pocket inside my purse, pulled up my Uber app, and summoned the first available car. In less than a minute, a black town car pulled up to the curb, and I slid inside. My damp shirt mimicked Velcro when I settled into leather back seat.
“Where to?” the driver asked, lowering the volume of his radio.
“Um…” In truth, I didn’t have anywhere to go. Carmela, who’d been my only outlet for escape and commiseration for over year, was no longer an option.
My two conversations with her had been strained. While she hadn’t said or done anything blatantly hurtful, she’d acted distant. Without her, I didn’t have anyone. I had no intention of calling my mother. I refused to sit through another hour of my life listening to her chastise me for making bad decisions. She made it clear she thought I should have moved home after I broke off my engagement with Kevin, and in retrospect, I couldn’t disagree.
The driver swiveled in his seat, his left hand tapping an imaginary beat on the steering wheel. “Well? Where do you want to go?”
I rubbed my temples, my mind wildly grasping for any plausible destination. “What’s the nearest hotel?”
“I don’t know.” His nearly black eyes narrowed, and then he nodded. “I think there’s a Marriott near the Brooklyn Bridge.”
I leaned forward, a small burst of excitement rushing through me. “Perfect. Take me there.”
“You got it.”
Rubbing the frayed hem of my shirt, I stared at the parade of people, all faceless and nameless. A few stared at their phones, some chatted with their companions, and others walked with purpose as though their whole life depended on them making it to their destination.
Meanwhile, I sat in frozen horror while my actions caught up with me. Gian wasn’t Kevin. He wouldn’t accept my defiance with nothing more than a few well-aimed barbs calculated to trash my self-esteem. The dead guy on the floor of his office said enough about his capacity for violence to have me regretting my impulsive actions.
Gian, for some unknown reason, had decided to protect me when he should have put a bullet in my head and dumped me in the nearest body of water. My finger hovered over my phone as I considered calling Carmela for the hundredth time in the past week to spill the truth. I didn’t know if she could protect me from her brother—though, if anyone could, it’d be her. Then again, maybe I didn’t know her as well as I thought I did. She couldn’t have grown up with Gian and remained blind to the reality of who he really was. Who her family really was.
The driver cleared his throat. “We’re here.”
“Right.” Nodding absently, I opened the door. The brisk wind whipped around me, transforming my shirt into a billowing sail. “Thanks. Have a good night.”
I jogged into the two-story lobby and stepped onto the escalator, my heart still beating erratically from both my run and the fear building inside of my chest with every additional inch of distance between Gian’s home and me.
Standing in front of the honey-colored wood check-in desk I typed a text to Gian.
I’m fine. I needed some space. I’ll be back in a few days.
My shaky index finger hovered over the send button, debating the pros and cons of contacting Gian. A woman interrupted my musings, and I shoved my phone back into my pocket without sending the text.
“Can I help you?” she asked, a practiced look of interest on her face.
“Yes.” I dug my driver’s license and credit card out of my wallet and slid them across the speckled solid countertop. “I need a room. Only for a night or two. Anything will work. It’s just me.”
“Let me see,” she answered, her hands flying over the keyboard. A minute later, her eyebrows raised expectantly. “We have a standard room or a suite. Do you have a preference?”
I tapped my chipped pale pink fingernails on the counter and blew out a strangled breath. “The standard room will work fine.”
I pulled out my
“Where to?” the driver asked, lowering the volume of his radio.
“Um…” In truth, I didn’t have anywhere to go. Carmela, who’d been my only outlet for escape and commiseration for over year, was no longer an option.
My two conversations with her had been strained. While she hadn’t said or done anything blatantly hurtful, she’d acted distant. Without her, I didn’t have anyone. I had no intention of calling my mother. I refused to sit through another hour of my life listening to her chastise me for making bad decisions. She made it clear she thought I should have moved home after I broke off my engagement with Kevin, and in retrospect, I couldn’t disagree.
The driver swiveled in his seat, his left hand tapping an imaginary beat on the steering wheel. “Well? Where do you want to go?”
I rubbed my temples, my mind wildly grasping for any plausible destination. “What’s the nearest hotel?”
“I don’t know.” His nearly black eyes narrowed, and then he nodded. “I think there’s a Marriott near the Brooklyn Bridge.”
I leaned forward, a small burst of excitement rushing through me. “Perfect. Take me there.”
“You got it.”
Rubbing the frayed hem of my shirt, I stared at the parade of people, all faceless and nameless. A few stared at their phones, some chatted with their companions, and others walked with purpose as though their whole life depended on them making it to their destination.
Meanwhile, I sat in frozen horror while my actions caught up with me. Gian wasn’t Kevin. He wouldn’t accept my defiance with nothing more than a few well-aimed barbs calculated to trash my self-esteem. The dead guy on the floor of his office said enough about his capacity for violence to have me regretting my impulsive actions.
Gian, for some unknown reason, had decided to protect me when he should have put a bullet in my head and dumped me in the nearest body of water. My finger hovered over my phone as I considered calling Carmela for the hundredth time in the past week to spill the truth. I didn’t know if she could protect me from her brother—though, if anyone could, it’d be her. Then again, maybe I didn’t know her as well as I thought I did. She couldn’t have grown up with Gian and remained blind to the reality of who he really was. Who her family really was.
The driver cleared his throat. “We’re here.”
“Right.” Nodding absently, I opened the door. The brisk wind whipped around me, transforming my shirt into a billowing sail. “Thanks. Have a good night.”
I jogged into the two-story lobby and stepped onto the escalator, my heart still beating erratically from both my run and the fear building inside of my chest with every additional inch of distance between Gian’s home and me.
Standing in front of the honey-colored wood check-in desk I typed a text to Gian.
I’m fine. I needed some space. I’ll be back in a few days.
My shaky index finger hovered over the send button, debating the pros and cons of contacting Gian. A woman interrupted my musings, and I shoved my phone back into my pocket without sending the text.
“Can I help you?” she asked, a practiced look of interest on her face.
“Yes.” I dug my driver’s license and credit card out of my wallet and slid them across the speckled solid countertop. “I need a room. Only for a night or two. Anything will work. It’s just me.”
“Let me see,” she answered, her hands flying over the keyboard. A minute later, her eyebrows raised expectantly. “We have a standard room or a suite. Do you have a preference?”
I tapped my chipped pale pink fingernails on the counter and blew out a strangled breath. “The standard room will work fine.”
I pulled out my
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