Washed
Right Out, Chapter Eleven.
Prompts used: biscuits and gravy, the longer you leave something the
harder it is to fix.
“I'm
in. I'll help you get rid of him.”
Before
Riley could respond, Eren stood up. "We can text about it later.
Or Skype, or whatever. Just remind me before you leave for the day."
"I
might not answer right away." Riley shook his head. "Uh, I
have plans this weekend. Sort of."
"Don't
worry about it." He crumpled up the paper bag he’d
brought
his lunch in between his hands. "We can talk more about it in
person on Monday, okay? Take the weekend to think on it. I still owe
you breakfast, remember?"
"Of
course, yeah."
"Biscuits
and gravy, dude. Extra pepper. I know just the place." Eren
tossed his bag away in an over-the-shoulder
throw as he walked away. Riley watched it drop into the trash can.
Three
point shot,
he thought before he realized he’d
just
acquired an accomplice to an act he hadn't committed to. Yet.
Somehow,
Riley forced himself to not think about Eren's proposition during the
rest of the work day. He had his kidnapping to look forward to;
occasionally, he would walk over to the massive windows that took up
one wall of the office and look for any sign of Sam or Karen skulking
around incognito.
An
hour before quitting time, Riley was getting a headache from staring
at his computer screen for so long. The grid pattern that covered
his draft pages in InDesign were
threatening to overtake his vision. He poured himself a cup of
lukewarm coffee from the machine in the corner and stood at the
window for a five minute break.
The
combination of a blue sky with a thin layer of puffy clouds and the
soft chatter of the office in motion lulled Riley into a good mood.
He stood and let the muscles in his body stretch out until they
didn't ache from sitting. For a moment, he could handle everything.
Watching the street below, with its storefronts and bustling bodies
on the sidewalk and the occasional car horn, was a comforting vision.
His
eyes moved over to the frozen yogurt shop directly across from his
building, and his body froze. There was a man in dirty clothes and
chopped hair, like he’d
hacked
off part of it recently, sitting at one of the outside tables. He sat
in a chair directly facing Riley's office. He stared up at the window
Riley was standing at, as if looking for him.
Even
from the height where Riley stood, there was no mistaking the empty,
hungry look in the man's eyes.
Nausea
swept into Riley's throat. Before Jonathan could see him, Riley had
backed away from the window, then slowly walked through the sea of
desks and cubicles back to his own work station. He sat down in his
swivel chair with a dull thud.
From
across the room, Eren glanced over and shot him a look. Riley shook
his head, which seemed to pacify the photographer's curiosity for the
time being. He ducked his head back down, studying the shutter on his
camera and not Riley.
Riley
mindlessly checked email while the machinery of his brain clicked
into gear, spinning this latest thread into the ongoing Jonathan
narrative. He had no idea how long his ex-boyfriend had been sitting
there, waiting for a glance of him, or if he’d
still
be there when Riley got off work. It wasn't like Jonathan was unaware
of the other man's goings and comings; along with apartment keys,
Riley and Jonathan had also shared work schedules, favorite stores
and restaurants, small details that were harmless in a lover's hands
but toxic weapons in a spurned ex's arsenal.
Of
course,
he thought, not without a hint of regret, he
would be in front of the Dairy Square.
Riley had taken Jonathan to the Dairy Square back when his then
boyfriend was going through his lactose-free, gluten-free phase.
At
the time, Dairy Square was the only fro-yo shop which catered to
people with dietary restrictions. Not that Jonathan had any; he’d
just
thought cutting out dairy and gluten would do him good. It only
lasted a month before he was back to his favorite snacks: full fat
ice cream and French fries cooked in duck fat.
The
memories set a dull ache in Riley's chest, but the more he thought
about it, the more the ache turned into a sharp pain. It wasn't pain
from a need to hold on; it was pain from the more overwhelming need
to let go of all things Jonathan.
He
remembered something one of his university counselors had told him
several years ago: "the longer you leave something, the harder
it is to fix", which at the time had been referring to his
abysmal math grades but still worked in his current situation.
Riley's
train of thought was interrupted by his phone buzzing with a new text
message.
Riles,
r u ready to rock?
-
Sammy
It
was quickly followed by a second text.
Riley,
don't leave your office. Me and Sam are on our way. - Karen
Riley
truly wanted to follow Karen's thoughtful, learned advice, but there
was something he had to do. He would have to talk to Jonathan, once
and for all.
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