Providence

Page 8

“Are you sure?” Beth asked, leaning forward in her chair.
“Why don’t we go tomorrow?” Josh asked Ryan.
“I’m there,” Ryan said, nudging me.
“On a Tuesday? How much fun can a Tuesday night be?” I groaned.
“As fun as we make it,” Ryan said.
On our way back to Andrews, I grumbled to Beth about going out on a school night. She didn’t seem fazed by the prospect, so I left it alone. When we lumbered into our room, my cel phone buzzed.
“Hi, Mom,” I yawned.
“You sound tired, Nina. Are you getting enough sleep?” she asked.
“I am. It’s just been a long day,” I said, peeling back my comforter.
“Wel , I won’t keep you long. I just wanted to tel you that Thomas cal ed me today. He wanted to apologize about not returning your cal . Did you cal him, dear?”
“Er…yes. I did.” I hadn’t anticipated Thomas cal ing my mother.
“Wel ? What did you cal him about?”
I decided that sticking as close to the truth as possible would be the best option. “Wel , I was in dad’s office a few weeks ago and came across some unsigned papers. I didn’t want to worry you with it, so I cal ed Mr. Rosen.”
“You were in Dad’s office? Why?”
“I guess I just miss him.”
“Oh,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
“It’s okay, Mom. It was something I needed to do on my own.”
“You don’t worry about those papers, Dear. They’re nothing you need to concern yourself with. Thomas has copies of al of your father’s papers in his office; they’ve already been taken care of. I wasn’t….ready to move them just yet.”
“I understand,” I said, thinking of the letter opener I’d taken. She obviously hadn’t noticed, yet. I wondered if she went into Jack’s office at al . “Did Daddy ever discuss an urgent properties deal with you?”
My mother pondered that for a moment. “A properties deal? Your father didn’t deal with properties, Nina.”
“Oh. Okay.” I tried to make my voice sound idle to end the conversation.
“I’l let Thomas know that I’ve talked to you.” She seemed to accept my explanation, but was obviously unconvinced.
“That’s fine, Mom. I’m going to bed, now.”
I clicked my phone shut and noticed Beth staring at me. “What?”
“You didn’t tel her about the Dawson guy, did you?” Beth said, towel and toiletries in hand.
“I can’t put that on her right now.”
I clicked my fingernails together, waiting for Beth to return. Mr. Rosen chose to cal my mother instead of me. The thought flooded my mind with the disturbing words Mr. Dawson spoke, which in turn morphed into thoughts of my father being swindled posthumously. In that instant, I became angry beyond words and scrambled to my feet. Beth wouldn’t return fast enough; the only comfort would be a distraction. Without a second thought, I grabbed my keys and bolted out the door.
My BMW weaved in and out of traffic just a bit over the speed limit. I figured if I could somehow get lost, trying to find my way back would be an excel ent distraction. I drove until the buildings were less familiar and then I stopped paying attention to the street signs. When I was no longer in Providence, I slowed down to make a u-turn to start the chal enge of finding my way home. I veered off a bit to the shoulder before making the turn, and then my car bobbled over an unseen object as I pul ed my steering wheel in the opposite direction.
“Damn it!”
I peered into my rearview mirror, searching for what I’d run over to decide whether I should pul over to assess any damages. In the next moment I saw the reflective twisted metal and sighed.
I pul ed over to the side of the road and came to an abrupt stop. Realizing the situation I’d gotten myself into, I let my forehead fal hard onto the steering wheel with a thud.
A flat tire on the side of an unknown road in the middle of the night was definitely a distraction.
I shoved open my door and walked around to look at the front passenger-side tire. Seeing the rubber pooled on the ground, I raked my fingers through my hair.
Fog blurred the street lights so my vision was limited. In quick strides I ducked back into my car to cal Beth. At the same time that I remembered I had left my purse behind, it dawned on me that I’d also failed to bring my phone.
“Nina! You idiot!”
Logic overrode panic. The sun would rise in a few hours and I could flag someone down to use their phone. I turned the heater on high and let the dry air fil the cab. When it was too hot to breathe I flipped back the ignition and turned off the car. Just moments later, I tugged my coat tighter around me. It was going to be a very long couple of hours before sunrise; it didn’t take long at al for the stifling heat in the car to fade to mildly warm and then to an uncomfortable chil soon after.
Three quick raps on my window sent me an inch off my seat. I whipped around to see a man in a puffy blue coat standing just inches away. My hand flew up to the lock as he leaned down to look in.
“It’s a little late for that, don’t you think? I could have carjacked you by now,” Jared said, grimacing at my pitiful efforts.
I couldn’t speak, the fear sent adrenaline racing throughout my body and I experienced a dozen different emotions before I settled on relief.
“Open the trunk so I can get your spare,” he said.
I reached for the button and the trunk sprung open with a pop. Scrambling out of my car, I watched while he pul ed out a jack and quickly assembled it, and then pul ed out the spare tire, carrying it to his make-shift workspace. I’d always seen people rol ing tires around, but Jared lifted it out of my trunk as if it were a grocery bag.
He worked feverishly—as if he were being timed—pumping the jack, unscrewing the lug nuts and yanking off the flattened carcass of the old tire to immediately replace it with the spare. He repeated the process in reverse, tightening the lug nuts and spinning the tire. Once he finished lowering the car, he lobbed the flattened tire into my trunk, fol owed by the jack and tire iron.
“Go home, Nina,” he growled. He slammed the trunk shut and then wiped the grease from his hands onto his jeans.
“Jared….”
“Just go home,” he said, avoiding my eyes. He turned his back on me, disappearing into the fog.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
I shook my head and scrambled around the front of my car, staring at the new tire to make sure I hadn’t imagined everything I’d just seen. My new, perfectly capable tire was fitted flawlessly to my car. I looked to the fog where Jared had disappeared and puffed. It was no longer an indefinite prospect that Jared was always waiting in the wings. I didn’t know why or how he was doing it, but he was watching over me.
During the ride home my mind raced with theories and explanations. There was no way for him to explain it away. Jared had basical y admitted to fol owing me. Maybe that was why he was so irritated; I’d managed to get myself in yet another situation that he would have to make clear that he was nearby. I should have been panicking—anyone else would have repeated the word stalker over and over in her head—but I only felt an overwhelming sense of calm. Beyond the calm I was even more shocked to discover that I was flattered.
Something else became clear to me: I had absolutely no common sense concerning Jared Ryel. I had become an irrational, ridiculous, sobbing fool and incredibly, he was stil in my life. I didn’t care if he was a stalker or a miracle. The thought that he was always near me—that he could have been watching me at that very moment—sent euphoric shivers down my spine.
The next night, a knock at the door prompted Beth to grab her purse. When I swung open the door, Kim, Josh, Ryan, Tucker, Chad, Lisa, and Carrie were al standing in the hal .
“We held hands so they wouldn’t get lost,” Kim quipped.
“That’s nice,” I said, turning to grab my keys and wal et. “We’re not al going to fit in the Beemer.”
“I’m taking my jeep,” Chad said.
“Sweet!” Beth chirped.
When I fol owed Beth through the door of the pub, I felt my body tense. I didn’t relax until I finished scanning the room and saw that Jared was nowhere to be found. With my relaxation was also discontent, but Ryan’s arm around my shoulders provided an immediate diversion. We took a table and Ryan fed quarters into the jukebox. Within an hour we were al on the wooden floor dancing to disco.
“Next time, I’m bringing a CD!” Kim yel ed over the Bee Gees.
When we returned to our table, a slow song crooned from the juke box and Chad asked Beth to dance. She was beaming, and I watched him pul her gently by her hand to the dance floor. I felt the corners of my mouth turn up as I watched them, not being able to keep myself from the bittersweet memory of Jared’s arms around me in the same space just a few weeks before.
“C’mon. Dance with me,” Ryan asked, pul ing at my hand.
I might have said no if he hadn’t already had me half way to my feet. It had become a ful time job to keep him from getting the wrong idea about our friendship. I fol owed him to the dance floor and he secured his hands behind my back.
“Oh, cheer up. It’s not that bad,” Ryan smiled.
“You’ve been drinking; I’m concentrating on not tripping over your two left feet.”
“I’l catch you,” he said, too close to my face.
“Great, then we’d both fal ,” I grinned.
Ryan hugged me to him. “I don’t mind fal ing to catch you.”
I relaxed my chin on Ryan’s shoulder until the song ended. He seemed to want to keep dancing but the next song was upbeat. He hesitated and then let me go, leading me back to the table by my hand.
We tabbed out after last cal , and Lisa and Carrie decided to take a cab to someone’s apartment for an after party. Beth decided to ride with Chad once again and my heart leapt for her when I saw him lead her by the hand to his Jeep.
We quickly crossed against the light to the parking lot and Kim and Ryan giggled while I fumbled for my keys.
I cursed as my keys tumbled to the ground into a pot hole. I reached down to get them, but a dirty hand beat me there. Kim and Ryan were silent as I slowly stood to face the raggedy man in front of me.
“Thank you,” I said, holding my hand out for my keys. I noticed there were three other men with him, emerging from the shadows of the al ey.
“You’re welcome,” he rasped. He had an unkempt brown beard and his black eyes were abnormal y deep-set. Upon first glance he appeared homeless, but his fingernails were too clean and his face wasn’t nearly worn enough. Even growing up on the East Side, I had seen my share of the destitute on the docks with my father.
“I don’t suppose you could spare some change for my trouble?”
“Er….sure,” I said, looking at Kim and Ryan before I dug into my wal et. I handed him a ten dol ar bil and he glanced over to my BMW.
“I’m sure the key to this car is worth more than that,” he insisted.
I reached into my wal et and handed him a twenty. “There. Please give me my keys,” I said, holding out my hand.
He stared at me for a long moment, prompting Ryan to walk over to us. “She gave you some money. Give her back her keys.”
The man looked Ryan over and then peered back at me. “I don’t think that’s quite enough.”
My eyes narrowed. “How much do you want?”
“How much do you have in your wal et?”
“What?”
“And I’d like that pretty green ring on your finger, too, baby dol ,” he nodded.
“You’re not getting her ring,” Ryan said, stepping in between us.
“Benson?” the bearded man cal ed behind him. One of the men behind him nodded and signaled the others to move forward.
“Ryan….” I whispered as he side-stepped to hide me behind him.
“Aw, look, Grahm. She’s got a little bodyguard.”
“Shut up, Stu,” the bearded man growled.
“Give me the ring…and the money. And you can go,” he said, spitting on the ground.
“I don’t think so, Grahm,” Ryan shifted as he assessed the other men.
“Ryan….” I warned, and then looked at the ring leader. “Listen, this is everything I have on me….” I said, shoving at him several large bil s and more fives and ones. “This is everything in my wal et. Take it.”
“And the ring,” Grahm said in an obstinate tone.
I looked at Kim’s horrified expression and then back at the thief. “I… I can’t give you my ring. My father gave it to me and he passed away recently.”
“That’s a very sad story,” he mocked. “Give me the ring.”
I hid my shaking hand behind me, and looked around for someone, anyone that could help. “I won’t,” I swal owed. “I’m sorry.”
Grahm looked away momentarily to fol ow my line of sight and Ryan took the opportunity to attack.
Kim ran around the car. “No!”
A scuffle ensued, with the other three jumping on Ryan. They were in a huddle, punching and kicking Ryan mercilessly.
I took a step toward the cluster. “STOP IT!”
Ryan let out a muffled cry and stopped fighting. My hands flew to my mouth as I saw that Stu held a knife dripping with blood.
“STOP IT, PLEASE!” I said.
The men were chuckling to each other; the brutality had ended with one last kick to Ryan’s ribs. I stared in horror as he lay broken on the wet pavement. Just as he attempted to pul himself up to al fours, Stu used his boot to press Ryan’s cheek back into the pavement.
“Agh!” Ryan groaned.
“I didn’t tel you to get up yet, did I?” Stu said.