Catch

by Michelle D. Argyle

  “Miranda.”

  The dark-haired woman handed over the bag and Miranda grabbed it. She couldn’t believe he’d actually left her something. It hadn’t even been that hard to find it. But wasn’t she supposed to find him? That was when she looked up and peered into the restaurant. It was dimly lit, but there was plenty of light for her to see a suited figure inside at the bar. He turned and looked over his shoulder, and Miranda’s heart stopped. He was wearing white sneakers. He had a head full of messily styled brown hair … and he was undoubtedly, disturbingly, frustratingly good-looking. He was probably nineteen or twenty, maybe twenty-one. Her heart sank in her chest, and she quickly looked away.

  The bag was heavy in her hand. Peeking inside, she saw her phone sitting at the bottom, but nothing else. Why would he return her phone? How were they supposed to keep playing their game so she could get the pictures? Then she realized that he probably had his own phone. And he had her number now.

  When she looked back up, he was still turned toward her. He lifted a drink in his hand and took a sip. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

  “Can I go in there?” Miranda asked the two women at the counter.

  They had been looking at Ollie too, and both turned back to her. “Of course.” The blonde gestured toward the open door, and Miranda walked back to her mom and looked her square in the eyes.

  “That’s him in there,” she whispered. “At the bar.”

  “Oh, really?” Gabriela leaned forward. “Get a good look at his face so you can describe him to the police, then. What kind of game is he playing, anyway?”

  “I have no idea.” Miranda fished her phone out of the bag. “I’m going to go ask him. Wait here.”

  Without waiting for a response, she smiled at Julia and walked into the restaurant, heading straight for the bar. But Ollie was gone, along with his drink.

  The bartender looked up and smiled. “May I help you, miss?”

  The entire place was empty. Nobody was at the bar or tables. The bartender was the only sign of life.

  “There was a guy in here,” Miranda said, trying not to stutter over her words. “Like, a minute ago. Where did he go?”

  The bartender’s expression flickered between a knowing look and a desperate attempt to conceal what he knew. He was bald and the reddish-tinted light glowed against his skin. “He had to leave, miss.”

  She looked at the front entrance. There wasn’t any other way out of the restaurant that she could see. He had to be in the back or out on the veranda, which also looked empty. With a final sigh, she thanked the bartender and left. It was no use pushing her luck.

  2.

  Miranda hated sleeping in hotels. Who knew how many bodies had slept on those mattresses? Just. Gross. It didn’t matter if the bedding was washed. She was going to major in microbiology and already knew far too much about microscopic life to live in the same ignorant bliss as everyone else. She tried not to think about all the microorganisms on her mattress and sheets as she fell asleep that night. Julia snored softly beside her after a long gab session with Gavin out in the hallway where nobody could listen in. The rest of them had sat around watching television sitcoms after a heavy meal down at the buffet. Miranda kept obsessively checking her phone, hoping Ollie would send her another message, but nothing ever came through. Her dad had looked at her wide-eyed after he was told the story.

  “I have to say,” he laughed, “that’s the strangest story I’ve ever heard. I’m happy you’re okay, honey. Tomorrow you’ll need to report him, don’t you think?”

  She nodded, but didn’t mean it. She didn’t want to report him. Not yet. She couldn’t get his face out of her mind. It was a generic face, actually. Nothing particularly special about it except that it was perfectly balanced.

  Now, as she let her head sink into her pillow, she lifted her phone and stared at it in the darkness. Her dad had told her she shouldn’t have touched it. There were probably fingerprints on it, and the police might want them. Miranda rolled her eyes.

  Setting her phone on the nightstand, she closed her eyes and focused on the sound of the loud air conditioner at the other end of the room. It was so loud she almost didn’t hear her phone ding. It was a soft alert sound for instant messages. Her eyes flew open, and she picked up her phone. She had a new message. No way. Maybe today wasn’t the end of Ollie the Thief, after all. Despite her best efforts, a sigh of relief escaped her throat as she brought up the IM. It was from a restricted number. She didn’t even know it was possible to text from a restricted number.

  How are you doing?

  A moment later, another message came through.

  This is Ollie, by the way. You won’t be able to trace these texts to any number, so don’t think you or the police can try.

  Sliding farther under her blankets, microorganisms and all, she turned off the sound to her phone, hid the glow, and started typing.

  How am I doing? What kind of a question is that coming from someone like you?

  She waited and waited. Julia’s steady breathing put her at ease. There was no way anyone in her family would approve of her talking with this guy more than she already had.

  I’m not what you think, Miranda.

  She wasn’t sure she liked the tone of that, especially with him using her name. Just because she was fascinated with what he was doing and thought he was good-looking didn’t mean much of anything. She was curious, that was all. Right? Gritting her teeth, she started typing again.

  Then what are you, Ollie? You steal from people. That makes you a thief. I shouldn’t even be talking to you. My parents want me to report you tomorrow. Now that I’ve seen your face, it shouldn’t be too hard to give the police a decent description.

  She wondered what he would have to say to that.

  I might not want to deal directly with the police, but I can tell you right now that filing a report won’t make any difference to me.

  Why not?

  There was a long pause.

  Because my father won’t let me get arrested. That’s all I will say about it.

  She knotted her brow.

  Who is your dad?

  I’m not telling you that.

  Why are you talking to me?

  There was an even longer pause than before. She listened to her own breaths underneath the covers. She was starting to get sweaty, and she wasn’t sure if it was because of the temperature in the room or because she was having a conversation with someone she shouldn’t be talking to.

  You called me … you seem nice, not like most people I know. I don’t know why I’m talking to you. I’m sorry I stole your purse. I probably ruined your day, huh?

  She grunted quietly.

  Just a little, but thanks for returning my phone, at least. And thanks for the apology.

  No problem.

  Can I get those photos back next, please? If you give them to me I will forget any of this ever happened. Promise.

  Another long pause. She stared at his earlier messages, trying to imagine him typing those words with her in mind. What kind of a person was he? Was he like Luke and Ryder and Christian? They had all left her feeling so used and hollow, especially Christian. She had given him her heart completely—he was the first and only guy she had slept with so far. She had thought he was different, but in the end he had only used her for sex and to help him pass all of his tests so he could graduate with a 4.0 GPA. And here she was talking to another guy who was probably a bigger loser than Luke, Ryder, and Christian all put together.

  Another message came through.

  I’d like it if you didn’t forget any of this, actually.

  It was her turn to take a long time in answering. He had told her she was nice, not like most of the people he knew. As much as she hated to admit it, he seemed nice too—aside from his kleptomania.

  She stopped herself and rolled her eyes. Nice? What was wrong with her? Something. Something was terribly screwed up in her head.

  So what do you want to
happen? she typed. Because I’m confused.

  She wanted him to say something about the photos, because she couldn’t forget about that disappointed look on her mom’s face when she’d told her about them being stolen. She had said they were “just pictures,” but Miranda knew better. They were a lot more than pictures.

  I’d like you to find me again tomorrow, but come by yourself this time.

  She almost laughed out loud.

  Why? So you can lure me into a dark alley and rape me? I’m not that stupid.

  You think I’d do that? Come on.

  She wasn’t sure how to answer.

  She typed, Um, I don’t even know you.

  I promise it will be a public place. I will not hurt you.

  That was better.

  Okay, I’ll try. I’ll probably be with my family most of the day. I can’t promise anything.

  Are you going to tell them about this conversation?

  She stared at her phone and realized how on edge she was, how hard her heart was pounding, how much she was hanging on every single word.

  No, probably not.

  How come?

  That was a good question.

  I don’t know. This is all just really weird, you know?

  It’s a little strange for me too. Tell you what. You found me today. It’s my turn to find you.

  Yeah, that would keep her jumpy the entire day. She was about to type that she’d prefer to find him on her own timetable, but he texted first.

  See you tomorrow.

  She waited and waited, but he didn’t text anything else, and she wasn’t sure how to answer him.

  *

  The next day was the biggest day of the convention for Miranda’s dad. He left early in the morning, and the rest of them took their time rolling out of bed and getting ready for the day.

  “My feet still hurt from yesterday,” Julia complained as she laced up her tennis shoes. She was wearing a pair of very short shorts, and her brown legs made Miranda insanely jealous, even if they were pudgier than her legs. She had to tan for weeks to get that brown.

  “We’ll take the monorail as much as we can,” their mother answered. “I’m sorry you had to walk around so much yesterday. I didn’t expect you two to try to get all the pictures yesterday.”

  “That would’ve been nice to know before we walked all over Vegas, Mom,” Julia growled. “Too late now.”

  “Well, suck it up, because I have a few things I want to get in today. There are rides to ride and shopping to do.” She walked over to Julia and kissed the top of her head. “We’ll take lots of breaks, ’kay? Then we’ll come back to the hotel before dinner and we can relax down at the pool.”

  Miranda watched her mother closely, trying to see if she was upset about the pictures at all. Stupid Ollie. She hoped that if he did find her today, he would hand those over. She wasn’t going to leave Las Vegas without them. Unfortunately, she sensed he knew that about her, and that made her a little more than frustrated. Why had he talked to her last night? She got little flutters in her stomach whenever she thought about it.

  “Do you want to get a new purse today?” her mother asked as they headed out the door.

  Miranda shrugged. “Maybe.”

  Or maybe she’d be lucky enough to get her old one back.

  *

  Miranda spent the rest of the day with her stomach in knots. Everywhere she walked, she kept darting her eyes all around. There was no way Ollie could find her with no clues. He didn’t even know she would be on the Strip today. A part of her wanted to know how good he really was at this hide-and-seek game. Would he find her inside M&M’s World? The arcade? One of the dozens of shops their mother was dragging them into? Needless to say, Miranda was not in the mood to shop. After lunch, they wandered into a shopping area at The Venetian, and she fought the urge to whine. She was eighteen. She could humor her mother for a few more hours.

  “They have gondola rides here,” Gabriela said excitedly.

  They took the escalators to the second floor. There were shops everywhere, all made to look like they were in Venice, and a ceiling painted and lit to look like a soft summer sky dotted with clouds. The smell of food and cigarettes drifted through the air. As she had done all day, Miranda looked around for Ollie, but she knew there was no way she was going to find him—especially if she was with her family.

  “I think I’ll sit this one out,” she said as they neared the ticket booth in the main part of the center.

  Gabriela looked over at the canal where they started the boat rides. A few gondolas floated by, filled with people who looked a little bored. “You sure?” she asked Miranda. “This looks kind of fun.”

  Miranda waved her hand. “Give me the camera and I’ll take your picture so you don’t have to buy one of those overpriced ones they take.”

  “Oh, good idea.” Gabriela handed over the new camera she had purchased that morning—a simple point-and-shoot instead of something fancy.

  Miranda could tell Julia was having second thoughts about the ride, and gave her an evil glare she hoped would be interpreted as “Just let me be alone for a few freaking minutes.” Julia seemed to take the hint, and they went over to the ticket booth as Miranda started walking around to find a good spot for pictures. She crossed a bridge over the canal and walked around until she was on a little overpass overlooking the loading area for the rides.

  Finally. Alone. She snapped a few pictures of them waiting in line then pulled out her phone. There was a new message she had missed. Her heart started to beat faster. It was Ollie.

  Any hints for me today? It’s only fair since I gave you one yesterday. I don’t even know if you’re inside a building. Or on the Strip. Or what!

  She smiled. She shouldn’t be enjoying this. She shouldn’t, shouldn’t, shouldn’t. But she was. Thinking carefully, she typed one word.

  Canal.

  Was that too vague? She suspected if he knew Las Vegas as well as she guessed he did, he would know where she was right away. She was obviously a tourist, and he’d jump to the first touristy thing in Las Vegas that had to do with a canal.

  Luckily, the line was pretty long, and the rides lasted about fifteen minutes apiece. That gave her maybe half an hour depending on how long that line lasted. She typed another message.

  You’d better hurry because I won’t be alone much longer.

  He didn’t answer, and as the minutes ticked by, she grew more and more impatient. Las Vegas was big. Maybe he was so far away it would take him hours to reach her. Finally, after about twenty minutes, her mom and sister boarded a boat with a few other people. She snapped as many pictures as she could, and they were soon gone down the canal and out of sight.

  Well, it was now or never. Turning in circles, she desperately hoped he was somewhere. She’d settle for five minutes with him. One minute. Anything.

  There were people everywhere. Constant chatter and occasional laughter reverberated all around her. She took her hands off the railing in front of her, remembering that thousands of people had touched it before her. Sometimes she hated public places more than anything else. She couldn’t think too much about it.

  “Having fun?”

  She spun around and there he was, standing right in front of her. He was in a suit again, like yesterday, but today his sneakers were black instead of white. Still, they were sneakers. Surprisingly, though, they looked great with the outfit. Relaxed and comfortable. When she looked into his eyes, she swallowed a lump in her throat and took a few steps back. He had light-colored eyes, but it was difficult to tell what color they really were under the artificial lighting. A little blue and a little gray, maybe some green. There was a faint hint of scruff on his jaw, barely noticeable. He really was as good-looking as she remembered. His nose was big, but the longer she looked at him the more it suited him. She tamped down her rising emotions, remembering all the pain other good-looking guys had brought her.

  “You found me,” was all she could manage to force
out of her mouth.

  His lips curled into a smile. He kept his eyes on hers. “That was the easiest hint ever. Probably as easy as my Olives hint.”

  Just like we’re finding excuses to meet, she thought to herself. Her mouth was getting drier by the second.

  “So?” she said, gaining a little courage. “Where’s my prize?”

  “Your prize?” he laughed. “Didn’t I find you?”

  She looked at his tie. It was a pretty yellow color checkered with thin brown lines. It reminded her of sunflowers. “I thought the whole point of this was to get my stuff back,” she said boldly, and held out an open hand, waiting.

  His smile stayed put as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out her small wallet. He placed it gently into her hand, and she tried not to think too much about how warm his skin was as it slid against hers. She noticed some thick, raised scars along his knuckles.

  “Thought that was pretty valuable,” he said. “You might want it back.”

  She opened it up. The money was still there. Her debit card, her and Julia’s monorail passes, her driver’s license. He hadn’t taken a thing. She looked up. “I don’t understand. I really just don’t get any of this.”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” he asked, stepping closer. His feet were close to hers now, and she fought the urge to step back once more. “I like to play games, and you’re fun to play them with.”

  “Is that why you stole my purse? To play a game?”

  His smile fell and he shook his head. “No, that’s not why I took your purse. That had nothing to do with who you are, but this … whatever it is we’re doing … it has everything to do with you.”

  She didn’t know what to make of that, but his words and the sincerity and sadness in his voice made her breath catch in her throat. She looked down at the canal, expecting her family to show up at any second. She looked back at Ollie. He had his hands in his pockets now.

  “You’re keeping my purse so we can keep this up, aren’t you?” she asked. “You’re going to hold on to those pictures for a long time.”