Chapter Nineteen #4
I shook my head rapidly, not wanting to be talked into killing them.
Because that’s what I would be doing if I returned to them.
Impressive military record or not, it just wasn’t enough.
Not enough to risk their lives, anyway. I, also, ignored the itching curiosity to know how he knew about their records.
Those should have been locked up tighter than Fort Knox.
Evidently, he had some leverage in the armed forces.
Not really surprising, though. A lot of the older financially wealthy good-‘ol-boys had that insight.
He sighed and rubbed his face and stared out the front window. He stated bluntly, “It’s that deep, huh?”
I whispered, “Yes.”
We sat there in silence while I counted in my head. It took him six minutes and forty-nine seconds to decide.
“Okay. I’ll help you.” He put the car in drive and did a U-turn on the desolate street.
“I know someone that can get you to New York without anyone knowing you went there or I was involved. But for the record, I really think you are making a mistake by not trusting them to help you.” He glanced at me to make his point more clear.
“They’re grown men, who know how to handle tough situations.
And they obviously love you. Love like that doesn’t come around all the time.
Take it from a man who knows this. You won’t ever find that kind of happiness again. ”
“I don’t plan to,” I mumbled and stared out the window.
In the reflection I saw him shake his head at my stubbornness.
He sighed and pulled out his cellphone and made a call.
When all was figured out he told me what I was to do so neither one of us would get caught.
I agreed quietly, thoughts of Brent and Cole trying to bubble up.
The only way I didn’t start sobbing was to deaden myself.
I thought of nothing, but the plan ahead. My heart blackened further.
When he stopped at a private airport he asked me one last time if I was sure about this. I stared at him with my one working eye and didn’t answer him, but made him promise not to tell Brent or Cole about any of this. He sat there for long moments before giving me his word.
I placed a piece of paper down on his console that I had swiped from a small notepad in his glove compartment, after skipping to the middle where Mr. Fresby wouldn’t have touched it yet, and ripping it out.
He had been kind enough to let me use his pen.
It had red streaks on it of dried blood from my fingers, which looked garish against the virginal white page, and was a simple note written to Brent and Cole.
It stated, “One day I hope you can forgive me. I was foolish and selfishness and should never have put myself into your lives, but I had hoped. Now my hope is that you find love with someone that deserves you. Truly. And if you don’t, I’ll be mighty ticked off.
Please don’t search for me. I’m going to become the “free wind” on my own. ”
My hand hovered over the letter. I spoke softly, “Don’t touch it with your bare hands.
Don’t leave your fingerprints on it. But, I want you to find a way to covertly give this to them by tomorrow morning without them knowing it was given by you.
I don’t want them worrying too much about me.
” I stared at the letter. My last good-bye. I bit my lip hard to keep from crying.
“Okay, Ember,” he said softly.
I nodded and opened the door. I stepped out on wobbly feet and leaned back inside to grab my things, then said, “Thank you, Mr. Fresby. You’ve saved me more than you know.”
He nodded. “Take care.”
I shut the door and turned, heading toward the door on the darkened side of the building that he had pointed out.
I knocked five times, then four, then three, then two.
It opened and a man in a reflective orange coverall uniform stepped out.
He stared at me with quiet eyes and then glanced over my shoulder at Mr. Fresby.
He nodded to him and held the door wide open for me. I heard Mr. Fresby drive away.
After that it was a blur of activity. I was ushered by the silent man through back hallways.
I was shown the lady’s room where he handed me non-descriptive clothing, a hat, and shoes.
I had taken one look in the mirror and almost fainted even though I wasn’t new to my face being battered, but the blood had been something else.
After scrubbing away most of the blood and throwing my dress and heals away, I was driven by the same man in what appeared to be a golf cart out onto a runway.
The pilot who was waiting by the cargo plane took one look at my battered face and helped me into the cockpit.
I was softly ordered not to touch anything after he gently buckled me in.
I didn’t. My freak out point was starting to penetrate the numbness I had forced on myself, but I closed my eyes while they began unloading the plane.
Mr. Fresby had called a buddy of his that was a pilot, stating he needed a “transport” for a friend to New York.
With no questions asked, his buddy had called back within five minutes to tell him where to drop me.
This plane was scheduled for a shipment that needed to be picked up from New York and had landed here to unload goods for Tarco Supermarkets from Dallas.
I’m not sure I wanted to know all of Mr. Fresby’s secrets.
A wealthy man always had many. I was just happy that his were the kind sort.
A little over an hour later I wanted to puke my guts out.
We were in the air and heading toward New York.
It was pitch black out, and even with the planes lights it didn’t help me any.
There’s just something wrong with flying when you can’t actually see what you’re flying at, but instead having to rely on the radar and the many buttons inside this rig.
And it was a rig. I’m not sure I would ever complain about commercial airplanes ever again.
They were heaven-sent compared to this tin can.
The poor pilot did his best to calm me, but eventually I just put my head between my knees and passed out. I’m pretty sure he didn’t try to wake me. I wouldn’t have either. I was a friggin’ mess.
When we landed the pilot escorted me covertly off the plane before the goods arrived to be loaded.
I had woken up right before he landed. I’m pretty sure the bleeding had finally stopped from when I had bitten the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming.
Being a passenger in the back of an airplane is M-U-C-H different that riding shotgun in the cockpit.
I thought for sure we were going to do a header into the runway.
I was going to keep my feet firming planted on the ground if I could help it from now on.
There was a woman waiting for me with another little golf cart.
She said nothing to me, just gave me a once over, and told me to hang on.
Again we went through a maze of hallways before exiting out another side entrance.
I followed her to a car and got inside. The only conversation we had was where I wanted her to take me after telling her I didn’t need a place to stay.
I needed to get out of New York after I got what I needed.
I didn’t plan on staying anywhere near where Brent and Cole lived.
She dropped me at a quiet corner down a couple of streets from where there were plenty of taxis.
I thanked her, and then rushed down the streets, hopping into one of the cabs and giving the driver Brent’s address.
We got there quickly and I asked him to wait, giving him the cash that was already due, and he promised to stay there if I only took ten minutes.
I nodded and stuffed my hair up in my hat as much as possible and walked through the front door after scanning the area for anyone watching.
Really, though, no one should be here. They would all still be in Orlando and watching Brent and Cole to see if I made a foolish appearance with them.
I kept my head down and told the man at the desk I was Ally Fields.
I knew she had access to his apartment, so her name should be in there database.
I kept the good side of my face to him, so he wouldn’t see the black and blue swollen side.
It worked. He nodded and I went to the elevator.
I used Ally’s key card that I had stolen from her wallet in her purse to take the elevator to the eighth floor and enter his apartment.
It was exactly as we had left it. Missing table that we had broken by the door.
Halfway cleaned up library, thanks to Ally.
Chair still reclined where Cole had sat, typing and squinting at his laptop.
Blankets and pillows still messed up on the couch where Brent and I had come together drunkenly for the first time in five years.
I wanted to stare and picture them as they had been that day, but I didn’t have the luxury of time to dawdle.
So, I grabbed my suitcase that I had stashed away, placing my wallet, and Cole’s hairbrush inside it.
And at the last minute I stole a small picture off his wall of memories.
There were many photos there of Brent, Cole, Stash, and Zane.
But, the one I nabbed was of him and Cole in their Army fatigues strong arming huge guns that they held each with one hand, resting the butt of the gun against their hips, bad ends pointed toward the clear blue sky.
They were standing in one of the deserts where they had been stationed with their arms slung around each other’s shoulders, grinning like they were having the time of their lives.
I clutched it to my heart and rushed from Brent’s home.
On my way out I dropped the key card off to the guy who was now getting a good look at my face.
As I walked out the door he was grabbing the card and picking up his phone.
I think he had finally realized that I wasn’t who I had said I was.
And I knew who he was calling. That was fine because I had what I needed from here and I wouldn’t be back.
The cabby was still waiting for me and I gave him Ally’s address next.
Once he pulled up to its location and I paid him I dashed down three streets to where I had stored my car in a parking garage, pulling my keys out of my pocket.
When I had first gotten to New York I had plunked a wad of cash in the attendant’s hand, asking how long that would give me.
He had stated three months. So, my car should be where I had left it.
I hadn’t mentioned its location to anyone by pure accident, so I didn’t expect any trouble there either.
There was none and my car was exactly where I left it.
I left New York that morning as dawn was breaking over the horizon.
Tears of regret and pain and longing forever rolled down my clean cheek and finally down my bruised one once the tears escaped past my swollen shut eye.
My suitcase sat as my lone occupant in the passenger’s seat while Cole’s and Brent’s picture rested on my lap.
I didn’t look back in my rearview once, determined to keep them from getting dead. They would never be harmed from associating with me again. I was gone from them forever. They were gone from me forever. My life was never going to be the same.
When I crossed into Illinois, I stopped in a small country town to use a payphone where no cameras lay hidden.
There was only one other person I knew of that that was far away enough from Brent and Cole that might be able to help me.
I had pegged him as the dangerous sort when I had met him.
But he had also been sweet and didn’t take advantage of me. I hoped I was right.
So, I pulled out the other business card I had been gifted from my wallet.
I dialed.
He picked up on the fifth ring, sounding tired and crabby. “Hello?”
“Hey, Random Guy,” I spoke hoarsely, more than weary. “It’s Shirt Girl. From the airport. Can we talk?”