Highways & Hostages

by Jax Abbey

  “I asked for some space, and I really wish you’d listen to me. Everything is fine.”

  “Forgive me if I don’t believe you, but generally when a woman says ‘it’s fine,’ it’s really not. Are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?” Derek asked, his voice soft.

  Stella’s knuckles were white on the phone. She willed herself to remain calm. “Nothing is wrong. Phoebe’s waiting for me so we can grab dinner. I’ll talk to you again soon, okay?”

  The silence stretched on Derek’s end of the phone. “Fine,” he said tersely. “Enjoy your trip.”

  “Derek—” Stella heard a click and then the dial tone. She sighed and let her hand fall. She turned away from the exit to find Finn smirking, his arms stretched along the back of the couch and his legs crossed.

  “Trouble in paradise?”

  Stella wanted to strangle him, but instead merely glowered. “How did you even hear me from over there? You are so obnoxious.”

  Finn smiled wide. “I didn’t. It was a wild guess.” He held out his hand. “Phone, please.”

  “I don’t even care anymore.” Stella chucked the phone at him.

  Finn quickly shielded his face with his hands. “Hey!” He rose from the couch, picked up the phone from the floor, and backed away from Stella as if she were a spooked horse. “I’m going to give you a minute. I’ll be back with the bags.”

  Stella watched Finn retreat through the lobby doors and dropped onto the couch with a hand over her eyes. Her exasperation with Derek was irrational, and Finn’s know-it-all looks just exacerbated her feelings. Maybe her irritation was a delayed response to the circumstances surrounding this road trip escapade. She heard footsteps approach on the stone floor and opened her fingers for a peek.

  “Uh…are you okay?” Finn asked, holding a bag in each hand.

  He almost looks concerned, Stella thought. She sighed heavily and rose. “I’m fine.”

  “When women say they’re fine, they’re usually lying.”

  Stella brought her hands over her face again. I’m going to kill someone.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Gilroy? Your room is ready!” Rachel called across the lobby.

  “Thank God!” Stella exclaimed at the same time that Finn muttered, “Hallelujah.” They looked at each other and frowned.

  Rachel’s brow furrowed as she looked back and forth between the two of them. “Is everything okay? Is there anything I can do to make your stay more enjoyable?”

  “We’re just tired and hungry,” Finn explained.

  Rachel brightened. “Oh! Well, Michael will show you to your room.”

  “That’s really not necessary—” Finn began.

  “I insist!” Rachel said firmly. “What time would you like to make your dinner reservation for? You probably want to freshen up.”

  Finn glanced at Stella, who shrugged. “Uh, in an hour?” he suggested.

  “An hour it is! Enjoy your room! Call me if you need anything.”

  “Will do.”

  Michael, the bellboy, took the bags from Finn and led them to an elevator. They all waited in tense silence. Stella wondered what Michael thought of newlyweds who were already arguing on their honeymoon. The bell chimed and the elevator doors opened. Michael held the door while Finn and Stella entered, then joined them and hit the button for the third floor.

  The elevator was extremely slow, and the silence grew louder. Michael cleared his throat.

  “So how did you two meet?”

  Finn opened his mouth, but Stella was quicker. “I was Finn’s nurse when he came in for surgery.” Finn squinted at her in confusion.

  “That’s sweet. Like in a movie.”

  Stella leaned closer to Michael and whispered loudly enough for Finn to hear, “Awful hemorrhoids.”

  Finn’s jaw dropped and Michael’s face turned red. Stella smiled serenely. Silence descended on the elevator car again.

  The doors chimed open, and Michael moved so quickly down the hall that Finn and Stella had to trot to keep up with him. Clearly Stella wasn’t the only one ready for some space.

  Michael opened a door with a placard reading “Honeymoon Suite” and deposited their bags just inside the room. Finn handed him a couple bills, and he bowed. “Enjoy,” he said, making a hasty exit.

  “Well played,” Finn said, entering the suite first.

  “I thought so,” Stella chirped, following behind him. The suite’s living area was spacious, and echoed the lobby’s decor with its warm tones and rich furniture. Stella walked into the center of the room and spun in a slow circle with her arms outstretched. “Luxury at its—oh dear God!”

  She jerked to a stop, facing the bedroom. She approached the room, dread churning in her belly. Rose petals covered a canopied California king bed piled high with pillows. Electric candles sat atop every available surface, including the hot tub, which was conveniently located not more than five feet from the massive bed. The tub was filled to the brim with bubbles and rose petals littered its surface. Champagne rested in a bucket of ice next to two fluted glasses.

  Stella turned back to Finn. “I’m going to need a drink, STAT.”

  FINN, 8:37 P.M.

  Side by side, Finn and Stella entered the hotel restaurant. Finn called to check in with Billy while Stella showered, but there was no answer. He was slightly on edge. On a positive note, Stella seemed to be in a better mood after her shower.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Gilroy!” Rachel waited at the restaurant’s entrance, waving exuberantly. “Let me show you to your table.”

  Finn glanced around the room. The restaurant wasn’t large, but it was big enough for a small wooden dance floor in the very center. The low lighting and lively Mariachi band strolling about made him feel almost as if he and Stella were the only ones present. They practically were—only three other couples were seated in the restaurant.

  Stella grabbed Finn’s arm and muttered out of the side of her mouth, “Did she just magically appear out of nowhere? I thought she was the receptionist.”

  Finn grinned at Stella as Rachel led them to a round table with two upholstered chairs in the middle of the restaurant. Helium balloons proclaiming “Congratulations!” were tethered to the center of the table and stretched toward the ceiling. Glittering confetti was scattered across a white linen tablecloth.

  Finn played the courteous husband and pulled Stella’s chair out for her. Once they were seated, Rachel produced two sombreros and gleefully placed them on their heads.

  “Have an amazing dinner, you two!” Rachel said, waggling her fingers as she walked backward out of the restaurant.

  “She’s very…enthusiastic,” Finn remarked.

  “Talk about weddings and honeymoons will make any woman of a certain age act giddy,” Stella said.

  Finn shook his head. Women got preoccupied with the silliest things. “Were you like that before you got engaged?”

  “Still am,” Stella admitted.

  Finn raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to explain.

  She flushed and played with her napkin, eyes on the table. “I’ve been waiting forever to meet someone I could tolerate enough to marry. Now I’ve got the ring and the bridal magazines.”

  “I see,” Finn said. He placed an elbow on the table and propped up his chin, studying her. “But I always thought modern love dictates you marry someone because you’re head over heels about them—not just because you can tolerate them. Isn’t that settling?”

  Stella fixed Finn with a glare. “Says the guy who professes to be married to his work.”

  “Touché. But I didn’t settle for being a pool boy back in Florida, now did I?”

  Stella didn’t answer, but broke eye contact and raised her menu between them like a shield. Finn glanced at her for a moment longer, then did the same. A waiter meandered over to their table.

  “The newlyweds!” he exclaimed.

  “Yes, that would be us,” Finn replied. He swore he saw Stella’s right eye twitch.

  “The Honey
moon Special entitles you to one appetizer, two entrées, a dessert of your choosing, and two beverages of the non-alcoholic variety. What would you like to start with?”

  Finn met Stella’s eyes with a questioning gaze. She looked down at the menu. “The shrimp avocado cocktail looks good.”

  Finn looked at the waiter. “The shrimp avocado cocktail it is.”

  “And your drinks?”

  “I would love a Shirley Temple, please,” Stella requested.

  “Really?” Finn asked, dubious.

  Stella reddened. “I like the way they taste,” she said.

  Finn shrugged and looked up at the waiter. “I’ll take a Coke.”

  “Great! I’ll bring your drinks right out.” The waiter disappeared.

  Stella smirked. “I knew you were going to order a Coke.”

  “Oh? How so?”

  “Because if you don’t order a beer at the Leaky Stein—a König Ludwig, to be exact—you always order a Coke.”

  “You have plenty of customers waltzing in and out of that place, yet you remember what I drink,” Finn said, teasing.

  Stella retreated behind her menu. Finn put his hand on top of the menu and pulled it down to the table.

  “I’m sorry,” Finn said. “About all my awkwardness.” He felt a flush creep up his neck. “I haven’t spent any significant amount of time with a woman in a while.” He didn’t know what prompted him to admit that.

  “You mean outside of the bedroom,” Stella remarked. She winced. “Okay. Let’s just agree not to acknowledge our mutual awkwardness.”

  Finn took a large gulp of water and crunched an ice cube between his teeth. “It appears we have some kind of…tension between us.”

  “Didn’t I just say we were not going to acknowledge any awkwardness?”

  “Sorry, sorry,” Finn replied, trying not to smile. He hid behind his menu before peeking over the top to see Stella grinning as she regarded her own menu, looking up only when the waiter returned.

  “A Shirley Temple for the missus, and a Coke for the groom. Are you ready to order?”

  Finn looked at Stella, one side of his mouth quirking up. “Can you guess what I’m going to order?”

  Stella glanced at the menu, at Finn, and then back at the menu. “Well, I don’t see any bacon cheeseburgers or waffle fries on the menu. Maybe the steak fajitas?”

  Finn made a show of slapping his menu and gazing at Stella in wonder before turning to the waiter. “I don’t know how she does it!”

  “My turn! My turn! What do I want?”

  Finn studied the menu. “Um…the chicken enchiladas?”

  “Incorrect! I’ll have the fish tacos, please.”

  Finn looked at the waiter and shook his head helplessly. “She’s always been able to remember those little details I tend to forget.”

  The waiter’s smile stretched thin. “For your dessert?”

  “Honey, you go ahead and choose.” Stella looked ready to burst into laughter at any moment.

  “Why, thank you, dear. We’ll have the fried ice cream.”

  “Excellent choice, honey,” Stella declared. She piled his menu on top of hers and handed both to the waiter with a smile. Stella plucked a shrimp from the martini glass containing the cocktail. “Were you really going to order the steak fajitas, or were you humoring me?”

  “Married men never tell,” Finn answered. He was surprised to realize he was actually enjoying himself.

  Stella smiled and took a sip of her Shirley Temple.

  Finn’s eyes widened. “Uh oh. Trouble coming this way, three o’clock.”

  Stella stared in confusion before following Finn’s gaze to her right. The Mariachi band that had previously been playing on the other side of the room was making a beeline for their table. She clapped her hands in delight.

  “This is nuts,” she exclaimed to Finn with a wide smile.

  “Tell me about it,” he muttered.

  “Aw, don’t be such a Debbie Downer!”

  Arriving at their table, the Mariachi band started to play their rendition of “Sweet Pea.”

  “Let’s dance,” Stella said. “Everyone else here thinks we’re married and on our honeymoon, so we may as well give them a show.” She removed her sombrero and held out a small, callused hand to Finn.

  “I don’t dance,” Finn protested, waving his hands at Stella. He made shooing motions at the Mariachis, the sombrero bobbing on his head.

  Stella tugged his hand, but Finn didn’t budge an inch. He locked his ankles around the chair legs.

  Stella squeezed his hand in a death grip and leaned down to hiss in his ear, “If you don’t get your ass up right now I will blow your cover and tell everyone what I’m really doing here. Now GET UP.”

  Finn rose slowly. He took his time removing his sombrero, then embraced Stella with loose arms, his hands resting on her lower back. He felt like he was at a middle school dance.

  They swayed back and forth in time to the music. Finn, embarrassed to have all eyes on him, was completely uptight. Stella, on the other hand, moved with such fluidity and ease that it made it hard for Finn to remain stiff. They were close enough to each other that Finn was heady with the smell of her strawberry shampoo. It had been a long time since he’d been so close to someone.

  “Now, this isn’t so bad, is it?” she asked, pulling back and looking Finn full in the face.

  “No, it isn’t,” Finn agreed, his eyes locked on hers. She smiled up at him. Finn took in a deep strawberry-scented breath and closed his eyes.

  When the Mariachis finished their song, Finn and Stella clapped appreciatively. An emotion stirred in Finn’s chest that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Lust? Disappointment? Nostalgia? Whatever it was, he shrugged it off. He might have been enjoying himself, but he had to keep business at the forefront of his mind.

  He blinked, bringing himself back to the present. Stella was gazing at him with a curious expression on her face, and Rachel was standing in front of them with a Polaroid camera. “Say ‘cheese,’ lovebirds.”

  “That’s really not necessary,” Finn was in the middle of saying when Stella threw her arms around his waist and the camera’s flash went off. “And now I’m blind.”

  He tried to blink away the spots dancing in front of his eyes as Stella guided him back to his seat before taking her own. Rachel gave her the Polaroid and disappeared with the Mariachis, directing them out into the lobby.

  Stella shook the developing picture. “I didn’t even know they made these things anymore.”

  “I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to shake them,” Finn said. He frowned and rubbed his eyes. “Doesn’t matter anyway; it’s not like either of us wants it.” He needed to rebuild the wall that Stella’s smile and strawberry shampoo were slowly dissolving.

  “Speak for yourself,” Stella said as she studied the photograph. A smile played on her lips. “I’m keeping it.”

  “What for? So you can remember the time some crazy, desperate jerk kidnapped your sister and took you on a road trip across the Southwest?” Finn snorted.

  Stella’s face fell before she glanced up at Finn. She speared a slice of avocado with her fork and dipped it into cocktail sauce. “I want to speak to Phoebe.”

  “Sure thing. Once we get back to the room.” She didn’t need to know that he’d already tried to call earlier. Hopefully everything was under control back in Vegas. What was he thinking? Of course everything was under control…except Billy was involved, and Billy was a wild card.

  Stella seemed to accept this and plucked a shrimp from the glass. “Tell me more about your work.”

  Finn raked a hand through his hair. “Not much more to tell you other than what I’ve already said.”

  “You never said how you got involved with it all.”

  The table fell silent as the waiter approached and placed their meals in front of them.

  “I gave my grandparents a lot of crap when I was a teenager,” Finn began, looking anywhere but a
t her. “I did a bunch of stays in the juvenile detention center, for stupid stuff like shoplifting and graffiti. My Pop Pop—I mean, grandfather—was really sick toward the end of his life; my Gram couldn’t keep me out of trouble and take care of him at the same time.

  “Around the age of eighteen, I got my act together. I wanted out of Florida so bad that I got a job working at this really posh hotel as a pool boy, thanks to one of my Gram’s friends. Julian was staying there for some art conference, and I ran into him at the pool one day.”

  “And the rest is history?”

  Finn shrugged. “Pretty much. Julian said he saw something in me that reminded him of when he was first starting out. He gave me his card and told me he was in Florida on business for another two days before heading back west. He said to call him if I wanted to make a lot more money than I was making then. So I did. A week later, I was on a flight to Las Vegas.”

  He prepared a fajita while Stella munched a taco. “That was when I was eighteen. I’ve been with Julian, Alex, and Billy for eleven years. Julian’s like the father I never had. He set me up out here and taught me how to be successful. Alex and Billy are my brothers.”

  Stella leaned forward. “But that doesn’t mean your whole life is indebted to him. You’ve worked for him for eleven years; haven’t you paid him back by now?”

  “It’s not about paying him back. Didn’t you hear anything I just said? Alex, Billy, and Julian are my family.”

  “Well, if they’re your family, won’t they stick around if you quit smuggling art?”

  Finn frowned. “What if I don’t want to quit? I like what I do. I’m good at it. I make a good living. Most people seem to hate their jobs. Why would I give all that up? Tell me, Stella, do you actually like being ordered around by people? Are you telling me that if you could do anything in the world for a living, you would choose to be a waitress?”

  Stella swallowed and wiped her mouth with her napkin before flinging it on the table. “Not everyone gets the most amazing job in the world spoon-fed to them like you, Finn. Do I want to be a waitress for the rest of my life? Hell no. But right now it pays the bills, keeps a roof over my head, and puts food on my table,” Stella snapped. “Oh, and I still have all my morals.”