Page 50 of South of The Skyway

I stopped by a homeless man who didn’t know his own name, dropping off his morning muffin and banana and wishing him well as he nodded his thanks. We’d affectionately named him Nick, but he didn’t respond to that, either. His words were a jumble of nonsense, only his body language conveying that he was still in there as he bowed his head in gratitude or waved hello each day. But “Nick” was a daily reminder of the countless families struggling to make ends meet or unable to make them meet at all. And all I could provide was a meal for one. Few things were as effective at making me aware of my insignificance.

With a sigh, we kept cruising, despite the foreboding sense of anxiety that had peeled my eyes open before my alarm even went off. Not even my run had been able to shake it. As we got closer to The Cracked Corset, my heart rate seemed to increase, my mind swimming as it pounded against my skull. I’d chalked it up to an impending headache until Royal sat down expectantly beside our front door.

The bronze handle jammed into my palm, not turning, and I scowled. It had been a week since I’d made the idiotic mistake of calling Rhyett Rhodes, and aside from a handful of texts checking in on each other, we hadn’t talked since. Naturally, my mood progressively worsened, coming to a climax as my hand stung where the metal had nearly broken the skin when it refused to budge. More important than the ache was the fact that I never beat Noel to the shop. Most mornings, we walked together, and even Royal had looked gradually more and more dejected as the journey went on without our companion, tail drooping. On the rare occasion when she woke up early or couldn’t sleep, she always headed in first. The shop would be lit with her enthusiasm, and she’d be writing or reading happily in a corner booth.

But the energy was vacant as I slid my key into the lock and turned. I fought the desire to call out for her, well aware that Noel’s presence was as formidable as a storm cloud. I would've known.

“Shit,” I muttered, guiding Royal inside and flipping on the lights. In the next movement, I had her on speed dial and pinned my cell between my ear and shoulder, digging through the motions of opening operations. My first two calls went to voicemail, as I turned on the lights and walked to the coffee bar to get a pot going. That was rule number one of opening at Corset. We loved our espresso, but when it came time to set the vibe, a full pot was required.

Grumbling, Royal standing guard at the front door, I walked through the motions of bringing the place to life. As the cooks came in, we all exchanged greetings and pleasantries, but it was Wrenly ringing the front door, looking befuddled as she found me behind the bar sipping coffee and answering emails that made me reach for my cell again, only to circle back to her voicemail.

“Okay, this is freaking me out. Tell me you’re okay, please. Love you.” With a huff, I slid it into my pocket, shaking my head as Wrenly washed her hands and found her apron.

“Nothing? That’s not like her.”

“No,” I agreed. “It’s not.”

“You gonna go track her down?”

“Once Holl is in, if she hasn’t answered me by then.”

Keeping my hands busy, I ran through the usual motions: checked our bank accounts, ran through advertising conversion, answered a dozen emails, placed orders for the cafe and then the bookstore. But anxiety was carving deeper and deeper into my psyche, making me shake inside my bones. This didn’t feel right.

When my phone finally buzzed in my pocket, I about came out of my skin.

Noel

Hey, I’m so sorry. I’m okay, but I was in an accident this morning. Didn’t realize the meds would make me sleep so hard.

Nausea pooledin my stomach as my heart plunged through it, throat aching, and my head suddenly spinning. She hadn’t even called me. She was hurt, and she hadn’t even called me. Swearing, I snagged my keys from where I’d set them on the desk and bolted for the front door.

She still didn’t answer my phone call. What in the hell happened?

Brexley

Hey, I’m on my way! What’s going on? What do you need?

“Wren!”I shouted over my shoulder. “I gotta go! You got Royal?”

“Yeah, babe, drive safe! Keep me posted.”

I’m not even sure I answered her as I barreled into the blinding light of the Florida morning, door ringing behind me as my eyes watered, having very little to do with the sunshine.

“Dammit, Noel,” I cursed as I slammed my phone in my pocket again.Why can’t she answer me?

Was she actually okay, or was she putting on a brave face? As I booked it down the sidewalk, I spotted the zippy, red coupe across the street, the front door to the retail space wide open. Of all the times for the landlord to be there, of course it was now. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except getting to my best friend.

In and out of my townhouse in about ninety seconds, I lunged for my car door, practically tearing the handle off when it didn’t unlock like it was supposed to. Pulse slamming in my temples, I tried again, though it didn’t budge.

What the fuck?

The fob clicked, but the car refused to chirp; the door stuck where it was. The fucking battery must have died.Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. I swallowed down the panic, bolting back inside and swapping my cute flats for worn tennis shoes before sprinting out the door.

* * *

Noel’s apartmentwas only a mile north of mine. Part of my routine was a five-mile run after work, which meant the quick sprint to her place was like a freaking warm-up. But when I stuttered to a stop outside her steps, jolting up to the front door, nobody answered. Sighing, I jumped off the porch and lifted the tiny emerald elephant out of her potted hydrangeas. After freeing the spare key, I climbed the steps again, willing my breathing to level out.

The townhouse was dark and smelled vaguely of old coffee.

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