Captivated

by Bailey, Tessa

  Isabella put her coffee cup down on Autumn’s desk. “Did you get any sleep last night?”

  Autumn smiled weakly. “Not as much as I’d have liked.”

  “Yeah, Owen told me about you and Blake. And you and Ian. Sounds like you had a bad time.”

  “That would be correct.” Autumn checked her phone and swore. “Sorry, I’d love to talk but I’m super late for a block party, of all fucking things. I need to get back to work.”

  Isabella didn’t move, instead she stared at her in a way that reminded Autumn forcibly of Blake. There was a solemnity to their everyday features that made them seem more in tune with human pain than other people. As though they’d both lived very long lives and seen all manner of ugliness.

  “Are you okay?” Autumn asked. “Is something wrong?”

  Isabella leaned over her desk, laying a long fingertip on the cover of the book Blake had given her. “Is this The Little Princess?”

  Autumn smiled, even though it felt like all of her intestines were falling out. “Yeah.”

  “I like this book.”

  “Me too. It was my favorite when I was a kid. It’s probably still my favourite now, if I’m being honest. I, uh, don’t read much.”

  Isabella bent forward, examining the cover. “It’s very old.”

  “It’s…it’s a first edition. From 1905.”

  She whistled.

  “I know.” Autumn pressed her hand even harder to her chest. “Blake got it for me. He must have repaired it, or else someone owed him a hell of a favor. I looked up the asking price and it’s a fuckton.”

  “Clearly, he thinks you’re worth it. Does that make you happy?”

  “Yes,” Autumn said, even though she didn’t know if that was true. Was happiness feeling utterly breached by a man who’d once been a stranger? Did it feel like you had nowhere to hide but you wanted to be looked at anyway?

  “I like Blake,” Isabella said, stroking the cover of The Little Princess. “He’s very…”

  “Big?”

  The tall girl smiled. “Genuine. That’s rare. Underrated.”

  “It is.” Autumn’s chest compressed. “I still really wish he hadn’t signed me up for the show last night. I don’t know if Owen explained what happened—”

  “He did,” Isabella said. “That coffee is yours, by the way.”

  Autumn was so touched, and caffeine deprived, she nearly started crying. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I know. I wanted to.”

  It was an answer so reminiscent of Blake that Autumn did start crying. She leaned against the desk for support and let every ounce of pain and frustration run out of her in hot bursts. Isabella walked toward her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She smelled amazing and Autumn instantly relinquished all dignity and began sobbing into her shoulder.

  “Everything’s okay,” Isabella said in her measured voice. “You’re allowed to have your own limits. I’m sure Blake didn’t mean to hurt you by signing you up for the variety show, but you were hurt and you’re allowed to still be hurt even though he gave you an expensive book.”

  “It’s not that,” Autumn sobbed. “Okay, it’s kind of that, but it’s more like…disappointment.”

  “Why?”

  She cried harder, her thoughts veering from Blake to her family, to her secret joke notebook, to the years she’d wasted with Ian despite knowing deep down that it would never work.

  “I should have tried harder,” she told Isabella. “I shouldn’t have let myself become this person who just does whatever’s asked of her. Goes along with everyone else. If I was in a better position when I met Blake, he wouldn’t have tried to make me his project. I would have been standing on my own two feet, without Ian, maybe doing comedy. Instead, I let him push me out of my comfort zone and then I got angry at him for taking it too far. I let myself down.”

  Isabella was silent, though her arms stayed tight around her. They swayed on the spot and Autumn was amazed to find it wasn’t awkward at all, hugging Isa. It reminded her of being held by her mum, when she was very small, rocked and sung the Postman Pat theme song. They were some of the only sweet family memories she possessed and she welcomed the nostalgia in a way she rarely did.

  “You can’t change the past,” Isabella said eventually.

  “No.”

  “But there’s always a path to what you want. I’ve never seen you do stand-up but you must be good for someone like Blake to put you in that position.”

  Embarrassed, Autumn toed the floor with her shoe. “I dunno…”

  “I do. The way he looks at you, you can tell he thinks you’re perfection. I think he wanted everyone else to see you that way, too. I think you’re his little princess, Autie.”

  Autumn’s tear ducts began stinging again. “Please don’t say stuff like that to me, man, I’m so tired I’m gonna explode-cry all over you again.”

  “It’s okay to cry.”

  Autumn didn’t need much encouraging. The stress of the last twenty-four hours welled up in her and within seconds she was gasping and hacking and leaking salt water everywhere again.

  “I’m not sad exactly,” she mumbled into Isabella’s shoulder. “I’m just really raw and I love Blake and I didn’t realize it fast enough. Also, I’ve been at work for so long and I’m hungry and tired and I can’t get to the block party. Also you’re so incredible and nice and beautiful and you smell like vanilla icing.”

  “Thank you,” Isabella said, with the calm of someone who got told that a lot. “I think you should leave.”

  Autumn’s heart sank. “Do you hate hugging me?”

  “No. I mean you should leave work and go find Blake. Say you’ve got stomach pains and go see him.”

  Autumn gaped at her. “I can’t do that! Owen’s counting on me to cover his patients and—”

  “Happy Paws will be fine. Owen will understand. Work isn’t a big deal, this thing with Blake is a big deal. Go.”

  “But—”

  “No buts.” Isabella nudged her toward the door. “Go chase your happy ending. And take your coffee with you. It cost twelve dollars.”

  “Jesus!” Autumn felt so guilty, she picked up the disposable cup and immediately took a sip. The instant the coffee hit her tongue, she almost spat it out. “What the fuck?”

  “Something wrong?”

  “This is…” Autumn stared down at the disposable cup. “Delicious. Like so delicious.”

  She took a big swallow, wondering if it was her hunger and panic that was making it taste so good but no, it was just lovely, bitter and creamy and rich. It tasted like home.

  “How?” she begged. “How did you get this?”

  Isabella shrugged. “Stay in New York and I’ll take you some time. Now go catch your landlord.”

  Autumn hugged her again, one-handed because she wasn’t going to let go. This coffee was a sign. If she needed to stay in New York, she could stay in New York. All she needed was Blake and friends and good coffee. She squeezed her new mate tightly. “You’re an angel of goodness and I love you.”

  Isabella was silent, her lovely face thoughtful. Then she smiled. “I love you, too, Autumn. Now, go.”

  Autumn gathered up her stuff in record time, yanking off her white coat and deciding to skip the bit where she told everyone she was sick. She dashed out of the front door. Glenn the receptionist called out but Autumn ignored her. She was on a mission. The sunshine outside was thick and bright, the feel of it filled her with an emotion she couldn’t quite name. It made her heart feel three times its usual size. She turned her face to the sky. “Blake! I’m coming for you!”

  It was a testament to New York that not one of the dozen people walking the footpath even looked at her, though a bleary-eyed bro gave her the finger. “Quit yelling, bitch.”

  Autumn must have been running on pure adrenaline because she whirled on him like a tornado. “Don’t tell me what to do, cunt!”

  The bro’s mouth fell open. He looked so hor
rified she almost felt bad for him.

  “Whatever,” she said, adjusting the collar on her jacket. “I’m Australian, fuck you.”

  She looked up at the sky again. “Blake! I’m coming!”

  The gold sunlight beat down on her face and, her mission affirmed, Autumn pulled out her phone and ran toward a better pick-up location.

  Her driver, another bro with slicked back hair and a thick gold chain, was pretty pumped to be taking her to Rockaway during a surge. The trip would be expensive as fuck but there was no way around it. She didn’t have a car and it would be just her luck to get lost on the subway during an emergency, and time was of the essence. Blake could get uncomfortable and leave the block party at any moment, escaping into the wilds of Queens like a slightly less hairy Bigfoot. She needed to get there and make sure that didn’t happen. She also needed to look like someone who slept well and hadn’t spent the whole day examining the insides of pets.

  She had a bunch of loose cosmetics in her bag and she made up her face as best she could, smoothing petroleum jelly over her eyebrows and lids and using dabs of lipstick as blusher. She wanted to look good when Blake saw her, especially if she had to meet his friends at the same time.

  They’d been on the road for less than two minutes when Autumn began to feel decidedly unsafe. Her driver took a call from what sounded like his extremely unhappy girlfriend and as he yelled into his device, his driving grew increasingly erratic. He started speeding up and slowing down at random, changing lanes without indicating. Normally, she would have asked him to pull over but she was sure she wouldn’t be able to get another ride walking the highway, at least not one that wouldn’t leave her murdered. She’d just have to sit tight and give him an incredibly shitty rating when the ride was over. At least that’s what she told herself until he drifted halfway into the parallel lane, earning himself a loud honk from another driver. Then she decided it wasn’t worth the risk.

  “Excuse me,” she said, in her most authoritive vet voice. “Can you please finish your call and pull over?”

  “Who’s that?” the driver’s girlfriend shrieked from inside the guy’s iPhone. “Who’s that bitch?”

  Autumn didn’t appreciate being called a bitch by a stranger for the second time in an hour. “My name’s Academy Award winner, Helen Mirren. I’m in my seventies and I still look fuck-hot in a bikini.”

  “What?” the girlfriend screamed. “Marcus, who the fuck is she?”

  The driver turned and gave Autumn a dirty look. “Can you, like, butt out? She’s going through some stuff.”

  “Can you look at the fuckin’ road?” Autumn screamed, but the driver continued to stare at her. “You assholes are so ungrateful, it’s like, I’m a person, too. I have the right to call my fuckin’ girlfrie—”

  Autumn knew it was going to happen before it did. The car was idling into the left hand lane and the driver of the white Nissan beside them wasn’t watching, she had earbuds in and was staring straight in front of her. They were going to crash. She kicked the back of the driver’s seat, aware she was screaming, unsure of what the words were. It didn’t matter. They were going to crash.

  There was an explosion of glass and a crunch of metal. The car reared up and slammed down. Her seatbelt locked tight around her chest and neck. Autumn bent over, instinctively curling her hands around her face to protect the meat clockwork that kept her alive.

  I never got to tell Blake I love him, she thought dimly. I should have texted it. I shouldn’t have waited to tell him in person.

  Time went a funny for a while, then. It clipped past like horse hooves, bursts of sound and movement, the driver’s wet moans, her mouth making the same sounds, the screech of tires as other cars pulled up around them. Then came a man’s voice, soft with what she thought might be a Japanese accent. “Ma’am, are you okay?”

  A good question. Not one she was sure she could answer. She could feel blood running in thick streams down her face and she didn’t have the strength to wipe it away. Didn’t even have the strength to open her eyes.

  “Driver,” she said. “How’s the driver?”

  The man said nothing, which made her think it was bad, maybe worse. “Did he go through the front window?”

  “Yes,” the man said. “I…I don’t think he was wearing a seatbelt. He’s okay, though, that’s what this guy who’s a doctor is saying. But he’s a foot doctor so maybe he’s wrong…”

  Autumn screwed her eyes shut even tighter. The man kept talking, saying the woman in the white Nissan was fine, that she was walking around with barely a scratch on her, but as he continued to talk, she was struggling to stay focused. She was getting very sleepy, something she knew couldn’t be a good sign.

  Blake, she thought. Where are you? Come save me. I know I was meant to come save you, but there’s been a slight change in plans.

  “Ma’am.” The Japanese man’s voice was loud in her ear. “We’ve called an ambulance but do you have a phone? Anyone I can call for you?”

  Autumn swallowed. Her mouth was very dry and tacky, like old gum. She nudged her foot against her satchel, wincing at the pain. Her leg couldn’t be broken, that would hurt much more, but she’d definitely done something to it. Or the stupid crash had, anyway.

  “What are you doing?” the man asked, sounding nervous.

  “Phone. It’s in my bag, my code is…one, four, eight, seven.”

  Autumn closed her eyes as she listened to the guy follow her instructions. Everything was so bright and her head was pounding.

  “Who should I call?” the man said. “Who’s this guy who texted you? Should I call him?”

  She licked her cracked mouth trying to remember who that had been. “What…what did the message say?”

  “He’s asking if you’ve seen his old copy of Mad Magazine, the one with George W Bush on the cover. Before that he asked you to forgive him and before that he said you were his reason for happiness and before that, oh my God he sent you a picture of…” The Japanese man cleared his throat. “Is this your boyfriend? Do you want me to call him?”

  “Noooooooo!” Autumn summoned up the last of her inner strength. “Do not call that cocksheathe. Call Blake. Blake! He’s listed in my phone as…” She yawned involuntarily, her head throbbing with dull warmth.

  “As what?”

  “…The Landlord…keep forgetting to change it.” She tried to stay awake while the man called Blake, but she couldn’t. She let her mind curl into the surrounding blackness and went to sleep.

  When Autumn came to, the first thing she noticed was she was still by the side of the road. That was irritating. She’d been hoping to have been airlifted to the hospital. Still, considering America’s health care system, that was probably for the best. She could stand to not be billed for a helicopter ride. She swallowed and realized that while she was still by the side of the road, she was no longer in the car. She was lying flat on her back in a van. Probably an ambulance. She swallowed again, pleased to find she was noticeably more clear-headed than she’d been right after the crash. Maybe her little sleep had helped her heal—

  “Ow!”

  She tried to move her foot and pain shot up her right leg. It still didn’t feel broken, though, and her face was no longer sticky with blood. She took a deep breath and tried to focus on what was happening around her. There was a lot of honking and traffic sounds, and she could hear someone getting yelled out by an angry guy.

  “…how is someone like that allowed to work for Uber?” the man was saying. “Aren’t there regulations? Ways of stopping these dangerous assholes from driving other people around?”

  “I don’t know,” a woman replied in a neutral voice. “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “Well I’m gonna find out. If that prick wasn’t already in the hospital, I would have put him there myself. Given him more than bruised ribs, too. He’s lucky Autumn wasn’t seriously injured or worse.”

  Hey, she thought, that’s me, I’m Autumn.

  She licked her
lips and discovered she was crazy fucking thirsty.

  “Hello?” she called. “Can someone please get me a water or some mineral water, or a Capri Sun or something?”

  The man and the woman instantly stopped talking. Autumn’s surroundings began to shake as someone climbed into the back of the ambulance with her.

  “Excuse me, sir! You’re not allowed—”

  A fingertip ghosted the curve of her jaw. “Baby, please be awake. Please be okay.”

  No, it couldn’t be…he was here? Autumn opened her eyes. White light blinded her for a few seconds, and then it grew softer and revealed she was right. Blake was there with her. He’d gotten the call and he’d found her, just as she’d hoped he would. She beamed at him, but he didn’t smile back, his brow was furrowed and his beautiful light brown eyes were narrowed. He looked utterly terrified.

  “Sir!” the woman said firmly. “You’re not authorized to—”

  “Blake, I love you,” Autumn said before anyone or anything else could stop her. “I love you and I think you’re great and I want to stay with you in New York and be your girlfriend and stuff.”

  Her landlord’s mouth fell open.

  “I guess I’ll, uh, give you guys a minute,” the woman said. “Give her a couple sips of water from that bottle.”

  The ambulance shook as she got out of it and then they were alone. Autumn was hoping for a love confession from Blake—or at least an acknowledgement of hers, but instead he placed a straw in a bottle of water and held it at her lips. “Drink.”

  Figuring it was easier not to argue, she sucked the straw and a couple of deliciously cool pulls of water burst in her mouth.

  “Thanks,” she said, when Blake removed the straw. “But why am I in an ambulance parked by the side of the road?”

  “They wanted you to wake up before they moved you again.” His fingers prodded different areas of her body, as if searching for breaks or reassuring himself she was alive. “They said you weren’t concussed, you were just asleep.”

  Autumn giggled and closed her eyes again. “I guess I did have a really late night. Still, it’s kind of bananas I went to sleep after a car crash.”