Demanding Ransom

Chapter TWENTY-SIX



“You gonna sit hur all night or ‘m I gonna have to drag your lazy ass out thur,” Trav slurs, his alcohol-laced breath rushing toward me in a cloud as he slinks down into the booth next to me. Leopard Shoe Girl collapses onto his lap, her ivory arms draped around his neck and her head rolling side to side, swaying drunkenly to the music.

“I’m fine,” I reply as I twist the stem to the cherry from my Shirley Temple between my fingers. “Go have fun. Let me know when you’re ready to head out and I’ll get the truck.”

Trav shoots me an over-exaggerated grin that belongs on the face of a cartoon character and tumbles onto the dance floor again, his hands hooked around the girl’s waist like they’re forming some train. I lose them in the mob of club-goers and return my gaze to my stem knotting instead.

We’ve been here for about an hour and I’ve taken up residence in this dark booth at the back of the club for the entire time. Every once in a while Trav will check back in with me, bearing some sort of non-alcoholic gift as my payment for being his driver, and then he’ll slide back out into the gyrating mass of twenty-somethings for several more tracks.

Cora and I have been texting, which helps pass the time and helps me keep my eyes focused on the screen in my hand rather than on the man of the hour. Everyone seems to want Ran’s attention, especially the girls dressed in the sort of attire that indicates their only motive for wearing it was to get noticed. And I’m fairly sure getting noticed by someone like Ran ranks pretty high, because there’s been a constant line of scantily clad coeds shadowing him all night. There has yet to be a song where Ran hasn’t had one—or two—girls pressed up to him like they’re an article of his clothing rather than a separate human being. It would be nauseating to watch even if it wasn’t Ran they were pushed up against. I’ve been working hard at choking down the bile that’s crept up my throat all night, so the constant flow of drinks from Trav has been a welcome, and necessary, gesture.

My phone buzzes across the tabletop.



Cora: Stop sitting there.



Me: How do you know I’m sitting?



Cora: Because you’re wallowing, and when you wallow, you sit. How many wallowers do you know that dance their ass off?



Me: I’m dancing right now.



Cora: Bull. You can’t even walk and chew gum at the same time. Texting and dancing would be like solving the rubix cube while climbing Mount Everest for you.



Me: Sorry. Currently dancing, no time to chat.



Cora: You’re a sucky liar. Seriously, get your pretty little ass out there and all up on him. What is the point in wearing that skirt if you don’t?



Me: I was just asking myself the same question—why am I wearing this ridiculous skirt?



Cora: The only thing that is ridiculous is you. Don’t text me until you’ve danced with him. I mean it.



Me: Whatever.



“Hey Maggie.” I lift several inches off my seat, startled by the sound, and drop my phone onto the table. I fumble to pick it up quickly, but it slips between my sweaty fingers. I swallow my heart back into my chest where it belongs. Ran crosses his arms and rests his elbows on the table’s edge. He hovers his upper body forward, leaning toward me. “You gonna come out on the floor or sit here and text your boyfriend all night?”

I give him a puzzled look. “I’m not texting my boyfriend.”

“So you’re texting someone that’s not your boyfriend. Don’t you think he’ll have a problem with that?”

The techno beat that rattles the frames on the walls surrounding the secluded booth morphs into a slower pulse, and everyone in the club shifts their swaying movement to account for it. I look up at Ran and just shake my head, trying to find words, but forming them feels like I’m relearning the entire English language. I can’t make sense of anything when I’m with him. This is such a weird conversation.

Ran rubs his hands over one another. “Alright,” he huffs, sifting his fingers through his dark hair. “If you haven’t picked up on it yet, I’ve tried two different ways now to ask if you have a boyfriend, Maggie.”

My eyes shoot up at him. “What—?”

“I’m asking if you have a boyfriend.” He cocks his head slightly and draws closer. “So, do you?” Damn. I can smell that clean scent of his like they are pheromones and it disorients my senses.

“No,” I stammer. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Ran looks pleased with my answer and nods his head slowly. “Good. Because we already went over the whole you not liking your boyfriends dancing with other girls thing, so I figured it would go the other way too—your boyfriend not liking you dancing with other guys and all. That was, if you had one.”

I drop my eyes back to the cherry stem. I can’t look at him. I can’t listen to him talk about boyfriends, girlfriends…relationships. I can’t do this. I twist the stem ferociously between my fingers, trying to knot it, trying to occupy my brain and my energy elsewhere. Anywhere else.

“Here.” Ran slips his hand across the table and steals the stem out of my grasp. The brief contact of skin-on-skin jolts my entire body, even though just the tips of our fingers touch.

Ran pops the stem into his mouth. His lips move sideways, pursing and twisting across each other, and I can tell that his tongue is working hard on something behind them. My stomach clenches and I hold in all my breath, because if I continue breathing right now it would be humiliatingly shaky and unsteady. After about ten seconds, Ran draws the stem out and waves it in front of my face, teasing me with its perfectly knotted center.

“Is this what you were trying to do?” he smirks and tosses it at me. It sticks to my shirt and I peel it off quickly. I run it between my fingers unintentionally, and when I realize it’s been in his mouth and how unreasonably faint that makes me, I wrap it up in a cocktail napkin and shove it to the side of the table. “I can teach you how to do that sometime if you like.” The way Ran smiles his devilish grin makes my breath spill out all at once, unable to stay trapped inside the confines of my ribcage any longer. He stares me straight in the eye. “Do you wanna dance, Maggie?”

“No.” It fires out of me so quickly I’m not sure if it’s me saying it or if it’s some prerecorded voice.

“You mind telling me why?”

“I’ve been watching you dance with all those other girls all evening. I don’t think I can keep up.” I’m a little mad at him for stealing my stem because I really need something to occupy my focus right now. I settle on my empty glass and swish the half-melted ice cubes back and forth in it so they clink quietly.

“Does it bother you that I’ve been dancing with other girls?” The club’s lights flash rhythmically and colors dance across the walls. The blue in Ran’s eyes is every bit as intense as the bright bulbs that reflect around the room, and they’re just as entrancing.

I shrug my shoulders and slide an ice cube into my mouth. “You’re welcome to dance with anyone you want, Ran.”

“I’d like to dance with you,” he says, pressing in even closer over the table between us. “But I think you’re going to make that very difficult.” Ran wrinkles his nose like he’s thinking through some strategy. “What if I don’t dance with anyone else this evening?” He cocks a brow and I furrow mine, completely confused by his proposition. “It sounds like you don’t like guys that spread their attention too thin, so what if I give all of mine to you for the rest of the night?”

I choke on the ice in my throat and am grateful that it melts quickly and doesn’t lodge there permanently. “You don’t have to give me any attention. This night is for you. Go celebrate.” It’s an unnatural gesture, but I wave him toward the floor.

“I want to celebrate with you, Maggie.” His eyes implore me. “Will you please dance with me? Or are you going to make me beg?”

“It sorta sounds like you already are,” I tease, snatching a glance up at him. His eyes are fixed on me, unfaltering.

After looking at me, expressionless, for several seconds, Ran slides out of the booth and stands at the edge of the table, his hand outstretched. I look at it—at his strong fingers, the ones that I had the right to hold just a few months ago—and my own fingers tremble at the thought of linking with them again. Following a short pause, Ran dismisses my attempt at avoidance and yanks my hand out of my lap, tugging me out of the booth and onto my feet. “Dance with me, Maggie,” he breathes against my ear. I wonder if he knows that by doing things like that, he leaves me no choice. My body reacts even when my mind wills it not to.

We snake through the hordes of people that move as one element as they rhythmically stagger to the fast tempo blaring from the sound system. The energy of the crowd sucks everyone in, like an anchovy in a school of fish, flitting and moving just like the others—many small parts that make up one larger entity. But it’s as though Ran and I stand out. Like we swim upstream while everyone else morphs together and heads the opposite direction.

Ran’s fingers grip onto mine tighter as he guides me toward the far wall to a pocket that opens up into a section of empty dance floor. “This good?” He rotates his head over his shoulder and doesn’t wait for my response before he swings me into him, his hips pressed against me. I gasp. What the hell is he doing? Tonight isn’t supposed to go like this. I shouldn’t be here. My frantic eyes rove over the room, trying to locate the EXIT sign.

Ran drops his hands further down my waist and I lock every joint in my body. I know he can feel it. He has to. We’re so close that I’m sure he can even count every staccato beat of my racing heart just from the echoes of it against his thin gray t-shirt. Ran’s body moves to the music and my rigid frame shifts awkwardly, not at all in sync with the sound that thrums around us, or with his body that is closer than it should be.

“How’s your brother?”

I snap my head up. “What?”

“Your brother,” Ran says again, pulling my hips closer to him. “We transported him that night when he couldn’t stop vomiting.”

“You remember that?” I ask. “He’s okay.” While I’m answering, someone from behind clocks me between my shoulder blades with their elbow and I stumble forward, slamming my cheek onto Ran’s chest. A cool liquid spills down my back and pools at the base of my spine. It reeks of alcohol and now I do, too. “Ugh,” I groan, completely annoyed.

Ran peels the layer of fabric off of my skin and pulls at it, fanning me. “Want me to beat him up and demand money for dry cleaning?” he teases, holding up a fist like he’s ready for the punch.

“Nah,” I smile. “This is Cora’s top anyway.”

“Cora?”

“My roommate.” Ran hasn’t loosened his grip on my waist, and my previously gawky movements start to mesh with his, my body following his rhythm because we’re so close together it doesn’t have room to do much else. “At the dorms.”

“You’re in school,” Ran says, more like a statement than a question, like he’s confirming something he already knows to be true. The DJ starts another track and the beat picks up tempo, transitioning from dazed and drawn out into a faster pace.

“Yeah, first year.”

“I know that, Maggie.” I look up at his face, at his perfect mouth, and the nerves that creep into every inch of my body feel just as electric as the atmosphere in the club. “I do remember you, you know.” He draws up one eyebrow to a point.

“You do?”

“Mmm hmm.”

I gulp nervously. Ran didn’t miss a beat when the DJ rolled this new track. His body has crazy good rhythm and it’s so distracting because it makes me think things I shouldn’t about it.

“What do you remember?” I stutter, looking down at my feet like I’m commanding one to move, then the other. It’s pretty much what I am doing, because any dancing skills I might have been able to claim were left in that booth back there. I have absolutely no control over my body when it’s in Ran’s arms.

“You might be surprised by what I remember,” Ran whispers into my hair. My scalp prickles and a shiver races down the length of my body.

“Tell me.”

“Well,” Ran starts. His body is pressed so close to mine that I have to remind myself that we’re in a heavily populated, public location. Everything in me craves feeling him even closer, and I shove those thoughts out of my head. We’re dancing. Just dancing. He danced with many other girls earlier this evening. This is no different. I need to ingrain that in my memory. “I remember the night of your accident,” he continues. “I remember giving you the balloons and you not-so-politely thanking me for them on the way to the hospital with your brother.” His hands on my hips are burning. “I remember you saying you liked my lips. Or was it you wanted to lick them?” He curls his mouth up on cue. “And I remember not being able to sleep at night because all I could think about was how badly I wanted you to experience that.”

My heart stops.

“It’s weird, Maggie,” Ran says softly. I’m surprised I can hear him above the roar from the speakers, but it’s as though all that exists in this moment are the two of us. Like the frantic bustle of the rest of the world continues while Ran and I decelerate to slow-motion speed. “I have memories of us, so I know there’s more than you’re letting on.” I bite down on my lip and try to avoid his eyes, but he won’t let me as he dips his head to stay connected. “But it’s hard to tell where my memories with you end and where my dreams begin.”

I really wish he hadn’t said that.

I glue my eyes to the floor, because even though every other inch of me is in contact with him, my eyes are the one thing I have control over. I can’t look at him. I can’t be drawn further into the depths with him that way, the way I usually see his soul through those big, bright eyes.

“Maggie.” Ran slides his finger under my chin and pulls it up. “Were we ever together?” I feel his chest push harder against mine. Everything in me aches.

“How so?” I don’t know what he’s referring to, and I’m too embarrassed to ask in detail.

“Together, in any sense of the word.” I almost wish I had been drinking tonight, because I’d gladly trade the electrifying buzz that shivers under the surface of my skin with an alcohol-induced one. At least that one would wear off in a few hours. This one that Ran creates by holding his body on mine probably won’t ever go away, and that could be quite a problem considering the fact that I’ve promised to avoid him at all costs.

“No, Ran,” I choke out. “We weren’t together.” As we’re dancing, we bump into a couple at our left, and they’re shamelessly making out, their tongues slipping in and out between their open mouths. It flusters me and I shake my head and look back at Ran. “We were just friends.”

“Damn.”

“What?”

“It’s just…it feels like there was more. Every inch of you feels familiar to me, Maggie.” Suddenly my arms, my legs, my chest—anything in contact with Ran’s skin—is a thousand degrees. It’s like he’s set me on fire. “So I’m guessing I have a pretty good imagination if I dreamt all of that up.” Ran leans closer and breathes deep. “How your hair smells like vanilla. How your warm fingers feel in mine.” He draws up my hand and squeezes my fingers between his. “I must have an incredible imagination.”

“Yeah,” I mutter. “You must.” I pull away slightly.

“Hey.” Ran wraps his other hand around my wrist. His voice and eyes are soft. “Listen. I’m sorry. That’s gotta be really weird.”

I stare up at him, the flashing lights blinding me.

“I’m sorry if I said something I shouldn’t have.” His hand still holds mine. “I’m just trying to put pieces together, you know?” The pad of his thumb runs circles across my wrist. “And it felt like you were a pretty big piece.” Crimson sweeps onto my face and I turn my head so he doesn’t see it. It’s hard to hide from someone when every part of you is trembling up against them. “Maybe that was just wishful thinking.”

“Yeah.”

We don’t talk for the next few songs and I think my last statement, even though it was just one word, is replaying in Ran’s head because every once in a while he’ll look down at me with this pained expression, like I’ve taken something from him by saying it. Like I’ve shattered some dream. I wish I could tell him just how much was actually taken, but I can’t. I can’t go down this road with him. Perfection can’t be recreated, and that’s what my time with Ran was. Perfect.

The club is at full occupancy, which forces Ran and I even closer, to the point where I don’t even have the space necessary to look up at him, and instead have to rest my head on his chest, sandwiched up against him. The lull of his heart in my ear, the damp sweat from his shirt on my cheek, and the way his minty breath smells as he exhales into my hair makes every part of me ache. It’s odd that so many sensations that should be incredible on their own can combine together to feel torturous. Because that’s what this is. Torture. Being so close to Ran, knowing he still has a glimmer of feeling for me, and knowing that it’s something I’ll never get to experience again produces a gaping hole inside my chest. Like there was an exact spot that he’d filled up and now it’s been torn out of it, leaving a ragged emptiness in its place. I know I’d corrected him when he said there was a Maggie-shaped void before, but I take that back now. There’s a part of my life that once existed just for Ran, and now that’s missing, and it hurts like hell.

“Hey.” I feel the cool rush whispered against my forehead. “Want to get out of here?”

More than anything.

“No,” I say, “I can’t. I’m Trav’s designated driver.”

Ran glances across the room. “If I can find someone sober to drive him, will you change your mind?”

“I don’t know—”

“Hey, Anthony!” Ran waves a hand above the crowd and locks eyes with a skinny guy sporting a black beanie and a white tank. He gives Ran a swift nod and weaves toward us through the bodies pulsing to the music.

“What’s up?” He nods again, that casual greeting that guys always do. I remember a time when Cora and I talked about how weird it was that guys greet one another like this, when girls often squeal and hug instead. I tried the chin-lift, head-nod thing a few times, and it’s definitely reserved for the boys. I can’t pull it off. “You need something?” Anthony takes a sip from his cup, and it looks like soda.

“You been drinking?”

“Nah, not tonight. Got a big midterm tomorrow. Need a ride?”

“Yeah, but not for me.” Ran holds out a hand and I pull Trav’s key from its storage spot in my skirt pocket. It’s odd that something as skimpy as this would even have pockets. “Make sure Trav gets home okay?”

Anthony nods and takes another swig.

“You can put your bike in the back,” Ran instructs. “But I’ll need to borrow your helmet.” He smirks my direction and my heart crashes wildly within me.

“I don’t ride,” I yell over the noise, but Ran pretends not to hear me, so I say it again. “I don’t ride motorcycles, Ran.”

“Yeah,” he says, his crystal eyes taunting me. “I remember.”

“What else do you remember?” I’m shouting now, and the music in the club is at max volume, making it difficult to hear and think.

“Why don’t you spend a little more time with me and you can find out?”