is if you suddenly hear really bad shit about her, don’t kick her out of your life. Find out what’s going on first.”
“She said she can’t talk about it. She said that she’s trying to protect me.”
“I see,” he said, nodding his head. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?”
“That’s what I’ve been saying. The real problem is she won’t tell me the truth,” Dylon said, grateful his friend was finally on his side.
“No, idiot,” Cash said with a shake of his head. “She’s trying to protect you. That’s the part you’re pissed about, not that she won’t tell you the whole story. You’re pissed because she won’t let you be the hero riding to the rescue and your stupid caveman brain can’t handle that.”
He leaned back in his chair with a smug grin and sipped his beer as though he’d just solved all Dylon’s problems.
Dylon just rolled his eyes and downed the rest of his glass. “If that’s your idea of helpful advice, I hope you have more booze. These bottles won’t be enough to get me through the night.”
“I do,” Cash said and got up from the table and rummaged through the refrigerator. “Listen, don’t feel bad. Real adult relationships are a whole new ballgame for you. ”
Cash opened up the oven and pulled out a pizza. Usually, Dylon couldn’t get enough of Cash’s homemade pizza, but tonight the smell just made his stomach flip.
“Normally, I’d agree with you on this point, but the problem isn’t with me. She’s the one who’s shut down.”
“Listen, sometimes the people we love disappoint us,” Cash said, setting down the pizza. Turning, he placed a hand on Dylon’s shoulder. “They make choices we don’t agree with, or do stupid things, but that doesn’t mean you give up on them.”
“You mean like you did with Kim?”
“You know how that turned out. It was almost the biggest mistake of my life.” Cash let out an audible sigh and flopped down in the chair. “When you’ve found a keeper, you have to get through the rough patches so you can hang on to her. Otherwise, you’re just going through the motions.”
“And you think Lee is a keeper?”
“I do,” he said without hesitation. “And when you were focused on her and not on all this external nonsense, so did you. You made that much clear.”
“It was easy then. There wasn’t all this shit between us. I mean the lawyer said she was in trouble and I know there’s a lot more to that story. All of that makes a difference.”
“Does it?”
“Of course it does,” Dylon said, reaching for a slice. “If I can’t help her, if she won’t let me help her, then she needs to stick with that lawyer. I’m no good for her.”
Cash hummed. “I’m not nearly drunk enough to understand your logic.”
“Probably not.” He raised his glass. “To understanding.” And they drank in unison. “Say, is Kim going to come home, find us sloppy drunk in her living room, and kick both our asses out?”
“No. I told her the situation, and she’s staying with a friend tonight. But she made it clear that I was responsible, personally responsible, for repairing any damage to hearth or home, so be kind.”
Dylon raised his glass again. “Most women wouldn’t get it. She’s a keeper. To Kim.”
“To Kim.” Cash put his glass down, and Dylon began topping it up from the bottle. “Speaking of which, do you remember when I thought Kim had left me?”
“How can I forget? I had to eat the bar tab and put up with your misery for months.”
“It wasn’t months. But yes, it wasn’t my most shining moment,” Cash said with a sigh. “The thing is, the current situation bears remarkable similarities.”
“This isn’t the same. You said you left her because she wouldn’t commit. Lee is keeping things from me.”
“Kim’s commitment issues weren’t the whole story,” Cash said with a shake of his head. “My fight with Kim was all about being honest with each other. We were both playing the assuming game. I assumed I wasn’t enough for her, and she assumed I wouldn’t be happy with her.” He paused and made sure Dylon was listening. “Trust me, it’s a stupid game. The only way to win is to swallow your pride and talk things out.”
“At least you knew who you were talking to. I didn’t even know Lee’s real name until yesterday. Really, I don’t know anything about her.”
“You know you love her. Does it matter what she calls herself?”
And that was his final thought on the matter. Cash, the persistent friend, who never knew when to shut up, did precisely that and left Dylon alone to stew over his thoughts while he finished eating his pizza.
He had loved her. He wasn’t hurt because she had lied about her identity. Cash was right; what the hell did that matter? No, he was hurt because she wouldn’t let him in, wouldn’t let him help. She was keeping him out of her life.
A life he wanted to share.
But instead of fighting for that dream, he’d shit all over it.
“Well, fuck,” Dylon said, slumping down in the chair. “I really screwed this up, didn’t I?”
Cash grinned. “You are assuming again. It’s not over until you hear those words from her mouth. You need to tell her you love her and what you want. Then she can tell you what she thinks and feels. You need to man up and fight for the woman you love.” He grinned. “Until then, she has every right to be pissed at the asshat that tossed her out.”
Dylon struggled to his feet. His stomach didn’t like the sudden movement, and he grabbed the back of the chair for balance. “You’re an asshole, Cash, but you’re right.”
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, getting up.
“To tell her,” Dylon said. “To look her in the face and tell whatever it was you said just then. It made sense. And I need to tell her that. I need to fight for her.”
Cash put a hand on his arm. “You are drunk, pal. Way too drunk to fight for anything. If you go over there now and don’t get arrested for public intoxication, you’ll scare her off for good.”
“But—”
“You said she had a couple of days. You and I will finish this bottle tonight.” He held up the empty bottle and frowned. “Well, I guess we already did that. Maybe we should call it a night and let you sleep it off. Tomorrow, you can talk to her. After you deal with your hangover, which will be a killer. If you remember this conversation and still want to go see her, I’ll push you out the door. If you’ve forgotten what we talked about, we can go over it all again.”
Cash was right and was making sense, which was a little scary to Dylon. He loved Lee. Pushing her away made no sense. He didn’t want her to leave even if she was being stubborn. But unless he did something about it, she’d be gone. Even so, going over there now, like this, would probably make things worse.
“Tomorrow, then,” he agreed.
Cash raised his glass. “To moving forward.”
Now that he’d made his decision, he began to feel sleepy. “I think I need to lay down,” he told Cash.
“And you, my friend, are out for the night.” He was moving now, coming around the table.
“What?” He wondered what Cash meant. It was hard to understand him with the room spinning around. Why was Cash spinning the room? He didn’t usually do that.
Dylon followed Cash to the sofa and collapsed. He was going to fix this with Lee, and everything was going to work out. As he started to drift off, a disturbing thought crossed his mind. What if she wasn’t still there tomorrow?
Chapter Sixteen
Lee managed to stem her tears and pull herself together enough to get some sleep. She woke early, exhau
sted emotionally and physically, and started making a plan. She couldn’t just keep reacting. Reacting was exactly what had landed her in this situation—running for her life with her life in ruins. Again.
And right now, figuring out a strategy gave her something to focus on, a direction. She was determined to run, but she couldn’t just go off blindly. She had to go somewhere.
She sat at her makeshift desk with her computer and tried to focus on work.
If this were someone else’s problem, a financial problem, what would you recommend to the client?
That was the trick. Detaching from the situation and soul-wracking pain was the only way she’d get through this. She had to make this an operation—consider the goals, the threats, and the risks.
The risk is Christian wants to silence you.
An icy chill ran down her spine. Lee had to put those thoughts aside.
For the rest of the day, she worked on her computer, looking at maps and reading about cities with very few results and a growing disgust. Nothing appealed to her. Not one damn place. Not the idea of seeing the country. Everything that involved leaving New York, leaving Dylon behind, depressed her.
Of course, she didn’t know that much about any other places. She hadn’t traveled widely. She’d been to London on business, and to Paris once for a week’s vacation.
But she couldn’t live in those places. In fact, leaving the country was a problem. She’d need a visa, a work permit … The paper trail would be easy to follow. Besides, she wasn’t even sure where her passport was.
For all, she knew it was still in Christian’s safe. He’d taken her to Paris on a whim, but thinking back, she remembered the closed door meeting he’d taken at their hotel. He’d likely used a romantic trip as a cover for his illegal activity.
A twinge of anger made her pause. She couldn’t think of those days without recalling the naive happiness she’d felt then. She’d thought Christian was a minor deity in her universe. When she learned he was a manipulative ass, she’d left in a hurry, but it wasn’t fast enough. He’d tarnished her with his illegal business practices.
She’d been happy to get out, but she’d had to leave behind so much of her life in that apartment. It wasn’t a stretch to think that her passport was still there.
The best plan would be to stay in the United States. Besides, she didn’t have much of a budget for travel. At least she could travel light.
Using the maps and online information, she evaluated and dismissed a number of choices, finally settling on the Midwest. It was dull, but it was fairly easy to get to without leaving much of a trail. She could catch the bus to some small town. The Midwest was filled with them, many of them university towns. There’d be employment opportunities in a place like that. Boring, but living expenses would be lower. She’d have to watch her money and have a reserve, in case she needed to run again.
Not that she wanted to run. But she didn’t know how to stay. Fighting Christian seemed impossible. She didn’t have the resources or connections. She didn’t have anyone on her side.
You have Dylon, a small voice in the back of her head screamed.
She had to stop thinking that way. And stop sitting alone in the apartment they practically shared. It was driving her crazy. She packed up her computer and went across the street to the deli for breakfast. By the time she was done with her second cup of coffee, she was focused and ready to go back to the apartment and finish planning.
It was a warm morning for late fall, and she sat at her desk with the window open. Not that the outside air was particularly fresh, but it was nicer than the stale air of her room. The fresh air helped her work.
But all that research she’d done earlier was just a way of delaying any concrete action. Deep down she hoped that Dylon would walk through the door and tell her not to leave. But if he hadn’t come back yet, she had to face the fact that he wasn’t going to.
It was time to make a decision. This was a matter of survival, not of finding her dream location. If she had to leave New York, she needed to go someplace safe. Columbus, Missouri or maybe Champaign, Illinois. Then she remembered the photos of Jefferson City. It was Missouri’s capital, but it still had a small-town feeling. There were sidewalk cafes near the capitol building, a nice walking area, and the countryside was green. Christian had never mentioned Missouri. As far as she knew, he didn’t know anyone that lived there or anyone from there. It seemed pretty enough and had everything she would need to start over.
Now that she had a destination, Lee felt a little better. She was starting to make things happen. She looked up the bus schedule. One could get her there in about twenty-four hours and cost less than $200. That sealed the deal. Jefferson, MO it was.
The next bus left just after seven in the morning. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do. She could get a good night’s sleep, if that was possible in her current emotional state, and be gone the next morning. She had cash so there wouldn’t be a trail for Christian or Janet to follow. No bread crumbs on the escape route for this girl.
This time, she’d be smart. She’d find a job and a small apartment. She wouldn’t allow herself any friends. Friendships made you want to open up—or worse, led to developing relationships. Until she was completely safe, she had to keep to herself.
With her decision made, she relaxed a bit. She wasn’t happy, but she was relieved. Now, she just had to execute the plan. She was good at putting plans into motion.
Although it was still relatively early, Lee thought about getting a drink, but that meant going downstairs. Just the mental picture of the closed bar, dark and empty just below her, was enough to depress her. When the bar was closed, the windows were covered by metal shutters. The heavy front door was barred on the outside. She didn’t need another infusion of bleak.
Worse, she wouldn’t be alone; the echo of Dylon would haunt her. It was bad enough in her room where she’d shared her bed with him, but downstairs he was everywhere.
Sounds of a car from the alley came through her open window, startling her. The distinct sound of glass shattering followed. She went to the window to look, expecting to see someone running away, or maybe returning from a dumpster where they’d tossed a mirror or picture. But no one was there. She didn’t see anything unusual and no people at all. The alley looked as it always did, with its line of green metal dumpsters, boxes, and cartons stacked around waiting for the garbage men.
But there was a blue delivery van parked by the bar’s back door. “Doris the Florist” was written on the side. The sight wasn’t unusual. Parking was tough in this area because of all the businesses. Often, delivery vans and couriers would park in the alley.
But the noise had been loud enough that she knew whatever it was had been close. It was probably nothing, of course. In a place as densely populated as Brooklyn, in an area of shops and restaurants, there were lots of sounds. She was just being paranoid.
Still, it was better to check, right?
It was better to find out what the damn noise was than it was to sit in her room and hope everything was okay. If it was nothing, then she could go back to her planning. Even if going downstairs alone wasn’t exactly at the top on her list of things to do, it was better than sitting in her room worrying about all the things that noise might be. She had to start taking care of herself, and there was no time like the present.
She headed down the stairs. Just to be safe.
In the darkened bar, she looked around. At this hour, the place was normally filled with people talking, laughing, but with it empty there was a desolate stillness. The light from the stairs cut through the darkness and bounced off the spindly chair legs, casting odd shadows that made it eerier. She moved through the room to turn on the lights. The main switch was behind the bar, but halfway there she stopped in her tracks.
Sitting on the counter, next to an empty shot glass, was Dylon’s hat. She had always thought the stupid thing was ridiculous. And it would have been, on any other man. But it worked for Dylon
. She picked up the black felt hat and ran her fingers across the coarse fabric. The smell of aftershave and musk filled the air, bringing back the ache she’d fought so hard to block out.
Lee thought about taking the hat with her as a little reminder of the life she was leaving behind. She traced the rim again and brought it up to her lips, laying a gentle kiss on the crown. With a sigh, she set it back down and stepped away from the bar. There were too many memories there, and she didn’t have time to wallow in her pain.
But Lee couldn’t help one more look around. After tomorrow she would never see this bar again.
The thought hit her hard, and she reeled from the pain. The consequences of her actions were finally sinking in and all the shit, the betrayal, the anxieties, the disappointments mixed into an indigestible brew with the shadowy, unsettling emptiness of the bar.
She decided to go without lights in the main room and grabbed the emergency flashlight off the shelf in the hall. The damn place felt spooky. Under the best of circumstances, being in the bar after closing time with other people, it had an unnatural air about it. The chaotic sounds of the night seem to resonate in the room like a ghostly whisper. But something felt wrong.
She was all alone, and no one was supposed to be there. That inner voice had told her not to come down at all, but she hadn’t listened. She thought about going back up and getting her phone to call Dylon and ask him to check it out. It was his damn bar, after all. But he didn’t want to hear from her. At least, not anymore. Dylon had told her to leave. And that’s what she should be doing now.
She did one last circuit of the walls, checking for the source of the broken glass. Then she stopped and listened. At first, the silence was heavy and ominous. Thick. It closed in around her.
But then she heard something break through the silence. A steady, rhythmic ticking caught her ears. She followed it to the open door of the bathroom. Instinctively she reached for the light switch, but nothing happened. The customer restrooms were also tied into the master breaker for the main room, apparently. She went to the bathroom, shining her light around. Then she saw the source of the sound and sighed. The faucet was dripping. She turned the handle tight to stop the drip, and end that unnervingly steady sound.