17. Kennedy
Kennedy
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Past
I've never changed clothes so quickly in my life.
Since I lost my parents, I've been through a lot and forced myself to always keep my head up, but today? Without a doubt, it will go down on the list of days I'll try to forget.
And what was that, seeking refuge in the arms of a stranger? What did I even know about him at that moment? For all I knew, he could be as big a jerk as Greytak and the casino owners.
To make matters worse, a heavy rain begins to fall. I try to shelter myself under the awnings as I walk, but the wind brings the rain to me anyway.
I still have to walk almost five hundred meters to the bus stop, and I regret the impulsive decision of not waiting for Mr. Ernest to finish his shift and give me a ride.
Actually, what I would like to do today is hide in his house. I'm not in the mood to face Mrs. Vina, and not even Pam, although she sounded very sweet on the phone.
I’m alert as I walk because this area is not exactly safe at night, except for those who drive their fancy cars. I'm no longer dressed in the provocative clothes from the casino, but there might be some idiot thinking that because I'm alone, he can take advantage. I'm small, and although I think in a fight they'd have to kill me before they could subdue me, I don't want to test that theory.
As if my fears come true, I hear a car slowing down as it passes by me.
I quicken my pace, my heart racing. Even if there was the remotest possibility of a good Samaritan stopping to help me, if there's a guy or several in the vehicle with bad intentions, he definitely wouldn't stop in this rain.
A deep terror takes hold of every drop of my blood when I realize that the car has parked a few meters ahead. The back door opens, but I focus on my path and silently pray until I hear my savior's voice say, "Kennedy, get in. You'll end up catching pneumonia."
I stop walking. Yes, maybe it's a stupid thing to do because criminals don't necessarily have to look like criminals, but the man stood up for me twice today.
"I don't know you. Why do you care about me?"
"I don't care, but your mother might."
"Don't worry about that, sir. She's been gone for a long time." I quicken my pace again, and I can hardly believe it when he appears in front of me, his expensive suit splattered, as well as his hair, from running a little in the rain.
"You don't need to be afraid of me. I'm not a woman abuser."
"I'm not saying you are, although I don't believe anyone who did that would admit it."
"I would admit it," he says, looking at me seriously.
"Why do you want to help me? You don't know me."
"I don't have an answer to that. I just feel somewhat responsible for making sure you get home safely."
I look into his eyes for several seconds, and he doesn't even blink. "I don't know your name."
"I know yours, Kennedy."
"If you really want me to accept your ride, let me see your ID."
"Are you serious?"
I cross my arms and say nothing until he takes his wallet out of the pocket of his suit jacket and shows me.
When he hands it to me, I take a picture with my phone and send it to Mr. Ernest.
"What did you do?"
"Don't worry, I didn't send your information to anyone, just the photo to a friend. If you kill me, he'll show it to the police. I watch detective shows, sir. They'll know where to start looking when they realize that on the night I disappeared, you were the last person to be with me."
He stares at me, incredulous, and then I have the feeling he would smile if he could, which I don't believe he can. Quickly, however, the expression closes. "Do you usually keep your word?"
"Yes."
"Well then, now that you've shown how stubborn you are, get in the car."
Rough . "Is there anyone else with you?"
"Just my driver. I need his help to bury you."
"I didn't find that funny," I lie because, deep down, I feel like laughing.
I almost groan in relief when the warmth inside the vehicle envelops my body. After greeting the driver, I quickly fasten my seatbelt and pretend not to notice that after entering and doing the same, the man, whom I now know is called Hades Kostanidis, is watching me.
"Were you going home?" he asks.
"Yes. Look, I appreciate the ride, but you don't need to take me all the way. Just drop me off at a bus stop."
"No. Tell me your address."
I finally turn to face him and see in his eyes that he won't give up.
Reluctantly, I give the address to the driver, although I'm sure that as soon as the car enters my neighborhood, he'll regret insisting on taking me.
"You're a foreigner," I say after the car starts moving through the streets of New Orleans. It will take at least half an hour to get to my house.
"I was born in Greece, but I've been between there and here since I can remember."
"You hardly have an accent."
"It only comes out when I'm angry."
"And does that happen frequently?"
"Has anyone ever told you you're nosy?"
"No, because I don't usually ask so many questions, but I've also never been saved three times by the same person."
"Saved you? Is that what I did?"
I was looking out the window, but I turn to look at him. "I don't understand."
He doesn't say anything. He looks out onto the street on the opposite side from where I am, and it takes me a moment before I finally understand what he meant.
"Did you think that thing with the manager . . . was a lovers' quarrel? He's married!"
The arrogant man turns to me slowly. I can't see his eyes now, but somehow, I think he's thinking the worst of me.
I feel an intense mix of anger and disappointment that he’s judging me, but what did I expect? He's a stranger. He doesn't know me, and combining what the idiot casino owners said about wanting more from me with Greytak Mills's false claim that we were "friends," I shouldn't have expected anything different.
"He's not my boyfriend," I say angrily, and as if an entity has taken over my body, I continue. "I usually choose men who are available. Prettier and richer too."
"Like me?" he asks, catching me by surprise, and I try to analyze whether he's being sarcastic, but then I realize he's not.
He just seems curious, and . . . I wouldn't know what else. I don't have enough experience for that.
I shake my head. Of course, I'm imagining things that aren’t there. A man like Hades Kostanidis would never be interested in me.
"Not like you, sir. Someone closer to my reality. I find it somewhat discouraging to live on a different planet from a boyfriend."
"Cheeky."
"No, I'm just telling the truth. We live in different worlds, sir."
"And yet, here we are at this moment, Kennedy. Together."
"For just a few more minutes, Hades Kostanidis. Soon, you won't even remember my name."