Everything my father was not.
Father. I used the word loosely. The man had raised me and I carried his name, but he wasn’t blood. I was the result of a ‘break’ in my parents’ marriage, a time when they were legally separated and awaiting divorce. As she reluctantly told it, Mom had had a dalliance with a faceless, nameless drifter after he’d helped her with her broken-down car one stormy night twenty-five years before. With two little boys in tow and pregnant with me, my mother had gone back to the man she was in the process of divorcing and begged his forgiveness. And, that man had become my father.
What would he think of me now, trapped inside this concrete tomb? Of course he’d say what he always said. That it was my fault. That I was stupid. Weak. A fucking failure. Yeah, I got the message loud and clear. I was the bastard child. Thanks, asshole. And yet still I pandered to the man, to my mother, to my brothers. I paid their mortgages and their cars and the lifestyles they hadn’t earned. Why? Pressure. Loyalty. Survivor’s guilt. They’d ask me how I could live the rock star life knowing they struggled to pay the bills. But they only struggled because they’d stopped trying, preferring to live off my good graces over slaving away at a full-time job. But the money was never enough. They were always asking for more. Always wanting.
And if I wasn’t swift enough with the monetary relief, they did things—really shitty things—like selling me out for a quick buck. My oldest brother had even written a tell-all about me to cash in on my fame. Maybe if he’d actually told the truth—the whole truth and nothing but—I would’ve respected him more. But that wasn’t how my brother had chosen to tell the story of my life, of his life, and of the family secrets we’d all sworn to protect.
One thing was for sure: none of them would ever have stepped in front of a moving train to save my life like Dani had done. What did it say about me that a woman who was barely more than an acquaintance cared more about me than my own family? Come to think of it, why did she care? It certainly wasn’t for my winning personality or my eight-figure bank account or my famous face. Dani had no clue who I was, that much had been evident from her stunned reaction hours earlier when I’d shared the jaw-dropping news.
“You’re RJ Contreras?” she queried, her lips pursed in utter distaste.
“Yes,” I confirmed.
“You?” she queried again.
“Yes,” I reconfirmed. “I think we’ve established that already.”
“No. We haven’t established shit,” she snapped back.
I raised my brows, surprised by her anger. Most girls just dropped to their knees in worship. But not Dani. Never Dani. She wasn’t most girls.
Stomping back over to me, she bent down and grabbed my face, tilting it from side to side as I patently waited for her to confirm my identity. Finally, she let it go and backed away.
“Well, isn’t this a treat,” she replied, not appearing the least bit pleased. “RJ Contreras in the house.”
“In the parking garage, yes,” I corrected, her humorously unstable reaction causing amusement to sweep over my face. “You know, you really are the worst Lois Lane ever. I mean, I thought Margot Kidder was bad, not being able to tell that Clark Kent was actually Superman because he took off his glasses, but you…Dani…Jesus. You really have no excuse.”
“Uh-huh,” she grimaced. “You have no idea how much I want to kick dirt in your face right now.”
A grin hitched the corner of my lips. Dani was like a wild animal, her reactions so primal and authentic you wondered if she’d been born into a pack. It was what had drawn me to her in the first place. She didn’t hide her flaws, nor did she care to be perfect…although being right, well, that was another story. In the ritzy world I inhabited, Dani’s straightforward approach was a refreshing change of pace. I wanted her energy in my life. Needed it. Especially if I was committed to making a change. Which I was. You didn’t escape death just to go back to being the same shitty human you’d always been. No, if I lived, I’d be different. Better. Like Dani.
My mind wandered back to those last seconds with her standing above me with a disappointed frown on her face, and all I could think was, ‘Get in line, babe.’ There was plenty of that dissatisfaction to go around.
“Um…Dani?” I said, taping my wrist. “The clock is ticking. End of the world, remember?”
“Oh, right. Sure RJ,” she’d said, emphasizing my name for effect. “Sorry if your blood-sucking lies slowed me down. I’ll try to be timelier.”
“I’d appreciate that,” I said, barely able to hold back the smirk I knew would not be appreciated.
“Ugh,” she said, stopping off. And just before disappearing behind a wall of concrete, Dani turned back around and called to me, “You better be awake and alert when you get out of here, RJ Contreras! You hear me? Stay the fuck alive.”
• • •
Fading in and out of slumber, I jolted awake at the sound of a familiar voice…and a hand slapping me in the face.
“Wake up, RJ! Come on. Wake up.”
Blinking insanely, I squinted into the bright light. “Dani?”
“Yes, it’s me. I was so worried,” she said, as her fingers slid over my face. “You don’t look good. You’re burning up.”
“It’s as hot as Satan’s butthole in here,” I mumbled.
“No, it’s not. You have a fever.”
“Oh, is that what it is?”
“Yes,” she said with a hint of a smile as she lay the back of her hand to my forehead. “That’s what it is.”
Dani set down a lantern, illuminating the space around us, and as her face came into view, it forced my fever-ravished brain to try to make sense of her return.
“Are you a dream?” I asked, feeling intoxicated despite no alcohol having passed my lips.
“Yes, RJ.” She chuckled, fingers framing her bandaged cheek. “Behold your dream girl.”
I nodded. “I like.”
“Yeah,” Dani asked, suddenly shy as she bit down on her lower lip.
“Uh-huh. I’d do you if, you know, my boys weren’t smushed like a hard-on in a pair of Levi’s.”
She rolled her eyes. “If I had a dollar for every time I heard that excuse from a man...”
Our eyes met as amusement passed between us. But then I remembered where I was and what she’d risked to come back to me, and I sobered right up. “Dammit, Dani. What are you doing back here? You promised to stay away.”
“I know, but things have changed.”
“What do you mean things have changed? They’re not coming?”
She paused, clearly trying to find the right words. “They are coming…” she said. “It’s just…”
I was too impatient to let her finish the sentence. “Just what? Does anyone even know I’m in here?”
“Oh,” she flinched. “They know.”
“What does that mean?”
“So I got out, obviously. Then I found emergency personnel, told them you were trapped, and they immediately shifted people over to your rescue effort.”
“Okay, that’s good.”