by JB Salsbury
* * *
Can you believe it?
* * *
I stare at Jack’s jeans and hit Send.
Vibrates.
What the hell?
I have no reason to feel sick, but the eggs and bacon are crawling up my esophagus, as if my body is aware of something my mind hasn’t caught up to yet.
* * *
Dawn?
* * *
Send.
Vibrate.
I swallow the sickness in my mouth.
* * *
Are.
* * *
Vibrate.
* * *
You.
* * *
Vibrate.
Oh God, oh God… no.
* * *
There?
* * *
Vibrate.
Tears sting my eyes. With quaking fingers, I pull his phone from his pocket and flip it around to look at the lock screen.
* * *
You have 7 new myBubble messages.
* * *
My breathing shudders when I try to take a breath, and tears stream down my face when I hit the notification bar and it opens the myBubble app. I don’t have to read what the messages say—I’ve been living them for a month.
How could he do this to me?
Why?
The shower shuts off, and I panic. I close the app, shove the phone back in his jeans, and grab my bag. Grabbing the first pair of pants I can find, I slide them on, slip on my Vans without socks, and snag my wallet before I race out of the apartment.
I need a minute to think. I can’t… fuck!
Jack was Dawn this entire time!
I told her things… oh my God!
I’m sobbing uncontrollably when I hit the elevators and slam my palm on the Lobby button. With blurry vision, I punch out a quick text to Jack.
* * *
Went for a quick walk for some Advil. Brb.
* * *
My initial reaction is to feel sick for lying, but how could I possibly feel bad after all the lies he told me? All the betrayal and deceit! Damn him!
I race through the stupid pretentious lobby and out onto the busy city streets. I have no idea where I’m going, but I need to keep moving, so I walk, wiping fresh tears from my cheeks.
I was right. He has changed. What I thought I saw in him, the things I thought I was still in love with, were nothing more than a mask of the old Jack. A façade he slips on whenever it suits him.
He had sex with me. Lied to get in my head, to get his hands on information I wasn’t comfortable telling him. All so he could seduce me.
My feet freeze on the pavement when the realization hits me.
Just because he didn’t take what he wanted by force doesn’t make him any better than Fabian on the beach.
It might even make him worse.
I flag down a taxi and jump in the back, grateful the cabbie doesn’t look back and see what a mess I am. “JFK please.”
“Which airline?”
“Delta.”
The cab lurches forward, and like the cabbie, I don’t look back to see the mess I’m leaving behind.
Jack
“Sadie!” I call out of the open door in my bedroom as I tighten the towel wrapped around my waist. “Let’s go see a show on Broadway tonight!” I’m fishing through my drawers for underwear and socks. “I heard Mean Girls is a good one!” I snag a pair of dark-washed jeans and a maroon shirt from my closet. “You always loved the movie!”
I keep my eye on the doorway, expecting her to come through any second and throw her body into mine. We’ll tumble to the bed while she shows her excitement about my idea by kissing the shit out of me.
I’m fully dressed and still no Sadie. No breathless kiss.
I do up my fly, run a hand through my wet hair, and go into the living room in search of her. Empty. “Sadie!”
She’s not in the kitchen. My place is so small, there’s nowhere else she could be hiding.
Her bag is still on the floor in my room.
I pull my phone out of my jeans to call her and relax a little when I see I have a text. She went to get Advil. I text her back.
* * *
I have Advil here. Come back.
* * *
Another five minutes pass before she texts me back.
* * *
I stumbled into a little art studio. I’ll be awhile.
* * *
My stomach roils with sickness that makes no fucking sense. Am I that addicted to Sadie that I can’t stand the idea of her being right down the street without me? Naw… I text her back.
* * *
Where? I’ll meet you.
* * *
I chew on my thumbnail, waiting for her response. After thirty minutes, I grab my keys and wallet and head out to find her. My legs move too slow, the elevator even slower, and when I pass Jonathan, I ask, “Did you see Sadie, the woman staying with me, leave about thirty minutes ago?”
“Yeah, she had her head down so I didn’t talk to her. Figured she wasn’t feeling social.”
“She had a headache,” I say more defensively than necessary. “Did you happen to see which way she went?”
He points to the left.
“Thanks.” I head in that direction then stop and turn. “You wouldn’t happen to know of an art studio down this way would you?”
“No, sir. None that I know of.”
I point over my shoulder. “Is the closest convenience store on Tenth?”
“Yes.”
“Huh.” I turn in search of Sadie. She would’ve had to walk for nearly two miles in order to buy Advil if she headed in this direction.
I keep my phone in my palm, waiting for her to respond to my last text. Impatience quickens my pace and fuels my irrational fear. Fear that I can’t put my finger on.
Using a map app on my phone, I search for art galleries, but there are none in the vicinity.
* * *
Sadie. Where are you? I’m getting worried. Please, text me back.
* * *
I wander the city blocks of my neighborhood for another hour. I’m drenched in sweat and about to call the police and file a missing person’s report. Think, Jack. Don’t overreact. I check the last five messages I sent, getting more and more frantic to hear from her. Why wouldn’t she text me back? This is starting to feel like the days when she ignored my calls. The only way I could get her to talk to me back then was by being Dawn.
I stare at the myBubble app on my phone. It’s worth a shot.
Wiping sweat from my brow with my forearm, I open the app. There are a bunch of new messages from Sadie from this morning. How did I miss these? They’re marked as read. Probably when I fumbled with my phone in the kitchen after she almost caught me. I read through the messages, hearing her excited voice in each message. This must’ve been when she changed her flight.
I type out a quick text.
* * *
Two more days? I’m sure jack is excited to keep you a little longer. What did he say?
* * *
With heavy feet, I step back to a concrete wall and slide down to sit my ass on the dingy sidewalk, waiting for a response. I don’t know how long I go between staring at my screen and keeping my eyes on every brunette who passes me, but I get no response. Not even text bubbles.
“Her phone died.” That makes sense. “Maybe she went back to my apartment!” I call the lobby. “Jonathan, did Sadie come back?”
“No, sir. I haven’t seen her.”
“Can you send someone up to my apartment to check for me?”
“Of course, sir.”
“Knock first!”
“Always, sir.”
“Call me back and let me know.”
I hang up and lean my head back against the building. What the hell is going on? Where could she have gone? This feels like a dream.
I close my eyes. “Please let me wake up and find myself back in bed with her. Please…” I crack an ey
elid to find I’m still on my ass with people shuffling around my outstretched legs.
One guy passing by tosses a quarter into my lap.
“I’m not homeless!” I pick it up and throw it at his retreating back.
My phone vibrates and tumbles to the ground in my race to answer it. “Hello? Jonathan? Was she there?”
“Sorry that took so long. Paola was on her break, so I had to wait—”
“Did you find her?”
“No. Your place was empty, sir.”
“Dammit!” I hit End and pull up the keypad to dial 9-1-1. My finger hovers over the keys. Sadie’s been gone for almost three hours. I rehearse the call in my head.
“Yes, my girlfriend took off to buy Advil three hours ago. Last I heard, she was at an art studio. Can I file a missing person’s report?”
Even I hear how ridiculous that sounds. They’re not going to do shit for me.
I flip my phone around and check my text messages and the myBubble app for the millionth time. Nothing. “Where are you, Sadie?”
Then I remember. The location feature. Her phone should tell me where she is!
I open the myBubble app and search for that fucking feature. They’ve practically hidden it, but eventually I find it and hit it.
The result appears immediately.
Last known location New York, NY.
“Well that’s fucking helpful.”
I close the app, and even though it’s hot and I feel dizzy with worry, I make the long trek home, hopeful I’ll run into Sadie somewhere along the way and learn all this is one big misunderstanding.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sadie
I keep my head down as I head to baggage claim, and I stare blindly at the rotating belt for a good ten minutes before I remember I don’t have any luggage. If my shame wasn’t enough to make me dread my walk outside to the curbside pickup, the slot machines singing all around me are a blaring reminder of what I’m about to face.
Or rather… who.
The moment my feet hit the sidewalk, I feel his glare.
He’s leaning against the passenger side of his truck, his massive tattooed arms crossed. His laid-back body language would seem chill to anyone else, but I know the UFL baseball cap pulled down low shadows eyes that are tight and zeroed in on me. When he sees me approach, he pushes off his truck and greets me with a quick hug and a mumbled, “Princess.”
I don’t respond because I have nothing to say. He can see my red, splotchy face and bloodshot eyes. His jaw tics, but he doesn’t say anything when he opens the passenger side door, and he’s still quiet when we pull away from the Las Vegas airport.
Is it possible I lucked out and he won’t ask? Seems too good to be true, but I hold out hope.
“Your mom tried calling you,” he says, disappointment dripping from his deep voice. “She’s worried sick.”
“My phone died.” Jack called, texted, and used Dawn’s identity to message me until finally, and blissfully, my battery died.
He’s silent. I stare out my window because I don’t need to see him to know he’s working his jaw, mulling over how to approach the subject while trying to maintain his cool. Something he’s never been very good at.
As I study the Strip cityscape in the distance, I’m reminded of all the memories I have with Jack in this town, and I mourn the death of the boy he used to be. The boy I fell in love with. To think he’s changed so much, that he would manipulate and lie to me to get close, makes me want to empty my already empty stomach.
“You ready to talk?”
“Shit,” I mumble, and stare forward. I knew this was coming, but I had hoped it would come later and preferably from my mom. “I don’t know what to say.”
That’s the truth. I rehearsed a handful of lies to tell my parents, but they all made me feel repulsed. I’m so sick of lies.
“I bought you a nine-hundred-dollar one-way ticket from New York.”
Calling my dad wasn’t my first choice, but because I didn’t have the credit card used for my new ticket from New York to San Diego, I couldn’t touch my reservation. In order to get home, I needed a new ticket, and I couldn’t afford one. I knew Ricky couldn’t either, so my parents were my only hope of getting out without Jack’s help. Of course, my dad insisted I fly into Las Vegas. I know he cares, but his overprotectiveness is suffocating.
He points flippantly at my shoulder. “You show up wearing an NYU T-shirt? I’m figuring shit out by myself, and I’m sure my imagination is ten times worse than the truth, so start talking.”
I laugh humorlessly because I’m tired and hungry and I am so stupid. “I doubt that,” I say mostly to myself, but when his head snaps around, I know he heard me.
His knuckles turn white on the steering wheel.
“Calm down, Dad—”
“What did he do?” Not a question, a demand.
There’s no avoiding this, so I tell him the truth. “He’s changed, that’s all.”
“He’s changed? That’s the bullshit you’re going with, he’s changed?”
I hear the countdown ticker in my head as my dad threatens to blow up.
“Tell me…”
In three… two… one.
“What he did! This guy made you cry for an entire summer! Why do you continue to—you know what?” He grabs his phone, hits a contact, and the ringing comes through the Bluetooth speakers.
I’m sure he’s calling my mother. She’s the only person who has ever been able talk some sense into him.
A man’s voice answers. “’Lo?”
“Where the fuck is your son!”
“Dad!” He called Jack’s dad!
“Stand down, asshole!” Blake sounds as though he’s getting angry as well.
“I’ve got Sadie with me. We’re on our way over.”
“Why?” Blake’s anger morphs to concern. “What’s going on?”
“Be there in five.” Dad hits the End button.
I clench my fists at my sides. Who the hell does he think he is? “We are not going to Blake and Layla’s.”
Now it’s his turn to chuckle, but the sound is far from funny. “The hell we aren’t.”
I slap my hands on my thighs. “This is why I never tell you anything! Look at you!”
“You’re my daughter! It’s my job—”
“I’m an adult, and it’s not your job. Not unless I ask for your help! You have to stop interfering!”
“I can’t do that!”
“And that right there is why I can never talk to you!”
He looks offended. “You talk to me.”
“No, I don’t!” My temples throb, my nose burns, I feel like I’m getting sick, and I’m so tired. “You said I cried about Jack for an entire summer. I didn’t.”
“Bullshit! I heard you. I saw you. You were miserable.”
“Not because of Jack.”
“What are you saying?”
My shoulders slump in defeat and I hear the words I’d hoped I would never have to say pour from my lips. “Everyone assumed I was upset about Jack. I just didn’t correct you.”
He does a double take. “Not… Sadie, you were a mess. You cried in the shower where you thought no one could hear you. What were you so upset about?”
I can’t tell him. I shake my head, and he makes a frustrated growling sound.
When we pull up to Jack’s parents’ house, Blake meets us in the driveway. His big body looks even bigger in a shirt that looks a size too small, specifically on his biceps. My dad shuts off the truck and jumps out to meet Blake in the driveway. Two giant men, lifetime friends, facing off over their kids off-and-on love affair. God, my life could be a movie.
Before my dad gets a word out, Blake holds up his palm. “I just got off the phone with Jack.” His eyes, the same emerald-green as his son’s, dart to mine, and worry and confusion color his handsome features. “He’s worried sick.”
I shrug casually, but I feel anything but casual when I respond. “That’s not
my fucking problem, Uncle Blake.”
His eyes widen. My dad’s do the same.
Blake must see something in my expression because he eventually nods, respecting my wishes not to share.
My dad, on the other hand, does not. “What the fuck did that asshole do?”
I find it interesting that Blake doesn’t defend Jack like he usually would. Does he know something? Did Jack figure out that I found the myBubble app on his phone? Or does Blake know his prick son well enough to know he’s a scheming, lying dickhead?
“Tell your boy to stay away from Sadie, you hear me?” my dad says as he climbs back behind the wheel.
Blake doesn’t say anything. He stands there watching us pull out of his driveway, his hands on his hips and disappointment in his eyes.
“How many secrets you keeping, princess?” Dad sounds calmer, less angry, and more tender.
“You don’t want to know.”
Jack
“What the hell did you do to Sadie?”
My dad’s growling voice should be making me tense and uneasy, but I feel nothing but relief. Sadie walked out of my apartment seven fucking hours ago. I ended up calling the police four hours ago, and although I couldn’t file a missing person’s report, once I explained that she was new in the city and possibly lost, they released an all-points bulletin to keep their eyes peeled for a girl matching Sadie’s description.
I paced my apartment for hours, walked the streets until my feet were sore, and I finally received some peace when I got a call from my dad shouting in my ear, “Why the hell is a pissed off Jonah Slade calling me asking about you?” I knew right away Sadie had been in touch with her dad, which meant she was still alive. I further calmed down when my dad explained that Jonah was on his way over with Sadie.