Chapter 1- Saying Good-Bye
Blake
How could I forget? I couldn't. Today was the fourteenth anniversary of my parents' death.
It was a day like any other; a mere Friday, nothing special. It was five o' clock. Time for the night shift, I thought. I was driving towards The Garage to drop off the taxi when I felt a subtle vibration in my right pocket.
"Hello?"
"Yo, this Blake?"
"Yeah."
"We just got a call from some tourists in lower Manhattan that need a ride to the airport. Think you can pick 'em up?"
"Josh, my shift is over. I need to get to my other job."
"Please, man, you're the only open driver!"
"Dude, it takes an hour to get from lower Manhattan to Queens! Can't you do it?"
"No, I'm, um, busy."
"Sure doesn't sound like it." I heard the rustling of papers and miscellaneous things falling to the floor.
"No really, Blake, c'mon, just this once!"
"And I've saved your butt how many times this month? Like six?"
He recited the address to me, "Thanks, man! I owe you one!"
"Wait! What-?" I heard a drone from the other end. He hung up on me. I stared at my cell phone in disbelief. Unbelievable! I can't believe he has the nerve to-
Gritting my teeth and clenching the steering wheel, I reversed the taxi and headed towards the trafficked streets of lower Manhattan. He owes me more than 'one'.
Holly
"Oh, I'm going to miss you all so much! I can't believe it'll be another year until I'll see you guys again!" Natalie blubbered.
I smiled sadly and embraced my tearful mother in a stiff hug. I awkwardly patted Mom on the back, "Don't worry, it's only one year. It'll pass by before you know it."
Mom released me reluctantly and moved to hug my father, Adrian. Adrian's eyes widened in alarm and sent me a look of 'Help me!' I grinned devilishly; Adrian was never a hug-y kind of guy. His arms hung limply by his sides while his glassy azure eyes stared blankly ahead.
Mom stepped back and took hold of Adrian's broad shoulders; her lively eyes suddenly turned serious, "Adrian, take good care of my little girl. She's the only one I have."
Adrian nodded solemnly. My cultured step-father (I never did get use to the "father" part), Wesley, offered his hand to Adrian.
He made direct eye contact with Adrian and powerfully pumped Adrian's weathered hand once before letting go, "It was good seeing you again."
Natalie and Wesley had no idea that it would be the last time they would see Adrian alive.
Ding dong. The condo resonated with the shortened, accelerated doorbell version of 'Pachelbel's Canon'. Adrian rushed to answer the door; it was the chauffeur.
Adrian claimed, "You must be the cab driver."
The man nodded curtly, "I'll take your bags."
He hoisted our bags into the trunk, and courteously opened the car door for us. He hurried to the driver's seat and we began our hour-long trip to the airport.
Blake
"So, um, how do you like New York City?" I asked. It was the typical question I asked all tourists. I was hoping to hear from the lady; the man was sleeping soundly.
An angelic murmur reached my ears, "Okay, I guess."
I raised an eyebrow, "What's there not to like?"
"Only the smog, the litter, the lack of vegetation-"
"-Oh, I get it. You're a tree-hugger, aren't you?"
"I live in Oregon," was her vague reply. I drove in silence for the next ten minutes.
She inquired softly, yet curiously, "What about you? Do you live here with your family?"
I coughed, "Donhafafamry."
"Sorry, could you say that again?"
"Donhafafamry!"
"I'm not fluent in gibberish."
I whispered, "I don't have a family."
There was not another word for the next hour. It was completely soundless except for the occasional grunt from the sleeping man. Five more minutes and we'll be there.... A lane of bright red lights filled my vision. I swore silently. A discouraging half-a-mile of traffic lay ahead. I honked the horn in a desperate effort to get the line moving along. I don't have time for this!
I twisted around and announced, "Sorry, this is the closest I can get to the airport; it would be faster on foot."
The lady looked away from the window and straight into my eyes. Her appearance was breathtaking. She had long, wavy hair that cascaded down to her shoulder blades and stunning yet unreadable green eyes. I couldn't see much else because her dark brown curls created a curtain; concealing most of her face. She rummaged through her companion's wallet before gingerly handing me one-hundred-fifty dollars. She mumbled a reply of thanks. I smiled at her; she held my gaze for two seconds before shyly looking away. We all got out of the cab.
I heaved their luggage out of the taxi's spacious trunk. Jeez, what is in here? You can only take so much on a vacation! I left them on the gum-coated sidewalk, but before I could drive away, I felt the impulse to wave good-bye. I would probably never see her again.
Holly
I surveyed the skies for stars. There wasn't a single star in the murky darkness. The lonely moon shone brightly. On a summer night like this, Portland's skies would be overflowing with twinkling stars. But this was the famous, one and only New York City. Not Portland. A single tear rolled down my numb, pink cheek at the thought of our homey cabin in Oregon. Majestic, pine camouflaged mountains, calm artful ripples of Columbia River water, and beautifully-colored sunsets. None of this could be found in Manhattan, Brooklyn, Queens, The Bronx, or Staten Island. A blast of biting, bitter wind ripped me away from my thoughts. I shivered slightly and wrapped my fraying wool coat around myself tighter, almost cutting off circulation. I looked down and checked my watch; it was six o' clock. It would be an hour until our flight would arrive. We couldn't go back to Natalie and Wesley's luxurious condominium and I most definitely didn't want to wait at the airport. All the diminutive shops on the empty, run-down street were closed; their lights shut off despairingly. The disconsolate street lamps flickered dimly providing practically no source of light at all. The only light came from the luminescent moon, the airport, and one open café called the "Pâtisserie Café".
The Pâtisserie Café was a small café; it took up the corner of one block. There was one vast window that took up two walls; allowing you to see all that happened inside the little luncheonette. The title was painted distinctly in faded Paris green lettering against the mahogany wood that framed the window. My father tapped my shoulder.
"Holly, just so you know, it's not very fun freezing your bum off for thirty minutes while your daughter seems to enjoy standing outside in absurdly frigid temperatures."
I spun around to grab our bags when I noticed my father's face. It was astonishingly pale, even paler than it usually was, and his lips had a bluish tinge from the cold.
"Dad, are you all right? You seem, um-,"
"-Cold? Yes, very," he interrupted impatiently.
I became worried; my father was a frail elderly man. He shouldn't be in this kind of weather.
"It'll be a while until our flight arrives; would you like to stop by that café and warm up?"
He muttered, "Sure, it almost seems the cold has frozen my blood."
Blake
I parked the taxi into the crammed Garage, pulled the key out of the ignition, and I raced up the stairs, taking two at a time. I burst into Josh's office.
I found him lip-locked and playing tonsil hockey with a girl I've never seen before. Of course, this didn't faze me; Josh had a different girl on his lap every week. He was like a slim, young, all-year-round Santa that gave kisses to his girlfriends instead of presents and got phone numbers instead of cookies and milk.
I smirked, "I guess you were busy."
He seemed startled by my sudden presence, "Oh, hey man. What's up?"
"What's up?! That's all you can ask? I'm sick of you slacking off and me having to make up for it!" I hurled the keys onto his desk.
He nudged his new girlfriend, indicating her to leave. She giggled childishly, jumped out of his lap, and skipped to the door. But before she could close the door, she smacked my butt playfully, and gave me a saucy wink. Sure, she was cute, but definitely not my type. I rolled my eyes and glared at Josh.
"Dude, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were so angry."
"Sorry is not enough. For the past month I've been driving all of your passengers and not even getting a penny more of pay! Look, I'm already late to my other job. I'm leaving."
Josh sprang from his leather office chair, seized my shoulder, and spun me around. His eyes were sincere, lacking the usual carelessness.
"You can get a week's worth of my pay. Oh, and don't come to work on Monday."
"Why not?"
"I'll take care of it."
A small smile crept onto my face, "Thanks, Josh."
"Blake, I'm really sorry. I'll take you out to lunch or something, 'kay?"
"Sure. Later."
I strolled out of The Garage and down the sidewalk. I looked up at the blanket of blackness above me. It was so strangely cold for a summer night. I expected it to start snowing any second. I stuffed my hands in my pockets for warmth. Something rubbed against my fingers. I pulled out a tiny slip of paper; it was the address of that lady's condo. I remember scrawling it down right after Josh hung up on me. She was probably on a plane right now; flying back to Oregon. Why would I need the address of a beautiful lady's summer home? I ripped it up into little pieces and flung it into a nearby trash can. The shreds fluttered in the breeze and settled onto the mountainous pile of garbage.
I shoved the glass door of the Pâtisserie Café open causing the miniature golden bells to tinkle gleefully. I breathed a sigh of relief, only four more hours until I can just slide into my comfy bed and-
"BLAKE LUCAS CLAYTON! WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?!"
Crap. I forgot about Dylan.
I kicked the half-door out of the way, dodged Dylan, and hung my jacket on the coat rack behind him. I wheeled around to find a very scary-looking Dylan looming over me; the veins in his forehead just about to pop.
"Uh, hey. Ever heard of something called personal space? Yeah, I would like some of that."
Not backing up, he said in an oddly calm voice, "Hello, Blake."
"Yeah, hi, um, I'm here now, so you can go home and rest, 'cause you seem seriously stressed out."
"Do you know how long I have been waiting here for you," he prodded me in the chest, "to come and start your shift?"
"A long time?"
"ONE. FRICKIN'. HOUR. BLAKE, I AM NOT A PATIENT PERSON, OKAY? YOU GOT THAT? YOU WILL BE COMING HERE AT SIX SHARP TOMORROW AND OPENING UP THE CAFÉ. YOU WANNA WRITE THAT DOWN?"
"N-no, I'm fine."
Abruptly, he retracted as a cat's claws do when not in use, his bulging biceps ceased flexing, and his contorted face relaxed. He smoothed the front of his shirt showing off his toned abs. You know, when Dylan isn't mad, he doesn't look half-bad. He's got beach blonde hair with natural highlights and is very tan; all thanks to living on the coast of Coney Island. He has deep blue eyes, a well-defined jaw, and a prominent nose. He could be on an ad for exercise machines if he wanted to, but instead, he worked as a server in a pastry shop. Like me.
I finally realized why Dylan had backed off so quickly; a customer had entered the bistro. Ah, it was Matthew. Matthew was a reserved regular; the first time I met him I had mistaken him for a mute. He had closely-cropped, dark brown hair, and somber green eyes. They were eyes that had seen too much.
I turned and acknowledged him, "Hello, Matthew. The usual?"
He nodded so imperceptibly I might've imagined it.
Dylan opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it once more, "You're lucky I'm your friend. See ya tomorrow."
"Yep," I enunciated, popping the "p".
I pressed down on the little red lever and steaming decaf coffee flowed out of the machine's spout like a black waterfall. Matthew liked his coffee with no sugar, no cream, no milk, and no caffeine. He was that serious kind of guy. I set the styrofoam cup of plain black coffee in front of him and he gave me a nod of approval and gratitude. Whenever I tried to make small talk with Matthew, he would only respond in a series of yes and no nods. How are you today? Nod. Do you like the coffee? Nod. Ever considered trying a latte? Nod. After a while, I would just give up. He's not the most sociable person. I snatched up a washcloth and started wiping down the counter. I was just about finished when I heard that unmistakable tinkle of the miniature golden bells.
Holly
We stepped inside the warm diner, leaving the chilly night air. The sweet, welcoming scent of cupcakes and cookies wafted toward our noses.Delicate jazz music trickled softly out of an antique record player. Cushiony wooden stools surrounded a matching counter that glowed with a glossy finish. The whitewashed walls and the immense window appeared to be friendly. Welcoming, inviting, coaxing us to just take a seat and have a sugary mug of hot chocolate. There was only one customer inaudibly sipping his drink and one attendant busily working.
The attendant looked up and greeted, "Hi, welcome to the Pâtisserie Café; what would you like to order?"
I gasped subtly; it was the taxicab driver. How is he here? He grinned at me; he had a strong jaw line and his smile was perfect, like something out of a dentistry advertisement. I couldn't help gazing into those warm brown eyes. God, he was gorgeous. I hope my mouth isn't watering.... Try as he may, his silky sandy brown hair persisted in falling over his dazzling eyes. Why is he here? He should be modeling clothes or something. I would definitely buy those clothes-Adrian inhaled sharply and groped haphazardly for the counter; breaking me out of my trance.
I immediately became alarmed, "Daddy! Are you okay?"
"Holly-I don't f-feel well," he wheezed, clutching his chest.
I dropped all of our baggage and ushered him to sit down, "Do you want me to call the paramedics?"
"Oh, I'm sure it's nothing, j-just some chest pain."
The attendant cleared his throat, "Would you like something to drink, sir?"
Blake
The man's head swiveled slowly to face me, as if he was some freaky doll.
His pale blue eyes showed no signs of life, "One cup of-," he instantly toppled off the stool and crashed to the ground with a loud thud.
Holly shrilled, "DAD-EEEEE!!!" Your screaming isn't going to wake him up. Just sayin'. I whipped out my cell phone and my thumb automatically found its way to the numbers, nine-one-one.
"Nine-one-one. Please state your emergency."
"A man just had a heart attack in the Pâtisserie Café. Yeah, the one in Queens. He needs medical attention ASAP. Get here. Fast."
I hung up and pivoted. Where did she go? I pushed aside the half-door and rounded the counter to find her kneeling on the floor, sobbing over her father's immobile body. I knelt beside her and put a reassuring hand on one of her trembling shoulders.
"It's going to be all right, I called the paramedics; they're on their way."
She glanced up at me with watery eyes and breathed, "Oh thank you. Thank you so, so much Mr....."
I smiled empathetically. There was so much behind that smile she just didn't know, "Blake. Blake Clayton."
"Thank you, Mr. Clayton. My name is Holly Maxwell."
"Pleased to meet you Ms. Maxwell and you can just call me Blake."
"Then you can just call me Holly."
Holly
The paramedics arrived; they lifted Adrian into the stretcher and rolled the stretcher into the ambulance. I followed one of the paramedics to the emergency vehicle.
I was just about to step into the ambulance when a nurse apologized, "I'm sorry, there's not enough room for you."
I managed to choke out, "Bye, Daddy."
She closed the doors and I grievously watched the ambulance drive into the night along with my father... and the money, the plane tickets, and Holly and Wesley's address. Once again, my vision became blurry and tears filled my eyes.
Blake appeared by my side, "He's going to be fine. What's wrong?"
"It's not that... it's just I have nowhere to stay... no money, no nothing," my eyes widened in fear as I realized the terrible truth.
"Can't you just live in your summer home?"
I was taken aback and a look of confusion crossed my already pain-stricken face, "M-my summer home?"
"Yeah, the place I picked you up."
"That wasn't my summer home. That was my mom and step-dad's condo."
"Oh. Um, do you have their phone number?"
"No. My father did."
Wait. A feeling of hope surged through me, "Do you still have their address?"
He looked away. I already knew the answer. What could I do?
Blake
I pondered for a moment; I definitely could not leave my shift, Dylan would murder me, and I would be putting my job on the line.
I'm the only person living in my apartment.... Could I actually take care of her? I've never taken care of anyone before.... I don't even know this woman. I barely have enough money to afford three meals a day! This is crazy. I'm just a taxicab driver and pastry server, not a hotel owner. No, I can't possibly-
"You can stay with me."
Little did I know those five simple words would change my life forever. They were out there, and there was no taking them back.
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Note from the Author:
Wow. I can't believe I actually posted this. Don't forget to vote/comment! Well, anyways, hope you guys liked this!! :)