by Jillian Dodd
A plan starts to form in my mind.
Can I use them to get away?
It’s the only thing I can think of.
I slip my big black sunglasses off the top of my head and down over my eyes.
I run fast out the front door as Vincent yells out again, practically on cue, “Abby, please wait!"
The cameras start flashing. I rush through them toward the street. They let me through then turn their backs to the store, huddling together.
Which blocks Vincent's way.
The paparazzi.
I haven't been photographed by them for a long time. They only seem to want pictures of cute little kids, not the gangly pre-teen that I used to be.
What used to sort of scare me when I was little seems very comforting right now.
They are protecting me from Vincent.
I put my hand in front of my face as I hear Vincent yell out again. "Abby!"
I turn around and see that he’s working his way through the crowd.
The driver that I hired for the day is parked in the parking garage. There’s no time to call him.
I spy a black town car idling at the curb. I dart toward it and open the door.
As I'm getting in, I hear one of the camera men say, "That's not Abby, dude. It's just some chick in a wig pretending to be. They do that sometimes. Send out a fake. A decoy.”
I run my hand through my soft hair wondering how he could have mistaken it for a nasty wig.
I must need a deep conditioning.
The driver yells at me. “I think you’ve got the wrong car.”
Vincent breaks through the crowd and lunges toward the car as I slam the door shut and yell, "Go!"
Vincent grabs for the door handle just as I slam down the lock.
He stops and stares at me through the dark glass.
The driver is telling me to get out of his car. Telling me he's not going anywhere.
Vincent smirks again and lunges for the front passenger door.
I scream at the driver, “Go! Go! Go! Please just go!” I lean over the top of the passenger seat and slam down the lock.
The driver quickly pulls into traffic and says to me, "I got it. And in case you didn’t notice, we're going."
I didn't realize I was still screaming.
"So where are we going?" he asks. Then he starts rambling. "You know, I could get fired for this. Who was the suit? Did you steal something from the store? I'm not going to get in trouble for transporting a thief, am I?"
I take a deep breath and slip off my sunglasses.
"Whoa," he says under his breath.
"What?"
He shakes his head and talks to me in the mirror. "Nothing, but, um, I think now we are being chased by a cab."
I turn around and see a cab riding our ass. See Vincent in the front passenger seat, pointing toward me.
"Can you lose him?"
He rolls his eyes at me and starts talking to himself. "Can I lose him, she asks? Can I lose him?"
There’s a little space in traffic up ahead of us, so he stomps on the pedal, which causes me to be thrown back in my seat.
"Buckle up, buttercup," he says, as he cranks up the radio and yells over the noise. "This is just like in the movies. I'm like that dude from Trinity, what's his name?"
"Tommy Stevens," I say with a grin. I turn around and see the cab weaving in and out of traffic. "I think they’re still after us."
We had pulled away from them, but now we’re stuck at a light.
There are lots of people walking in front of us in the crosswalk. We can’t go anywhere.
The cab stops just two cars behind us.
Shit.
I run scenarios through my brain. What will I do if they wreck us? What will I do if he has a gun and starts shooting? What will I do if aliens crash down in front of us?
I’m ridiculous. I have no idea what I’m going to do.
I close my eyes and try to think of a plan.
“Um, I think the dude just got out of the cab,” the driver tells me.
“What?!” I say, my eyes opening as I rip off my seatbelt and turn to look out the back window.
Holy shit.
Vincent has gotten out of the cab in the middle of New York City traffic and is slowly walking toward me.
Not running like you would think he would be.
Or maybe everything just feels like it’s moving in slow motion.
“He’s getting closer!” I yell.
"Don't worry. I've got this,” the driver says. “The light is going to turn green just about . . . now.”
I’m jostled as the driver cuts across traffic, but my eyes never leave Vincent.
Our eyes are locked on each other even though I know he can’t possibly see me through the tinted glass.
He knows I’m looking straight at him. I can feel it.
He mouths Abby then slowly puts his index finger up to his lips and kisses it. Then his hand forms a gun and he shoots the kiss at me.
I want to scream.
I put my hand over my mouth and shudder instead.
Vincent just did what Cush did to me that day at his soccer tournament when he scored. I remember thinking how adorable it was. How he stopped in front of everyone and shot me a kiss. There were no photos of me that day in the batch he sent after he tried to kidnap me, but now I know that he was there then too.
He was everywhere.
I cross my arms in front of me, grab my shoulders, and give myself a hug.
“I’m sure we lost them,” the driver says, breaking my thoughts. “Even if he gets back in the cab, they will cut over at the next block. But I doubled back the way we came from.”
"Back to the store?"
"Yeah. I have to pick up my ride."
I realize I've been holding my breath and let it out in a whoosh.
"So what's the deal? You don't look like a thief. "
"I'm not a thief."
"So why's that guy after you?"
"Uh, bad breakup?" I say with a laugh.
But then I keep laughing. Uncontrollably laughing. Then I start laughing and crying at the same time. This guy's gonna think I'm a lunatic. Probably will turn me over to Vincent himself.
I pull myself together. "I'm sorry. Thanks for getting away from him. You're like my hero."
He shrugs his shoulders in an aw-shucks way. "It's okay. So, what do you do?"
"I'm a dancer," I say wondering where the hell that lie came from.
He gives me a lascivious grin. "Oh, really? Exotic?"
"No, I'm a Rockette."
He nods his head at me. "Damn, that's cool." He makes another turn and I can see we are back on the street in front of the store. I notice the cameras are gone, which means so is Mom.
I sigh with relief. Not only did I lose Vincent, Vincent lost Mom. He had to have been following her.
I get a call from Garrett.
"Are you okay?" he shouts.
"Yes. I think so."
"Your mother just called me in a panic. Call her. Then call me back."
I call her. "Mom!"
"The photographers told me that my decoy and the guy running after her out of the store yelling Abby didn't work. Tell me that wasn’t you. And please tell me the guy running after you wasn’t Vincent!"
"It was him, but it's okay. We lost him. I'm fine."
"We?"
I smile at my driver. "What's your name?"
"Allan," he says.
I say into the phone, "Allan just drove better than Tommy Stevens did in that car chase in Trinity."
Allan beams at me.
Mom laughs uncomfortably, so I say, "I gotta go. Be safe.”
I hang up and say to the driver, “Do you think you could take me down to that coffee shop?”
I'm a little nervous about going back in the store, just in case Vincent would think to go back there.
"Sure,” he says.
I open my wallet. I have no cash.
Shit. I never hav
e cash. "I want to pay you something, but I don't have any cash."
He shakes his head. "You don't owe me anything. That was the most fun I've had in a long time. Unless, of course, you can get me a part in Tommy Stevens' next movie. That's the only thing that could top this." He pauses. "Speaking of that, you do kinda resemble Abby Johnston. Did that guy mistake you for her?"
“Sorta. He has a thing for her. Thought I looked like her. Used to call me Abby. He's a little off his rocker. One of those rich guys that thinks he can have anything he lays his eyes on."
"But he couldn't get you?"
"Not today, thanks to you."
He studies my face again. "Yeah, I don't see it. Like when you had your sunglasses on, you kinda resembled her, but as soon as you took them off, it's easy to see your eyes are very different."
"Do you have a card, Allan?"
"Sure." He pulls a card out and hands it to me.
I read it. "Allan Broadmore, actor. Thanks."
His phone buzzes with a text. "Obviously, not a full-time actor. That's my boss. I’ve gotta get back there.”
"Thanks, Allan."
"I didn't catch your name."
"It's Maggie."
"Fun times, Maggie. Maybe I'll come see your show sometime."
"That'd be cool. I'll be the one, um . . . kicking."
I get out of the car and stand outside the coffee shop.
There’s a text from Annie and the girls asking where I am. I text back and ask them to meet me here.
I take a photo of Allan’s card and send it to Tommy with a text.
Me: Please call this guy and give him a job in your current endeavor. He has excellent driving skills. When you call him, tell him Maggie the Rockette suggested him.
Tom: That’s kind of a weird request, even for you.
Me: He may have just saved my life.
.
Tom: Hang on, your mom's calling me.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to slow down the adrenaline coursing through my body.
Then I say a prayer. Thank you for letting me get away. Please keep my mom safe. My family safe.
My phone buzzes.
I open my eyes and look down at it. It’s Tommy.
“Hey,” I say.
“We're bringing you home. This isn't working.”
“No, you aren't. I'm sorry, but you're not.”
“We can make you.”
“How? I'm emancipated, and I have my own money.”
“Don't get smart with me.”
“Well, you try getting chased through the streets of New York City by a psycho and see what kind of mood you’re in.”
Tommy laughs just a little. “You know, I did that in Trinity.”
“Yeah, I know. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I love you and Mom, but I love my sisters more. Vincent called me Abby today. He’s different. Worse, I think. Mom’s not safe either. You worry about them, and I’ll take care of me.”
I start to get tears in my eyes as I see my friends walking down the street toward me.
Tommy says, “We’ve got to do something.”
“I agree, but you’ll have to excuse me now, my friends are almost here and I have to go pretend to be a normal teenager.”
Garrett is calling me back, but I don’t answer.
I can’t deal with him right now. I can’t deal with any of them right now.
I have to act normal.
I’m normal.
A normal Eastbrooke girl shopping in New York City with her friends.
Just breathe, Keatyn. It will be okay.
“Hey,” Peyton says. “You missed out on all the excitement.”
I laugh.
I actually, really laugh.
They have no idea the excitement I just had.
“I need some coffee,” I say.
What a stupid excuse.
“I need coffee too,” Maggie says. “So what’s up next?”
“We need cute pajamas for PJ day. I know a great lingerie store. Should we go there next?”
“That sounds fun!” Katie says. “I’m thinking I need some new lingerie too.”
“What for?” Maggie asks, nudging Katie with her elbow. “You planning to attack Dallas?”
Katie smirks. “Nope. I’m just going to look so hot that he won’t be able to resist me.”
After we all get coffees, I call our driver and we head to the lingerie store.
We all pick out fun pajamas to wear for PJ day.
“Let’s have a lingerie party tonight,” I suggest. “We’ll drink wine and wear something fabulously sophisticated.”
We have a great time giggling and trying on silky chemises, robes, camisoles, gowns, all sorts of stuff. Annie buys a gorgeous long silky gown.
She says, “Who cares if I didn’t make Court. I’d rather buy a gown like this. I feel like a movie star.”
We shop until we can’t shop anymore then head to my loft.
When I walk in my front door, I instantly feel safe.
At home.
While the girls check out the place and claim their bedrooms, I walk into my closet, sit on my chair, and finish my prayer.
Please let this be over soon.
Hot tub naked.
7pm
We all freshen up our makeup, put on our lingerie, and do some shots. By eight, we’re all a bit tipsy and feel like partying.
“This loft is amazing. We should be having a party,” Maggie says.
“Maggie, we are having a party,” Annie scolds.
Ariela and Katie agree. “Do we know anyone in the city we could invite over?”
I can think of two boys who happen to be in the city right now, one of whom has some very important sucking up to do. “Let’s invite some boys.”
“Which boys?” Katie asks.
“Our Homecoming dates. Just our Homecoming dates. But we need to make it fun.”
Maggie mutters, “All we have to say is we’re half naked and drinking wine in a killer loft by ourselves. Get your asses here.”
I laugh. “Well sure, that would work, but let’s make it fun.”
“Wait!” Annie says. “If we invite them to come and then they stay, that would mean we’d have to sleep with them.”
“Sleep with them here, yes. Have sex with them, no. It’s not any different than hanging out in their room at school.”
“What if he sees me in the morning and it scares him away?” Annie asks.
“You’re gorgeous, Annie. You’re not going to scare him away.”
“So what are we gonna say?” Peyton asks me.
I type something in my phone and send it to each girl. “Read what I just sent you and tell me what you think.”
Me: Mission: Impossible.
Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to dance with lingerie-clad girls, drink excessively, eat decadent food, hot tub naked, and party all night long. If you can handle this mission, please reply immediately to get the address, then get your sexy ass here. This message is for your eyes only. Do NOT bring your friends. This is a VERY private party.
P.S. This message will self-destruct in five seconds.
“That’s awesome!” Katie squeals. “So we’ll invite Dallas for me, Parker for Maggie, Riley for Ariela, Ace for Annie, Dawson for you. But what about Peyton? Do you have a date for Homecoming?”
“I have a date, but I don’t want anyone to know who it is. So if I invite him tonight, you have to promise not to tell anyone at school.”
“Deal,” the girls all say.
“Should we send a picture of all of us, holding drinks in our lingerie?” Katie asks.
“No. We want them to be surprised when they get here,” Maggie tells her while I type the proper boys’ names in and send the text.
“Okay, I’m sending it.”
Dallas is the first to reply.
Dallas: I am getting my ass on a train.
Riley: Dallas and I are getting our asses on a train.
; Parker: I’m so there.
Ace: Does Annie know about this? Is she really in lingerie?
Me: Yes, she does. And yes, she is.
Ace: On my way :) Did she tell you that we’re going out?
Me: She did :)
Ace: Tell her to check her phone. I just made it Facebook official.
Me: Awww, she’ll love that. I’ll tell her.
“Annie, Ace says you need to check your phone. He did something he wants you to see.”
She looks confused, grabs her phone, presses a few buttons, and then screams, “He MADE IT FACEBOOK OFFICIAL!!!”
“Made what Facebook official?”
She grins hugely. “He asked me to be his girlfriend last night. He just put it on his profile.”
The girls all scream excitedly.
“I think that calls for another shot,” Peyton says with a grin as she pours another round.
“Ace, Riley, Dallas, and Parker replied. They’re getting their asses on the train.”
We drink, laugh, giggle, and dance. The boys, minus Dawson and Camden, all arrive about a couple hours later.
They look hilarious. Dressed in camouflage and with black marks under their eyes. Like they’re going on an actual undercover mission.
And they like the lingerie.
I immediately show them the bar, make each boy do a body shot off his girl, and get the music cranked up. Then the boys do a few more shots to catch up.
Peyton and I are at the bar, eating chips, when our phones buzz at the exact same time.
“Cam,” she says.
“Dawson,” I laugh.
I answer the phone, buzz them up, then go greet them. When I open the door, Dawson is standing there holding a big bouquet of flowers and wearing a sheepish grin.
Cam swats him on the back of the head and rolls his eyes. “So whipped.” Then he looks me over from head to toe. Taking in my sheer orange sherbet and bright pink two-tone chemise. “This is a great loft. You're a keeper.”
“I’m a keeper because of real estate?”
“No. You’re a keeper because of your ass, but I was told to be polite.”
I break out into a wide smile.