It's a Date

by Jess Epps

  I pick it up and send him a text: Hey. Just mail me the ring please. I attach my address to the text.

  Tossing my phone off to the side, I’m feeling a little better now that I've gotten that off my chest.

  Noah

  ALL HELL HAS broken loose. My world has crumbled and gone to shit. How the hell can any of this be true? I’m racking my brain for any signs that I should have noticed throughout the years. Anything. However, I can’t remember anything that I should have detected. She always valued kindness and harmony, even honesty.

  She was my protector. She saved me. She stole me.

  The endless parade of questions swamps me. She’s my mother, my guardian angel.

  My hands form into hard, unbreakable fists just as my cell comes to life with a phone call from Joel.

  “Joel, tell me this shit is not true¸” I demand.

  “I’m going to need you to calm down, Noah. This situation has gotten out of control. I’ve had to open up five other kidnapping files under the name of Mae Ryan.”

  “Five? Are you fucking with me? Is this some sort of sick joke?”

  “I’m afraid not. Have you spoken to her since I told you what I’ve dug up?” he asks in a concerned voice.

  “No, I haven’t spoken to anyone.”

  “Good. I’ve just emailed you a picture of her mug shot from thirty-two years ago. Check it now and tell me if you recognize her.”

  I open my laptop and wait for it to turn on then open up the email. A black-and-white picture with the word ‘WANTED’ scrolled underneath it fills my screen. I’m staring at a woman who has a psychotic look in her eyes. I know without having to inspect the picture any further that this woman staring back at me is Mae.

  Mae. My mother.

  Joel’s voice breaks the silence, “Noah? Are you still on the line?”

  “Yeah. I’m here. That’s her,” I say curtly.

  “I was hoping I was wrong about this shit. She’s been on the run for thirty-two years. Thirty-two-motherfucking years.”

  “How is that even possible? How the hell has no one noticed?” I’m getting pissed as I look at the photo. I know that look in her eyes. She gets it when I piss her off or shit doesn’t go her way. It’s her damned wild side—the side of her I never understood.

  “The records say that the trail went cold. The five cases before yours were all newborns—infants taken straight from the maternity ward at a hospital. All five of them were Caucasian girls. The infants were said to be found in and around dumpsters along the FDR on the Upper East Side in Manhattan.”

  I run my hand over my jaw and take a seat on my couch, feeling like my legs are going to give out.

  “The only child she kept was you. It must have had something to do with the babies’ gender. That’s the only difference I am able to find between you and the other infants. Her first victim was a four-hour-old female.” He pauses to read more of the records. “All of them were just hours old. The FBI has footage of her posing as a nurse in the baby nurseries and NICU’s.”

  “I don’t want to hear any more. Who am I, really? Can you answer that? Where do I come from?”

  “I’m going to have to do a lot more digging to get you that answer. Hundreds of kidnappings are reported each year.”

  “Well, figure this shit out.”

  “Noah, I will, but I need to hand over what I’ve found to someone who can deal with this in more detail. I’ll find your birth parents, but when it comes to Mae, I’m afraid I won’t have any say in it.”

  “What do you mean, you won’t have any say? What if I choose not to press charges?”

  Hell. Press charges? Everything Mae has ever done and said to me has been a lie. She didn’t find me in a dumpster. She was the sick bitch who put week-old infants into dumpsters. I was never in a dumpster. I was taken from my parents.

  All these years I’ve loathed the thought of my birth parents, when they were, in actuality, the innocent party. I was ripped from my mother’s arms into this…fuck. I can’t.

  Joel interrupts my racing thoughts. “The federal government will be pressing charges whether you do, or not. Due to the age of the case, New York State cannot prosecute, and Arizona State is unable to press charges because the crime was not committed in Arizona, only in New York. Once I hand these files over, she will be arrested and later sentenced…”

  In the past week, I’ve found out that my birth certificate was fake, my appeal was denied, and I am a victim of a serial kidnapper. I’ve been living with a serial kidnapper my entire life. Everything about my life is lie.

  My name is not Noah Ryan.

  I was not adopted.

  I was kidnapped as an infant from my mother’s arms…by the woman I’ve called my guardian angel for twenty-nine years.

  Joel’s voice breaks through again. “The moment I hand this over they will come for her. The next time you will get to see her will be in a jail cell or an interrogation room.”

  “Give me an hour. I need one hour.”

  “I can do that. Listen, I apologize for having to deliver this news to you,” he says.

  “I asked for it. Thank you.”

  “I’ll be in touch,” Joel says before the line goes dead.

  What other choice do I have but to go see her, to face the woman I loved and now loathe. I have to hear what she has to say.

  Moments later I’m in my truck and headed to Vento Diner where I know she will be, the place she loves more than she loves anything else in this world. Possibly more than she loved kidnapping innocent infants.

  Fifteen minutes pass slowly, but before I know it I’m parked in front of Vento’s. After a few minutes of reining in my temper, I walk through the front door of the diner and am quickly greeted by Alisha and Mae. Both women are all smiles, laughing at some stupid joke they have between them about some patron.

  “Mae, I need to speak to you privately. Now,” I insist.

  She furrows her brow as if she does not approve of the tone of voice I am using. “Of course, son. Let’s go back to my office.”

  I lead the way. I don’t want to follow this woman for another minute of my life. I don’t know who she is. She takes a seat at her desk and I seat myself at one of the chairs in front of it.

  “Tell me what my birth name is.”

  “Sweet boy, you know I don’t know the answer to that. The only thing you had on you when I found you was your blue blanket,” she says innocently.

  “That’s bullshit.” I cock my head to the side as I continue, “My character and fitness test came back over a week ago. I was denied to sit for the bar exam due to dishonesty and misrepresentation. Apparently I sent in a fake birth certificate.” She tries to speak, but I hold my hand up to stop her. “So I had an FBI agent dig into it.”

  Her smile falls.

  “Why did you take me?” I ask.

  “Noah Ryan…what are you talking about?”

  From my pocket I pull out the wanted picture I printed off and hand it to her.

  “Noah…this is…ridiculous.”

  “Why? Tell me why you took me.”

  She’s shaking her head. “I did no such thing. I saved my son!”

  “Bullshit. You are a serial kidnapper. Did you get pleasure out of taking me from my family? Did you enjoy watching me grow up with nothing?” I probe.

  She stands up suddenly and smacks her hands on the desk. “THEY DID NOT DESERVE YOU!”

  I’m thrown. What the fuck…

  “So you took me? You took me when I was hours old?”

  “You are my son!”

  “The fuck I am! This is so screwed up!”

  Right then, Alisha bursts into the room. “Ms. Ryan, I am so sorry to come into your office like this, but the police and FBI are here. They said they needed to talk to the owner,” Alisha rambles on quickly.

  Mae’s eyes don’t leave mine as three FBI agents and five police officers walk into the cramped little office.

  Five.

  How ap
propriate.

  The officers cuff her while reading off her Miranda rights…

  “Noah…” she pleads “I love you, son…”

  Alisha stumbles out of the office, confused as all hell.

  “Go to hell, Mae. I will never forgive you.” I don’t know if I mean what I say, but in this moment, I want nothing to do with such a twisted bitch.

  I can’t watch her be taken into custody. I can’t watch her as she screams and puts up a fight against the officers.

  I’m walking out to my truck when I get a text from Heather, asking me to send her mother’s ring to her. I want her. I don’t want this life—this life that’s not mine. A name that’s not mine. I have nothing keeping me here anymore, and everything drawing me to New York.

  MY STORY HAS made national news. It will be airing on the eight o’clock news tonight. I’ve asked them to keep my name out of it, but anyone who knows Mae knows me. Yesterday, I watched my life disintegrate. Today, I’m getting the hell out. I have to do this for myself. I have no attachments, and one addiction. Avicii couldn’t have said it better. Zipping up my duffel, I dial Coen’s number.

  “Hey dipshit,” he answers.

  “Hey dickwad.”

  “What’s going on? Did you get a chick pregnant?”

  I snort. “No, you fucker, I’m leaving town.”

  “Excuse me? Where the hell are you going?”

  “I’m not sure how to put any of this into coherent words, so I’ll explain everything later.”

  “Are you sure about this, Ryan?” he asks.

  “I am. I have no doubt about it.”

  “Let me know if you need anything.”

  “I will. I’ll talk to you later, dickwad.”

  I hang up and turn off my phone and every other electronic device I have. I don’t want to be witness to the news when it comes on. I’d rather not hear my story being told from a stranger’s mouth.

  Two hours later feels like a lifetime, but the mere minutes won’t go by fast enough. I’m waiting at the airport. My plane leaves in two hours, and I’ve got her mother’s engagement ring.

  Heather

  I'M DEEP IN a dream...or another nightmare. I can't be sure. But there's a consistent knocking coming from behind me. I'm so confused, and it gets louder. The noise pulls me from my sleep and I realize it’s coming from down the hall. I sit up, looking around my room, half asleep. The only light on is coming from the low glow of my fireplace and my holiday-scented candle. Oh crap! I never blew that out. I hear the knocking again and I sleepily get out of bed, padding down the hall in my pajamas. I open my door without looking, expecting to see my night-owl neighbor.

  What? I squeeze my eyes shut and then open them again. My whole body goes still. It’s…

  “I’m sorry I woke you, ballerina. I should have called first,” Noah says, as he stands at my front door with a black duffel in his hand. I breathe in, smelling his cologne.

  “What time is it?”

  "It's after one in the morning." His reply is so sexy and I'm pretty sure I'm still dreaming.

  "You're here?"

  “I’m here. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

  I should be so mad right now but... He’s standing on my doorstep looking so yummy in dark navy sweatpants and an Arizona State University sweatshirt, but he looks utterly exhausted too.

  Shaking my head, I’m still so confused. “How’d you get by the doorman?”

  He grins. “I think he mistook me for a resident and just let me go up. Maybe I should come back in the morning.”

  I back up and open the door, letting him in. "Don't be silly…come in."

  He walks in and drops his duffel on the bench. “I wanted to see you before I got a hotel room. I wanted to return this to its owner.” He takes his wallet out of his pocket then removes my mother’s engagement ring from it. It looks so small in the palm of his hand. I reach out and take it from him, sliding it back onto my middle finger.

  My heart is pounding in my chest. He's here. He's so close. He brought my ring to me. All the way to New York. "Noah, I...thank you. You didn't have to do this." Looking him up and down, I notice that he's wearing a frown just beneath the surface. "Do you want something to drink?"

  “I don’t want to keep you up…I just…had to see you. You do something to me. You make me forget about everything that’s going on.”

  He snakes his arm around my waist, and I suddenly realize what I’m wearing when his hand touches the skin at the small of my back. I’m stunned by his admission and I love that he has to touch me.

  “You look beautiful, even in the middle of the night.” He slowly pulls me closer to him until I’m merely an inch away. With his one hand at the small of my back, he knots his other in the back of my hair. And with just the right amount of confidence and gentleness, he presses his lips against mine.

  I'm melting into his touch. His lips are so talented. He's holding my petite frame to his large muscular one yet I still can't believe he's here in my place. Please don't let this be a dream.

  Without warning, he tears his mouth away and starts kissing my neck. I'm completely turned on by the urgency behind his kiss, but I can’t tell why he’s feeling this way.

  His fingers are raking over my open back as I feel his growl against my neck. He darts his tongue out then sinks his teeth into my neck.

  I've never been so wet before in all of my life—not even with him on New Year’s. I've never been bitten before, but holy crap, he makes it so hot! I want it again. My hands run up his chest and I'm about to shatter in his arms. "Noah…"

  I can feel his breath on my throat. “Heather…I missed the way you feel, how good you smell, the sound of your voice. Tell me no other man has touched you.” He kisses up my jaw and then down to the other side of my neck where he does the same thing, and this time I whimper when the sharp twinge sends chills through my body.

  I move my hands around his neck and up into the back of his hair. I gasp when he bites me again. Not because of any pain but because the ache between my legs just became unbearable. "No...nobody."

  “Good. You’re mine. Understand? I’m an only child, ballerina; I don’t share well.” His hand on the small of my back moves down, sliding underneath my satin shorts to cup my ass. I think I’m going to come the second he moves his hand lower.

  I'm pressing my body against his and I know my voice sounds needy. "Yes."

  He yanks my hair back and kisses me hard as he grabs me and lifts me up. I automatically wrap my legs around his torso as he carries me to the couch in my living room. “Are you on some sort of birth control or do I have to run out and get condoms?” he asks and I surprisingly want us in my room, in my bed. I’ve never let a man come into my bedroom before, but him…oh, I’d let him in.

  Before I can answer him, he's laying me on my back on the couch and leaning over me with his hand gliding up my thigh. I'm going to come—I want him so badly. "Yes, I'm on it."

  A slow, sexy smile forms across his face.

  “Wait...take me upstairs to my bedroom.”

  The rumble in the back of his throat is so yummy that I want to bite him. He scoops me up again and carries me up two flights of stairs without losing his breath.

  “If you make me wait another minute, your body is going to regret it later…but I have to warm you up first, baby.”

  I whimper because that sounds so hot…yet he has no idea how warmed up I already am. He's so strong. And the way he croons baby, I decide that I'll let him do whatever he wants to me. He ever so gently lays me down on the bed. My eyes flicker down to his huge erection in his sweatpants as he takes his sweatshirt and tee off. The dim light from my candle and fireplace is all the light we have to go by, but it’s more than enough. This time I’ll get to see him. He kicks off his sneakers and socks, and then drops his sweats and steps out of them. My bedroom just became an inferno.

  I'm still lying there in my satin shorts and cami just watching him stand there and devour my body with
his eyes. I want him there. Inside of me. I crook my finger at him, begging him to come to me.

  I slide farther up the bed and he follows, moving up my body. His hand traces up my stomach and beneath my satin cami to tug on my nipples. My back arches in response, as my fingers deftly work to undo these damned three buttons.

  His strong, corded arms are tight. He angles his head to the side and takes my mouth again. Oh my God...are we really doing this?

  He whispers softly, “Are you sure?”

  I’ve never been so sure of anything in my entire life—this man owns me. “Yes,” I gasp as we get my cami off and his hand moves down under the lightweight fabric of my shorts to cup my aching sex.

  "Are you sure?" I repeat his question, hopeful.

  “Am I sure? Baby, there was a reason no one else could handle me. This has always been destined for you.”

  I'm literally squirming with need. His fingers tease my entrance with the lightest of touches while his lips work their way down my stomach. "Noah, please..."

  I can feel the electricity from the storm moving over me. He gets my little satin shorts off, and then he slides a finger into my wet sex. He doesn't wait for me to get used to his finger before adding a second. I whimper as he pushes my knees up with his free hand and puts his mouth on me. There.

  "Ohhh." My hips rock against his lips. My thighs fall open wider and I can feel his appreciation rumble through my sex.

  "You taste so damn good, little ballerina," he says quickly, before he darts his tongue out to circle my clitoris again.

  He's so F’ing good at foreplay, but I want more…I want him inside of me. I can't imagine how he feels. I want to make him come, make him lose his mind. My body jerks when his teeth graze my folds and my whole body tightens.

  "Do you think you're ready for me, Heather?" I hear him ask, as he takes his boxer briefs off.

  Oh. I'm so ready and I want to see him. To feel him sink into me. I know he's going to stretch me, and I want it. Now.

  I'm writhing on the bed and my mouth waters when I finally get a good look at his massive erection. Oh. My. God. "Yes. I'm ready." I hope I'm ready.