86. Riley
EIGHTY-SIX
As Gabriel approaches the table,a tray of steaming coffees in hand, a subtle tension hangs in the air. Being an observant person, his eyes shift between Mia and me. The atmosphere has changed since he last saw us.
To me, it”s obvious that the molecules in the room seemed to have rearranged themselves.
”Everything okay here?” Gabriel”s voice holds genuine concern, his raised eyebrow betraying his curiosity.
Mia”s features soften as she glances at her brother. ”Everything”s fine. Just getting to know Riley better.” Her words carry a complex mixture of emotions, a mix of affection and skepticism.
A wave of confusion washes over me. Has he purposely omitted crucial details about his sister, such as her intensely protective nature?
I paste on a reassuring smile. ”Everything”s fine, Gabriel. Mia and I are just having a little chat.”
His nod comes with a flicker of relief. ”Okay then. Let”s enjoy our coffee. They”re also bringing over three warm cinnamon rolls. I couldn”t resist,” he says, probably attempting to bring back a sense of normalcy.
He hands Mia her espresso and places a comforting hand on my shoulder before settling into the seat next to me. With each sip of coffee and bite of the sinfully decadent pastry, the palpable tension in the room begins to dissipate.
Mia and I exchange pleasantries, engaging in small talk about New York and its hidden cafe gems. Slowly, we discover common ground, easing into a more comfortable conversation. The frosty atmosphere that had enveloped us earlier thaws, replaced by a tentative truce.
Mia”s overbearing concerns stem from a deep well of love and protectiveness for her brother. Yet, beneath my attempts to understand her, a gnawing discomfort churns in my gut. I don”t appreciate being subjected to such scrutiny right from the start. Despite the unease lingering within me, I know I have to find a way to get along with her.
Gabriel and his sister start discussing old times, acquaintances, and mutual connections. I remain silent, sipping my coffee and gazing out of the window onto the bustling New York City street, yearning for them to talk about Catherine. I want to hear Mia”s perspective on her.
”Gabe, we”re boring Riley. She doesn”t care about our middle school friends,” Mia playfully says, her eyes shifting towards me.
Raising my hands in surrender, I respond with a grin. ”Don”t worry about me. I could sit here all day, people-watching. Sometimes, I miss this city. Did Gabriel tell you that I went to college here?”
”He did,” Mia confirms with a click of her tongue. ”I don”t know if my brother mentioned it, but we have plans. You and me. Gabriel will head back to the suite for his business matters.”
Mia shoots a teasing glance at Gabriel, prompting a laugh from him. ”I told Riley that you wanted to take her shopping.”
”It sounds amazing,” I reply, though I”m not sure it does.
”I initially planned to take you out for lunch too, but since we just indulged in all this,” Mia gestures towards her cinnamon roll, of which she has only taken a small bite, ”I”d say we should stick to drinks afterward.”
Rising from our seats, we make our way towards the sidewalk. Gabriel presses a chaste kiss on my lips before turning to his sister. ”Where”s the driver?”
Mia shakes her head, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. ”We”re walking. Fifth Avenue is right over there.”
”What about a bodyguard?” Gabriel”s dark eyes transform into a stormy gray, mirroring the drizzling gray skies outside.
His sister chuckles, exuding a sense of confidence. ”This is New York, dear brother. Don”t you remember what it”s like to be anonymous in a big city?”
He lets out a small snort. ”Fine. But call me if you need anything. I”m serious.”
Waving him off, Mia links her arm with mine. ”Everything we need is within a three-block radius from here. Designer clothes, the finest shoe boutiques, and a bar that concocts incredible Cosmos. What more could we ask for?”
Mia turns to me, her question hanging in the air. ”Do you have his credit card?”
I laugh, though the sting of her words pricks at me. It”s clear that she assumes I lack financial independence, a presumption that happens to be one thousand percent correct.
We venture through the busy streets of New York, the gray drizzle oppressive in its insistence. I shiver.
”Seems like you”ve gotten used to the Florida weather,” Mia remarks, seemingly amused by my discomfort.
Leading the way with a confident stride, her designer handbag swinging at her side, we pass by three upscale boutiques, their glamorous displays beckoning us.
”I”m in the mood for shoes,” Mia says. ”What about you?”
”Well, considering you”re rocking glamorous stilettos while I”m in flats, I suppose I should be the one in the mood for shoes,” I reply sarcastically, but can”t help but flash a cheeky grin.
Her laughter fills the air. ”Gabe was right about you. You”re truly hilarious.”
Yet, beneath our lighthearted banter, a gnawing sense of unease grows within me. The gloomy skies, the drizzling rain, and the towering buildings of the city create an atmosphere that leaves me disoriented. It has been too long since I experienced the urban environment, after months spent basking in the sunshine of Florida.
Upon entering a luxurious shoe boutique, an inexplicable sensation envelops me. We are being watched, I know it deep in my gut. Glancing over my shoulder, I catch a fleeting glimpse of a shadowy figure disappearing around the corner of the stone building.
Was it my imagination, or did that actually happen?
”Mia,” I whisper, attempting not to alarm her, ”I think we”re being followed.”
Her eyes dart around, surveying the store with heightened vigilance. Taking a deep breath, her voice barely audible, she urges me to stay calm. ”Riley, we”re fine.”
The tension in the air crackles as we continue to browse through the extravagant displays of shoes, their exorbitant prices eclipsing my annual earnings at the paper. Subtly reaching for my phone in my pocket, I am prepared to dial Gabriel”s number at a moment”s notice.
Just as we”re about to leave the store, chaos erupts outside. The screeching tires and shattering glass shatter the previously serene, luxurious ambiance. Mia and I exchange a panicked look, our instincts urging us to seek cover.
Without hesitation, we rush towards the back of the store, my heart pounding in my chest as we desperately seek refuge. When the door swings open, a terrified shop girl stands before us, her face etched with fear.
”There”s a shooting happening outside!” she cries, her voice trembling. ”We need to hide!”
Mia and I exchange a wordless glance, fear and shock written deep on faces. Nodding, we follow the shop owner into the cramped confines of the storage space, our bodies pressed closely together, hearts racing.
Within the darkness of the storeroom, we listen to the sounds of chaos raging on the street. Gunshots reverberate through the air, punctuated by shouts and blaring sirens. Time seems to slow down as we huddle together, waiting for the danger to pass.
”Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I whisper, the profanity barely audible.
Minutes stretch into eternity, the thick tension lingering in the air. Eventually, the sounds of gunfire fade into the distance, replaced by the distant wailing of sirens. The immediate danger has subsided, but an ominous aura still looms overhead, casting a heavy shadow.
As we emerge, the street outside has transformed into a scene of chaos. Police cars line the sidewalk, their flashing lights casting an eerie glow on the wet pavement. Shards of broken glass litter the sidewalk, a stark reminder of what has unfolded.
No one appears to be hurt, thank God. It”s a fucking miracle.
Mia”s eyes gleam with a wild mix of adrenaline and concern. ”We need to find Gabriel. I fear this wasn”t a random incident. This kind of thing doesn”t happen here.”
”What? Wait. Do you think we were the targets?” I ask, unable to hide my incredulity. Who even knows we”re here in New York? She begins walking away without answering. ”Shouldn”t we talk to the police? Why are we just walking away? Mia, answer me!”
Scrambling to keep up with her brisk pace, I follow her through the chaos of the crime scene. It astonishes me that we blend seamlessly into the crowds, without pausing to give our side of the story to the authorities. Mia”s behaving as if she is above the law, much like her brother, albeit in a different city—New York instead of Florida.
Mia abruptly turns into a bar, located about a block away from the shooting and the shoe boutique. I fail to catch its name, and upon entering, it takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting.
”What are we doing here?” I hiss, perplexed, as she confidently slides into a booth at the back.
”We”re calling Gabriel, and my husband,” she says, casually tossing her designer purse onto the seat.
A waiter materializes as if summoned, causing me to flinch involuntarily. ”Ladies, can I get you a menu?”
Mia shakes her head. ”Two gin and tonics, top-shelf gin, whatever you have.”
The waiter nods and walks away, leaving me to settle into the booth across from Mia. ”Why all the secrecy?” I grumble. ”I”ll call Gabriel.”
Retrieving my phone from my bag, I tap Gabriel”s contact. The waiter returns with our drinks as the phone rings persistently. Why isn”t he answering? Unwelcome memories of that night in Tampa flood my mind. Not again.
”Riley?” Gabriel”s voice comes through, breathless.
”What are you doing?” I ask. ”Why didn”t you answer right away?”
”Um, well, I was, ah...” His voice trails off into a chuckle, and I want to scream.
”What were you doing?” I say, my voice turning icy.
”I was, ah, pleasuring myself. I”ve been feeling a bit frustrated lately. Sorry, babe.”
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath to steady myself. While I am running from a drive-by shooting, my boyfriend is back at the hotel, indulging in self-pleasure. How wonderful.
”We were involved in an incident,” I say flatly.
”What? Are you okay? What happened?” Gabriel”s voice rises with concern. ”Where the fuck are you?”
”Where are we?” I ask Mia.
”Park Lounge.” Mia gives the address, which I relay to Gabriel.
”That”s only two blocks away. I”ll be there in a few. Goddammit, I knew you needed security. Don”t fucking move.”
Gabriel mutters a few choice swear words and hangs up. I sigh. ”That went well.”
It”s becoming frighteningly common for me to dismiss trauma and shock with black humor.
”Listen,” Mia takes a quick sip of her drink. ”I don”t think we were the targets.”
”No? So we merely stumbled into someone”s drama?”
She lifts her shoulders in response.
”Why aren”t you more concerned?” I ask.
”Drink up. You”re going to need fortification for when the men get here. Because they”re going to be pissed. Like I told you, Riley. This lifestyle takes more than just love.”
I stare into the swirling depths of my gin and tonic. I take a sip, hoping the alcohol will numb the frustration and fear coursing through my veins. But there”s no escaping the harsh reality of the situation—I”m still trapped in a dangerous web, and the threads involving Gabriel remain shrouded in mystery and danger.
And I”m fucking sick of it.