Don’t Get Comfortable – Autumn
Don’t Get Comfortable
Autumn
I stare into the distance, waiting for Kylie to return to me, but her taillights dissolve into the highway’s red and white blur.
As the seconds slip into minutes, my mind spins endlessly. I remember that these men are far from the first to follow me since I’ve fallen into Ryder’s world, and I suddenly feel like I’m watching my character in a novel with third-person narration.
Autumn clutches her chest as it tightens, and reality slowly dawns. She’s just turned away her best friend again, this time for a man she barely knows…
What the hell is she thinking?
Taking out my phone, I call Kylie but it doesn’t ring.
It goes straight to voicemail.
I swallow the lump in my throat and try again. This time, I’m met with a message, “The number you’ve reached is not currently accepting calls.”
She’s blocked me.
Turning around, I walk past the dumpster and spot Ryder’s men sitting in a black car.
Unnerved, I approach and tap the window.
It slowly rolls down.
“Yes, Miss Jane?” the driver asks.
“Why is he making you follow me?”
He blinks.
“How long have you been working for him?”
No answer.
“If you’re being forced to serve as my unwanted shadow, you could at least speak to me.”
The man in the passenger seat keeps his gaze straight ahead while the driver adjusts a setting on the dashboard.
“I’m going to Target now. Will you be joining me there?”
“Target is closed at this time of night, Miss Jane,” the driver finally speaks. “There’s a twenty-four-hour Walmart two exits away.”
“I’d like for you not to follow me anymore,” I say. “And I’d like you to tell your boss that I don’t want to hear from him for a while.”
He blinks.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?” I raise my voice. “Can you at least shake your head and act like I’m not speaking another language?”
He rolls up the window.
I tap the glass again, harder this time, but he stares ahead like he can’t hear.
Frustrated, I head to my car and try Kylie again before calling Ryder.
“Yes, Autumn?” he answers on the first ring.
“You just cost me my best friend.”
“Excuse me?”
“You have your men following me for no fucking reason.”
“I don’t do anything without a reason.”
“She’s not going to talk to me anymore because I was foolish enough not to…”
“Not to what , Autumn?”
I hesitate to answer.
“Since I clearly didn’t fuck you hard enough,” Ryder says, “what time would you like me to come by and fix this egregious mistake?”
“I’m being serious about you costing me a friend.”
“I can be there within an hour.”
“I don’t want to hear from you again until you tell me why you feel the need to invade my privacy and have me followed.”
Silence.
“Are you there?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says.
“Do I need to repeat myself?”
“Of course not,” he says. “But you should know that past behavior typically predicts future performance.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“That I don’t recall ever sitting you down for a tell-all conversation, so I doubt that would change anytime soon…”
“Well, don’t call me for any other conversations,” I say. “Thank you very much for the orgasms. I need time to be alone, and I wish you the best of luck with your criminal enterprise.”
“Autumn—”
I end the call before he can finish that sentence. Then I speed out of the lot.
As I merge into the farthest lane, I glance in my rearview mirror, waiting to see the headlights from his henchmen, but none appear.
Maybe Ryder finally called them off…
Up ahead in the emergency lane, there’s a car that looks similar to Kylie’s, but it’s not hers, and I can’t help but feel like this is the first of many signs that I’ve genuinely fucked up.
Tears prick my eyes as I envision the stunned look on her face, the true concern as she uttered, “Canadian situation.”
Even still, best friend or not, I never told her the truth about that…
Years ago, weeks before accepting Nate’s proposal, I was ready to perform with my high school symphony in Montreal.
The private audience was set to be filled with dignitaries and other acclaimed musicians; I’d secured the enviable fifteen-minute solo in Bach’s Chaconne from the 2nd Partita.
Even though fellow violinists considered that piece to be among the most difficult in our genre, I could play it in my sleep. The strings always came easy for me… a little too easy.
And yet, I wasn’t excited about the performance or the limited future options ahead.
While my classmates were enthused about their college and gap year plans, I hadn’t accepted any of the offers extended to me.
I was foolishly planning a life of adventure with Nate, and he was supposed to meet me, but his flight was delayed.
When the knock came on my door a little past midnight, hours before my performance, it wasn’t him. Instead, there were customs agents and four Canadian police officers with handcuffs.
There was no use in denying what I’d done; I was guilty as all hell.
The second chair violinist played my solo that afternoon.
A dignitary said a few kind words on my behalf while I languished in custody, and the justice sealed my record as soon as I went home.
The government labeled me “persona non grata,” and deemed me unwelcome to ever return.
The highway continues to lead me down memory lane until I return to the neighborhood that holds my Airbnb. I circle the familiar streets several times to see if Ryder’s men will appear, but I’m still alone.
Parking, I rush inside and immediately undress before stepping into the shower.
I turn the water to the hottest setting, letting the streams punish me for what feels like forever.
When I’ve served my sentence, I step out and notice my phone buzzing against the vanity with a call from an unknown number.
“Look,” I say, “I was serious about not wanting to?—”
“I only have two minutes.” It’s Kylie. “I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t let you have this stuff, but I couldn’t bear to drop it off at your address because?—”
“I am so sorry.” I can’t help but interrupt. “I should’ve heard you out and done what you asked.”
“I left it at the closest Walmart instead.” She doesn’t accept my apology. “It’s in the pet food aisle, under the brand of bags that we used to buy for my Aunt Sarah. Do you remember the name of it?”
“Yes.”
“Good, go get it now.” Her voice is firm. “Oh, and Autumn?”
“Yeah?”
“Keep a bag packed in your car for whenever you come to your senses and leave him.”
She hangs up without another word, and I dress quickly.
Heeding her warning, I stuff a few outfits into a duffle bag and step outside to head to Walmart.
Shit…
Two cars that weren’t there before are sitting at the back of the lot. Their lights aren’t on, but their engines are softly humming.
Nothing has changed.
Ignoring them, I toss my bag into the trunk and speed away.
Several minutes later, I slide my hand under a bag of Paw Paw’s Puppy Chow.
Feeling the edges of a thickly bound binder, I place my bag on the shelf and subtly slide it inside.
Then, I push an empty cart toward the wine aisle. I need to buy enough to keep my mind buzzed for at least a week.
I grab four of their strongest reds and two premixed sangria blends. As I’m placing a box of cheap Merlot into the cart, another unknown number calls.
“I just picked it up, Kylie,” I say. “I’ll be sure to?—”
“Hello, Autumn.” Ryder’s voice ends my sentence, and I suck in a breath.
“How exactly did I cost you your best friend if you were expecting her call?”
“Because you—” I shake my head. “As much as I’d love to explain, we don’t have ‘tell-all’ conversations as you said, so I’ll keep it to myself.”
He lets out a low laugh that sends a flush of warmth through my body. An image of him fucking me in the bar suddenly flashes in my mind, but I shake it away.
“How do I make it clearer that I don’t want to talk to you for a while?”
“You could come tell me in person.”
“I’m busy.”
“I can see that.” There’s a smile in his voice. “You deserve to drink much better brands than the ones you have in your cart. Meet me on aisle ten.”
End of Episode 9