Collide

by Melanie Stanford

  Sort of. I mean, it was. Nico seemed like a good guy, and Bronwyn was clearly crazy about him. But if the whole meeting had gone down a little different, I wouldn’t have complained.

  I headed for the door. “I’ll see you later,” I said, though it didn’t matter because Bronwyn had lain beside Nico on the bed and they were talking to each other in low voices.

  Outside Nico’s room was a giant open space. The wood floors were worn and lighter in big square spots, as if mats used to lay there. It must have been part of the gym once but the room was empty now. Such a waste of space.

  I circled the floor, tiptoeing so I wouldn’t bother Bronwyn and Nico. The space wasn’t big, but it had plenty of room. If they put mirrors up on the far wall, the gym could have classes in there—aerobics or kickboxing or something. Maybe they already used it for that.

  As I headed down the stairs to the door, I noticed my phone sitting on the front desk. Jay hadn’t kept it. I scrolled through the photos but the picture of him was gone, like it never happened.

  If only I could forget so easily.

  Chapter 10

  MAGGIE

  The next time I went to Nico’s over at Eastside Boxing, I had backup, aka: Bronwyn. I didn’t want to tackle that place alone—who knew what I’d find. Jay Thornton beating up another helpless person, or maybe him and his minions having a Battle Royale in the middle of the ring, a big melee of women and children getting pummeled because they couldn’t afford bread.

  My imagination had been getting the better of me ever since I’d witnessed Nico’s beatdown, but now it was just getting silly. And given where I worked, it wouldn’t be long before Christians and lions got thrown into the mix.

  We pushed through the door and there he was, standing in the ring just like I remembered. Except instead of women and children and a giant brawl, there were two teenage boys wearing boxing shorts and gloves. They circled each other, and Jay circled with them. He towered over them, broad shoulders hunching and muscles bulging as he showed them how to jab.

  “You’re staring,” Bronwyn said.

  I followed her, skirting a group of students stretching on a black mat. “Am not.”

  Jay’s eyes met mine. I was staring. And now, so was he. I wrenched my gaze away but I could still feel his eyes on my back as I took to the stairs.

  Bronwyn burst into Nico’s apartment without bothering to knock. They greeted each other with a sloppy kiss that I tried to ignore. The room smelled of garlic and basil, despite the lack of a stove.

  “I made lasagna,” Nico said, cutting into a foil pan. It had been over a week since I’d seen him and his bruises had faded a little.

  “Meaning he called Ricardo’s down the road and ordered some,” Bronwyn said. Nico handed me a plate with a small piece of lasagna oozing on it, a fork sticking out of the top.

  “You can have seconds,” he said. “I just don’t like wasters.”

  “Yes, sir.” I sat in the wooden rocking chair so Bronwyn and Nico could share the bed.

  I took a bite, the sauce almost burning my tongue. The flavor was good, but it didn’t lessen the sting of my third-wheel status. Bronwyn had invited me, and it didn’t seem like they cared. Then again, maybe she felt sorry for me.

  She’d biked past me as I was walking home after a drop-in class at Fluidity, my shoes leaving wet footprints behind because they’d somehow ended up outside in the sprinklers. I hadn’t seen her until she circled back, screeching her bike to a halt inches in front of me.

  “What now?” she’d asked.

  “It was Mean Girls Day at dance class,” I’d replied.

  She offered to take me home on her bike but I doubted it could carry both of us. When I finally got home, she practically forced me to come to Nico’s for dinner, after throwing my soaked flats in the trash.

  Bronwyn was busy telling Nico the story while I ate the rest of my lasagna. “What was with the vendetta, anyway?” she asked.

  “I accidentally bumped into one of them,” I said.

  They both stared at me. “That’s it?” Nico asked.

  “Well, they said some stuff, I said some stuff. Names were called. It wasn’t pretty.” Not that I’d stop taking classes at Fluidity. Robbie was an incredible teacher—one of the best I’d ever had. I’d spend every day there if I could afford it. I thought about taking fewer shifts at the diner, but I needed the money. And after hearing about Nico and the loan shark, I didn’t ever want to be without some kind of cash flow.

  “Point me to this dance studio,” Bronwyn said. “I’ll wait outside with my bike and run over their feet when they come out.”

  I laughed. “You don’t know what they look like.”

  She shrugged as she took a second helping from the pan. “I’ll just do it to every female who goes there. I’m sure I’ll nail the right ones eventually.”

  “Sounds like a full-time job,” Nico said. He stood over the lasagna, as if debating on seconds. He sighed and took his plate to the sink. “If you got paid running over ballerina’s toes, I’d be all for it.”

  “Ask Jay Thornton’s boss,” I said. “He might be in the market for that kind of thing.”

  Nico washed our plates then tossed us some sodas from the mini-fridge. “You don’t want to work for that guy, trust me.” He sank back on the bed, putting his head in Bronwyn’s lap, forcing her to lift her plate. “If he was a bit nicer, I probably would ask him for a job.”

  “What do you do now?” I asked.

  Nico groaned.

  “Sore subject,” Bronwyn muttered.

  “Sorry,” I said.

  “I hold the very dignified position of decontaminating this fine establishment and maintaining its level of hygiene to state industry standards.”

  “Like a janitor?”

  Bronwyn shot me a look.

  “Not like a janitor. A janitor,” Nico said.

  It could’ve been worse. At least he had a job. Cleaning the bathrooms at the diner wasn’t much better.

  “Nico’s tried to get other managing jobs, but he can’t,” Bronwyn said.

  I frowned. “Can’t?”

  “No one will hire me,” Nico replied.

  Bronwyn stroked his hair. “I’m pretty sure the loan shark had something to do with that.”

  Now that really made no sense. How did he expect to get the money back off a janitor’s salary? Maybe he liked having people afraid of him?

  Nico’s face had gone red.

  “If only you could—”

  Nico spoke over Bronwyn. “I’ve just had a streak of bad luck for the past, oh, two years. Not counting you.” He looked up at her, tickling underneath her chin. She slapped his fingers away. “Next time you bring home a stray, pick a rich one.”

  He was talking about me. I pulled my feet up on the chair. I wished I was rich, someone with a family inheritance, or maybe a lottery winner. Then I could help Nico out. And Frasier, and my parents…

  “She wasn’t a stray,” Bronwyn said, as if I wasn’t in the room. “She was a favor.”

  “Nice.” I was getting used to Bronwyn’s blunt way of saying, well, everything.

  Nico swiveled his head to look at me. “Then I guess you’re owed one in return, right?”

  “Next time I see Frasier Hale,” Bronwyn said, “I’ll be sure to mention it.”

  “Next time you see Frasier Hale,” I said, “be sure to mention it fast, or it’ll be too late.” If he did come around, he wouldn’t stay long. He never did.

  Nico pushed himself off the bed. “Forget all this nonsense. Let’s do something where I can actually have a chance of improving my situation.”

  Bronwyn rubbed her hands together. “Ooh, yes. I’m sick of getting whooped by you every time. Maybe with Maggie, I’ll actually have a chance.”

  “In what world could you ever beat me?” Nico said, going to one of his many shelves. I had no clue what they were talking about.

  It became clear when Nico turned to me with two game boxes in
his hand. It went from clear back to unclear in a matter of moments as Nico and Bronwyn tried to explain Settlers of Catan to me. The instructions sounded like a foreign language, and I was still the third wheel, but I was glad to be there. I started having fun, and for a while I forgot to be lonely.

  Chapter 11

  JAY

  Everyone had gone home for the night, but Maggie was still upstairs. When she’d walked in, I’d felt her judgmental stare burning into me. I’d stared back, first to make her keep her distance, and then because I just couldn’t help it.

  The gym was quiet. I straightened the mats, picked up items left behind by forgetful kids and tossed them into the lost and found. The sound of laughter echoed above me, and I suppressed a flash of jealousy. Those weren’t my friends, and I didn’t want them to be. Maggie was just some girl, like any other girl. Except I couldn’t get this one out of my head. Nobody had ever stood up to me before. Well, not without some kind of weapon anyway.

  I flicked off the lights and headed out, locking up behind me.

  My apartment was even emptier than the gym. There was no ghost of laughter, no Maggie, close but not close enough. The memory of her that night, looking at me, haughty and unafraid, was like an itch I couldn’t scratch.

  I jumped straight into the shower. The water pounded on my body, the heat easing the tension that always lingered after a workout.

  When I got out, I made myself a sandwich, then cleaned up the mess. The apartment was spotless. Bare. I didn’t know how to decorate and I didn’t have photographs. It was home, but it never felt like home. Probably because it didn’t belong to me. It was just a place. The apartment and everything in it belonged to Simon. Only the clothes were mine, my endless pairs of sneakers that I couldn’t throw away even when they wore out, my first pair of boxing gloves, and one faded photograph of my old foster family, tucked inside a drawer. Those were the only things that belonged to me and the only things that made this place feel human.

  I grabbed my keys and left, hoping a drive would clear my head. But I got no satisfaction out of my truck. That belonged to Simon, too. Even the money he gave me was more like a father doling out allowance rather than an employer paying his employee. This was why I couldn’t get free of him. Because you can’t be free of family.

  Bass pumped from a nearby car. The lights of the strip glowed bright, enticing people to come closer, but all I could think about was Simon and Maggie. If I ever wanted a girl like that in my life, I had to live right. I doubt she’d understand doing dirty work for a cop, no matter the results. She definitely didn’t understand lending. Maybe I could ask Simon. Ask him to quit. It’s not like he’d be cut out of my life completely, just no more enforcing. No more tampering. No more errand boy.

  I snorted. I’d ask, but I knew what the answer would be. Simon hated my job at the gym, he’d never understand my desire to own it. But I’d ask anyway. There was always a possibility that he valued our relationship more than my ability to get things done.

  Maggie’s face flashed through my head again. I made a left and headed to The Wall, a bar near Pearl of China. I needed a drink.

  “Jay, baby,” Annie said as soon as I came in. “It’s good to see you.” She leaned over the bar and I gave her a peck on the lips. “The usual?”

  I nodded and she handed me a shot of whiskey which I downed in one gulp. The burn going down my throat didn’t relax me. If anything, I felt even more antsy.

  With her hands braced on the bar, Annie stared at me. Her tank top was tight, drawing eyes to the roundness of her chest. Her mascara had started to run from the heat, black pooling under her eyes, but she probably didn’t know. “My shift is over in an hour if you want to hang around?”

  The thing I had always liked about Annie was that she didn’t ask questions. She didn’t pester me with, are you okay, or, tell me what you’re thinking. She just was, and I just was when we were together. She was a distraction, but tonight I didn’t want it. Didn’t want her.

  When I didn’t answer, she turned away, but not before I saw the hurt flash over her face. She ignored me for a while, flirting with a guy a few stools away. I didn’t even care. That’s how I knew Maggie had gotten to me, more than I wanted to admit.

  Annie let out a throaty laugh. The guy she was talking to, he looked familiar. I couldn’t place him, but tension rolled down my back. Something felt wrong…

  “Want another?” Annie asked. I blinked. I hadn’t noticed her return. Her fingers trailed over her neck and into the hollow of her throat. She bit her lip.

  “I’d better not.” The antsiness hadn’t gone away. If anything, it was worse. There was something about that guy. Something…

  He was looking at me. “You okay?” he asked.

  I’d been staring like a creep. “Yeah, fine.”

  Annie’s eyes flicked from me back to him.

  “Can I buy you another?”

  This guy had gotten the wrong impression. I turned to tell him no, when it hit me. It was the cop who’d pulled me over, asked about Simon. It couldn’t be a coincidence. I tensed for a fight. “What do you want?”

  Simon would tell me to get up and leave, stay under the radar, don’t cause a scene. But right then I didn’t care what Simon wanted.

  “Excuse me?” the guy said.

  I wasn’t in the mood for games. “You pulled me over last week. Now you’re here. What do you want from me?”

  He left his seat and took the one next to me. “A little privacy, ma’am, if that’s okay.”

  Annie’s tongue pushed against her lips. She hated being called ma’am. But she turned away without a word.

  The guy gave me a shrewd look. He was old, his hair greying, deep lines etching his face. Probably around Simon’s age, maybe older.

  “You don’t waste time,” he said. “I appreciate that.” I waited. “Fine. I’ll give it to you straight. My name is Hopkins. Internal Affairs. I’m looking into something that Simon Ting may be involved with. I know you two are close.”

  “And how do you know that?”

  “What exactly is your relationship with Officer Ting?”

  “Go ask him.”

  “Don’t play games with me.”

  He didn’t answer my question, so I sure as hell wasn’t going to answer any of his. He took one last pull from his glass, the ice tinkling as he set it down.

  “I can help you, you know. You do something for me, I do something for you.”

  “Who says I need anything?”

  He studied me. “Here’s my card, in case you change your mind.” He put it on the counter and tapped it twice, but I didn’t pick it up and he finally left me alone.

  I pushed away from the stool. The bar had lost its appeal. I didn’t want to go home to my bare apartment. Usually I’d go back to the gym and let it out on a punching bag, but with Maggie there, the place felt tainted. I could’ve gone to Pearl of China but I didn’t want to see Simon either. Like he’d somehow know a cop had cornered me, asking questions.

  I had nowhere to go and no one to see and I was getting on my own nerves. If I couldn’t fight it out, I had to find another way. I drove back home.

  Hopkins, Simon, Maggie—they were all problems for another day. I had a stack of books on my end table: The Small Business Bible, 50 Tips for Marketing Your Business, Accounting for Dummies… I hated them all but I needed the knowledge they held in their pages of tiny, cramped words. I couldn’t buy the gym from Conall McCrary until I knew what I was doing.

  I sat in bed and grabbed the top book in the pile, opening to the folded-down page. My fists would only get me so far in life. It would be easy to keep relying on them, but I had to start using my brains, too, or I’d never be anything more than a hired thug.

  Chapter 12

  MAGGIE

  My feet ached in my brand-new shoes. Bronwyn had thrown out my wet pair, which had been literally falling apart. I couldn’t afford anything expensive so I’d had to settle for ten-dollar flats from Wal
mart.

  Stupid cheap shoes. Blisters had formed on both heels and the bottoms of my feet were on fire from standing all day. My shift at the diner began at eleven in the morning. It was now almost six and I still had two hours left to go.

  After dropping off an all-day breakfast order to a table of women in their thirties who were too old to be giggling the way they were, I leaned on the counter and raised a foot. The pressure eased a little but only increased on the other. I switched them out, wishing I could take off my shoes and rub, but I wouldn’t touch my feet in the middle of a shift. Gross.

  “You’ve got another table,” Emme, another waitress, said as she passed by with a tray of stew and hot buns.

  One thing I’d learned about Holy Diner!: despite the blasphemous menu names, the cook who sang Bollywood songs, and my boss Craig’s wife who came to yell at him every Tuesday at 4:45, the food was actually not that bad.

  My mouth watered. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. But food, and my feet, would have to wait. I turned to my new table and froze.

  Jay Thornton had his hands folded over the table, his eyes on me.

  I grabbed Emme’s sleeve as she walked by. “Is that my table?” I hissed.

  “The one with that hot dark-haired guy?” she asked with a grin. “Yep, he’s all yours, you lucky girl.”

  “Are you being for real?” I asked but she only winked and walked away. I grabbed a menu, then paused when a uniformed policeman took a seat across from Jay. They started talking, and I wasn’t sure if I should interrupt. It seemed friendly enough—not like Jay was getting arrested for assault or battery or anything like that. With a deep breath, I grabbed another menu and headed over.

  “Welcome to Holy Diner!” I said, placing the menus on the table and avoiding Jay’s eyes. “I’m Maggie, and I’ll be your server. Can I start you off with anything to drink?”

  I pulled my little notebook and pencil from my pocket and stared hard at it.