Distraction by Aurora Rose Reynolds
“Thanks,” I choke out, feeling that pressure in my chest press in on my lungs, making it hard to breathe.
“It will be okay,” he says, leaning in, pressing his lips to my forehead, and letting them linger there until the feel of them is imprinted on my skin. Then, he pulls back enough to catch my eye. “Why don’t you have dinner with me tonight?” he asks softly, searching my face.
“I think I’m just going to go home and get to bed early,” I tell him, taking a step back before I can say something stupid, like ‘yes.’ I like Sven way too much, and the more time I spend with him, the more I like him.
“Sure.” He nods. “Get some rest.” Seeing the brief flash of disappointment in his eyes right before he turns his back on me makes me waiver in my decision to keep my distance, but then I remember what has happened every time I let someone in.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I murmur as I step out of his office, taking the stairs down to the main floor. I walk through the empty club, waving at Eva, who’s on the phone behind the bar, as I pass her on the way to the door.
“You heading home already?” Teo asks when I step outside.
“Yep, Sven had me up early to run errands, so I’m off now.”
“I’ll walk you to your car.” He stands from the small metal stool he was sitting on and tosses a half smoked cigarette into the street.
“You don’t have to do that,” I assure him, motioning for him to sit back down.
“Sorry, I mean I am walking you to your car.” He grins, wrapping his giant hand around my bicep.
“Fine,” I sigh, knowing there is no point in arguing with him. Since I started working here, there has never been a time I have gone to my car alone. Even in the middle of the day, someone is with me.
“You know Sven doesn’t like you leaving the club alone,” he says, leading me around the side of the building to the parking lot. Ignoring his comment and the way it makes me feel, I try to keep up with his long stride in my heels as we walk past Sven’s giant SUV to my car that is about ten times smaller in size.
“Sven doesn’t like much of anything,” I say under my breath, hearing him chuckle.
“One day, this shit’s gonna go nuclear.”
“What?” I ask, tilting my head back to peer up at him as we stop at the back of my car.
“Nothing.” He shakes his head as a small smile forms on his lips.
“If you say so.” I frown as his eyes study me, running over my hair and face then down over my body before stopping on my shoes, moving back up to meet my eyes once more.
“Fucking nuclear.” He shakes his head, and his smile broadens, confusing me even more.
“Um…”
“Get home safe,” he rumbles, opening the door to my car.
Giving up on understanding him, I lean up on my heels to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “See you tomorrow.”
Nodding, he steps back, allowing me to slide behind the wheel. Starting my hybrid, I check the battery and make sure I have enough of a charge to make it home before backing up and waving at Teo as I pass him.
Getting home, I head up the stairs that lead to my apartment and unlock the door, silently praying that Morgan will be inside, but she’s not. The place is quiet and is exactly the same as I left it this morning before I went to run errands for Sven.
Heading to my room, I slip off my heels and toss them onto the pile of shoes in the bottom of my closet. My bedroom is my favorite room. After my first modeling job, I splurged and bought a bedroom suite that was made for a princess. The white, four-poster canopy bed with sheer curtains that hang down around the sides remind me of a bed from Sleeping Beauty. The white matching dressers, one tall, the other long, have etched glass mirrors on the front of each drawer, with shiny silver handles. The side tables match the dressers, and each has a blown glass lamp on top; the Tiffany blue color matches the duvet on my bed.
Walking to my long dresser, the one covered in frames of different sizes, I pick up a picture of Morgan and me. I must have been about six at the time, and Morgan was around four. We were sitting outside my parents’ house on the wooden steps that lead to their front door. My arm was wrapped around her shoulders, and we were naked, wearing nothing but rain boots and covered in mud. We were happy. She was happy. Picking up another picture of us from around four years ago, I run my finger over her face, wondering where her light went. There was a time her smile lit up the room; people would gravitate toward her without even knowing they were doing it. I don’t know what happened to take away her light.
“What happened to you?” I whisper, gaining no answer. I set down the picture and put my hands behind me to unzip my skirt then slip out of my blouse, tossing both items toward the bathroom, where the washer and dryer is located. Then, I slip off my bra and go to the laundry basket next to my bed that is full of clothes I need to put away. I find a pair of sweats and a shirt and put both on and then head down the short hallway, past the guest bath and Morgan’s room, which used to be my office. Stopping in the living room, I turn on the stereo, allowing Adele to fill the silence, and then toss the remote on the sectional across from the television.
Heading toward the kitchen, a letter sitting on top of the stack of mail I brought inside yesterday catches my eye when I see my mom’s swirly handwriting. Sliding my finger under the edge of the envelope, I pull out the folded up letter and read it quickly. My parents don’t have phones or internet, so my mom keeps in contact with letters, and this one is just like the rest: a short update about her and my dad and an invite to come visit when I can.
Sitting down in one of my dining chairs, I write a quick note telling her that Morgan has once again disappeared and that I probably won’t be able to visit for awhile, but will send a letter when I can. I know my mom will be concerned about Morgan, but she will say what she always says: This is your life, so you have to make your own decisions. Shoving the letter into an envelope, I place it in my purse so I can mail it tomorrow. I get up and go to the kitchen, pulling out a pot to boil water.
I was raised in a small community outside of Phoenix, where they didn’t believe in the government or in most modern amenities. When I was ten, my parents offered me the opportunity to join public school and I accepted. That was when I figured out how different we were from everyone, and how much my parents had prevented me from learning. My first year of public school was really difficult, and I ended up being held back a year so that I could catch up with everyone else. After that first year, I excelled, and by graduation, I was top of my class.
I don’t regret how I grew up, but I still resent my parents for not being parents. Most of my major life decisions were ones I made for myself, even before I should have been allowed to, and if there was ever a problem, I knew I would have to find a solution on my own without the help of the two people who should have been there to guide me.
Shaking the depressing thoughts about my parents out of my head, I toss some angel hair pasta in the boiling water and pull down a bowl from my cabinet then go to the fridge to grab the butter and a bottle of orange juice. Once the pasta is soft, I strain it and put it in the bowl along with some butter, salt, and pepper then pour myself a cup of orange juice, taking both to the living room.
*
Looking from the door to the clock on the cable box, the bright red numbers read 11:36. Looking at the door again, I feel my eyebrows pull tight as the door handle jiggles like it did moments ago. Getting off the couch, where I planted myself a few hours ago to watch TV, I walk slowly to the door, feeling something strange slide down my spine as I get up on my tiptoes and press my hand to the wood to look through the peephole. The porch light is off, but the light from the streetlamp near my building has cast a glow around two men on the other side of the door.
Backing away slowly, my heart pounds so hard in my chest that the sound of my blood pumping fills my ears. Moving as quickly and as silently as I can down the hall to my bedroom, I shut my door, whimpering when I realize the
“911, what’s your emergency?” the dispatcher answers as I hear footsteps sound somewhere in the apartment.
“I’m at 267 Hemming Way, apartment 17. Someone is in my apartment,” I whisper then scream as the bathroom door crashes open and the shower curtain is shoved aside.
“Help!” I shout as hands grab me by my hair, pulling me up from the tub. Dropping the phone, I fight back, elbowing the guy in the stomach, then turn and bring my hand down hard on his shoulder, which causes him to drop to the ground instantly.
Click, click.
My body freezes and fear rushes over me as I look up, coming face-to-face with the barrel of a gun. Raising my hands in front of me, I’m not prepared for the blow to my stomach that has me doubling over, gasping for air.
“You fucking cunt,” the guy I took down moments ago says, backhanding me so hard I hit the wall. Wrapping his hands around my hair, he drags me stumbling out of the bathroom, down the hall behind him to the living room, where he shoves me to my knees.
“Where is your sister?” the man holding the gun roars, smacking me with the butt of his weapon across my face so hard that my head flies to the side and I taste blood in my mouth.
“I don’t know,” I tell him, lifting my eyes and trying to focus on his face.
“Don’t lie, bitch,” he says, pressing the gun into my forehead.
“I don’t know,” I whimper in fear as the guy behind me uses my ponytail to pull me up off the floor.
“Your cunt sister stole ten grand from me,” the one holding the gun says as his face comes close to mine…so close I can smell the scent of mint on his breath.
“I can give you the money,” I sob as I feel my hair being ripped out of my scalp when I’m jerked back and forth.
“Do you really think it’s that fucking simple?” he asks, wrapping his hand around my throat. “No one fucking takes from me. No one!” he snarls, squeezing my throat tighter as stars blur my vision.
“Cops,” the guy behind me says as the sound of sirens off in the distance gets louder.
“Tell your sister I’m coming for her.”
Falling to my knees, I gasp for air then roll into a ball as his booted foot connects with my side. Watching them run out of my apartment. I don’t know how long I lay there but I eventually pull up enough energy to get to my feet and stumble toward the door.
“Freeze.”
My head lifts and I swallow as tears stream out of my eyes, seeing two uniformed police officers standing at the top landing in front of my apartment. “They’re gone,” I croak through the soreness of my throat, leaning into the door.
“You know which way they went?” one of the officers questions while taking a step toward me.
“No,” I say then shake my head when the words aren’t loud enough to be heard.
“I’ll stay with her. You go and check around and let me know if you find anything,” the cop before me says, putting his gun away as the other takes off back down the stairs. “Come on, honey,” he instructs gently as he takes my arm. He leads me over to my couch, where he helps me sit before getting down in front of me and pushing my hair away from my face. “You got some ice?”
“Peas,” I murmur, watching him get up and go to the kitchen, coming back a few seconds later with a bag of frozen peas in his hand. Taking it from him, I press it to my throat then to my face, blinking rapidly, trying to control the tears I feel filling my eyes.
“Would you like to call someone?”
How pathetic is it that my answer was, “Not really”? But that was the truth, wasn’t it? I have no one, no one I can depend on, no one I can count on when I need anything. My parents don’t even have a telephone I can call them on if there’s an emergency. Like now, I think bitterly. Then, my sister, seeing how she’s the reason I was in this mess. I knew that even if I were able to get ahold of her she wouldn’t be able to help me. Hell, she would probably run away when she found out the guys she stole from were looking for her. Wyatt is out of the question, since I broke up with him yesterday after realizing it was pointless to be in a relationship with someone who lives hundreds of miles away. My mind flashes to Sven, but I don’t want him to worry…or at least that’s what I’m telling myself right now. “No, I don’t want to call anyone.”
“I’m gonna call an ambulance and have them come look you over.”
“That’s not necessary,” I whisper through the soreness of my throat.
“Honey, I’d really like to make sure you don’t have a concussion.”
“I don’t think I do,” I tell him, dropping my eyes to his badge. “Officer Jenkins.”
“Not sure you would know that.” He smiles.
Sighing, I give up and mutter, “Fine,” and he smiles bigger then pats my knee. He puts his hand to his chest and leans down, telling dispatch to send an ambulance.
“Do you know who broke in?” he asks as soon as he gets the conformation that the ambulance is in route.
“No, they were looking for my sister.”
“Did they say what they wanted with her?” he asks, moving to sit next to me on the couch.
Shaking my head, I start to lie then squeeze my eyes closed and open them back up. “They said she stole money and they were going to pay her back.”
“I see.” He nods, and I fight the urge to defend her, even though I know she has gone too far this time.
“None of the neighbors heard anything, and I didn’t see anyone on the street,” the other officer says, walking through the open front door, followed by two paramedics who come directly to me. It doesn’t surprise me that no one heard anything. My two closest neighbors are older; one uses a hearing aid most of the time, and the other usually has the television on so high that he wouldn’t hear it if the world was coming to an end outside his door.
“As soon as they check her over, we’ll go over the details of what happened,” I hear Officer Jenkins say to his partner as the paramedics begin to examine me. When they’re done, they tell me to take some Advil for the pain, but assure me I will be fine. Officer Jenkins takes the seat next to me on the couch once more as the other officer, Lent, leads the paramedics to the door and closes it behind them, coming back a second later, grabbing one of the chairs from my dining room table, and sitting on it across from me.
“I already explained to Officer Lent that the men who broke in were looking for your sister,” Officer Jenkins says as he pulls out a pen from the pocket of his shirt. “Can you tell me anything else about them?”
Pressing my lips together, I try to remember any details about the two men, but my mind comes up empty. “It all happened so fast. They were both white, and dressed similar in black t-shirts, jeans, and boots, but I didn’t get a good look at either of them.”
“Do you know where your sister is?” Officer Lent asks, sitting forward and studying me.
“No, I filed a missing person report on her. I haven’t heard from her in two days,” I tell him, and his eyes scan my face and I know he sees I’m holding something back.
“What are you not telling us?” he asks gently, and that’s when the dam breaks and tears begin to fall silently from my eyes, down my cheeks, and onto my shirt.
“She has a drug problem. She was doing really well for a few weeks, and I thought this time she was going to stick with it and go into rehab, but she lost her way again, and now this happened.” Covering my face with my hands, I try to get myself back under control. Crying like a baby won’t solve anything right now, even though that is exactly what I want to do. Sitting up straight, I look between the two policemen and ask, “What do I need to do now?”
“There isn’t much we can
“I’d really like you to stay somewhere else tonight,” Officer Jenkins says quietly after a moment, and my eyes go to him.
“I’ll go to a hotel. I wouldn’t be able to sleep here if I wanted to, not while knowing there is a possibility those guys might come back.”
“I don’t think they’ll come back tonight, but I’d rather you be safe somewhere else, at least for a few days. You also need to have your locks changed and a deadbolt put in before you do stay here. The guys who broke in were able to pick your lock easily, and to be honest, you’re a woman living alone. You should have some form of protection.”
“I’ll call a locksmith tomorrow and have them put in new locks,” I agree, instantly ignoring his ‘you’re a woman’ comment, ‘cause all that does is annoy me, even if he is right. But then again, there was a gun involved, and if not for that, I probably could have kicked butt…or at least that’s what I’m going to tell myself.
“Go get your stuff, honey, and we’ll follow you to the hotel,” he replies, looking as if he wants to say something else but thinking better of it. If this had been any other time, I would have taken an extra moment to appreciate how handsome he is. But now is not that time, so I get off the couch, walk back to my bedroom, pull out my large duffle bag from my closet, and stuff it full with enough clothes to last me a few days. Once I’m done, I drag it into the hall behind me.
“This is my card. If you think of anything or need anything, just give me a call,” Officer Jenkins says as he picks up my bag then turns his attention to Officer Lent. “I’m gonna take this down and phone into the station to let them know we’re following her to the hotel and getting her checked in.”