Fight or Flight

by Jamie Canosa

  “We’ll be fine.” Al’s arm dropped over Em’s shoulder before she could respond. “You go bring home the bacon, Pops.”

  She winked at Jay and that just sealed the deal. Al was definitely crazy. And funny as hell. Em burst out laughing and Jay smiled warmly at her before pushing his way to the front of the crowd and climbing up into the bed of the pickup.

  Despite the others in there with him and those left behind shooting him nasty looks, his eyes stayed glued to hers until they pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road. Em didn’t even notice Al’s arm around her—which was odd for her—until she used it to steer Em toward the sidewalk.

  “We should probably beat it. I’d hate to be here if the macho morons decided to pick back up where they left off. I give up. Let ‘em beat the shit out of each other.”

  Em shrugged out from under Al’s arm as politely as possible, which was probably still pretty rude, but Al didn’t say a word. She just kept walking.

  “What was all that about back there?”

  “Stupid male posturing.”

  Male posturing, Em understood, but still . . . “Why did they all go after Jay like that?”

  “He got greedy.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How much do you know about day laboring?”

  No use trying to hide her ignorance now. “Nothing.”

  Al only smirked. “Well, they sort of have this unwritten code. They ‘share’ the work. If you get more than a couple of jobs a week, you’re expected to back off. Give others a chance. Jay’s usually been pretty good about sticking to that code, but recently . . . he got greedy. Started taking more than his fair share of the work. And he gets a lot of it. He’s younger and in better shape than most of the guys out there. That counts for a lot. A few weeks ago, Jay starts showing up every day, saying he needs the money.” It wasn’t lost on Em that that was precisely when she’d barged into his life. “The other guys took offense at that. Told him to take a hike for a while. Warned him what would happen if he didn’t stay away. Apparently, he’s not a very good listener.”

  Em was certain that it wasn’t a risk Jay normally would have taken. He did it for her, and that terrified as much as thrilled her. How could anyone love someone like her so much?

  “That’s my fault. He needed the money because he was helping me. And he went back because we needed a place to stay.”

  “Bullshit. Jay’s a big boy. He knows the damn rules. Did you know what would happen if he went there today?”

  “Of course not.”

  “And did you tell him to go? Use your overwhelming physical abilities to force him out there?”

  “No.”

  “Then it’s his own damn, stupid fault. But he didn’t look too worse for ware and he got the job, so no harm no foul, right? We’re all cashing in tonight. Though, I wouldn’t recommend trying that particular stunt again.”

  “Why do you hang out there? Jay said you never get work.”

  “That’s true. This one guy tried to hire me once, but he looked seedy as hell. Even if I was dumb enough to get in the car with him, no way in hell the guys would have let me.”

  “Then why?”

  “The guys.”

  Em shot her a look and Al burst out laughing. “Okay, that came out wrong. It’s not what you think. It’s just . . . It can get dangerous out here sometimes. It never hurts to have a bunch of guys who do manual labor all day as friends. Plus it’s a great place to pick up tips on places to crash. If I’m in between squats, someone usually offers something. But they all respect me. No one ever expects anything in return and, if they did, they’d sure as shit be disappointed.”

  That sounded . . . brilliant. This girl knew what she was doing.

  Em trailed Al through midtown and over to Ninth. It was a commercial area with tall brick buildings housing everything from lawyer’s offices to a retail store rocking the hippie/bohemian thrift store feel. It was the kind of place Em would have loved to browse through. Right next door—at the very end of the block—was the Fluff and Fold they were looking for, though Em still had no idea why. Especially, when Al breezed right past it without even glancing through the huge plate glass windows lining the front wall.

  Em’s feet stuttered and came to an abrupt stop as she debated pointing out where they were to Al. She didn’t look lost. In fact, she was plowing ahead without even noticing Em’s absence. When Al turned the corner, Em abandoned the idea entirely in favor of maintaining sight of the girl and rushed to catch up with her.

  The alleyway was narrow and littered with trash, but it was immediately apparent why Al had led her there.

  “With it being a twenty four hour laundry mat the dryer vents will run all night.” Al gestured to the series of vents billowing steam into the alley. “Of course, that makes it a hot spot for people looking to stay warm, which makes it a hot spot for police looking to bust people looking to stay warm, but sometimes it’s worth the risk. We’ll just have to hope that no one decides to check.”

  The warm rush of air pouring from the vent felt like heaven on Em’s raw, tingling skin. They alternated sticking hands, toes, and other body parts beneath the flow until they were mostly thawed out, and then settled in while the dryer ran its cycle.

  Jay never left her alone. Not outside the squat. Not for more than a few minutes, anyway. So sitting there with Al was more than a little outside of Em’s comfort zone. She’d avoided social situations for so long that she feared she’d completely forgotten how to interact with another human being. Just sitting beside her felt like a strain. A strain Al was apparently impervious to.

  She was rooting around in her old, ratty backpack, paying absolutely no attention to Em whatsoever. Okay, then. Without realizing it, Em began running her fingers through her hair, trying to work out the knots. A nervous habit she’d developed over the past weeks.

  “I think I have something that could help you with that.” Al dug around in her bag for a few more seconds and came out with a comb. “Don’t worry, it’s clean.”

  Em snatched it from her with a quick ‘thank you’. Courtesy be damned, she was holding comb! A small part of her wanted to kiss the small black object, but that may have been a bit dramatic. Her hair had been driving her crazy for weeks. Starting at the ends, Em tried to work her way up with little success. It was a freaking disaster back there and she couldn’t see what she was doing at all.

  Al watched her for a few minutes, fighting an amused grin before she sighed and reached for the comb. “For Chrissakes, turn around.”

  Al’s fingers ran through Em’s hair, pulling bits of debris out before even bothering to start with the comb. A small twig flicked past Em’s face and Al laughed. “You know . . . You’re kind of a mess.”

  “Yeah, well, we can’t all be Miss Street Chic USA.” The friendly tease surprised Em almost as much as the shock of jealousy that accompanied it.

  She couldn’t remember ever being jealous of someone else before, especially not over looks. The last thing she’d ever wanted was to draw more attention. She’d always gone out of her way to avoid it. But she wasn’t far off the mark. Al was gorgeous. Even in torn blue jeans and a grimy hoodie the girl looked like a supermodel. If someone had told her that all of the dirt was really makeup for some kind of photo shoot, and the way her hair hung free of her braid, framing her face in disarray was the latest and greatest hair trend, Em would have believed it.

  “Oh.” Al was laughing as she started to pull the comb through Em’s hair. She was trying to be gentle, but—though she may have been joking—she hadn’t been lying when she’d called her a mess. The comb caught and pulled on every knot and tangle until her scalp stung and Em had to fight the urge to slap it out of the girl’s hand. “Miss Street Chic . . . I think I like it. Maybe I’ll make myself a sash to wear.”

  “I’ll find you a tiara,” Em offered through clenched teeth.

  Em was convinced her new friend was a sadist by the time the comb ran sm
oothly through her hair.

  “You’re all set. You know, there a trick to avoiding that kind of problem. You want me to show you?”

  Anything that would help her avoid another torture session like that. Em sat still while Al weaved her fingers through her hair, tugging on different sections as she worked. This was a much better feeling, though. One that soothed her and brought her back to a time before her aunt died. Back to when life actually made sense. It was so comforting that Em was left feeling slightly bereft when Al finished.

  “There.” She tied it off with a rubber band from her bag and tossed a thick braid over Em’s shoulder. “That should keep it from getting too tangled again.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  Em settled back against the wall, idly playing with the end of her braid and wondering what Jay was doing and how long he’d be gone, “You think Jay’s okay?”

  “He’ll be fine.” Al didn’t sound the slightest bit concerned. In fact, she didn’t even sound like she was paying attention.

  But what if something had happened? What if he was in trouble? Or hurt? “Maybe we should go . . .”

  Em turned to face Al and found her staring down at something in her hands. Apparently, she hadn’t sounded like she was paying attention because she really hadn’t been. Em leaned in to get a closer look at the photograph. The edges and fold lines were worn and tattered, but it was definitely Al. And a boy. He had his arms around her and they looked . . . happy.

  “Who’s that?”

  “No one.” Al quickly folded the picture in half and stuffed it back in her bag, her actions completely negating her words.

  “No one special?” Em was aiming to bring back the light mood they’d been sharing, but fell short.

  She was curious about the boy in the picture. The boy who made Al smile like that. So genuine she was practically glowing. Em didn’t get the impression it was a common occurrence. This whole thing with Jay was just so new and unexpected. She relished the idea of having someone—preferably someone female—to talk to about it. And Al just seemed so easy to be around. She’d even let the girl touch her without cringing. Maybe it was because she was female, or maybe it was her open, if not blunt, personality, but Em found herself really enjoying Al’s company.

  Al sighed. “Maybe. But it doesn’t really matter anymore, now does it?”

  Boy-talk seemed to be just about the last thing Al wanted to do. Em hadn’t even considered that the person in that photo may have been someone Al had left behind, someone who was no longer apart of her life, and that saddened her.

  Em had left everything behind when she’d left home, but in all honesty, it hadn’t really been much. She hadn’t had any close friends for years and the only family she’d had left was what she’d been trying to escape. She wondered if she would have had the courage to go if it meant leaving someone special behind. Her thoughts turned to Jay and she knew the answer right away.

  “Why did you leave?” Em knew it wasn’t proper street etiquette to ask, but she needed to know what could have made this girl give up someone who clearly made her happy.

  Al shook her head and ground her teeth. “Douchebag father. You?”

  Em could understand that. “Douchebag uncle.”

  Al grinned. “Oh yeah? Mine had mean right hook. What’s yours got?”

  Al’s grin became infectious as the lighthearted banter resumed over the unlikeliest of topics.

  “A crappy love life.”

  Al barked a laugh, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. Em expected to feel exposed or embarrassed. She’d just shared more with this practical stranger than anyone else in her entire life, besides Jay, but she didn’t. She felt inexplicably . . . lighter. Nothing more needed to be said. There was just an understanding between them that could only come from someone who had been through a similar kind of hell.

  “That sucks, though. About your dad.” At least Em knew that the people who were supposed to love her the most in the world hadn’t let her down—except by dying and leaving her with him.

  “Eh.” Al shrugged. “I figure life’s gotta even out, right? If I get all the bullshit out of the way now, then things can only go up from here.”

  That was one way of looking at it. “I like that.”

  “Then believe it. No offense, but you’re not exactly sitting pretty at the top of the hill, either.”

  Not for the first time, Al’s reasoning struck her as overly simplistic. But, then again, sometimes simple was the way to go.

  ***

  “Look what I’ve got.” Em’s heart tripped over itself at the sound of Jay’s voice.

  She’d spent the past couple of hours talking about nothing of importance and listening to Al’s many stories, all of which were hilarious and only half of which Em actually believed could be true. But nothing could make her happier than seeing Jay stride into the alley carrying a greasy, white paper bag she immediately recognized as being from Joe’s Pizzeria.

  “Sorry.” Jay grimaced. “I didn’t make enough to afford a place to stay, but I did buy us some hot food.”

  “Tell me there’s a slice in there for me and you’re forgiven.” Al was already reaching for the bag in Jay’s hands.

  After inhaling the absolute best piece of mushroom pizza on the planet—and this coming from a girl who usually recoiled from anything that qualified as a fungus—they spent the next few hours vent hopping, as one dryer would shut off and another turned on.

  It was starting to get late. The stars were coming out, and Al had already made herself a bed out of a slab of cardboard and fallen asleep. Settling under yet another warm vent, Em curled into Jay’s side and rested her head against his shoulder.

  “Tired?” He whispered against her ear, and she could only nod. Exhausted was more like it and her eyes were already losing the battle to stay open. Jay’s arm snaked around her back, pulling her even tighter against his body until she was practically in his lap. “Get some rest. I’ll be right here.”

  The last thing she was aware of was the soft press of his lips against the top of her head as she drifted away.

  ***

  A hand traced a path over her thigh, down to her ankle and back up again. Her first thought was that it was Jay and she sighed sleepily. But as it continued to move, touch her, caress her, she knew something was very wrong. The hand was cold and clammy, harsh and demanding, nothing like Jay’s gentle touch at all.

  Then she smelled it, the combination of sweat and aftershave that haunted her. She couldn’t get away, she couldn’t scream, or run, or fight back. All she could do was lie there uselessly and let it happen, again, and again, and again. Her skin crawled as the hand continued its path over her face and neck and even her hair. All of it sullied, contaminated . . . by him.

  Afterwards she’d showered. Every single time. Sat under that hot spray until it turned cold, and then sat there still. She’d scrubbed her body raw, but still she couldn’t remove it. Remove him. He’d become a dark stain on her soul.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Jay

  Em rocketed out of his arms so fast that it woke Jay with a jolt. He flew up beside her, scanning the area for dangers, but the debris strewn alley was vacant besides the three of them. Near the end of the alley, Al still slept soundly. Looking to Em for an explanation, he noticed her red puffy eyes and the way her entire body was trembling. And not from the cold.

  “Em? Baby, what’s wrong?” He moved to wipe away the tears still streaming down her face, but she smacked his hand away.

  “How can you love me? How can you stand to touch me knowing that he’s touched me?” She was gasping for breaths between her hysterical sobs, and it broke his heart to watch.

  “Hey, hey, hey,” Jay cooed softly yet sternly. He reached for her once more, tucking stray hairs behind her ears and gently prying her hands away from her face. “I don’t give a damn about him, Em. But I do love you, you hear me? I love you. Every part of y
ou. Exactly the way you are.”

  “I just feel so . . . dirty,” she sobbed, “inside.”

  “No. No, baby. Em, look at me. Listen to me.” He forced her head up until her teary eyes met his. “You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, inside and out.”

  She shook her head sadly, and anger flashed through him, but not at her. The tears came hot and fast as he pulled her close again, and they continued until she finally fell back to sleep cradled in his arms.

  Jay hated that Em couldn’t see herself the way he saw her. That she couldn’t see the beautiful, kind, lovable person she really was. All she saw were the invisible scars that monster had left on her, and Jay hated him for it. Even now he couldn’t stop him from hurting her. From making her feel like no one could ever love her. From making her feel like she couldn’t love herself.

  One day he would make him pay for what he’d done to her. One day he’d show her exactly who he saw when he looked at her. One day he’d make sure she saw it, too. But for today, he would just hold her close, and keep loving her enough for the both of them.

  ***

  When he woke again it was because his body shook with an uncontrollable coughing fit. Not just a tickle in your throat kind, but full body wracking coughs from somewhere deep inside his chest. He tried to contain it before he woke Em, but it was already too late. She shifted beside him and then blinked awake. The confusion on her face changed to concern the moment she realized what it was that had woken her. He tried again to get control of himself, but the urge was insistent.

  “Jay? Are you all right?”

  He sputtered out a few more coughs before putting a lid on it. “I’m fine.”

  “No you’re not. You’re sick.”

  “It’s just a cold, Em. I always get colds when the temperature drops. It’s not a big deal.”

  “Not a big deal until it turns into pneumonia!”

  Her mouth was drawn tight and worry lines creased her pretty face. It made him smile. The idea that someone cared enough to worry about him was so foreign that he was almost glad he was sick just to get the chance to experience it. But, the last thing he wanted to do was add to her worries. He was suddenly taken by the overwhelming desire to hold her tight and never let her go. Instead, he did the next best thing. He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head.