ALLEY CAT

ALLEY CAT
Emerson’s Pov

It's mid-afternoon now.

I sigh, getting out of bed. I don't let myself dawdle anymore. If I do, I might not do what needs to be done.

My heart sinking, I take a bath and get dressed. I pull on the first pair of shorts I can find, running a hand through my hair, knowing that's all I'll do for it today. The fabric of my hoodie seems so much heavier than the last time I wore it and I contemplate changing out of it.

But I know it’s really not the fucking hoodie.

I know what I'm doing will fucking hurt him. But I have to. I have to stop him before it becomes a problem and I lose him. He'll understand a few months down the line, I know he will.

Besides, I fully believe in him. Adam will still be able to get into the NFL, just not like this.

So, determined, I pocket my phone and head out.

The school's premises are quiet, and thankfully so. My slides slap the concrete in rhythm with my heartbeat and a strange feeling tugs at me. It's not a voice, exactly, but something softer, a whisper curling around the back of my mind.

It doesn't take long to notice where it comes from. There are tiny beads of colour emerging on green bushes.

Flowers. Flowers are fucking blooming.
And immediately, I realise why it's getting to me like this.

Mom.

Thoughts of her hit me so hard I stop abruptly, midstep. She'd have loved these flowers, with their multiple colours.

I swallow, blinking away what suspiciously feels like tears. It’s actually been a while since I visited. I hope she doesn't feel like I abandoned her.

Oh fuck.

I can't stand it, I can't stand the thought that wherever she is, she'd feel this way. I have to go see her.

I still have time before Adam will be called to play so I book a cab on my phone. I look around while it gets here, the vice around my heart getting tighter and tighter.

My driver is quick to understand that I don't want to talk so the ride is silent. I lean my head against the window, watching the blur of buildings and people dissolve into motion. My reflection stares at me in the glass; fucking tired, even though I slept last night, and I stare back.

The cemetery is quiet when I arrive, with people milling about with arms full of flowers, making guilt prick at me. Flowers nudged me here and yet I didn't bring her any.

Wind ripples through the rows of headstones, unseen, because there are no tall grasses to ripple as I make my way to her.

Even though I've barely been here by myself, I find her stone easily, thankful that the flowers blanketing her look only a day or two old. I'll be more intentional about visiting, about decorating her resting place from now on, I promise myself as I sit down beside her.

"Hey, Mom,” I murmur.

I quickly find that I don't have much to say. I just trace the letters of her name with my thumb, imagining it’s her hand. I remember them, the skin stretchy, veins prominent on the back.

“l just had to tell you I fucking miss you,” I say, knowing she'd have admonished me for cursing.

I sat there on the verge of tears for a long time, the feeling of melancholy surrounding me. Leaning against her headstone, I sigh, brushing a stray leaf that made its way over here off her.

It's late now.

“I have to go Mom,” I start softly. “It's about Adam. Remember him? I have to go help him so he doesn't end up like—”

The words hang in the air, and I clear my throat to dislodge the rest that are stuck, before swallowing them down. Kiernan didn't have a grave.

“I'll try to be back soon. I love you. Bye Mom.”

Head forward, so the tears don't finally escape, I leave. By the time I get back to the sports complex again, it's fucking loud, with a multitude of people milling about, chattering excitedly.

They're here for the game, the one Adam won't participate in. My stomach feels fucking tight as I step out and pay the driver.

I watch him as he drives away, probably not on his way to fucking betray the man he loves. I swallow, trying to steel my spine when my phone goes off in my hands. Desperate to postpone what I have to do, I open the message.

It's from Al.

I freeze, staring at the phone in my hands. No fucking way. Nobody has heard from him. Word on the street is that he might be dead, since his kidnappers didn't ask for a ransom.

‘Meet me at Garry’s Em, please. And hurry, I’m hiding at the back, beside the dumpster.’

My chest constricts, feeling the first bit of joy all day. He was able to get away, he's hiding, waiting for help. Al’s okay.

Wait. . . Is it really him?

I look at the message again. I think so, I think it's him texting me. He knows the name we call the bar, and he called me by my nickname too.

Plus, if it's not him, why would they want me? I'm nobody in all this, I can give them nothing and they already have the big fish in their clutches.

My body moves immediately I make my decision. I turn, wave down a cab dropping off three people wearing the Lion’s jersey.

“Here,” I say, showing him the map in my phone set to where I want to go as soon as I duck in. I don't have much time. “Take me here.”

It goes without saying that I can't tell anybody until Al says so. I don't know who’s behind this, who I can trust with his life.

I would have been able to tell Adam a few days ago.

Garry’s on the east side, a small gaming shop by day. But by night, it transforms, it turns into somewhere I deliver packages to. The owner is a short, stout man, with an equally short and stout wife who runs the place with an iron fist.

Al’s place isn't far from it, so I can see how he'd hunker down there after escaping their clutches.

But I should have brought my bike, I think bitterly, watching the cab meter tick upward. This is turning out to be an expensive day, plus it would’ve been faster too.

But I thought today was going to be simple— talk to Adam's coach, and go back to the dorm room to hide my head in the sand until Adam yanks me back out.

Briefly, I wonder what he's up to now. He's probably stretching or resting. . .

The cab slows to a stop in front of the shop. The sign flickers weakly— more than half the letters burned out, which is why I don't know the actual name of this place. The music has already started to play; loud and raunchy, to begin to attract its usual crowd.

I pay the driver, step out, and after scanning the narrow alley that runs behind the store, I duck into it quickly.

The air smells faintly of damp, trash and engine oil. I move quietly, careful not to make any sounds. Something I hope is a cat skitters away as I walk past a pile of what looks like crumpled cardboard, sending my heart rate into overdrive.

The sun is setting so light doesn't reach into here all that much, which isn't helping my fucking heart but soon I can see it. I can see the dumpster.

Thank fuck. This whole thing is almost over and then we can—

That’s when I hear my name, from right behind me.