A Captive Situation (Kings of New York)

Two days later, I was stalking my cousin. That wasn’t creepy at all.

I was standing across the street from Exhibit, a very sophisticated-looking building. Lots of glass windows everywhere. The bottom floor was all windows. There was a giant statue in the front lobby. There was a clear view of the receptionist, a beautiful blond woman who hadn’t been impressed with me when I went inside for a quick check to see if it was actually where my cousin worked.

His name was on the wall, Graham Matsen, along with his picture. Asian. He was a few years older than me. Trim. He looked like he worked out.

Pride swelled up in me. It wasn’t warranted because I had no hand in any of his endeavors, but he was family.

He was an architect in this place. He lived in New York City. He was successful. That was obvious to see. Of course, I knew some of this from following him on Instagram. Him and his husband, Oliver. They were adorable. Maybe I shouldn’t judge from what was posted on social media, but there were a few videos posted. He and Oliver loved each other.

So yeah. He was successful. He had a loving partner.

I was proud.

I started blinking away some tears, because good for him.

At least one person in our family seemed happy.

That was good. Good for him.

I bet he never gave up a job he enjoyed to support Oliver. I bet Oliver supported him in going for this dream job of an architect.

I kept blinking.

“Miss,” the receptionist had called out, standing behind her desk. Her hand went to the phone. “You’ll need to leave unless you have an appointment. We don’t offer public restrooms to tourists.” Her tone was so chilly.

Right. Yes. That made sense. I should tell her who I was, except when I opened my mouth to do that . . . I couldn’t. Nothing was coming out of me.

What was I doing? I was two seconds from losing it, just at seeing my cousin’s picture on the wall in this place. I couldn’t meet him like this. I’d completely lose it and he’d think I was mentally unstable and well, my mission would go down the drain.

I needed to regroup.

Yes. I nodded to myself, feeling more calm at this change.

Regroup. Come back again when I was not about to lose it because of what a failure I was in life, the total opposite of Graham.

“Ma’am, if you don’t have an appointment, you need to leave. If you don’t go, I’ll call security.”

I tried to speak, but a ball of emotions was still there, choking me. “I—” My voice came out hoarse.

She picked up the phone and clipped into it, “I need security down in the—”

No! No. I couldn’t have security escort me out. That was a whole new type of low. I wasn’t quite there yet.

I didn’t think . . .

I’d leave, do my regroup thing, and well, maybe not approach Graham at his job.

I swept out of the lobby and headed down the street.

I didn’t totally leave.

I left the building, but I wanted a glimpse of the life my cousin had because he’d made something of himself. Whereas I . . . I’d completely and totally fucked up my life.

My hands began shaking. I could not slide back there, to what brought me here, what really brought me here, so I crossed the street at the nearest crosswalk, and got a sandwich from a nearby food truck. After that, I camped out across the road.

Correction. I was munching on a hero. That’s what the brochure said they called them here.

So far the receptionist hadn’t spotted me, but I was ready to bolt if I needed to. I wasn’t normally a mess like this, but my god, half of my life had just been pulled out from under my feet.

Focus.

Focus, Sawyer! New mission. Fix the aunts. Starting with yourself and Graham.

Everything aligned again inside of me. My feet found solid ground. I had a purpose in life again.

Pulling up Graham’s Instagram, I focused on the pictures of him and his husband. They enjoyed traveling. Paris. Arizona. Redwoods. Japan. They went all over, and I checked the timestamps. All those places were posted within the last two months. They were big travelers.

It was helping. Some of the madness in my mind was fading.

I lost track of time.

My mouth was almost watering at the thought of all that traveling.

Coming here to New York was the most I’d traveled in my life. My parents weren’t adventurous like that. If we traveled at all, it’d be Glacier or hiking. We were big on hiking, or my dad and I were. Mom, not so much. Then Beck was always studying.

He said we didn’t have the money for traveling.

So I kept working.

He wanted a house.

So then there were mortgage payments for that as well.

And I kept working.

Pain sliced down my insides, but dammit. I needed to start dealing with what happened.

Swallowing a lump that formed in my throat, images flashed from that time in my life.

I loved college. It’d been fun. I liked going to class. I liked having the dreams of my degree, what kind of job I could do with it. Where I could work, if I wanted to travel with my job.

That’s where I met Manda. She was on the same floor in my dorm. And after going to a fraternity party, we met Beck and his friends. It’d been flutters-at-first-sight for me.

God.

Beck. He had charisma. He was good looking. He was charming. When he smiled at me, I melted.

What a fucking joke I turned out to be.

Here I was, still in New York. Still hadn’t done what I came here to do.

I was still being a joke.

I had one more night booked at the hotel. The honeymoon funds were running low.

I wasn’t rich. Most of my money went to supporting Beck, paying for his school loans, paying for the house. I didn’t have enough to get a place here. No way.

Beck emerged from graduate school relatively debt-free, thanks to me. He loved what he did.

My college degree was in marketing, but in Bear Creek, Montana, there wasn’t a job market for that degree.

Being a receptionist wasn’t the fulfilling part for me. It was in who I worked with and the people that came into the business who I helped. People liked me.

I was way nicer than the one that worked at Graham’s architecture firm.

Then Beck wanted me to man his practice and things changed.

I didn’t enjoy working for Beck or with the other girls in the office, though I tried telling myself that I did.

That was another farce in my life.

Another place where I’d been deluding myself.

Bitter tears rolled down my face. One fell into the corner of my mouth. It was salty.

“Miss.”

I’d been so lost in my thoughts that I hadn’t noticed the cop approaching. He had a hand to his radio and spoke into it before looking my way. He glanced across the street.

The receptionist was standing at the door, watching us, a smirk on her face. Businessmen and women were beginning to leave the building. I checked the time, seeing it was after five.

“We got a call that you were loitering here. The receptionist at Exhibit said you tried getting inside earlier. What are you doing here, ma’am? She’s concerned for you.”

“I . . .” was losing my mind. That was the truth of the situation. The real truth.

“What’d you say, Miss?” The cop stepped closer. His radio was going off.

I glanced back over the street, and stood straighter because my cousin was one of the men leaving for the day. He was carrying a briefcase.

I lifted my hand, and yelled, “Graham! Graham.”

He turned the other way, going at a fast clip.

“Graham!” It was a large street. Traffic had picked up so he wouldn’t be able to hear me.

I started after him.

The cop got in front of me. “Miss, you need to stay here and talk to me.”

I pointed in Graham’s direction. “That’s my cousin. I was waiting for him.”

“Your cousin?” He frowned, looking, but Graham was long gone. He’d melted among the sea of other businessmen and women. “Your cousin works at Exhibit?”

“Yeah.” I sat back down, my shoulders slumping.

“Did he know you were waiting for him?”

“He doesn’t know me.”

“He’s your cousin, but he doesn’t know you?”

“It’s a whole thing with the family. His mom and my mom are distant. I don’t like it. I came here to start fixing it. I wanted to meet him.”

“Do you have a phone number? Could you call him and see if he wanted to meet that way?”

I frowned. “My mom never gave me his number. My aunts would. Aunt Clara knows people online.”

“Knows people online?” The cop wasn’t looking impressed with me, pressing his mouth in a tight line. “Ma’am, at this point, I think you need to get going. Find another way to reach out to your cousin. I’m sure there’s a way.”

I shook my head, so much else spiraling inside of me, all of it going down the drain. “There’s no way. He doesn’t want me.” It was the pattern in my life.

Beck didn’t want me.

“Ma’am?”

He wanted someone else.

I said, “He married someone else. He didn’t want me anymore.”

“Your cousin?” The cop’s voice sharpened.

I shook my head, tears pricking at my eyes. God. All of it was blending inside of me.

Beck tossed me to the side. Like garbage. I was trash.

“Ma’am, you either need to leave or I will be removing you myself. It’s better for you if you leave of your own accord. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

Tears began falling down my cheeks.

He was going to marry someone else, and I was being questioned on the streets across the country, eating a sub that was so cold by now. I was tempted to give it to the rat that was hanging out a few steps away. Him and his buddies were moving around, doing their thing, but the one kept watching me. He knew what was up. He could tell. I was a prime target.

“Miss, are you going to leave or not?” The cop was getting impatient.

Leave? I shook my head. I couldn’t leave New York City.

“You’re not going to leave?”

“I have no place to go,” I mumbled, looking down. More tears were falling, but I wasn’t feeling them. I wasn’t tasting them either.

I couldn’t go back to Montana.

I had things to do here.

Tourist things. I still needed to go to Times Square. Ellis Island too.

I failed at even being a tourist. I’d meant to get a fanny pack on Canal Street, but I never went there. I never got a fanny pack. That was Tourist 101, right?

All the spiraling inside of me took me over.

I was openly sobbing.

I meant to regroup.

I had not regrouped.noveldrama

“Okay. Miss, you’ve given me no other option. I’m going to take you in for your safety.” A hand touched my wrist and I was jerked backward.

I cried out. My sandwich fell to the sidewalk.

The cop yanked my other arm behind me, and cold metal was slapped around my wrists at the same time I heard the click. “Miss, you are being detained for now.”

“Wait. What?”

He ignored me, leading me to his squad car. He put me in the back seat, a hand to the top of my head guiding me inside. When the door shut, reality slapped me in the face.

Well, shit.

Being detained by a New York City cop hadn’t been on my tourist bucket list. It was now. Check that off.

I looked out.

The little rat dude ran past the car, my sandwich in his mouth.