Collide

by Melanie Stanford

  “Coffee, black,” the policeman said, sounding bored. He had Asian features, but barely a trace of an accent.

  It was silent. I waited, my eyes boring into the tiny blue lines of my notebook. Jay made no sound.

  I couldn’t take it any longer. I looked at him.

  The corners of Jay’s mouth curled. “Maggie.” He said my name like he’d won something. My lips tightened. “I’ll have a Corona.”

  I jotted it down.

  “No,” the policeman said.

  I paused.

  “No alcohol.”

  I glanced at Jay. He seemed unfazed that a policeman was telling him what to drink. “Make it a Coke,” he said.

  “I’ll be back in a moment to take your order.”

  When I returned, Jay and the policeman were deep in conversation. Or rather, the cop was talking, Jay was listening.

  “—unacceptable. I won’t allow him to run free, doing whatever he likes, especially when he hasn’t held up his end. Handle it. I know you can be persuasive.”

  My hands shook a little as I set the cup of coffee down. Some of it sloshed over the side.

  “Sorry.” I grabbed a napkin from my pocket to wipe up the mess, but my hand hit the coffee mug and it went flying off the table, showering the floor with black coffee. The mug shattered on the tile.

  “Hail, Mary!” the entire staff shouted.

  My face was on fire. When I’d learned about Holy Diner!’s dish-breaking ritual, I swore I would never be clumsy. But this man, this policeman, had just told Jay to “handle it.” To be persuasive.

  He couldn’t be his boss, the loan shark, could he? Maybe Jay owed him something. Like an informant—trading information for freedom from jail.

  “I’m so sorry,” I mumbled. “I’ll get you another one right away.” I cleaned up the mess on the floor, carefully picking up the broken shards before Sanjay came with his mop. Jay watched me.

  I returned with a fresh cup, making sure to keep my hands as still as possible. My eyes trained on the uniform. Officer Ting, the name badge said.

  “I’m sorry about the delay. Can I take your order?”

  Officer Ting perused the menu. He looked to be in his late fifties, with age spots on his hands and wrinkles around his eyes. Aside from his dark hair, he was the total opposite of Jay. His face was soft, his nose round, his lips fuller than a man’s should be. Jay was all angles—sharp nose and wide forehead and jaw carved from granite.

  “I’ll have the ten-ounce Adam’s Ribeye, medium rare.”

  It took him another minute to pick a couple of sides and then it was Jay’s turn.

  “I’ll have the Three Wise Men platter,” he said. He handed me both menus, and his fingers brushed mine.

  I turned to leave when I felt a yank on my skirt. Officer Ting had grabbed the hem, pulling me toward him. “Medium rare. Don’t make a mistake.”

  My heart pounded. His knuckles dug into my thigh. Words wouldn’t form in my mouth. Finally, he let me go, giving my butt a shove as he did.

  I seriously considered spitting on Officer Ting’s medium rare steak, policeman or not. No one in Hillstone had ever touched me on the bum before, not even the rednecks who’d come every summer for the rodeo. Did he think because he was a cop, that he could get away with it?

  I pasted on a fake smile each time I returned to their table—first to deliver the food, then to top off drinks, ask if they wanted dessert, bring their dessert, bring the bill, and finally to bring the machine so Officer Ting could pay. Somehow, I managed to be polite.

  Thankful when they’d finally finished, and wishing they’d never return, I gathered up my tip. There was a pile of change—pennies and nickels and dimes, not even a quarter in the bunch, strewn over the middle of the table. It came out to seventy-two cents. It figured. I picked up their used napkins.

  Hiding under Jay’s was two twenty-dollar bills.

  I stared at it. Forty bucks was way too big a tip for their meal. I didn’t want to owe Jay Thornton anything. Maybe he was showing off. Or maybe he actually felt bad for Officer Ting’s behavior. I snorted.

  I didn’t trust the money, but I couldn’t say no to forty bucks, either—that was two classes at Fluidity. I tucked the twenties into my scripture apron then gathered up Ting’s plate of half-eaten Eden’s apple pie and Jay’s ice cream bowl. Leftover chocolate fudge sauce pooled in the bottom; it looked good enough to lick off.

  “Maggie.”

  I groaned inwardly. Couldn’t Jay just leave me alone? I was tired. Tired of working, of being at the diner, of making nice with Jay Thornton and his slimy policeman friend.

  I turned but didn’t stop cleaning off his table. Maybe he wanted change for his tip. He’d have to speak up because I sure wasn’t going to offer it.

  “I want to apologize.” Jay stuffed his hands in his pockets. He looked genuinely sorry. I didn’t buy it.

  “For Si—my friend. He can be…abrupt sometimes.”

  I balanced the tray of dishes on one shoulder. “I’ve seen worse.” Though not from a lawman.

  I headed for the kitchen to unload my dirty dishes for Sanjay, the seventeen-year-old dishwasher.

  “Thanks, Maggie,” Sanjay said, then his eyes widened.

  Even without looking, I knew. Jay Thornton had followed me into the kitchen. I sighed and turned around. “Do you need something else?”

  “No.”

  I started past him but he grabbed my arm. Gently, but I gave his hand a pointed look and he let go.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  I wanted to laugh. Behind Jay, Badri—Sanjay’s father—launched into another Bollywood song. Emme passed us, almost bumping Jay with her tray. Another cook had his head bent to his work, chopping onions. The kitchen was hot and noisy and Jay was making it fifty times more unbearable.

  I planted my hands on my hips and looked Jay full in the face like a dare. “Perfectly fine.”

  He smiled and it transformed his entire face. Heat rose up my neck. “Good. I just wanted to make sure—”

  “Las Vegas may be a disgusting, dirty place, but I can handle myself.” I stalked away. Jay probably regretted his forty-dollar tip now.

  Or not, since he followed me out of the kitchen and stepped in front of me. “Vegas isn’t so bad, you know.”

  “Really?” I peered over his shoulder at the couple who’d taken over Jay’s table. “That’s great. You should add that to the tourism brochures. Can I get back to work now?”

  He made an exaggerated sweeping motion, allowing me to pass.

  “I’ll prove it to you,” he said.

  I didn’t want to turn around. I really didn’t.

  I turned around. “Prove what?”

  He stopped next to my shoulder. His lips lowered to my ear. “How great Vegas can be.” His breath hit my skin and I shivered.

  “Not interested,” I said, my voice shaking for some reason.

  He smirked. “We’ll see.”

  Chapter 13

  MAGGIE

  I thought Las Vegas was one of the ugliest places I’d ever seen. Then I found Sunset Park. It had green grass and trees and even a lake with ducks. The colors were bright, popping out of the brown and gray like a rainbow. It reminded me of home and I was drawn to it like an artist to a beautiful painting, wanting and needing to suck the color from the scene into me.

  Bronwyn didn’t get how I could sit in Sunset Park for longer than five minutes. She was always moving, always biking, always going somewhere. She’d left Hillstone behind long ago. I hadn’t quite managed yet.

  “I’ve gotta get this package over to the medical district,” Bronwyn said, getting up from the bench and tossing her coffee cup in the trash. She gave Nico a quick peck. “See you later, babe.”

  As Bronwyn pedaled away, I glanced at Nico. When I told them I’d found something amazing, they both agreed to meet me. They were less than impressed that my definition of amazing was green grass and no litter.

  “Jay ca
me into the diner yesterday,” I said. “Him and a policeman. Officer Ting. I waited on them.”

  A wary expression crossed his still-healing face. “They were there together?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “No reason.” Nico spoke slowly, avoiding eye contact.

  I angled toward him. “I’m surprised Jay has such a law-upholding friend.”

  Nico scuffed at the grass under his feet.

  “What with his line of work and all.”

  Nico stared straight ahead. “No comment.”

  Which said everything. I gaped. “But he’s a—”

  “Sure is.”

  I leaned back against the bench. Officer Ting was the loan shark. But how could that be? Did the other officers know? And why live that kind of double life—enforcing the law on one side, breaking it on the other?

  “So you served them some food,” Nico said. “Was it everything you dreamed it would be?”

  As if I’d dream of Jay. “Officer Ting was…rude.”

  “I only met him the one time,” Nico said. He swung an arm over the back of the bench. “Thought I was gonna wet myself.”

  “No kidding.” A bird circled overhead and I prayed it wouldn’t poop on me. I hadn’t been afraid of Officer Ting at the diner—more like angry. But knowing who he was and what he could do scared me. “What if you don’t pay him? What will he do? What will happen to you?” Would it be like the movies? Would Ting kill Nico? Dump him in the desert outside the city like on CSI? Or was I just being overdramatic?

  He smiled, a thin thing. “I’ll be fine. He won’t get paid if I’m dead.”

  Would a police officer go that far? Who was I kidding—he was dirty. He’d already crossed that line. Morality wasn’t a factor now, assuming he’d had any in the first place.

  “I’m just…” I hesitated, knowing this would sound stupid. I barely knew Nico after all. “I’m scared for you.”

  Nico’s smile went from thin to genuine. “Aw, that’s sweet.” He patted my head like I was twelve. “How about you loan me a few grand? Then you won’t have to be scared anymore.”

  “If only I had that kind of money.”

  “Then I guess I’ll have to go with plan B,” Nico said.

  “What’s plan B?”

  He shook his head. “No idea.”

  After Nico left the park, I grabbed a book from my purse and started reading. My phone dinged with an email. I assumed it was from Fraze, I hadn’t heard from him in a while, though that wasn’t unusual. Looking at my phone, I was surprised to find an email from Hank.

  * * *

  To: Margaret Hale, maggie-hale@mymail.com

  * * *

  From: Hank Markham, hlmcowboy@mymail.com

  * * *

  It’s been over a month since you walked away from me. I can’t stop thinking about it. Where we went wrong. Where I went wrong.

  I shouldn’t have proposed so soon. I know that now, Maggie. You aren’t ready yet. You need to pursue your dreams. I get that. I do.

  But why can’t you pursue them here in Hillstone? You could teach at the studio. I even talked to Miss Miriam about it. Please, Mags. I miss you so much. Please come home. For me. For your parents. Come home so we can go back to the way things were. There’s a hole in my life now where you used to be, and I can’t fill it without you.

  I love you so much.

  Yours, Hank

  * * *

  I stared at the email. Then read it again. Then tried really hard not to chuck my phone in the lake.

  Hank wasn’t the one for me. He didn’t get me. And he never would if he thought I could somehow pursue my dreams in Hillstone.

  Yet I still felt a pull. A pull to return to what I knew. To people who loved me. I had Bronwyn and Nico now, but I still felt like a trespasser in their lives. I was working at a diner and taking dance classes, but really, life wasn’t any better and way scarier here.

  I still felt a pull to Hank, too. A yearning to be back in someone’s arms. To feel lips on my own. To have someone tell me that everything would be okay.

  The pull was tough to ignore. Which is why I let out a string of curses, saying all the words I hadn’t been allowed to say growing up just so I wouldn’t hear the little voice in my head saying, just give up, you know you want to.

  I did kind of want to. But I didn’t. But I did. No, didn’t.

  Back in Hillstone, after I’d graduated high school, my life had been frozen. Here in Vegas, I had a chance for more, but so far, I wasn’t sure I liked where it was going.

  * * *

  To: Hank Markham, hlmcowboy@mymail.com

  * * *

  From: Margaret Hale, maggie-hale@mymail.com

  * * *

  Thank you for what you said, but I can’t come home, Hank. I just can’t. I’m sorry.

  You’ll be fine, I’m sure of it. I’m not who you thought I was. Heck, I’m not who I thought I was. You deserve someone who wants to live their life in Hillstone. Until then, know that I never wanted to hurt you and I’m sorry every day that I did. I know that doesn’t make it any better, but I do want you to be happy. One day, sooner than you think, you will be.

  * * *

  Maggie

  I paced the floor outside Nico’s apartment, almost on the balls of my feet. From below, the voices of students in training created a low buzz, though not loud enough to drown out Bronwyn’s screaming or the sound of breaking glass, even behind the closed door.

  “Are you trying to make me walk away?” Bronwyn shrieked. “Do you want to be alone, is that it?”

  Something smashed against the wall and I flinched. I should have left. Bronwyn and Nico were in the middle of an epic fight. But I couldn’t go. Bronwyn had been there for me when I was at my lowest, I could be there for her, too. If she wanted me.

  I’d stopped pacing and my feet were tapping, almost of their own volition. I took tap for a couple of years when I was younger but hadn’t kept with it. I’d always preferred whole body movements versus crazy feet. But I would still find myself shuffle-ball-changing in random places.

  “It was one drink,” Nico shouted back. “Stop being such a—”

  “One drink? One drink!” Another smash. “I’m not an idiot!”

  “Bron—”

  I closed my eyes. My feet moved through the audition piece I danced for EDT and soon I was doing it full out. The empty room outside Nico’s apartment was just big enough and I used every inch of space. I moved to the music in my head, punctuated by Bronwyn’s screams as if they were a drum beat.

  “I’m so done with this!” she shouted as I pirouetted into a developé. The door slammed. My arms lowered and my feet stilled.

  Bronwyn’s eyes met mine. Her face was streaked with tears. “What are you still doing here?” she snapped.

  I wilted. “I was… Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Peachy.” She was down the stairs before I could respond.

  I sighed. She didn’t need me after all. I grabbed my purse and went to Nico’s door. I knocked hesitantly.

  “Bron?” Nico’s face was so full of hope when he opened the door, I hated to be the one to make it disappear.

  “Sorry. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” Behind him, broken glass littered the floor and spots of his brick walls were stained wet.

  Nico scrubbed his black hair. He gave me a flat look. “Oh, I’m fine. Just redecorating.”

  “Right, sorry.” I stepped back. “Well, if you need anything…”

  His eyes dropped to the ground. “How about a broom?”

  “Aren’t you a janitor?” It was out before I realized how insensitive that sounded.

  He let out a short laugh. “Right. Thanks for reminding me.”

  I shouldered my purse. “I’ll go. Call me if you need anything.” I started down the stairs.

  “Hey,” he said and I turned. “Tell Bron I’m sorry.”

  I nodded. Not that Bronwyn would listen to me. She was stubborn. If she was done wit
h Nico, nothing would change her mind. Nor was I sure that I should say anything. I liked Nico, but I wasn’t sure he was the best boyfriend.

  I stuck to the edge of the gym so as not to get in the way of the class. About twenty boys and girls, ranging from maybe five to eight, were sparring with each other on the mats. I couldn’t see their faces through their padded headgear, but their big red and black gloves didn’t stop moving, punching and jabbing and swinging.

  I stopped to watch for a minute, smiling at how cute they looked trying to act like tough little fighters.

  “And time!” the teacher called and I stiffened. “Switch partners.”

  I hadn’t seen Jay Thornton when I first came into the gym. Maybe I wasn’t paying attention. But he was there now, wearing shorts that were too short for a man and a t-shirt that strained across his chest. He was a mix of intimidating and ridiculous in his undersized clothes and shoulders as broad as the river that ran behind my house back in Hillstone.

  Jay lifted a girl’s arms, showed her how to jab. Her head shook, like she was prepping herself, and then her arm shot out, hitting her partner’s glove so hard the other kid stumbled back. Jay smiled and backed off. The girl bounced on her toes and then went at it again, punching right and left and then giving her partner a turn. I watched the exchange go on several times back and forth.

  “Are you interested in taking classes?”

  I jumped. When had Jay gotten so close?

  “No, thanks,” I said, keeping my eyes on the kids to avoid looking at him.

  “Well, you always seem to be here, I just assumed…”

  “Not my kind of thing,” I said, harsher than I meant. My eyes travelled from Jay’s chest to the tanned skin of his neck, to his curved lips, and finally to his eyes.

  He raised an eyebrow. “You’re against learning how to protect yourself?”

  “Do I need to protect myself?”