“I’ve been thinking about leaving for a while. Tom knows, so it won’t come as a surprise. It’s one of the reasons he pushed for me to take on this mentorship back home. Here.”
“He thinks you should come home?”
Ali blinked at the word but didn’t comment. “He thinks I need to reevaluate where I want to be.”
“Where do you want to be?”
“I don’t know,” Ali said.
Jordan knew Ali was uncomfortable saying that. She waited for her to follow it up with a declarative statement that she was going to find out, investigate, uncover, or demand an answer from the world. That was how Ali Clarke lived her life, but even the sunrise couldn’t provide an answer.
Ali sighed and pulled the bottom of her pyjama pants over her bare toes. Jordan hesitated before leaning back and reaching for a small bag beside the couch. She pulled out a pair of fuzzy blue socks with green polka dots and presented them to Ali.
“Ahh!” Ali squealed, a delighted sound that made Jordan laugh. “I used to love those socks,” she said, grabbing them and pulling off the tag before slipping them over her feet. They clashed horrendously with Ali’s pyjama pants but Ali wiggled her toes, her expression one of bliss. Jordan’s heart swelled. She’d helped Ali feel better. Ali looked up at Jordan. “You’re the best. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Jordan didn’t know where to look. Ali was all kinds of adorable, staring down at her feet. Jordan wanted to put her feet on her lap like they used to. Sprawl on the couch together, legs entwined, hands resting on thighs or held possessively against a stomach. Joined and connected. But Jordan had already drawn the line.
Jordan grabbed their empty plates and stood up. “You can check out Netflix if you want to watch a movie.”
“Should we stay with the nostalgia theme we seem to have going?” Ali called out as Jordan cleaned up the dishes in the kitchen.
“Sure. I flagged a few in My List, see what looks good.”
Jordan portioned out the rest of the leftovers, thinking she’d give some to Madi next time she saw her. She put the rest of the dishes in the sink to soak.
“Ten Things I Hate about You!” Ali called excitedly as Jordan joined her back in the living room. “I had such a crush on Julia Stiles.”
“I remember. I was only a little jealous.”
“Bullshit,” Ali said without taking her eyes from the screen. “You said you’d fight her for me.”
“And you punched me and told me stop acting like a patriarchal asshole.”
Ali grinned and looked back to the list of movies scrolling past. “Ooh, I found it. Tomb Raider. I wanted to be Lara Croft, you wanted to date Lara Croft.” Jordan laughed as Ali selected the movie and dropped the remote back on the table. Then she curled herself back on the couch as the opening scene rolled.
They watched in easy, warm silence. Jordan had forgotten how absorbed Ali would get in a movie. They couldn’t talk because movie watching was serious business. After a few minutes, Ali stretched out, leaning back against the armrest of the couch. Jordan gave up on boundaries as she lifted Ali’s feet onto her lap. Ali sighed, settled herself more comfortably, and grew still again.
Jordan watched the movie and tried to hold still. She held Ali’s feet trapped against her thighs, but she wanted to explore. She did, in her mind. She inched her fingers under the hem of Ali’s pyjama pants, tracing lines against the smooth skin above Ali’s ankle. Following the hard line of her femur, she dropped down to spread the span of her hand over Ali’s calf, sweeping her thumb over the muscle once and then twice. She explored the hollow at the back of Ali’s knee, maybe inciting a shiver from Ali as her skin warmed under Jordan’s touch.
With no warning, the lights and TV in Jordan’s apartment died. The sound of a distant but distinct clang through the wall she shared with the gym made Jordan’s pulse spike. The only way the power could be shut off was manually, from inside the gym.
“What the hell?” Ali said as she pulled away from Jordan and sat up.
“Shh,” Jordan said quietly. She reached for her phone but didn’t attempt to wake it up and provide any light. She was listening intently, trying to hear any other sounds of a threat. The lights outside on the street meant this wasn’t a grid issue. She tried to remember if she’d locked the door when Ali came in.
“Jordan?”
Ali had reached for her phone as well, but Jordan grabbed her hand and held it, shaking her head silently. She was about to whisper an explanation when crashing and loud thumps on the other side of the wall made them both duck and flinch. Fear and anger clawed their way up Jordan’s chest into her throat. Someone was in the office, on the other side of the concrete wall. Jordan blindly accessed the emergency dial on her phone.
“911 dispatch, what is your emergency.”
“Someone has broken into my place. They’re still here. I need the police.”
Jordan tugged Ali to the far wall. She felt trapped in the dark, unsure where the danger was coming from or what was going to happen next.
“Ma’am, I’m going to need your address.”
Jordan whispered it and gave a brief description of the layout of the building with the gym and her apartment. Ali left her side and reached for the door. Jordan wanted to snatch her back. She was afraid someone was waiting on the other side of the door, on the stairs. But Ali was just checking the lock. She met Jordan’s eyes in the faint glow of the streetlight and nodded. Then she slowly pulled back the dark curtain covering the window to try and peek out.
A crash broke the silence, as broken glass and a rock the size of Jordan’s fist flew through the air. Ali launched herself back and away from the window with a yell.
“Ali!” Jordan dropped the phone and leapt between the broken window and Ali. She heard the sound of banging on the metal stairs outside, and a distant, angry yell. The voice sounded high and feminine. Jordan concentrated on the intensity of the sound, and her fear spiked until she realized the steps were going down, not up.
“I’m okay. I’m okay,” Ali said as Jordan dragged her around the counter in the kitchen and tugged her down on the floor.
They squeezed into the space between the counter and fridge as Jordan strained to hear any more sounds, her whole body taut and ready to run or fight. But the apartment was quiet, no more clanging on the stairs, no sounds from the gym. The curtains swayed gently in the small breeze as wind quietly whistled through the hole in the window. Quiet. Stillness. Jordan wanted so badly to breathe. Wanted so badly to actually turn and look at Ali beside her.
“Anything?” Ali whispered.
Jordan shook her head. She wished Ali was anywhere but here. That Ali had never come home. That she’d had never invited Ali in, shown her her life, cooked her a meal. Touched her. Wanted her. Loved her.
“You okay?” Another whisper as Ali edged a little closer. Jordan could feel Ali’s warmth along her whole side. She closed her eyes and nodded.
A slice of light arced around the edges of the curtain just as Jordan heard the sound of car tires and the faint protest of brakes.
“That might be the police,” Jordan said. She crouched and kept her head low as she edged around the counter. Her phone was still by the front door, its face now dark. She heard the slow, steady tread of boots on the stairs, and then more powerful lights swept up and around. Low murmurings accompanied the steady progress up the stairs and now Jordan was sure it was the police. A knock sounded on the door.
“Police. We got a 911 call.”
Jordan finally glanced back at Ali. She was crouched by the wall, her face pale. Small pieces of glass glistened in her hair. She looked fierce and determined and ready to fight. Jordan swallowed a wave of nausea and fought back self-hatred. There would be time for that later.
Jordan stood and walked the long way to the front door, avoiding the glass on the floor. She quickly looked through the far window, just enough to see the bulk of a police jacket before unlocking the door.
She opened it a crack, ready to body slam it shut again.
“Jordan? It’s Constable Frederickson. I’ve got Constable Alfie with me as well. Looks like you’ve had a little excitement.”
Relief swamped Jordan’s system at the sound of the familiar voice. She opened the door all the way, then pressed her hands together in an effort to stop them from shaking.
“We did a quick circuit of the building, and we’re not seeing anything.” He leaned back and looked at the window. “Except this, of course. Anyone hurt?”
“No, no one was hurt.”
“How many of you are in the residence?”
“Two,” Jordan said. She could see Ali picking her way through the living room.
A distant thump on the other side of the wall made them both freeze. Jordan locked eyes with Ali.
“Sorry, folks. We’ve got another patrol unit going through the gym. Shoulda told you that right off.”
Jordan breathed again. Ali silently continued her way to Jordan’s side. She picked up Jordan’s boots and handed them to her before putting on Jordan’s runners. Jordan followed the silent prompt and stole a quick look at Ali’s face. Composed and calm. A little off balance but totally in control.
“A few more questions,” Frederickson said. “Should anyone be in the gym this time of night? No late-night workouts or classes?”
“No.”
“Who has keys to the main doors?”
“Me and my gym manager, Sean Murphy. A friend has a backup set.”
Constable Alfie looked interested and pulled out a notebook.
“We’ll need the contact information for your gym manager. And the name of that friend.”
“My friend’s name is Constable Rachel Shreve,” Jordan said as she scrolled through her phone to find Sean’s details.
Alfie snorted quietly and Frederickson laughed. “Looks like we’ve got our suspect.”
Jordan tried to smile, she really did.
The short-wave radio attached to Alfie’s shoulder crackled to life. They all listened as the second unit gave the all-clear for the gym. No suspects, no signs of life.
“Looks like it’s safe. I’m going to leave Alfie here to take some pictures of the apartment and the window. We’ll get a statement from…”
Constable Frederickson paused, eyebrows raised.
“Alison Clarke,” Ali said, reaching out to shake Frederickson’s hand.
“Clarke. You related to Edwin Clarke, by any chance?”
Ali smiled. “Edwin Senior was my grandfather. Edwin Junior’s my father’s youngest brother.”
“Ah, well then.” Frederickson seemed pleased at having made a connection. “Haven’t heard from any of the Clarkes since they moved down the coast. Used to be real involved in the annual fundraisers.”
“Yes, sir, they were.”
Jordan watched with surreal detachment as Ali confidently navigated her way through yet another situation. Her ease should have been a balm to Jordan’s anxiety, but it made her feel incompetent by contrast.
“Okay, then,” Frederickson said and clapped his hands together. Jordan gave a small start. “Jordan, you come with me down to the gym, and we’ll see if there’s any damage or lost property.”
Jordan glanced at Ali, who answered her silent question with a nod, then she grabbed a jacket off the hook behind the door and put it on as she followed Constable Frederickson to the gym.
Two officers were shining flashlights on a side door that led to a storage area.
“We’ve got signs of forced entry here, Chief,” one of the younger officers said to Frederickson.
Jordan stepped closer and peered at the gouges in the wood around the door handle and lock.
“This is the only wooden door on the place,” Jordan said. “The rest are steel. I haven’t gotten around to replacing it yet.”
“Now’s looking like a good time,” Frederickson said easily. “You two find anything inside?”
Both officers shook their heads.
“Nothing looks disturbed on first inspection.”
“Let’s have the owner go through.”
Jordan followed the officers inside her own gym, feeling an odd sense of disconnection. The air was cold and stale. Jordan took a moment and breathed it in. She felt disoriented, catapulted backwards in time. She was standing outside the gym in the winter, her coat too big and too thin. A toque was down over her ears and her hoodie pulled up. She jumped up and down in the pre-dawn light, snow and icy slush crunching and squishing under her frozen feet. The coldest of cold times. Steven gone, her father drunk, her mother not able to get off the couch, and Jake wrapped up with his own family. All Jordan wanted was to get into the gym and punch the hanging bag until her muscles warmed and skin poured sweat. Even if her heart never thawed.
“Jordan?”
Jordan blinked in the dark, but nothing became clearer.
“I’m here.”
But she wasn’t, not really. Jordan followed the officers through each room in the gym. Nothing seemed disturbed. All that stood out to Jordan was that the main power switch to the whole building had been tripped, and the door to the office was unlocked. Nothing was missing from the office as far as she could see, but she did notice scuff marks on the concrete wall where it had been kicked.
“Looks like someone wanted to scare you,” Constable Alfie said as Jordan, Ali, and all the officers met outside the gym ten minutes later.
Jordan was coming to the same conclusion as the young officer. She was carefully not thinking about who had keys to the office. Anyone could have picked that lock easily. It meant nothing.
“Is this linked to the protest group?” Ali asked the officers. She looked cold in just her hoodie, arms wrapped around her body.
“Hard to say,” Frederickson answered. He scratched at the scruff on his face. “That Unharm group has been pretty loud about laying claim to their antics. They’ve got that sun symbol attached to everything.”
“True,” Alfie said. “And we’ve found no evidence of it here.”
Jordan stayed silent, wishing suddenly that she was alone. The calm, casual banter of the officers had made her feel secure in the absence of danger, but she still wanted everyone gone.
“Got somewhere you can stay tonight?” Frederickson said to Jordan.
“What? Oh, no. I’m fine.”
The officers were all looking at her. So was Ali. The silence was awkward. Jordan stood up a little taller.
“Thanks for taking the time, guys. Really. I’ve got this handled.”
The officers shuffled their feet and waited for the senior officer to close the call. Frederickson, for all his bumbling hometown bluster, was a shrewd man and a careful officer.
“Okay then, young lady. You know where to find us.”
“I do. Thanks again.”
The officers walked back to their cruisers, ambling in the way of men content with a job completed.
Jordan and Ali stood alone in the halo of the outdoor security light outside the gym. Jordan shivered with a combination of cold and unease. She started walking back to the apartment and Ali followed.
“You can grab your stuff, I’ll take you back to your hotel.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll help you clean up the glass. I hope you’ve got a vacuum.”
“No, really. Don’t worry about it.” Jordan was nearly panicked, wanting Ali out of here. Spending the next hour alone in the cold of her apartment as she picked shards of glass seemed like the perfect punishment. For what exactly, she wasn’t sure.
Ali said nothing and Jordan was relieved. And the smallest bit disappointed. They took the stairs back up to the apartment, and Jordan picked up Ali’s bag from behind the couch. Ali stood surveying the window and the glass on the floor. She pushed back the curtains to reveal the jagged edges of the hole, not much bigger than the rock that had broken through.
“Have you got some plastic and tape to cover this up until tomorrow?” Ali looked over her shoul
der at Jordan. “Maybe even Monday? It doesn’t make sense to have someone come out tonight.”
Jordan stood in silence, Ali’s bag still in her hand. Ali’s voice was all calm sureness. Jordan knew from the set of her shoulders and the tightness of her eyes that Ali was digging in for a fight. Jordan had never won against Ali’s stubbornness. Not once. Instead, she’d run away. The impulse to do the exact same thing in this moment was so strong, Jordan felt the muscles in her legs twitch.
“Stop being an ass,” Ali said, keeping her eyes on Jordan. “Whatever monologue you’ve got going on in your head about how I’d be better off somewhere else or with someone else is just going to piss me off.”
Jordan blinked. “I’m not sure I like you,” Jordan said.
Ali laughed. “You do.”
They worked into the night together with an easiness Jordan didn’t have the strength to question. They carefully picked up the biggest pieces of glass and dropped them into an old shoebox. Ali vacuumed up the smaller shards in the carpet and around the windowsill while Jordan cut layers of thick plastic bags to cover the hole. They taped it together, carefully pressing the duct tape over the splintered and fractured edges of the glass before they stepped back and surveyed the results, congratulating themselves on the final product and the low injury count. They only needed one bandage for a small slice to Jordan’s finger.
“Now will you let me take you home?”
Ali looked less certain than she had before. She glanced at the couch where they’d been sitting hours before, curled and quiet and happy.
“I’d like to stay,” she said quietly. “I’d like to finish the movie and fall asleep on the couch and complain about the crick in my neck in the morning while you make me coffee before we walk down to the bakery for cinnamon buns.”
Jordan could not have prevented her smile if she’d tried. As they settled back on the couch, Ali’s feet nestled in Jordan’s lap, Jordan acknowledged to herself that, at least for tonight, she was done trying.
Shadowboxer Page 16