Goodbye, Good Girl

by Renee Blossom

  “Two hundred five feet. Hi back. I saw you wave.”

  “That’s wild,” Kandace said, sucking air. “Don’t tell me little nuggets like that, okay? I’m passing the accident.”

  Kandace focused on her footing. She checked her watch out of habit. She’d been running close to three minutes. When she turned toward the accident, three smashed cars, a flock of police cars and lights, fire engines, ambulances tightly knit together. Uniforms everywhere. Medical personnel strapping down two people on gurneys. And there was Clayton. Motorcycle. Idle. Engine revving—that low guttural rumble—distinguishable against all the surrounding engine noises.

  Will he recognize me? What will he do if he does?

  “Talk to me,” Kandace said, keeping pace as the bridge descended. “There he is. Shit. What if he sees me?”

  “Keep running and don’t look back. He won’t assume that’s you in a million years.”

  “What… if…”

  “Run, Santellan. Watch the ocean or something. Away from him. Don’t let him see your face.”

  Kandace glanced to the right and saw he was very close. Maybe ten feet. Five feet. He was in the lane closest to the edge. If he saw her coming and extended his arm, he could touch her. Grab her. Then what could she do?

  She forced herself to pay attention to the rail, the sea, the city in the distance. She held her breath, sensing she was running right past him.

  If he grabs me, what do I do?

  One foot. After the other. Breathe.

  She got past him and she wanted to look back—just a glance to her right, to see if he was paying attention. Could he figure out who I am? He had to notice a girl in a white and black floral dress, running on a bridge.

  What if he saw her in his rearview mirror and… already knew.

  He’d have stopped me.

  “Markus. Talk to me.”

  “What about?” Markus said.

  “Anything. I can’t keep… thinking. I’m gonna lose it. And I need… directions.”

  “Stay on Ocean Blvd.”

  Keep going. Almost one mile down, two to go.“Is there a sidewalk after the bridge? I don’t want… to run between… cars on a highway!”

  “Suck it up, buttercup. You’ve got a mile or so of this, then you’ll be in Long Beach. Don’t worry, traffic is a gridlock until you leave downtown.” He whistled. “They got some sweet fishing cruises out there.”

  “What kind of fish?” Kandace asked to keep herself from worrying about an opening car door she’d have to dodge to avoid collision.

  “You want to talk about fishing?”

  “Why not?”

  “You’ve never wanted to before.”

  “Never been… running on a highway!”

  “Okay, okay. There’s Yellowfin. Bluefin tuna. Bass. Kelp. I wanna go with your dad to Catalina Island and catch a marlin. That would be sweet. Or a barracuda. And the island looks amazing online.”

  “When?”

  “As soon as you get to the house, you can tell him my plans.”

  “What if… he can’t.”

  “No way. He’ll go fishing with his only son.”

  “Not funny. What… about… me?”

  “Your dad and I will fish while you and your friend can sun tan.”

  “I need water,” Kandace said, panting.

  “I can tell. You’re closing in on two miles from your starting point. Haul ass, Santellan. You don’t have long until he’s moving again.”

  “I’m still… passing parked cars! How… can anyone behind me move?”

  “He’s on a motorcycle!”

  “I need more… time. Need water,” Kandace said. She had to focus on pacing herself. She knew she had one mile ahead. “I’ve gotta cross another bridge?”

  “Yeah, that takes you downtown.”

  “Awesome.” Kandace reached the bridge as drivers were hitting their horns, startling her. “How long… has traffic been… sitting?”

  “No idea. Why?”

  “Motivation. Man. Any update… on my dad?”

  “Nada.”

  On entering the city, active foot traffic created a new set of challenges—Kandace had to dodge people, strollers, kids and a lady poorly attempting to walk seven dogs at once. Kandace hurdled a Yorkie, thankful for its leash. She thought about the pill bottle in her purse which she’d stowed away from the club—just one would have helped, but it was too late now. She’d need a half hour for its affects to kick in.

  Kandace spotted a coffee shop and resisted the urge for a water she desperately wanted. She jogged among tall hotels, resorts and apartment buildings. “This is Long Beach?”

  “Downtown. Yeah.”

  “Where is April?”

  “I don’t have her location yet. What’s her last name?” Markus asked.

  Should I tell you that? “Uh… Ryals. It’s actually Deidra Ryals.”

  “Deidra Ryals? Where does she live?”

  “St. Louis.”

  Computer keys clacking. “There’s twenty-eight of them. Is she married?”

  “Hell no.”

  “Okay, that’s narrowed down to twelve. She own a car?”

  “Yes. Audi.”

  “Okay, nice. That’s two potentials left. She own a house?”

  “No.”

  “Bingo. Give me a minute.”

  “You’re sick,” Kandace said.

  Computer keys clacking. “It’s too easy… Okay, I’ve got her phone. She’s on the bridge.”

  Kandace passed the last of the hotels on the beach side, now an open grassy area is all that sat between an ocean view. Houses on the left side were getting larger, with high privacy walls.

  Kandace said, “I’m seriously disturbed… by that.”

  “I know. Keep going. You’re getting distance from him.”

  “What about… the accident?”

  Clacking keys in the background. “Shit. It’s clearing. Hustle, Santellan.”

  “I can’t outrun a motorcycle!”

  “If he hits a red light, you could.”

  “What if… he doesn’t?”

  “You may need to stall him. Got any ideas?” Markus asked.

  “What… like run out into traffic?”

  “Hey… I’ve got it. Flash traffic. You’ll cause a wreck. He’d never catch up then.”

  “I can’t… do… that!”

  “Might be your best chance.”

  “There’s… girls… rollerblading… in bikinis… already… shit… I’m gonna… die.”

  Kandace wiped away sweat beads, her hair matted around her ears. She wished for a cold towel, a moment to breathe. Fast pace, at sixteen minutes, for nearly three miles.

  I have to go faster. I. Must. Get. There.

  What if I’m too late?

  What can I do?

  “Where… is he?” Kandace asked, her phone back at her ear.

  “He’s… it’s updating. Quarter mile behind you,” Markus said. “April is almost a mile out and gaining fast. She could clip him on the road if she can catch up.”

  “I’m dead, but… I… have to… keep,” Kandace said.

  “Are you talking to me?” Markus asked.

  Kandace put the phone back to her ear. “Tell me… he’s at a light.”

  “No. You should see him any second.”

  “No!”

  Traffic’s noise was tense, but the rumble of the Harley stood out like thunder overhead—he was coming.

  This can’t be for nothing. I can’t fail. He needs me. Push. Sprint.

  Kandace gave all she had, stretching her legs as far and as fast as they could carry her.

  “The house is up on your left, two hundred yards. Can you see Clayton?” Markus said over the speakerphone.

  The motorcycle was parked out front. No sight of Clayton. Kandace stumbled up the driveway, her feet not wanting to cooperate as she passed the bike. She leapt across the flagstone leading her through the yard to the house’s front door.

  I
can’t be too late.

  She pushed the door open and froze on a tile foyer, watching her father and Sean Clayton clutching onto each other.

  It’s him. At last. Clayton had him in his arms.

  Hugging.

  She blinked away salty sweat which stung her eyes and held the door handle for balance.

  “What….” Kandace panted, to no one in particular.

  John Santellan’s eyes widened as he released Sean Clayton.

  “Well, well. Look who just blew in,” Sean Clayton said.

  Kandace’s world spun slow at first, then faster. Then the floor went sideways and black.

  25

  Everything was black. Her shoulders ached. Her back throbbed and pulsed.

  A voice said, “How did she fall?” April.

  “We’re not sure.” Clayton?

  “We should move her to the sofa.” Dad. She would know his voice anywhere.

  Was she dreaming? If not, where was she?

  “Kandace! Open your eyes! We made it!”

  Kandace fought bright light. Rapid blinking. Positioned on her back. No? On her side. Blurred movement. Moments passed before she could see semi-clearly.

  “What did you do to her?” April asked.

  “Kandace? Kandace?” her father asked. He shook her arm and she gave no resistance.

  “I’m… here. I think,” Kandace said, his face becoming clear.

  “Hey, she lives,” Clayton said.

  Kandace clambered to her feet, stood slowly, her father’s hands on one side, April’s on the other. She attempted to balance by holding her arms out. Her father had a strained expression on his face. He had a beard. He’d slimmed down, gained muscle. But he looked older than she remembered, with gray hair almost as common as brown.

  Their embrace felt beautiful, awkward; satisfying and surreal. She knew she would cry and she didn’t care. Not anymore.

  He’s alive. He’s okay

  “Dad, you have no idea…”

  He shushed her, his arms engulfing. “I know. I’m here. I’ve got you,” her father said. “Come in. Sit. I just arrived myself.”

  Kandace didn’t move. “Who’s he?” she asked, her head nudging toward Sean Clayton.

  John smiled, his attention on his daughter’s face. His expression wasn’t ecstatic nor saddened, not concerned, nor annoyed. “That’s nobody. He was just leaving,” he said, turning toward him.

  Clayton nodded, slid on his sunglasses and walked out. Before Kandace could open her mouth, the Harley’s engine rumbled loudly, then faded away from the house.

  What. Just. Happened?

  “That man is a friend of yours?”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’ll live. So, you know the man?”

  “He doesn’t exist.”

  Kandace froze, her mouth agape. “But… I ran here. Three miles. I thought he would hurt you. I thought your life was at risk,” she said, installing her hands on her hips and trying not to get mad, but she could feel she was losing it.

  He held out a hand, ushering her into the kitchen.

  Kandace shook her head. “That’s not fair. Not after what I’ve been through.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I want to scream.

  She tightened her lips. “Sean Clayton! That’s the guy I thought was trying to hurt you! He broke into our house…”

  “Why don’t we talk at the island. I’m sure you need a drink. I know I do,” he said.

  “How can you be all nonchalant? Are you even listening to me?” Kandace said. “I just ran three miles! I was killing myself because I thought you were in danger!”

  “I’m sorry, Kandace,” he said, his eyes furtive. His brow creased. “You must be confused about what happened. And you’re stressed.”

  You’re shitting me, right?

  “Huh? I’m not confused, Dad. I know what happened.”

  He didn’t move, as though he weren’t entirely sure what to do.

  Her father cleared his throat. “I love your dress, dear,” he said. “Very pretty.” His smile was strained, as though he were wrestling conflicting emotions. “But I did tell you, don’t worry about me.” He sat at the island on a stool and pulled one out for Kandace. “Come, come. Sit.”

  Kandace complied, watching him rest his elbows on the cool white counter top. She didn’t know what else to do, what else to think.

  “Do come in, April. Sit with us,” John said.

  “Oh, so you’ve met. How nice,” Kandace said to no one in particular.

  April sat next to Kandace as though she were unsure the chair would hold her weight.

  Kandace pulled her sweaty hair away from her neck. She wanted a swimming pool or a shower—or maybe a dive into the ocean. “So, what’s going on with you? Your buddy scared the shit out of me, Mom’s in the hospital. Your voicemail is full...”

  Breathe, Kandace. Go slower.

  He nodded, calm and collected, inconsistent with her frantic emotions. “I apologize for being out of touch. I lost my phone.” He paused. “I’m sorry for your trouble.”

  Kandace looked away from him, at nothing in particular, trying not to imagine her father living in this beautiful beach house, far away from his family.

  “I know I didn’t imagine all this because our neighbor had to chase him with a shotgun. Your buddy wouldn’t leave.”

  “Must be Earl.”

  “Who else?” Kandace watched him. “You never told us what to do if someone came looking for you! And I couldn’t reach you. Your voicemail was full and it never was before. I called the police. And if he’s your friend, why did he get in my face? Why make demands?”

  He sighed. “You were right to warn me.”

  “Promise me this won’t happen again.”

  He looked away a moment, then said, “That’s all I’m saying.”

  “Is he government? CIA or something?” She felt like screaming—her emotions percolating like a volcano building uncontrollable pressure and ready to erupt. She didn’t understand why he was obtuse.

  “Forget about him. You’ll never see him again. Promise,” he said.

  Bullshit. How can I accept that answer?

  “Great, Dad. Do you even care about me?”

  Shouldn’t have said that. Take it back. Say you’re sorry.

  “K…” he said. Did he sound sad? She couldn’t tell. “Of course, I care about you.”

  Smile. Don’t cry. Take it.

  Kandace let herself go and didn’t bother wiping her tears. “Why have you been gone so long?”

  Tight lines formed around his mouth as he smiled. “I wish I had a choice. I go where the project is.”

  “But almost two years!”

  “Kandace, honey. I can’t just leave a job. I understand that you’re disappointed, but…”

  “Disappointed?” Kandace stood next to him. “That barely describes how I feel! Fuck! It’s like you’re not even my dad anymore!”

  “Hey!” He turned on his seat toward her. “I’ve been around plenty of sailors, but my daughter wasn’t one of them.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not fifteen anymore.” She bit her lip.

  I’m such a bitch. Just be happy and forget the past. Arguing will only make it worse.

  April cleared her throat. “I’m gonna steal a beer if you don’t mind, John?”

  “Sure,” he said, his eyes on Kandace. “In the fridge.”

  April ventured to the appliance and pulled at the concealed door, well hidden by wood. “You want one, K?”

  “I need one,” Kandace said.

  “I’ll join you, I guess,” John said. “Never thought I’d drink with my eighteen-year old.”

  April opened dark brown bottles with the opener she fished out of the island drawer, then pushed one each for Kandace and John.

  “Welcome home,” April said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I charge two hundred per hour to referee an argument, so I’ll sun myself out back.”

  John was mildly
amused. “You must be a lawyer.”

  Kandace smiled, tight-lipped. April ventured through a sliding glass door off the kitchen, into the backyard.

  Kandace scrunched her face and shifted on her seat. “Have you missed me?”

  “Yes, of course. I don’t like being away any more than you. But going forward, how we proceed is up to you; we can fight about the past, or we can spend time in a good way.”

  “Okay, but tell me why you live here and you don’t come home.”

  He paused, as though he were surprised. “Would it be nice if I came home and had to leave three days later?”

  “It’s better than nothing.”

  He took a pull from his beer. “Like I said, we can fight or move forward. It’s up to you. I’ve got time off now. Maybe we can fly back for a few days.” He paused. “Time permitting.”

  He’s not coming home.

  Kandace studied him a moment. He seemed reserved, stoic even. She tapped her foot, then let herself cry on his shoulder. John rubbed her back and for just a moment, it felt like when she was fourteen and had been dumped by her then boyfriend—ending her life as she knew it.

  She didn’t bother wiping her face, just sat upright and returned to her beer.

  “So,” John began. “How did you meet April?”

  “Dance. How’d you meet Sean Clayton?” Kandace avoided eye contact.

  John wasn’t fazed. “War.”

  Kandace eyed him a moment and when he didn’t show any emotion she asked, “What’s that taste in the beer? Cherry?”

  “Raisin and fig,” he said. “They’re a California brewer. You like it?”

  “It’s good. Smooth. Not too much bite. I like the name—Lost and Found.” She took another sip.

  Her father smiled a little. “I’m glad to see you’re nursing that.”

  “Why?”

  “You don’t drink.”

  “I don’t unless a friend has a good drink I can share.”

  “Ever thought about how that might impair your judgement?”

  Kandace sucked in air. “Ever thought about moving us to LA with you?”

  His expression shifted, a crease across his brow as he studied her. “Pleasant thought, but I can’t afford it.”

  “You’ve got this house, right? We could make it work,” Kandace said, looking around the kitchen. Out through the sliding glass door, she could see part of his yard, concrete surfaces and a lawn, flowering plants invading the view from each side.