by Lex Martin
“We can’t use this card.” His voice stiffens. “Did you have another we can try?”
“Uh, yes.” I reach into my wallet and hand him my debit card. “Here you go. I know that one is fine. I’ll have to call about the other one to figure it out.”
My words trail off when his brows bunch into a frown, and he glances at me suspiciously. “This one doesn’t work either.”
“That can’t be right because I . . .”
Both of those cards, though in my possession and I’ve used them a hundred times, are technically in Caleb’s name. Caleb’s accounts. He may not be on my tail with high-beam lights, but he’s chasing me nonetheless.
I extend my hand, requesting the card back. He reluctantly gives it to me like I might be running some elaborate fraud operation.
“It’s a misunderstanding,” I assure him. “You take cash?”
He nods, but still looks doubtful. I flip through the compartments of my wallet, searching for cash.
Dammit. Nachos and parking at the game took most of my cash. I only spy a solitary ten-dollar bill.
I don’t have enough money for a room, and I don’t have enough gas to make it all the way to Mama’s house in Atlanta or to Lotus’s place in New York. If we were speaking, which we aren’t. I don’t even know her new address there.
I can’t just stand here while the attendant decides if he should call the cops or kick me out. I avoid his eyes, shift Sarai in my arms and walk back out to the car. My purse, overnight bag, and Sarai’s diaper bag weigh me down, but not nearly as much as the reality of my situation. Caleb shut down my cards. Knowing I’m out with his daughter in the middle of the night, he shut down my cards. Maybe I should have waited until the morning, but getting away from him was urgent. Something in his eyes told me to escape while I could.
I’m driving somewhat aimlessly, unsure where to go and what I can afford to do, when flashing blue lights and the “blip” of a police siren grab my attention. For a moment, I wonder who they’re pursuing, but I’m the only one on the road.
Dammit. Those blue lights are for me. Fuck my life. Could this night get worse?
With my heart hammering, I pull off to the shoulder. I was distracted, so maybe I was speeding. I roll down my window, already wearing the practiced self-deprecating smile reserved for traffic stops.
“Officer, I’m sorry if I—”
“Out of the car, ma’am.” His clipped words take me aback.
“What . . . was I speeding? A busted taillight? What’s going on?”
I’m still trying to process everything when two more police cars pull in, lights flashing and cops climbing out cautiously as if this is America’s Most Wanted.
“This vehicle and license plate match the description of a car reported stolen.” The officer glances in the back seat. “And reported in a child abduction.”
“Abduction?” The word blasts from my mouth like a rocket. Anger clenches my hands into tight balls. “What the hell is going on? My daughter is safe, sleeping in the back seat.”
“Ma’am, please step out of the vehicle with your hands raised.”
I gape at him for a few more seconds, not even sure if this is legal. Not even sure if I should get out of my car on a dark, deserted road at night. Shaking myself from the stupor, I reach over to the glove compartment.
“Ma’am,” he snaps, eyes sliding to my arm reached across the passenger seat.
“I’m just getting license and registration,” I assure him. I hand over the paperwork, watching as he shines his flashlight on the documents.
“Registration says Caleb Bradley.” He taps the door. “Step out of the vehicle, please.”
This is a nightmare. The other two officers approach, one of them speaking into the intercom on his shoulder. On rubbery legs, I climb out of the SUV, stepping to the ground with my hands raised.
“There has been a terrible misunderstanding.” I will my voice to stop shaking. Fear coats my throat. I’m on a dark road with three men. Cops, yes, but men nonetheless. “Like I said, it’s my daughter in the back seat, and this is my car.”
“But the registration—”
“Caleb Bradly is my boyfriend,” I say hurriedly. “He gave me this car months ago. The baby is our daughter. There are a dozen ways to verify what I’m saying.”
“Ma’am, in cases of suspected child abduction,” one of the other officers says, “we have to protect the child. I’m afraid we’ll need to take you into custody.”
“The hell you will!” I step back, my calves bumping up against the car’s running board. “My daughter—”
“We’ve already contacted her father,” the officer says. “He’s on his way.”
“On his way?” I snarl. “He can be on his way, but he’s not taking my daughter anywhere.”
The cop turns me, and my body flattens to the car as he slips cuffs on my wrists. The click of the cuffs sets off panic in me.
Where will they take Sarai? What’s about to happen to her?
I strain against the iron circlets, twisting my shoulders and kicking my feet back.
“Ouch.” The officer curses under his breath. “Look, lady, you’re this close to adding resisting arrest and assaulting an officer to the grand theft and abduction.”
“I haven’t done anything.” My voice quakes, and tears leak over my cheeks. “Oh my God. You have to listen to me. She’s my baby. I haven’t taken her! She’s mine. Please don’t take her. Please just listen to me.”
Sobs shake my shoulders. Frustration, anger, and fear light a match to my blood and speed my heart. I rest my forehead against the cold metal of the expensive car that I never even thought about leaving behind. The credit cards, the car, the money—each thing he’s given me is simply a bar in my cell, imprisoning me.
Another car door slams, and I jerk my head around. In the darkness, Caleb’s broad shoulders cut through the small circle of men surrounding me.
“Where’s Sarai?” he demands, his voice, his face panicked. “Did she hurt her?”
A growl rumbles in my belly and springs from my throat. I hurl myself at him, even with my arms cuffed behind me.
“You bastard!” Hands trapped behind my back, I head-butt his chest and kick his shins. “What did you do?”
My raised voice bounces off the night sky, echoing around us like a screech in the jungle.
“You see what I mean?” he asks the officer closest to him. “She’s been like this for weeks, ever since she stopped taking the medication the doctor prescribed.”
“Motherfucker!” The word scratches its way out of my chest and scrambles over my lips.
“You don’t believe me?” he asks the officer. “This is my car she’s driving. I’m just going to reach inside for something that will prove what I say is true.”
He steps away for a moment but returns with my purse. My heart stills in my chest when he holds up a bottle of tiny pills.
“See?” He holds them out to one of the officers. “Her name’s right there. Ever since she stopped taking these pills, she—”
“I’m gonna kill you!” The words blast from me with propulsive force. “You lying son of a bitch.” I lunge forward again, but the cop catches me before I can ram Caleb.
“I promise you, officers,” Caleb drawls, “she’s not always like this. When she takes her meds, she’s a different woman, but you can see why I was concerned when she left with my daughter. She’s in an unstable state, and I feared for our baby’s safety.”
“Her safety?” A sob-laugh hefts from my chest. “He hit me!” I look up over my shoulder, pleading with the officer closest to me. “You have to believe me,” I rasp. “I left because he hit me.”
“Oh, I hit you?” Caleb cuts in. “Where? I don’t see a scratch on you.”
My lips, still aching from his blow, tremble. “He hit me in the mouth,” I tell the officer, my voice desperate. “Please don’t let him take my baby. Oh, God. Please listen. I’m begging you.”
A wail cuts through the air.
“Sarai.” My glance darts between the officers. “She’s hungry. I need to feed her.”
Four sets of eyes drop to my breasts, straining against my T-shirt. I hate every creature walking this earth with a dick.
Caleb opens the back door and reaches in to coo over my baby girl.
“No.” My head hangs, and salty tears burn the imperceptible cuts on my mouth. “Don’t let him have her. Oh, God. Please, no.”
“It’s okay. Daddy’s here.” Caleb says, bouncing Sarai in the cradle of his arms, his eyes tender.
"Officers, do you know who I am?” Caleb asks, his winning smile flashing white.
The three officers exchange looks before nodding.
This cannot be happening.
Defeat slumps my shoulders, and I go slack in the officer’s arms.
“Caleb Bradley,” one of them speaks up. “Sorry about the game tonight, man. Tough loss.”
“Hey, you win some, you lose some.” Caleb shrugs. “Then you know it’s my rookie season. I really wanna get us in the playoffs.”
“We barely missed ’em last year,” one officer says, scowling. “I was so glad when we drafted you.”
“It’s been a good season so far.” Caleb bends to kiss Sarai’s nose, glancing up when my maternal growl rumbles in the quiet. “But it’s been hard on me and my fiancée.”
“I’m not your fiancée,” I spit. “I’ll never wear your ring, Caleb.”
His eyes narrow at me, and the rage he’s kept carefully checked slips its chain for a second. It bares its teeth, and I know if he gets his hands on me, I’ll suffer more than a slap across my mouth.
“Like I was saying, it’s been hard on us,” Caleb continues, a modicum of civility. “New baby. Rookie season. It’s been a strain, and I think my fiancée just had a bad night.” He suspends that statement in the tight circle of us and the cops, taking the time to look each of them in the eye. “But I think she and I can work it out at home.”
His hard eyes penetrate mine. “Or you can take her in, and the baby can go home with me.”
“No.” I choke on my tears. I can’t take my eyes off Sarai, whose little mouth is rooting, searching for my breast. She whines, her arms shooting up from the swaddling. Caleb catches her fingers, folding them into his mouth.
“You hungry, baby?” he asks, his voice gentle, yet still managing to grate on my nerves. “Let’s get you out of here so Mommy can feed you.”
“You sure, Mr. Bradley?” the first officer asks. “If we need to—”
“He’s right,” I interrupt, my hands burning with the need to snatch my daughter away from him, no matter what it takes or costs. “It’s been a bad night. I didn’t . . .” I swallow my pride to clear room for the lie. “I forgot to take my medication, like he said.”
Caleb smiles at me indulgently.
“You see, officers,” he says. “All a misunderstanding.”
“Well, with something like an abduction accusation,” the first officer says, discomfort creeping into his voice and expression even as he uncuffs me, “we still have to document the incident.”
“Of course, document it.” Caleb’s stare mocks and warns me. “I understand, but we won’t be having this kind of trouble again, will we, babe?”
I rub my wrists, crossing to Caleb immediately. I reach for Sarai, but he doesn’t let her go. We hold each other’s stare, a silent war of wills I’ll have to wait for the right time to win.
Caleb finally releases Sarai. I clutch her to me, breathing in her sweet baby smell, burying my nose in her hair to hide my tears.
“I’ll drive.” Caleb opens the driver’s side door.
“But what about your car?” I ask.
“Oh, he’ll drive it home.” Caleb nods toward his Ferrari a few feet away.
Ramone steps out of the car, circling around to the driver’s side. Even in the darkness, his cold stare penetrates my clothes and leaves my skin clammy.
“Our bodyguard was the one who actually first noted Iris’s erratic behavior at the game tonight,” Caleb tells the officers, but his eyes are set on me. He’s making sure I understand that Ramone is his ally in this ruse. “He was concerned days ago but wasn’t sure he should say anything. He actually called social services.”
I freeze in the process of buckling Sarai into her car seat, glancing over my shoulder to catch Caleb’s stare.
“Of course, I’ve told him not to interfere that way again.” Caleb’s voice is chiding. “He thought he was doing what was best for Sarai, but it’ll leave my fiancée some explaining to do.”
This worsens by the second. Every lie Caleb has told is a straightjacket, hampering me, making me look like a madwoman.
How will I get out of this?
I climb into the car, watching through the windshield as the officers get Caleb to autograph their citation pads.
Once the cops are gone, Ramone and Caleb stand outside talking. Probably plotting how to best hold me hostage in that house while Caleb is on the road. I knew I felt a shift between us, but I had no idea how my life would be turned upside down.
In the midst of tonight’s soap opera, the mundane intrudes. My breasts hurt so bad, tight with milk because I missed a feeding. Sarai stares up at me—hungry, alert, impatient. She pats my breast, a sure signal that I have about two seconds before she starts wailing.
I take her in, her face a tiny replica of mine: demanding and defenseless. My whole world swaddled in a blanket. She’s happily suckling, and those feelings of resentment and confusion I had for her, for motherhood, in the beginning are completely foreign now. I barely remember my world when she wasn’t the axis. The soft weight of her in my arms once felt like a burden. Now, she feels like a privilege I don’t deserve. I’m willing to ride through hell on gasoline wheels for this little girl.
I look up and see the devil.
Caleb stands at the hood of the car, the stony lines of his face illuminated by the headlights, his eyes screaming obscenities. My stomach roils. This monster has been inside of me.
He opens the driver’s side door, and in the car’s interior light, his hair and golden skin appear almost angelic, but his eyes are demonic. His stare grows hungry and possessive as he watches me feed Sarai. My mind must like to torture me because it flashes back to the All-Star Game when I fed her while talking to August. Maybe in some parallel universe, I’m still in that room, soaking up his kindness and feeling sexy under the want of his stare.
I glance at Caleb’s implacable profile, the cruel promise of his mouth and the tightening of his hands on the wheel, like he wishes it was my neck. We don’t speak a word, but this won’t go unpunished.
Iris
“It’s not here,” I mumble to the empty bedroom. I rifle through the random items in my bedside drawer, none of which are my journal. I was completely, embarrassingly transparent in that journal regarding my conflicted feelings about motherhood—the resentment of my pregnancy. So many dark, lonely days I turned to the blank pages to pour out my emotions.
And it’s not here.
Did Caleb take my journal? I know how damning the turbulence of that season looks on paper. I’m ashamed to read it alone, much less have it exposed to someone else’s judgment. In Caleb’s hands, my most vulnerable moments are another weapon in his arsenal.
“Looking for something?” Caleb asks from the door.
I don’t answer, but face him, coaxing the drawer closed with my knee. I watch him and wait.
“You shouldn’t have done that, Iris.” His voice sends shivers over my nerve endings. “You shouldn’t have tried to leave me.”
“You left me no choice,” I sit on the edge of the bed, relieved to have Sarai fed and asleep while I deal with this—while I focus on how to untangle all these lies so I can get us away from him. “I told you what would happen if you hit me.”
“I hit you because you insulted me.” He tilts his head, coming to stand directly in front of me. “A dirty
play, huh? You seem to have a soft spot for my old buddy August.”
I don’t respond, but wait for him to continue.
“I saw you looking at him,” he whispers, chips of ice in his eyes. “And I saw him looking at you.”
“No, you must have imagined it.” I drop my glance to the hands folded in my lap. “I barely know him really, Caleb.”
“You don’t have to know him to want to fuck him, though, do you?”
My head snaps up. The rage prowling in his eyes is on a flimsy leash.
“But you don’t get to fuck him,” Caleb hisses. He jerks me close, palming the back of my head. He presses our noses and foreheads together, his breath fanning over my lips. “You only get to fuck me.”
He reaches into his pocket and draws out a small silver pistol. I’ve never seen this side of him, and I’ve never seen this gun. I’ve been oblivious. It may cost my life.
He brings the gun to my temple. Fear is the calamity of my heartbeat behind my ribs. It’s chaos in my veins, roaring in my ears and rushing to my head. Fear is a signal fire that puts my body on notice.
He uses the gun to tuck hair behind my ear. “I want you out of those clothes.”
“God, Caleb, please no,” I whisper. “Not like this.”
“You think you have options? Choices?” His vicious laughter rumbles from his chest. “You and that pathetic journal have made all of this too easy.”
“Where is it? I want my journal.”
“And I wanted you out of those clothes twenty seconds ago.” He nods to the jeans and T-shirt I wore to tonight’s game. “That journal is just another page of my insurance policy with you. I said, clothes off.”
With trembling fingers, I tug the shirt over my head, tossing it to the floor. I lift my legs just enough to slide my jeans down. My toes curl into the rug covering the hardwood floor.
“The underwear, too,” he says, his voice dipping to a pant. A pulse ticks in his jaw. He’s seen me without clothes more times than I can count, but when the bra falls away and the panties hit the floor, I’m violated by the stare of a stranger.
“Lie back,” he rasps, his hooded glare lacerating my nakedness.