by Nix, Haley
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Saved by the Alpha
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Saved by the Alpha
By Haley Nix
Copyright Information
Copyright © 2014 By Haley Nix
Saved by the Alpha is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents and events are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. This book or portions thereof may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any form whatsoever without direct permission from the author.
This book is intended Only for Mature Audiences 18+. It contains mature themes, substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers.
Saved by the Alpha
You won’t believe me when I tell you this. Why? Because no one else does. So I may as well start from the beginning, give you the whole story, and let you judge for yourself. In the end, I don’t care if you believe me. It happened. It’s still happening. But anyway, I might as well get on with it.
My name is Alexis and I’m twenty-six years old. I live out in Brooklyn in a dingy apartment on the outskirts of the city. I moved to New York to become a writer, but right now I spend more time waiting table than working on stories. It’s hard just getting by. Needless to say, the glitz and glamor of the city turned out to be something of a mirage. Sure, I see it when I take the subway into Manhattan – the bright lights, expensive cars and designer clothes. It’s amazing, but that’s not what life is like for most people here.
See, a lot of us are just struggling to get by, working menial jobs to support our dreams. But really, I’m painting too bleak of a picture. I love it here. There’s so much to do and see, so many interesting and different people. You can always find some new place to go – a new bar, new restaurant, bookstore, museum, etc. It’s truly quite amazing.
I was out at one of these places on the night that everything changed. I got out late from work that night. It was a Friday, so fortunately we’d been busy and I walked out the door with a good amount of tip money in my pocket. My girlfriends were out at a bar I’d never been to, some place that served gigantic $5 margaritas. I desperately needed one of those that night, maybe two.
The rain was coming down in sheets, obscuring the bright neon lights that surrounded me, the wet pavement reflecting the intermittent flash of headlights and taillights. The restaurant I worked at was blocks away from a subway. Having forgotten my umbrella, I thought it best to take a cab so as not to show up at the bar soaking wet.
There was another reason I took the cab, a darker reason. For several weeks now, I’d felt as if someone had been following me. Yes, I know that sounds certifiably insane, but trust me, it was all too real. It’s not like I have some kind of sixth sense or anything, but I kept getting that nervous feeling, like someone was watching me, that utter and extreme self-consciousness of someone else’s eyes observing your every movement.
It’s not rational, but it felt real, real enough to be worth paying for a cab to escape that feeling for at least a few minutes. Besides, I’d feel better when I was with my friends; I always felt better around other people. It was only when I was alone that I felt that eerie feeling.
I saw a cab with the numbers lit up, indicating that it was open for business. I stepped to the curb and held my arm high in the air, making an expert motion with my hand. The cab skidded to a stop on the wet street a few feet ahead of me. I hustled through the rain, opened the door, and slid into the backseat.
Hot air blew in through the vents up front, the inside of the cab providing a toasty escape from the frigid rain outside. I gave the cabbie the address of the bar and sat back in the seat, leaning up against the door as I stared out the window at the beauty of New York City streaming by.
There was something special about seeing the city by cab. The drivers were notoriously reckless and impatient, so the lights of the streets streamed by at seemingly warp speeds. I leaned into the window to get a better view of the skyscrapers that towered over me on the left side. I’m not ashamed to admit I was still mesmerized by Manhattan – there were just so many people, so many big buildings, the buzz of activity, even on a rainy night.
I watched as crowds of people walked around, going into and coming out of bars and restaurants. It was past 11 PM, but in NYC that might as well be eight o’clock at night. People are out at all hours. In a certain sense, the night was just getting started.
When I finally made it to the bar, it was going on midnight. The bar was somewhere in Midtown, a very crowded spot, a bit too crowded and noisy for my taste. But supposedly the drinks were cheap, and that made the environment more than tolerable. I’d texted my friends in advance, and found them hovering near the bar, a massive margarita was ready and waiting for me – something for which I was very grateful.
I would need a drink very badly in a moment, because the very second I turned away from my friends’ conversation to survey the room, my eyes fell on Jason. I hadn’t seen him in over a month. We’d gone out for a while, then out of the blue I never heard from him again. I’d texted a few times, trying to find out what the deal was. I’d even left him a message or two. No response.
As I took a deep sip on my margarita, I made a silent promise to myself that I would confront him tonight. But I’d need a little more liquid courage before I had the nerve to do that. I waved at the bartender and ordered myself another margarita. I was already a bit buzzed, but I needed to be beyond buzzed if I was going to talk to him. I grabbed my second drink and went back to my conversation with the girls, reflexively checking over my shoulder every few minutes to make sure Jason was still in the bar.
I waited twenty minutes, about enough time for me to finish my second drink. I put the empty glass down on the counter and started to make my way over to him.
He was way down toward the front end of the bar, about fifteen feet from the entrance. I walked slowly through the dense groups of people, pushing and squeezing here and there. Too damn crowded. But when I got closer I saw something I hadn’t seen before: he was talking with a woman.
She looked to be about my age, a skinny little thing. Her face seemed familiar. Where had I seen her before? I slowed my pace, wanting to remember who she was before I came any closer. Then suddenly it dawned on me. I’d seen her in Jason’s Facebook pictures. She was a legal assistant at the law firm where he worked.
I felt slightly relieved at that realization. For a second, I’d thought she was just some random slut that he was chatting up, but now that I had placed her, I felt a bit better. Jason had told me before that she was engaged. That meant I didn’t have anything to worry about.
When I got a little closer I saw him pause, looking deeply into the woman’s eyes. They were talking really closely together. He kept looking at her lips and she at his. I stopped in my tracks, feeling prescient, as if I could already see the future unfolding.
I stood frozen to the spot, watching as he leaned in to kiss her, watching as his hand drifted down the side of her hip, giving her tight little ass a squeeze. Their kiss broke and he looked up at her and smiled. I’d seen that smile before, that sexy, devilish smile that let you know he planned on fucking you that night. Something must have caught his eye though, because he flinched and looked up, facing in my direction.
His eyes widened, looking guilty as they met mine. Then
he gave a sheepish and sly grin, one that let me know he didn’t care if he hurt me. He didn’t care that he’d been caught or that I might feel betrayed. He kept his eyes locked on mine, as if taunting me, daring me to say something, to confront him and make a fool out of myself.
I gave him a defiant stare, then turned and walked away before the tears that were forming in my eyes could fall down my face, exposing my fragility and insecurity. That bastard. Why couldn’t he have just told me he’d lost interest? Why cut off all contact only for me to find out like this, in the absolute worst way possible?
When I rejoined my friends they could tell something was wrong. The strong drinks that minutes before had given me courage had now turned me incredibly emotional. I did my best to hide it, explaining that I was tired after a long day of work, that I just wanted to go home and get some sleep.
“Stay out with us!” they said. “The night’s just getting started!”
But I wasn’t in the mood, not after what I’d just seen. I wanted to be alone. I didn’t even want to talk about it, to give them all the details, to analyze and re-analyze it. There was nothing to analyze; everything was plain as day. Jason wasn’t into me anymore. Talking about it would only increase the hurt. So I said goodbye and left the bar, praying that the subway trains were running on time. I just wanted to be home, warm and asleep in my own bed. I’d deal with all this baggage tomorrow.
***
Walking out of the bar I met a complete and utter downpour. Cold rain fell in sheets, harder and faster than before. I thought momentarily about hailing a cab, but the ride to Brooklyn would cost almost fifty dollars. I certainly didn’t have that kind of money to spare. Hopefully, there would be a train waiting in the station.
The subway schedule was always weird going into the weekends, especially after midnight. It was hit or miss. Upon entering the station, you might be met with a train that was three minutes away or one that was thirty minutes from the stop. I told myself that if the train were over twenty minutes away I’d suck it up and hail a cab. Any wait shorter than that I could handle.
When I went underground there were a lot of people around, mostly young people like me heading home from bars or traveling to a different bar where they would continue their Friday night. It was crowded, meaning I might not find a spot to sit on the train, but I was happy that there were people around. It isn’t that I needed company or anything, if that were the case I would have stayed with my friends, but I could feel myself being watched again.
I looked around, trying to do so surreptitiously, casually, not wanting to draw any attention. I saw a few people looking in my direction. Occasionally a coincidental glance occurred in which I briefly locked eyes with strangers. But none of these people seemed suspicious.
Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm myself down. It’s all in your head, I told myself. No one is watching you; you’re just paranoid. There was only a five minute wait for the train, but between the ride and the walk from the station to the apartment, it would be over an hour before I got home. I still had a long night ahead of me.
I waited in the station, calmed down now that I realized the apparent threat wasn’t a real one. The feeling of being watched dissipated and my heart rate decreased back to normal. I was breathing easily. Only two more minutes until my train would be here.
And once I was on the train, I started to feel even better. With an hour long ride ahead, I had some time to think about things. Jason had hurt me tonight, but now that I knew the truth, I just needed to focus on getting over him.
The thing I just couldn’t get my mind off of was the woman he had been with. I hated thinking that she was judging me. The fact that she was so damn skinny was what sent me over the edge. Jason had told me I was sexy, but was he lying? That girl and I certainly didn’t fit the same body type. Had he just been sleeping with me until someone better, someone skinnier came along?
That was the thought that crushed me. That I had been used, that he’d always considered me not good enough. This wasn’t the first time something like this had happened to me. The dreaded thought that all men were like this entered my mind, that I was doomed to be cheated on, that I was unappealing to men.
I knew that wasn’t true. There must be some men out there who appreciated a curvy girl, I thought to myself. But I was feeling cynical, and I knew it would be a long time before I could trust a man again. I didn’t know how long it would take for me to feel like opening myself up to that type of rejection. The more I thought about it, the sadder I got. I hated feeling like this, like I wasn’t good enough because I wasn’t some anorexic model in a slutty dress. Dammit, Jason. Why did you do this, you asshole?
You need to calm down, I told myself. This is just the alcohol talking. Things aren’t as bad as they seem, you’re just overly emotional because of the drinks. It was true, I’d had way too much to drink and it was turning me into a crazy person. I guess what made it so hard was that throughout the past month I’d waited for Jason to call, to text, anything. I had been hoping so hard he’d break the silence. I thought he was a good guy, but I was wrong.
I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the window of the subway car. It always hurts finding out someone isn’t who you think they are.
***
About forty minutes into my trip, a static-laden voice burst out across the loudspeaker of the train letting us know we’d have to switch over to a local train at Atlantic Avenue. There had been an accident on the express track and all passengers were required to transfer at the next station. I grumbled to myself.
The local train almost took twice as long as the express, but at least I was mostly done with the long journey home. I just felt so damn tired that every moment spent outside of my cozy apartment felt like an eternity. I exited the train with the rest of the group and stood waiting on the platform for the local train that was bound to arrive in the next five minutes.
It won’t be too much longer, I kept telling myself. But I hated being like this – tired, drunk, and just wanting to be someplace quiet and warm. A New York City subway station was the absolute last place on earth I wanted to be right now.
Fortunately, when the train showed up a few minutes later it wasn’t crowded. At the very least I would have a seat and plenty of space to myself for the last twenty minutes or so. I boarded with everyone else and slid onto a bench at the far end of the subway car, hoping that no one would sit down and try to talk to me.
Soon we were moving again. Because it was a local train, we made every single stop along the route. That’s why it was so much slower than the express. At each stop, more and more people got off, leaving the car emptier and emptier. That was alright with me; the more people left, the quieter it got. Soon it was just myself and a few silent others, listening to the pulsing rhythm of the train working its way down the track.
I yawned, taking out my phone to check the time. It was past 1 AM by now. I was about three stops away from my destination. That’s when I made the mistake of closing my tired eyes.
The next time I opened them I found myself alone in the train car. I was groggy at first, but as soon as I realized where I was I snapped back to total consciousness. The car was stopped on the track in the middle of a station Absolutely no one was around. I got up to look for some indication of where I was along the train route.
New Lots Ave. The last stop on the “3” train.
Impulsively, I reached for my phone to check what time it was. That’s when I realized I didn’t have my purse anymore. Some thief must have snatched it while I’d been dosing in the subway car. Dammit.
If you aren’t familiar with New York, then you don’t know how dire the situation was at this moment. New Lots is deep in Brooklyn, and I mean deep. It’s in a neighborhood known as East New York, hands down one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in the five boroughs. In all my time living in NYC, I’d never ventured this far into the outer boroughs. There was simply no reason to be here, plagued as it was by cri
me of all kinds. Now it was no surprise at all that I’d had my purse stolen.
I had a crucial decision to make at this point. Should I risk walking out into the streets to attempt to find a cab, or stay in the station and wait for the train to move? There was no way of knowing what time it was, but if it was as late as I thought, this train would be stuck at the station for another hour or two before being operational again. If I stayed here, I’d be a sitting duck for any type of miscreant who happened to stumble upon me. As it was, I felt lucky to get away with having my purse stolen and nothing more heinous.
I decided to take my chances walking out into the city streets. The only consolation was that it was no longer raining outside. It was still cold, and the pavement glistened under the street lights, but the stinging rain had stopped. The roads were essentially abandoned. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. On the one hand, I didn’t seem to be under threat, but if one should arise, I had no idea where to turn to for help.
If I screamed, would anyone here me? I pondered this question as I walked along, my senses heightened, completely alert so as to spot any potential danger as quickly as possible. If only I had my phone, I’d have some idea of where I was, what time it was, and how I might get home. For the time being, I was completely alone and vulnerable to whoever might stumble upon me wandering these unfamiliar streets.
I saw a light on in a convenience store up ahead and picked my pace up to a slight jog. When I tried the door to go inside, it was locked. Instead, a man looked out at me from a window, his face protected behind bulletproof glass. That wasn’t a good sign.
He indicated that I should come over to the window. Anything I needed, he could pass to me through the slot after I’d paid. I’d never seen anything like this before, and it made me wonder just how dangerous these streets were. I asked him through the slot if he could call me a cab. He shook his head and pointed to a payphone.