Chase, p.1
Chase, page 1
Chase
The Broadway Series, Volume 3
Allie York
Published by Allie York, 2022.
CHASE
The Broadway Series: Book 3
ALLIE YORK
Chase
Copyright © 2021 by Allie York
All rights reserved.
All rights reserved worldwide.
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No part of this book may be reproduced, copied or transmitted in any medium, whether electronic, internet or otherwise, without the expressed permission of the author. This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, locations, and names occurring in this book are the product of the author’s imagination or are the property of their respective owners and are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events, locations, or persons (living or dead), is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author. All trademarks and trade names are used in a fictitious manner and are in no way endorsed by or an endorsement of their respective owners.
May contain sexual situations, violence, sensitive and offensive language, and mature topics.
Recommended for age 18 years and up.
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Cover Design: JustWrite Creations
Formatting: Brandi Zelenka with My Notes in the Margin
Editing: Cat Parisi
Proofreading: Michele Ficht
Created with Vellum
Contents
1. Harriet
2. Briggs
3. Harriet
4. Briggs
5. Harriet
6. Briggs
7. Harriet
8. Briggs
9. Harriet
10. Briggs
11. Harriet
12. Briggs
13. Harriet
14. Briggs
15. Harriet
16. Briggs
17. Harriet
18. Briggs
19. Harriet
20. Briggs
21. Harriet
22. Briggs
23. Harriet
24. Briggs
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ONE
Harriet
The doodles spread out over the entire slip of paper by the time it went to Carmen’s voicemail for the fourth time. I left a quick message telling her to call me and hung up, trying to decide what to do next. My older sister being around would have helped, but I hardly expected her to actually show, or answer. I gave up on her calling back, so left the news of our mother’s death on her voicemail. Maybe it was not the sisterly thing to do, but Carmen left me no choice. There was nothing really sisterly about our relationship, but it was an emergency and my sister couldn’t even bother to answer the damn phone. Carmen would have to find out that our mother overdosed by a voicemail, but it was better than her not knowing at all. Maybe.
There was no point in an autopsy when it came to Mom, and I didn’t want to hear the results anyway. There was no one to go to a wake. Mom had cut ties with every friend and family member aside from me, so I just skipped that part. Her ashes were strapped in the seat next to me in a brushed nickel urn. Considering my profession, it didn’t feel morbid, or even strange. Death never bothered me, not even as a kid, so working for a mortician seemed the logical route. Even when the dead happened to be my mother, I handled it with the same professionalism I used at work.
The eviction notice was taped to the door when I came in and found her. I worked a double at the funeral home, then came home to find out that I misplaced my trust yet again. So, I packed my bags after getting home from the hospital and load it all in the car. It would be gone soon too, and then I had nothing.
I checked off everything on the slip of paper and tucked it back in my book. Me being a general airhead meant that I had to write everything down, and sometimes still forgot. Blake still hadn’t called or text me back so I tried him again before heading over. Working the graveyard shift meant he was probably asleep, but I needed him. I needed someone, but had no one. We were so unstable that I had no idea whether we were on or off at that point, but surely my mother’s death meant Blake could comfort me a little. If not comfort, he could at least just let me sit on his couch and read.
I swung Mom’s car into the driveway and pulled my favorite brown sweater tighter before I got out. It was cold, raining, and dark. The whole week had been that way and just kept getting worse. I really wanted nothing more than to sit next to Blake with a cup of hot tea and just mellow. Even if he talked incessantly about his gambling trip, or some action movie, I wouldn’t be alone. The car was getting repossessed the next day, so I wouldn’t have that anymore either. My bad luck made me think I had done something very wrong to cause the karma I was accumulating, but I couldn’t figure out a damn thing I had done. I made a point to be kind to everyone, whether I thought they deserved it or not, but it wasn’t enough. Never enough. It seemed like just existing was my sin.
Blake’s front door was unlocked when I tugged it and his name echoed through the entry room. The noise upstairs caught my attention so I followed it. The thuds got louder, bouncing off the walls and into my ears. I shook my head. There was no way I was hearing what I thought I was. The door was cracked at the room at the end of the hall, Blake’s room, and I peeked in to see exactly what I was afraid of. Exactly what Mom told me I would see. I wanted to believe it was just her being a bitch because she was high, but no, Blake was screwing someone else.
From my vantage point I had a clear view of Blake’s skinny ass and his handful of blond hair. The girl moaned, calling out his name and he pounded into her harder. Her voice told me all I needed. Lainey Bishop was getting fucked by my boyfriend, or whatever he was at that particular moment. I barely got fucked by my boyfriend, but Lainey was having no problems with getting some. Actually, it had been months since he touched me, and suddenly I knew why.
I backed out and stormed back down the stairs, slamming the front door. I wanted him to know I was there. Whether he cared or not wasn’t the issue, I just wanted him to know. I literally didn’t even have a place to sleep since Blake’s couch was no longer an option. My list included a few ideas for places I could go next, but it was getting thin fast. I wanted someone to be angry at, but I could only blame myself. I was twenty-five with my whole world crumbling at my own hand. Mom’s addiction aside, I should have been more like Carmen and escaped the toxicity that was our mother. Instead I stayed, I put my life on hold to try to prolong hers. Obviously, I had done a bang up job of that one too. Which left me homeless, carless, friendless, and utterly alone.
I checked the time and headed to the library. I had an hour before they closed, plenty of time to check the rest of my list off, and start taking charge of my life. I was done. Done being jerked around by my own life, and done just holding on while the world screwed Harriet Wolfe. With my book and my list, I walked out of the rain and into the library, determined to start over. A new life, in a new place, with new people was the only thing that made sense. I needed to be as far from Washington as possible, and knew just who to call to make it happen. By the time they were shutting down and Mrs. Donald asked me to leave, I had a plan and it was already in motion. A plan that I had written down in great detail so I wouldn’t forget a single step. It was as sad, but it was my reality, always had been. Write it down, or risk forgetting it all, and sometimes forget anyway.
Apartment: check, job applied for: check, and bus ticket bought: check. All I had to do next was convince my plan Z to hold me over, and I knew she would come through for me. I didn’t even have a plan A-through-Y, but I knew my plan Z would catch me, no matter if her husband was okay with it or not. I didn’t know him, but surely, he would let Rae save me again, hopefully for the last time. I was tired of my world being in ruins while I simply stepped over the rubble, trying to move on. I wanted to crumble with it, but I couldn’t let myself do it. I wasn’t wired to break, only to bend.
I drove to the bus station and sat in my car with my book open. Stephen King would have to last me until I made it my destination since my other books were packed with what few belongings I needed. My new life would be very minimal until I could rebuild, but even that idea didn’t drag me down. It was actually really exciting. I had never done anything just for me, but it was time. Things would have to come together eventually; no one had a shitty life for twenty-five straight years, did they?
Waiting for the bus was lonelier than sitting in the car, but I had a book so I kept myself entertained. Books always kept me entertained. I sent Carmen another text telling her I cleaned out most of my savings to take care of Mom’s cremation and to make my move from Washington to Tennessee. It was the seventh text in four days. My calls were up to desperate levels, so I resigned to no more contact and put the relationship with my sister where it belonged, in the past. Everything in the past. I tried to see the good in everyone, I even saw the good left in our mother, but Carmen not answering my calls left me struggling to find any good. The conversations we had over the last year were all the same. I would fill her in and Carmen would degrade me for staying, reminding me of how stupid I was for putting up with Mom, and insisting it was because I wanted to be a martyr. Carmen swore I only stayed around so I would have something to complain about. My sister never hesitated to reach out when she needed money, and I sent it almost every time. The parallels between Carmen and our mother were startling. Maybe I am stupid.
I kept my eyes trained on the book, trying to concentrate, but knew the man across the bus stop was watching me. He found me a few minutes after I sat down
I pulled my shawl around me tighter, trying to fend off the chill on the bus, or maybe it was the panic from the man in the station. The cold bit at me even through the shawl and my sweater. I picked the one bus without heat, lost my mother right before Thanksgiving, and found out via email that my new apartment wasn’t going to be ready until the following week, at the earliest. I had already paid a deposit too. Apparently, the last tenant had destroyed the place. So much for the great clean start I was working on. I unfolded the list that was doubling as a bookmark and looked it over. Call Rae: Check. Find a job: Check. Find housing. I ran my pen through the check mark and called Rae back. Despite the upsetting reason that I was moving to east Tennessee, I would have Rae in my life again. My neighbor and best friend from childhood was always there to rescue poor Harriet. I asked her to take her up on her guest room offer and she squealed excitedly in the phone. I thanked her, gave her an approximate time my Uber would be arriving and let her get back to her life. I hated that my new life was starting with a setback, but staying with Rae would be like old times.
I went back to my note. Locate local markets, rebuild wardrobe, and locate library were at the top once I actually got to move in. I had a little bit in savings, my phone bill paid up, and my first month’s rent and deposit already paid. The job that I had checked off was an application that upgraded to an interview within the first hour on the bus. The mortuary near Rae’s was in desperate need, and I was great at my job. At least I had my work ethic going for me.
I was feeling like quiet the champion when I set out on my new journey, but with the apartment getting put on hold immediately, it was almost like two steps forward and three steps back. Once I was completely sure the man from the bus station was all a figment of my imagination and had not boarded my bus, I let myself slouch into my pile of sweater and shawl. I had barely dozed off when my phone lit up in my hand.
Rae: Nick is so excited you’re coming.
Harriet: Good, I need some good news
Rae: You’re going to love it here. It’s beautiful. 4 seasons. And our area has a ton of local shops. I know you didn’t want to have to stay with us, but I’m glad you are, and it might help you feel more secure. I can’t wait for you to meet George. It will be good for you to start over. Clean slate and best friend time.
It was nice having a best friend that was also a psychiatrist. I thanked her and snuggled back into my sweater, covered in my shawl just as my phone rang. Carmen. I let it go to voicemail, feeling a little more confident in the decision to ignore her than I should have. I was tired, physically, and emotionally. I had to deal with our mother’s death alone, and despite all my bad Karma, I didn’t give a shit about my sister. Yes, our mother was a drug addict, and had used us for her dealings more than once, even as kids, but the bottom line was that Carmen left me to deal when I was too young to make the choice myself. So, I pushed my bad luck even further and said fuck Carmen.
Nick and Rae’s new house was beautiful, complete with a white picket fence in the back yard for Nick’s dog, and perfectly square hedges in the front. They already had a Christmas tree up illuminating the front bay window. Of course, it was up, Rae loved Christmas more than anyone I ever met. Just as I closed the trunk, Rae opened the black front door that matched the black shutters, causing the wreath to sway slightly, and grinned, squealing at me. I grabbed the three bags I brought, but left them on the walkway to run and hug her. Rae rocked us back and forth, squeezing me like she thought I might disappear. Nick watched us over her shoulder with little George in his arms. Rae had everything she could ever want. A doting husband, beautiful son, gorgeous home, and thriving practice. Yet again Rae was the one with her life together while I floundered along, just trying to survive. I tried, I really did, but things just never worked out for me the way they did for other people. Nick limped over to hug me once Rae let me go and wrapped me in a bear hug. He dwarfed me, but most people did since I was built like a twig and barely more than five-feet tall.
“I thought Rae was joking about you being a modern-day hippie,” He laughed, tugging at my feather earring.
“Nope. I prefer bohemian goddess, though.” I winked at him and reached for little George. I had never met him, or Nick, but George was always in his mama’s lap when she and I video called. He came straight to me, touching my necklace, and letting me kiss him. He was precious with Nick’s blue eyes and cute little nose, paired with his mother’s curls in blond and her tiny chin. Such a perfect little thing. I left them to put the baby to bed and got my bags from outside.
I stopped on the way back up to the porch to inhale the Tennessee air and enjoy my first moments in a new place, with a new life. The air was warmer than I expected, but Rae had warned me that east Tennessee weather was like rolling the dice. It was nothing like the rainy cold front I just left behind. Rae showed me to their guest room and left me for the night to catch up on sleep. It was definitely not my taste, but would work until I could move into my apartment, and the room reminded me of Rae. The white metal day bed was covered in a floral duvet and there was a small white dresser at the foot of the bed. It was very much Rae’s country chic style, and I adored it. Other than a small closet and a half bathroom, the guest room was bare. I tossed my bags in the corner, hung my shawl on the end of the bed and took off my boots. Taking off my skirt and top seemed like too much work. Changing clothes and showering could wait until I was rested. My body was tired, but my soul was exhausted, and nothing looked better than the pink flowered day bed. I was finally rid of my toxic mother, starting a new chapter that was all for me, but the ending had been more bitter than sweet.
TWO
Briggs
There was a distinct chance I would kill the asshole, and I would relish every single second. Our poor mother was having enough trouble without me having to go bail Beck out, again. The reason I was out at midnight to pick him up was worse. Even I had to admit he was smooth though. Only my jackass of a twin brother could get arrested twice in the same week for picking a fight, getting his ass beat in the process, and still get off with a smile and a handshake. No matter how many times I told him to stop fucking with married women, it didn’t matter. This time the married woman had a husband who was a retired MMA fighter, so I was on the way to the hospital to get him. Mr. MMA had destroyed Beck’s car with a tire iron before kicking my brother into his current state, so on top of a bruised ego, his car was totaled and his ribs broken. Lucky for Beck, he was the king of over indulgence and had two vehicles. I pulled my Prius into a visitor spot and hopped out to go collect the moron. He may have been the smooth talker and got all the women, but at least I had half a brain, and wasn’t trying to worry our mother into an early grave.
