Page 36

Hailey

“Did you enjoy your stay, miss?” The hotel desk worker hands me back my cash deposit, looking me up and down with curiosity. His mouth hangs open slightly, revealing stained, yellow teeth.

“Yes,” I answer.

I wouldn’t call spending days crying, only eating food from the nearby gas station, and binge-watching hours of home makeover shows enjoyable, but I have no complaints about this place. It wasn’t luxurious, but a bed and privacy were all I needed, and it delivered.

I thank him and walk out of the dim lobby.

This morning, I woke up feeling less lethargic, and my plan is to make it to Columbus.

I can find a new hotel and start looking for work.

I’m hoping I can give a fake name to a restaurant.

Pretty much the same plan I had before, but hopefully end up in a less organized-crime-related situation while I try to get my life in order.

The humidity is thick as I walk to the back of the hotel where I parked my car. I adjust my duffel bag and feel my t-shirt sticking to my armpits already. Good thing Max gave me a nice car that cools down fast in this heat.

I reach the parking lot and squint my eyes to find the car.

I could have sworn I parked it in the middle of the second row, but it’s not there.

It’s a small hotel, and only a handful of cars are in front of me.

None of them are the flashy car that Max gave me.

Refusing to believe that it’s missing, I drop my bag on the ground and fish out the keys.

Sweat drips down my face, but I can’t tell if it’s from nervousness or the heat.

I hit the panic button, but the parking lot stays silent.

A woman, a hotel employee based on her uniform, paces on the sidewalk and talks on the phone, oblivious to the fact that my life is somehow getting shittier.

I hit the button one more time, hoping that the car will fall out of the sky and I can be on my way.

I drop my keys back in the bag and squat down near the hot pavement, clutching my head.

I can do this. I can get through this. I am strong. I am resilient.

After being away from the belief system for so long, I realized how self-deprecating my thought patterns were, so I’ve been trying this new technique of positive self-talk.

I feel being around Max, someone who never talked down to me or criticized me, helped me realize that.

It’s not like I’ll ever see him again, but it feels like a weird way of giving back to him after all he’s helped me with.

The woman on the phone still hasn’t spared me a glance. I pick up my bag and walk back into the hotel lobby. Part of me is tempted to book another week at this place and pretend this problem doesn’t exist.

I feel like I want to scream when I walk into the lobby. The sound of the box fan aimed at the check-in counter must conceal the sound of my entrance; the front-desk worker doesn’t look up until I’m right in front of him.

I clear my throat when I get to the counter. “Problem?” He raises his eyebrows.

“My car is gone,” I say. I swallow, realizing how shaky my voice is. I point toward the parking lot. “I parked it over there, but it’s missing.”

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath. “Well, we didn’t tow nothin’, so someone must have stole it.”

I hear a rushing sound in my ears. It’s not like I was expecting a different answer, but hearing him say it makes my situation real.

“You want to borrow my phone to call the cops?” he asks with a reluctant tone.

I nod vacantly, then decide against it. “No cops. I can use my phone. Just need to make some calls.”

He exhales in relief. He must not want to deal with the police either. I’m not opposed to calling them, but I don’t know the origins of this car. Did Max buy it, or did someone in his family steal it? Even if he bought it, I don’t know if it’s wise to tie myself to him.

I walk back outside again and sit on the curb, my heavy bag resting between my feet. I wipe some sweat from my brow and open up the contacts on my phone.

I stare at Max’s name for what feels like an hour.

I can’t call him. Hearing his voice will kill me. It’ll make me want to go back and pathetically work at that casino as he plans for his wedding. But this emptiness inside me is unbearable, and I would kill to have him in my life again, even as a friend.

No. No. These are bad thoughts.

I open up my text messages instead, trying to craft something that conveys the car he gave me has been stolen and that I am in the middle of nowhere in Ohio. I type multiple drafts, but they always come off as too desperate, too clingy. One seemed too bitchy.

I can try calling Savannah. She would come help in a heartbeat, but I’m sure she has bigger things to worry about with Nick.

Realizing that those are my two options makes me throw my phone back in the bag. “Looks like you could use a friend.”

I look up to see a man approaching from the parking lot. There’s nothing intimidating about him. In fact, he’s kind of the tall, gawky type that looks like he’d blow over on a windy day. But this hotel is not where I want to be approached by strange men .

“I’m okay, thanks.” I force a friendly smile. “Just waiting for my boyfriend to pick me up.”

He stops several feet from me, putting his hands in the pockets of his slacks. “Car trouble?”

“Yeah...” That seems like a lucky guess, but it’s not like I’m in a city where not having a car is normal. Out here, it’s mandatory. “But I have everything sorted out. Car’s in the shop.”

If only that were the truth.

“In the shop,” he repeats and laughs to himself but tries to conceal it with a cough as he kicks some loose rocks.

I wrap my fingers around the handle of my duffel, ready to walk back into the hotel to wait so at least the front-desk worker will act as a witness if this guy attacks me.

“Sorry, that reminded me of something funny. Inside joke with myself, I guess.”

The man never takes the hint that I’m uncomfortable, so we engage in strained small talk for a few minutes. The closer he looms over me, the more unsettled I feel by his presence. But he hasn’t said anything blatantly perverted or threatening that would make me kick him in the balls and run away.

I stand up as he tells me about his diabetic cat named Cupcake and her eating habits.

I hold my phone up to him and cut him off. “I should really check on my boyfriend. He should have gotten here by now.”

“No problem,” he says, starting to walk past me toward the hotel. “You don’t have to go anywhere on my account. I’m about to check in and get a room for the night. ”

So staying here is no longer an option. Today keeps getting better and better.

I force another smile, feeling guilty. Maybe he is a perfectly normal man who’s a bit socially awkward, and I'm coming off as rude.

He lingers by the main hotel door. “Hope your day gets easier, Hailey. Car trouble is the worst.”

I smile and nod again, my heart turning to ice as he walks into the lobby. He knows my name, but I never told him.

Did I?

I’m so emotionally drained from the breakup that I’m second-guessing everything.

Did we exchange names, and I simply forgot?

Do I know his name? Is it Kyle? Where did I pull Kyle from?

I don’t think we shared names. I wipe my sweaty palms on my shorts and look behind me to see the man staring at me through the glass.

The shyness has disappeared, replaced by a dark look.

I bolt up, throwing my bag over my shoulder. I head toward the gas station next door, but a black sedan pulls up, blocking my way. A man wearing a baseball cap with a thick southern drawl rolls down the window. “Howdy, Hailey. Your daddy’s been real worried.”

I sprint behind his car toward the gas station. The hotel door chimes behind me, and I don’t need to look back to confirm that the cat guy is following. The sound of pounding footsteps nears .

I scream when I realize I’m losing this race.

Long arms wrap around me, covering my mouth to stifle my cries.

I squirm, but there’s no hope of getting away.

Despair sinks in. I'm in a rural area with not a single soul to witness my kidnapping. There’s no one at the gas station, no bystanders, not even the woman I saw talking on the phone.

“Trust me,” he whispers in my ear. “The more you fight and make a scene, the worse it’s going to be.”

I nod, fighting back tears. I won’t give up on escaping, but now isn’t the right moment.

He drags me back to the car, and while I go limp from fear, he carries me a few feet without complaint. He pushes me into the back seat and sits next to me, tossing my bag into the front.

“Go,” he tells the driver.

The two men sit in silence for a moment before the southern driver erupts in celebration. “I can’t believe we finally got her. Do you know how many days we waited for an opportunity? So many trips to the gas station, but there were always onlookers. Outsiders.”

The man next to me laughs, knees pressing against the front seat.

“I already called the cops,” I threaten. “My car was stolen. They’ll think it’s strange if I go missing suddenly.”

“No, you didn’t.” The lanky man shrugs, lifting his chin at the driver.

“Tuck here was the one that moved it. We were hoping you’d call the cops—they’d deliver you to us.

Your dad gave us plenty of bribe money to work with.

You just sat there all pathetic, so we figured we’d save the cops a trip to the hotel. ”

My mouth goes dry as I realize these men were several steps ahead of me. “How’d you know that was my car?”

The driver laughs. “Honey, you parked a souped-up Challenger in a lot filled with rusty old pickup trucks and hatchbacks. It didn’t take much to figure out the car was gifted to you by your mobster boyfriend.”

“She might have called him,” the man next to me adds.

“Shit.” The driver makes eye contact in the rearview mirror. “Did you?”

Before I can answer, the tall guy digs into my bag, whistling as he rummages through the cash, then pulls out my phone.

His hand palms the back of my head as he forces the phone against me, using my biometrics to unlock it.

I whimper when he releases me. I should have called Max. I should have let him know what was going on. But as capable as he is, I know there’s no way he could save me once I’m inside VOE's walls. You’d need the military to get in.

“No recent calls. No recent texts.”

I lean my head against the window, drained as he scrolls through my messages.

“Seems like they’re broken up, too,” he comments. “They haven’t communicated in a while.”

A sob escapes me at the thought of the last day I saw him. The fact he let me go and wanted to help despite my anger should have been my sign to stay. Compared to how my father sent these two assholes to kidnap me by force, it’s nearly darkly comedic.

“Oh,” the driver tuts. “Breakups are hard. Especially when you’re stupid enough to leave our community behind to suck on some wannabe-felon’s dick.”

“Fuck you.” I glare at him in the mirror.

“You two are the idiots who willingly got sucked into this fucking scam of a cult. At least I was born into it. But you two are too fucking old to have that excuse. How much money have you wasted? How many friends and family have you cut out to heal illnesses with your mind or see into the future?”

Silence fills the car after my outburst. I don’t recognize myself in the mirror; a few months ago, I would have been meek, apologetic, trying to make up for my ‘bad behavior.’

Now?

I don’t care anymore. I have nothing to lose.