You Could Have Saved Her

by Elizabeth Ballew

  “Everything alright?” he asked when I returned, then blushed. “Sorry. That’s none of my business.”

  I laughed. “It’s fine, and yes.”

  We finished our food - my hunger catching up to me once the waffle touched my lips - and he told me about the fun day he had planned.

  “There’s a festival in town that started a few days ago. I’m sure you saw the signs on the way here. The booths and stuff won’t open for a few more hours though, so I thought I could show you around, let you experience New Orleans the way it should be experienced,” he said with a wide grin, and I forgot for a moment that he was the enemy.

  “Sounds like fun,” I replied.

  There didn’t appear to be a rhyme or reason to where he took me. It was like he was trying to see every tourist attraction there was in as little time as possible. We visited so many different places that they all started running together.

  The first place we went was the WWII Museum, but we didn’t stay for more than a few minutes before he dragged me across town to the Superdome - the place he seemed the most excited to see. We looked around for almost thirty minutes before we moved on to the next place. My favorites were the Lafayette Cemeteries. They were owned by a French family - the Livaudais - in the 1800s. When they were forced to see it, the land was divided. The history was so fascinating I found myself sucked into learning more, and before I knew it, we’d been there over an hour. Jordan didn’t seem to mind, however. He was more focused on me than any of the attractions.

  “It’s pretty cool, right?” he asked as we walked through the grounds, admiring the stones and statues.

  I nodded, too awed to speak. It was surreal that people who fought for our country, who gave their lives for our freedom, were buried here, mere feet below the earth. They risked so much, sacrificed so much that they deserved a little of my time and attention. So, for a few minutes, I allowed myself to stop thinking of escape and said a little prayer of thanks.

  “You ready to go?” Jordan asked.

  I paused, admiring the expansive view before nodding.

  “Where are we going now?” I asked as he led me back toward the city’s center.

  “You’ll see in just a minute,” he replied with a sheepish grin.

  We turned the corner, and I froze, jaw dropped and eyes wide. This was the date Jordan had planned for us? To be fair, there were a lot of people here, but seriously, who thought this was a good idea?

  Walking through the festival area, booths were set up with chefs showcasing various kinds of dishes. Live music played somewhere in the distance. Colors of red and green were scattered everywhere, and tie-dyed shirts disappeared and reappeared around every corner. Jordan watched the crowd with a sparkle of glee in his eyes.

  “Seriously?” I asked, brows raised. “A tomato festival?”

  Jordan laughed. “This isn’t just any tomato festival. This is the French Market Creole Tomato Festival!” His arms rose behind him, gesturing as a television announcer might. A few passersby eyed him suspiciously, some chuckled behind him, their hands hiding their mouths, eyes wrinkled with amusement.

  “It’s a tomato festival,” I repeated, shaking my head.

  Rolling his eyes, he said, “Oh come on, live a little. It’s okay to have a little fun every once in a while, you know. I promise we can leave and go back home if you don’t like it.”

  My stomach dropped when he mentioned home. How could I have forgotten who this man was. Reminding myself not to let my guard down, I nodded

  “Fine, let’s go.”

  “Yes!” he shouted, pumping his fist in the air.

  Grabbing my arm, he pulled me towards the booth closest to us which presented different variations of the classic fried green tomatoes. How many ways could there possibly be to fry green tomatoes? To my surprise - and delight - they all tasted a little different. Each one was a little tangier, a little sweeter, a little crunchier, a little smokier. The next booth had stuffed shrimp with grilled creole tomato over jasmine rice. The chef offered to demonstrate how it was made, and I laughed as he over exaggerated the performance. Jordan and I applauded when it was over, and the chef took a bow.

  The Bloody Mary booth was packed, so I asked if we could skip it for now which put a pout on Jordan’s face. He instantly brightened when I offered to wait if he wanted to jump in line. Leaving me to find an empty table in the center of the square, he jumped in line.

  Jordan glanced back at me every time the line moved, and I smiled and waved each time. When it was finally his turn, and his attention was taken by the booth workers, I ran. Not wanting to draw attention to myself, I walked briskly, keeping my pace even and as calm as possible.

  I heard my name yelled across the courtyard, but I didn’t stop, I didn’t turn back to look. If I learned anything from the movies, it was that you never turned back.

  A long wall to my left caught my attention. If I managed to make it past that, I could turn the corner and disappear among the crowd. Picking up my pace, I focused on reaching my goal, but as I was about to reach the edge, a hand grabbed my shirt and yanked me back just in time to avoid getting run over by a man riding a unicycle. The man’s apology was swallowed by the crowd as he moved on down the street.

  “Where were you going?” Jordan asked.

  My pulse raced, and I struggled not to fight against him. “I was looking for the bathroom and got distracted by the wall,” I said, keeping my voice as even as I could as I gestured to the works of art, photography, drawings, and paintings - none of which were connected to the festival - hanging from the wall.

  Jordan studied me for a long time, trying to catch me in my lie, but eventually, he nodded, and the breath I’d been holding slowly released.

  “Thanks for saving me,” I added with a smile, hoping it helped solidify his trust.

  He smiled. “It was my pleasure. You have to be careful around here. There are a lot of people who aren’t watching where they are going.”

  Nodding, wanting to change the subject, I gestured to a flyer posted on a metal sign. “You want to join?”

  “What? The tomato eating contest?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Looks like it could be fun,” I suggested.

  Passed the tomato auction - seriously, a tomato auction - was the contest area. People already stood around long tables stretched down the length of the square, piles of tomatoes sitting in front of them.

  He appeared to think about it for a moment before shaking his head. “No,” he said. “I’d rather spend time with you than making myself sick from tomatoes.”

  Smiling through gritted teeth, I turned away from him so he wouldn’t see the frustration in my eyes. I’d been so close. If only he’d been preoccupied for another minute, I’d have gotten away. Now there was no chance he’d leave me alone again.

  “Do you mind if we get something to eat? It’s been a while since breakfast,” I said. “Plus, it’s getting a little hot and crowded out here.”

  Jordan frowned, and for a second, I thought he was going to say no, but then he smiled and said, “I know the perfect place.”

  TWELVE

  Jordan led us through town, and the farther we walked, the more familiar the location looked. It had been months since we’d been here, and we were both under the influence, but it was definitely the place. We walked by several shops and restaurants before coming to a bar whose name grabbed my attention. The bar where Lily and I spent our twenty-first birthday came into view, and my heart tightened in my chest, and my breath caught in my throat.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Are you feeling okay?”

  I nodded, waving away his concern. “It’s just the heat. I’ll be fine in a minute.”

  “If you’re sure,” he said, searching my face.

  Keeping my expression neutral, I nodded. “I’m sure. I just need some water.”

  Even though it was still early evening, the inside was filled to the threat of bursting. Live music blasted from large speakers in t
he middle of the room, opposite the circular bar. The entire open room was covered in black lights, and a covered balcony ran all along the outside.

  I made a beeline for the only available seat at the bar, jumping when Jordan appeared beside me to occupy the limited space between me and my neighbor. He chuckled and ordered each of us a drink.

  “Here’s your water miss,” he said, handing [ This will be way more powerful and evocative if we have a clear, extensive earlier memory or scene there, that she’s thinking back on.]me a frosted glass holding clear liquid.

  I eyed it, questioning whether it would be smart to drink it. Your parents always say that you shouldn’t accept drinks from strangers, but what’s the rule of thumb about accepting them for your psychotic kidnapper who is weirdly obsessed with you?

  “You’re not going to give me a hard time, are you?” he chuckled, rolling his eyes. “I promise I didn’t put anything in it.”

  He raised a brow, waiting to see what I would do, and I took a deep breath before taking a huge gulp… and proceeded to suck it down the wrong way. Trying to dislodge the water from my windpipe, I caught Jordan's hand before he had the chance to pound on my back.

  “That’s dangerous you know… could,” cough, “make it,” cough, “worse.”

  “Sorry, I thought that’s what you were supposed to do,” he responded, looking worried. “I didn’t mean to make you choke.”

  Shaking my head, I waved away his concern. “Not your fault,” I said, my words giving me the strange sense of hypocrisy. Once I finally stopped coughing, I downed the rest of my water and sat the glass back on the counter.

  A woman screamed just as a resounding smack echoed through the bar between songs. Jordan and I watched the scene play out as a man grabbed his cheek, smirking at his friends. They laughed as the girl stomped away, making grabbing motions with their hands.

  “People like that make me sick,” Jordan hissed, and it gave me an idea.

  “Hey, do you want to dance?” I asked.

  Looking at me with wide eyes, Jordan asked, “Aren’t you hungry? Don’t you want to eat something first?”

  I shook my head. “I’d rather dance with you.”

  He grinned, offering me his hand and leading me onto the dance floor. When we were close enough, I pulled him to a stop. I didn’t give him time to question my actions before I pressed his hands to my hips and began dancing against him.

  “I love this song,” I said, leaning close enough to speak directly into his ear.

  Wrapping his arms around my waist, he pulled me to him, rocking his hips against mine. Being this close to him made my stomach recoil, but I pasted a smile on my face and moved with him.

  I turned in his arms until I faced the group of jackasses, making sure to use the most seductive smile I could muster. Granted, I’d never tried to look seductive before, but from the way the guys smirked and nodded to each other, it didn’t appear to be that difficult.

  Giving them one last longing look, I spun back around and twisted my hands behind Jordan’s neck, sliding the fingers through his tousled hair. He smiled as his arms lifted, hands sliding up my back to my head, and I forced myself to remain still as his face lowered to mine.

  “Hey cutie. How ‘bout a dance.”

  Holding back my relieved sigh, I turned to see one of the men I’d beckoned standing next to us. His words slurred as he placed a hand on my shoulder, and I half believe he was just trying to keep himself upright.

  “I’m fine, thanks,” I replied with a tight smile.

  “Now don’t be like that sweetheart. Come dance with me,” he said with a wink. Hiccupping, the man leaned closer so the smell of alcohol on his breath wrinkled nostrils. “I promise I’ll show you a good time.”

  “She’s fine,” Jordan growled - actually growled - and grabbed the man’s arm, flinging it away.

  “I wasn’t speaking to you. I asked the lady if she wanted to have some fun with a real man,” the man responded, suddenly sounding much soberer. He leaned down and ran a hand over my cheek, but Jordan slapped it away, shoving the guy backward.

  “The lady doesn’t want to do anything with the likes of you,” he snapped, stepping into the man’s face and grabbing his shirt. “And you would do well to remember that.”

  Shadows covered the man’s face, and he glowered, grabbing Jordan’s fists from his shirt and flinging him to the ground. The man’s size alone was enough to scare most people, but Jordan didn’t seem affected at all. He jumped up and slammed his fist into the guy’s gut, making him grunt as he stumbled back.

  I backed away, keeping an eye on the situation in front of me. When the large man glanced up with hatred in his eyes, I froze, waiting to see what he would do. I’d just wanted the man to distract Jordan, I didn’t want him killed.

  Jordan didn’t wait to see what the man would do, however, and instead grabbed his shoulders for leverage and brought his knee up as hard as he could. The man’s eyes widened before rolling back into his head, and he collapsed in a heap on the floor.

  That wasn’t enough though. A hand rose to cover my mouth as Jordan’s heavy, booted foot rose and stomped down on the man’s face. The resulting crunch echoed through the now quiet club as everyone’s attention focused on the brawl. I gasped, stomach heaving at the sight of blood spilling from the man’s face, puddling around his body.

  Silence so profound you could have heard a pin drop filled the bar as the crowd watched, mesmerized by the horrific scene before them. I couldn’t take my eyes away as time passed with no sign that the man was still breathing.

  I took another step back, my foot landing directly on a piece of broken bottle. The crack echoed in the silence, and Jordan’s head snapped in my direction. Too scared to move, my heart raced at the crazed look in his eyes. He moved toward me, and my breath caught in my throat, my legs quivering, knees threatening to buckle under the pressure, when the man on the ground groaned. Jordan turned back to the man, and I released my breath, saved by the man’s dying moan.

  “What is going on over here?”

  My hands squeezed into fists as a man, even larger than the last, shoved his way through the crowd. Good, someone to put an end to this madness. The bouncer made his way to the front and took in the situation: one man bleeding on the ground, nose smashed into his face, another standing over him holding a knife. A knife. I’d been so preoccupied with the arrival of someone who could help, I didn’t even notice Jordan picked it up.

  I opened my mouth, but before I could get the warning out, Jordan lunged. The knife plunged deep into the bouncer’s chest, and he didn’t even have time to react as Jordan yanked it out and plunged it in again, and again, and again. The crowd erupted into chaos

  A body slammed into me, and I crashed into a table, knocking empty bottles to the floor. I winced as glass embedded itself in my knees as I landed on the floor. The pain pulled me out of my shock, and I pushed myself to my feet. Someone grabbed my arm, and I turned, freezing at the sight of Jordan’s face inches from mine.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, hand tightening around my elbow. “I thought you wanted to have some fun.”

  Yanking out of his hold, I shoved him as hard as I could. Not expecting the sudden movement, Jordan stumbled backwards, and the knife fell to the floor with a clang. He reached down to pick it up, and I ran. Pain lanced through my sliced knees, but I ignored it, running as fast as I could.

  The French Quarter looked completely different in the shadowed streets, and I struggled to figure out where I was. Everywhere I looked were carriage rides, palm readings, street performers, night clubs, and so many other things that weren’t around during the day. I turned down so many different allies and crossed so many different streets that I could have gone in a complete circle and would have no idea.

  Sirens blared in the distance, and I raced toward them, knowing my best bet was to find and unite with the police as soon as possible. They were the ones with the weapons and means to capture a madman
- and a murderer - running rampant in downtown New Orleans. When I got close enough to see their flashing lights reflecting off the buildings, I released a sob.

  Turning the corner, I glimpsed the parked cars just before my vision was blocked by a wall of muscle. A hand slammed over my mouth, cutting off my scream, and I lifted my fists, pounding them into Jordan’s rock solid chest.

  “Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you now. Everything’s going to be alright,” he whispered, petting my hair as he held me tight to body, mashing my face into his shirt.

  “Please,” I mumbled against him. “Let me go.”

  “Don’t worry. You’re safe with me.”

  Tears streamed down my face as the fight drained out of me. My legs ached, knees protested any movement, and my mind just didn’t have anything left. The fight was gone.

  Once I’d calmed down, Jordan released his tight hold, and I sucked in a deep breath, trying to fill my starving lungs. He smiled as he continued petting my hair, comforting me, and all I could do was accept it. What else was there? He’d won. I had the chance to escape - not once, but many times - and I’d run right back into his arms. This was it. This was the reason Lily gave up. She was right. There was no way to escape.

  “Let’s go home,” he murmured, and I nodded.

  He ushered me out of the alley and back down the street toward his parked car. Opening the door for me, he waited for me to slide into the passenger seat before shutting it, the sound filled with finality as he climbed in behind the wheel.

  “I’m sorry you had to see me like that,” he said, starting the car. “But I’m glad you’re safe. I was worried you’d gotten lost. It can be a little confusing to get around here if you’re not used to it.”

  I nodded.

  “Did you at least have fun today?” he asked.