by Kim Askew
“Who? Grady?”
“No, your scumbag boyfriend. ‘My life hasn’t been the same without you!!” he said, mimicking me. “I’ve witnessed some pathetic girls in my day, but that display took desperation to a whole new level. I mean, how many more ways will the dude play you before you have the sense god gave a hedgehog to see through his crap?”
“He has yet to get me trapped in a glorified broom closet by some hardened criminal, so you’ve got a leg up on him there!”
If I was ticked before, his words had now launched a perfect storm of anger. I’d had every intention of trying to explain to Caleb the circumstances with Brian so that he wouldn’t think ill of me, but what was the point? He’d already made up his mind about me, and it wasn’t a flattering depiction.
“I can’t believe I was actually starting to buy into your act.” As he said this, Caleb kicked the metal door once more for good measure.
“What ‘act?’”
“The one where you claim to give a damn about anyone other than yourself. The one where you pretend to be a normal human being—not the high-and-mighty prima donna we’re all supposed to suck up to.” So I was right! He did think I was a superficial bitch! This whole time I thought we might actually be forming an unorthodox sort of friendship, he’d really just been judging me, solidifying his opinion of me as some “popular girl” cliché. “You and Brian deserve each other,” he said with a sullen snarl.
“Go to hell.”
“By all means, ladies first.” He held up our fettered arms to make his point.
“Why are you being so hostile?”
“Look, I don’t have to waste my breath insulting your most beloved Brian, or turning him into some supervillain. He does a good enough job of that all on his own.”
“Yeah? You’re digging a pretty sizable hole for yourself right now, too.” Caleb switched from his default averted glances to look me squarely in the eyes. The only thing worse than having to listen to his aspersions was being physically unable to turn my back on him—or walk away completely.
“If you had any self-respect whatsoever, you’d never give him a second thought,” he continued. “Sadly, you can’t see that your own self-loathing is what keeps you so emotionally dependent on that deadweight reprobate.”
“I don’t know about all your psychobabble, but I definitely know dead weight, because I’m looking right at it. I may be stuck in here, and I may be stuck to you, but I’m not required to acknowledge your presence, no matter how long we’re trapped together. So consider this the last of our discourse.”
“Gladly. After all, I’m sure ignoring peons is what you do best.”
And with that, an uncomfortable silence reigned.
• • •
I’m not sure that people ever really change, but maybe the light in which we perceive them does. How else to explain what I was feeling thirty minutes after Caleb and I had unleashed what I knew would be our last torrent of insults at one another. It wasn’t as if that moment, shoving a bag of foam peanuts behind my back, suddenly made him the picture of gallantry. He was still as willful and hotheaded as I could be; a tempestuous soul who navigated his life with cynicism and a paucity of words. But I’d come to realize that when it really mattered he was even-keeled, steady, and solid to the core.
We were back on tentative speaking terms following the crisis-induced bonding moment that had prompted him to take my hand. I still gripped it tightly in mine, taking comfort in his warm grasp. Shifting on the makeshift Styrofoam beanbag chair he’d procured for me, I sighed deeply. My anger with him had subsided, supplanted by the panic and fear of our current conundrum. Caleb’s thoughts were clearly headed in the same direction, because he squeezed my hand reassuringly.
“My dad is probably freaking out right about now,” I sighed, breaking the silence.
“I’m sure he figures you’re safe and sound, just waiting it out here.”
“If I’m not home within an hour after my shift, well, let’s just say he has the chief of police on speed dial. Which for once would be helpful.”
“We’ll get out of this, don’t worry.” His forced optimism was only slightly encouraging. “But you’re exaggerating, right? Your old man’s not really that strict?”
“I wouldn’t call it strict, per se—just overprotective. But, to be fair, it’s not without good reason.”
“Are you referring to your brief but infamous ‘criminal’ career at Eastern Prep?”
Maybe it was just a delusion brought on by exhaustion and the fact that we’d been attached at the wrists for hours, but even if we never spoke again after tonight, it was somehow paramount that Caleb understood I wasn’t the conceited egomaniac he had made me out to be.
“No, actually he’s been like that for a long time. Since my mom died.”
Caleb was silent; he seemed to be taking it in before responding to my revelation.
“It’s like he feels this extra sense of responsibility toward me,” I said, “both for my well-being and, I suppose, my happiness. He’s constantly trying to make up for what we’ve both lost—as if an exorbitant allowance and unbridled credit could bring her back. I mean, I adore him, don’t get me wrong. But I’m not always sure his overcompensation is what I really need.”
“He wants you to have ‘all that money can buy’?”
I nodded.
“And I called you a spoiled princess.”
“It’s okay—I was one, but I’ve changed my ways, even if it wasn’t by choice.”
“I’m sorry about your mom,” he said. “And I’m sorry about what I said before. It’s absolutely none of my business if you want to get back together with your ex.”
“Oh my god. How could you have possibly thought I would take back that compulsive liar? Don’t you know me better than that after everything we’ve been through tonight?”
“What do you mean? You made it pretty obvious.”
“Well, good! That’s what I wanted him to believe.”
“But you kissed him!”
“He kissed me.”
“Oh great, do you mean to tell me that was just another one of your ‘scorned woman’ schemes? Because if that’s supposed to be revenge, it kind of came across as the opposite.”
“No, it wasn’t one of my schemes. I mean, not exactly. I would have explained it all to you before now if you hadn’t given me the cold shoulder.”
“Explained what?”
“My suspicions. Didn’t you think it was weird that Brian was in Got Games? Alone?”
I went on to give Caleb my rationale for wanting to keep Brian close. The thought had first occurred to me while my ex was giving me his sob story. He claimed he’d just fallen asleep in an aisle of the game shop. Yeah, right. A more believable scenario was that he’d been playing possum after realizing he’d been caught casing the joint. Rachel and the Itneys had found him bleeding in the jewelry store—what if he’d been the one who smashed the glass?
“Oh please, Miranda,” Caleb said. “If he’s the culprit, then where did he ditch the ski mask Mike described? What about the gun?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I can’t account for all those details. Maybe it’s not a one-man job? Brian could ostensibly be an accomplice or wingman or whatever. All I know is, we can’t say for sure where he was during the first two robberies, and that whole story about Lane’s Diamonds seems a little too convenient. I know from experience that he’s a scoundrel. We can’t rule him out as a suspect.”
“Slow down a second.” A confused smile began to materialize on Caleb’s face. “Do you mean to tell me that whole ‘hopelessly devoted’ routine was just bullshit because you thought he might be the crook?”
“Exactly. How else am I going to get proof if he’s involved in this whole thing? And why aren’t you taking this more seriously? I mean it’s only a hunch, but—”
“Yeah, and a really bad one,” he said, his smile broadening. “First of all, I know where Brian was when the computer store
was originally robbed.”
“Where?”
“He was with me.”
“What?!”
“He was trying to coerce me out of Avalanche X, like everyone else on the planet.”
“Whoops.”
“Yeah,” he said with a grin. “Second of all, the guy’s mommy and daddy clearly don’t skimp in the allowance department, what with trips to Aspen, et cetera. It’s not like he needs the money.”
“Well, I guess you have a point. But—”
“Thirdly, he’s not exactly a master of deception. I mean, the lines he was feeding you back there would have made a polygraph machine spontaneously combust.”
I couldn’t help but laugh now, too.
“Yeah, that was pretty bad, you’re right.”
“You, on the other hand, were damn convincing!” He knocked his shoulder against mine teasingly. We were still sitting on the floor, our backs against the door. “I know I was acting like an imbecile—I can’t believe I actually thought you wanted him back.”
Turning toward him, I playfully furrowed my brow and bumped my forehead against his.
“Jane make Tarzan angry!” I teased.
“More disappointed than angry,” he said, before adding almost under his breath, “and maybe a little jealous.”
Caleb jealous of Brian? My forehead was still touching his. My stomach fluttered as I looked down at our hands clasped together. He leaned even closer. Then, to my surprise, I did, too. As our lips drew near I realized I’d subconsciously anticipated this moment from the time I’d first I’d laid eyes on him in the blustery parking lot. On paper, there was absolutely nothing about this guy that was my type. I would never have chosen him for myself in the carefully ordered universe I curated. And yet here we were, connected by fate, circumstances, and these strangely serendipitous handcuffs. I’d spent so much of the night reviling him, and yet there was something about his strong and stoic confidence; the way his biting wit could keep pace with mine, the way he seemed to reside somewhere above the fray of petty adolescence … those intense eyes … that deep voice … the unduly modest rock-n-roll hottness….
My body felt electric as I anticipated the inevitable sensation of his lips on mine, and I could have heard a pin drop in that moment. Unfortunately, I ended up hearing something far more strange.
Caleb reared back from me with a surprised look on his face, releasing both my hands.
“Is that what I think it is?!?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Untie the Spell
The angst-ridden lyrics of a ’90s-era grunge rock ballad sung in an off-key warble wound their way into the stockroom where Caleb and I listened in rapt silence, hardly daring to believe our ears—and our good fortune. Unless our captor had a secret penchant for bad karaoke, I had a feeling we were about to be rescued. Jumping to our feet, we threw ourselves at the door, launching a no-holds-barred, repeat performance of our earlier strategy: pounding our fists and screaming at the top of our lungs. The singing halted, midchorus, but the distorted electric guitar track played on, empty of vocals. A voice called out from the other side of the door.
“Miranda? What the—is that you?” Caleb and I teetered between hope and impatience as disorganized chaos seemed to reign in the store proper for nearly a minute. “Hang on, we just need to override the lock. Give me a sec.” It seemed like an eternity, but finally the door clicked and swung open. I fell into the sweet certainty of freedom, which took the shape of a guy wearing a giant fuzzy brown monkey costume, complete with elaborate face paint and giant primate ears affixed to his head.
“Mr. Cheezy!?” Caleb and I both exclaimed.
“No, that’s Cory, my coworker,” said a familiar voice, stepping forward to show his face.
“Colin!” I shouted. “Thank god you’re okay! We were worried sick.”
“About me? Something’s a little wrong with this picture considering you two were the ones screaming for help, and, wow,” he glanced surprisingly at our arms, “you never found the key to those handcuffs?” His clown makeup was by now streaked across his face; a bedraggled mop of clown hair poked out from his shirt pocket like an orange handkerchief.
“Where on earth have you been? We’ve been looking all over for you. Are you okay?” Caleb said.
“Sure, why wouldn’t I be? Cory and I just came from the movie theater where we were hanging with a dozen or so other mall employees, including the ladies from Infinity Homewares. (Coolest broads ever, incidentally.) They convinced the projection operator to give us a free film festival and all the popcorn we could eat.” He stretched his arms over his head and yawned. “If I don’t see another car chase for a month, it will be too soon. Since the weather’s still crap, we decided to kill some more time with the karaoke machine. But enough about me, how did you guys end up here? Were you playing ‘three minutes in a closet’ or something?”
“Uh, no.” I laughed and hoped I wasn’t blushing, “We were in here to pick up a ham radio and ended up getting locked in by the burglar.”
“You rescued us, dude,” Caleb added.
“That’s crazy! You mean he’s still in the mall? Still robbing stores? Man, that’s ballsy.” Colin looked over his shoulder nervously.
“Oh, it’s a full-fledged Agatha Christie novel around here tonight,” I replied. “While you guys were kicking back watching Hollywood thrillers, we’ve been living one. Speaking of, we should grab the radio and head back to the food court. Ariel’s probably issued an APB by now.”
• • •
We arrived back at base camp just in time to intercept our own search party. Grady had advocated for staying put, but Ariel and Chad had finally dragooned him into authorizing an “elite team” that included the two of them plus Seth and Troy. We quickly filled them in on our recent adventure, wherein the rent-a-cop launched into a full-on “I told you so” rant. The bellyaching about our having disobeyed his orders trailed off when Caleb showed him the radio we’d appropriated.
“Not a half-bad idea,” he grudgingly admitted. “But I’m not sure how it’ll help. Even if we manage to reach someone, they’d need a dogsled team to get to us. I’ll set it up and see if I can get anyone on the wire. But I hope I don’t have to tell you again to quit wandering off. You’re real lucky you didn’t get hurt.”
Once Grady had walked out of earshot, Ariel shot me a concerned look.
“What?” I said, confused. “I’m fine. Don’t act so freaked.”
“No, it’s not that. Brian was here looking for you,” she explained. “He said to tell you he was still trying to find a pair of bolt cutters. He seemed … well, he seemed under the impression that you two were back together.” She glanced from me to Caleb and back again. “Mistaken, I’m sure….”
“Oh that,” I laughed uncomfortably. “It’s a long story, but he’s delusional. Though if he were able to get these off,” I jangled my wrist, as if impersonating the ghost of Jacob Marley, “it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”
Right on cue, Raj materialized next to me with a smug, ‘I know I’m awesome’ grin.
“Speaking of,” he said, “I think we might actually have a solution to your bondage dilemma. I took the liberty of assigning my crew the task of figuring out how to get your handcuffs off. After some brainstorming, they arrived at a few potential solutions—”
“Yeah, one of them involved setting off a homemade explosive,” said Derek, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Maimed beyond recognition, but hey, free of those cuffs!”
“—only one of which is actually viable,” Raj said while throwing Derek the stink-eye.
Alfredo was sitting cross-legged on the floor nearby, painting the nails of Dinah, the pastry chef from Just Desserts. He clucked his tongue critically and shook his head.
“Girlfriend’s never going to go for it.”
“Why would you say that?” I said. “Is it dangerous?”
“Shhh….” Ariel grabbed my free hand and stroked it soothi
ngly. “Let me break it to her.”
“Consider my curiosity piqued. What is it?”
“The suggestion was to smear your arm with … leftover french fry grease,” she blurted out.
“Gross,” I said, shuddering. “That’s revolting.”
“I told you, she won’t do it,” Alfredo said.
“But it’s the only feasible option,” Raj said. “Caleb’s wrist is too big, but yours just might manage to squeeze through.”
“She doesn’t even like to look at that stuff, let alone touch it,” Ariel said, looking at me with sympathy. “It’s never going to work anyway. Sorry, Raj.”
“Now wait a sec.” I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin indignantly, remembering the way Caleb had earlier labeled me a prima donna. “What’s the harm in a little semi-congealed french fry grease if it will get these handcuffs off?”
“That’s what I hoped you’d say.” Raj had his crew spread some newspapers on the Hot-Dog Kabob counter alongside a can of the offending grease, which he proceeded to apply to my shackled arm.
I couldn’t hold back an “Ew,” but otherwise, I remained reasonably calm, considering. Caleb stood next to me watching the theater of operation.
“It smells disgusting,” he said.
“It feels even worse than it smells!” I said, cringing.
“It could be a lot worse.” Ariel was trying to make light of the situation. “It could be congealed mystery meat from the Chinese buffet.”
Raj mimicked how I’d need to contort my thumb and wrist, and after a few attempts, I was able to wriggle free to resounding cheers all around.
“My arm feels as light as a feather,” I said, letting it float up, level with my shoulder. I glanced at the handcuffs still dangling from Caleb’s wrist. It was strange to think that after all these hours stuck together, we were now free to go our separate ways. Was I imagining it, or did the look on Caleb’s face reveal the same mixed emotions I was so desperately trying to hide?
“I can’t believe it worked!” If I hadn’t known Ariel better, I would think she seemed almost disappointed at having been proven wrong. “How does it feel to be liberated?”