Molly Towers has never been a risk-taker.
She lives life by the book, and that's all there is to say about that.
She brushes her teeth twice a day for three minutes each time, makes her bed every morning, tips the mailman at Christmas. Even her career involves careful planning, organization, and strategy. As far as she's concerned, there's no reason to deviate from what works - and what has always worked for Molly is playing by the rules.
Which is why when her closest friend in the world, Delia, suggested that she ask her sexy neighbor out on a date, all Molly could do was laugh
"I don't think so, D." Molly leaned down to pull a beer out of the small cooler that Delia had brought with her. She wiped the majority of the bottle's wetness off before twisting the cap off and taking a drink.
Delia groaned, kicking her legs up on Molly's porch railing and adjusting her sunglasses. "You are such a bore."
"Girls don't ask guys out," Molly said. "That's just weird."
Delia clucked her tongue. "If only Susan B. Anthony could hear you now."
"Okay. Have you ever asked a guy out?"
"No," Delia admitted. "But I would make an exception for a fine piece of ass like that."
Both girls turned their attention towards the neighbor in question's home - positioned directly across the street from Molly's. Molly had lived in her house for just under three years, and her mysterious neighbor had moved in just the previous summer. All she knew about him was what was listed on his mailbox ("J. Timberlake") and what he looked like from the vantage point of her living room window. Unfortunately, he was rarely seen outside his house - Molly usually spotted him either coming home or leaving in his black Mercedes, which he always parked in the garage.
The closest she'd ever gotten to him had occurred once when she was picking up her mail. He'd come out to retrieve his at the same time, and Molly had been able to sneak a peek across the road as she opened her mailbox. It was then that her earlier suspicions were confirmed - J. Timberlake was hot. Really hot. Molly could still remember what he'd looked like at the time, still in work clothes - navy pants and a white dress shirt, sleeves pushed up to his elbows and the collar open, no tie. He'd glanced across the street at her after sliding his small stack of mail out of the box, caught her staring. Molly froze, of course, but he'd just smiled and waved congenially. She forced herself to return the gesture and marched back up to her front door without looking back.
Of course, as soon as Delia found out that Molly was "harboring a hottie", as she so tactfully put it, she made it her personal mission to meet the man in question. In fact, the girls had made it a Saturday afternoon ritual to camp out on Molly's front porch with beer and soda, chatting and waiting for what they'd come to call a Timberlake Sighting.
So far, Delia had only been privy to one - a couple weeks before, they'd been about to give up and go back inside when J. Timberlake's garage door opened. Instead of backing out in his expensive car, the man himself had stepped out with a spray bottle of weed killer, clad in a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt. Delia had nearly lost her shit.
"Oh, fuck. Oh, god, he's gorgeous," she'd gushed, leaning so far out over Molly's porch railing that she was in near danger of toppling over into the azaleas. "We have to get closer. How can we get closer?"
Molly had been able to talk her out of barging over there and introducing herself, thankfully, and they'd spent the rest of the evening watching chick flicks and wondering what hot neighbor was doing across the street.
Delia was nothing if not more outgoing than Molly - they'd been friends for ten years, since freshman year at UIC, and she'd always been the "fun" one of the pair. Delia was the one who suggested that they try a new restaurant, or get wacky colors like blue or green for their bi-monthly pedicures. She encouraged Molly to make impulse purchases on yellow wedge sandals or neon pink sunglasses (most of which Molly managed to resist). She also dated a new guy every other week and hadn't been able to settle on a career choice since graduation (even though she held a Masters degree in journalism). Molly saw her relationship with Delia like a sort of yin-yang...Delia was the spontaneous, exciting side, and Molly was the reserved, predictable side. Even though Delia had the tendency to drive her crazy, Molly wouldn't have traded her for anyone.
Even with her fearless personality, however, even Delia hadn't managed to work up the guts to march over to J. Timberlake's door herself. She talked about it plenty, suggested baking cookies or a pie and taking it over to welcome him to the neighborhood - never mind that he'd lived there for almost a year. But Molly always put her foot down and Delia never did much more than pout and complain.
Now, they watched his motionless front door and sighed simultaneously.
"Maybe he's out of town," Molly said, taking another sip of her beer. "I haven't really seen him leaving or coming home in awhile."
Delia drained the last of her beer and shook her head. "God, look at us. We are such desperate losers!"
Molly didn't try to argue - when Delia went off like this, it was best just to let her go.
"Shit," she exclaimed. "We can't just sit here and do nothing, waiting for your stupid hot neighbor - whose name we don't even know, by the way - to poke his head out of his garage. I haven't been on a date in almost a month, and you haven't been on a date in, like, years."
"That's not true," Molly interjected. "I went on a date two months ago, with that one guy."
Delia frowned. "I don't remember."
"He was the cousin of that dental hygienist that you were seeing for awhile."
"Ohh." Molly's frown deepened. "Did you sleep with him?"
"No," Molly replied. "We only went on the one date. He wasn't really my type."
Delia slumped dramatically in her chair. "See what I mean? See?! You need to get some tail."
"I'm doing okay," Molly said, but her eyes darted back over towards her neighbor's silent house. She would be lying if she didn't admit that she thought about how exciting it would be to spend a night with the mysterious J. Timberlake...but that just wasn't her style.
"No, I'm serious, Moll." Delia sat up straight and gestured across the street. "We can't keep doing this every Saturday without even trying to talk to him. It's pathetic."
"Fine, let's do something else." Molly shrugged and stood up, reaching to collect their empty beer bottles. "Oh, didn't you want to go see that Nicholas Cage movie?"
"No!" Delia tipped her head back against the chair and glared at her friend. "This has gone too far."
"What are you talking about?" Molly asked. "What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to talk to him," Delia said, her voice steeled. "For real this time."
Molly rolled her eyes. "D, I'm not going to go knock on his door, for Christ's sake. That would be weird."
"But what if he comes outside?" Delia asked. "What if he comes out, and you walk across the street and say hi? That's not weird."
Molly sighed. "No, that wouldn't be as weird. But," she turned and gestured across the street, "do you see him outside? I don't. Come on, let's go in, it's getting hot out here."
She was halfway to the door when Delia started coughing. Molly glanced over her shoulder at her, seeing that her friend had apparently choked on a mouthful of beer.
"Delia, are you okay?" She set the empty bottles down and hurried back across the porch to her friend. But Delia's eyes were wide and she was staring across the street. "Are you okay or not?"
Delia only managed to sputter unintelligibly before she grasped the hem of Molly's tank top and pointed. Molly followed her gaze, shocked herself when she saw J. Timberlake making his way down his front walk.
"Oh, wow," she whispered. For a few seconds, the two girls watched him walk to his mailbox, motionless.
Then, Delia sprang into action.
"This is it. It's a sign," she stammered, standing up to push Molly towards the porch stairs. "Go. Go! You have to! It's meant to be!"
"But...but I already got the mail," she said frantically, trying to resist against Delia's pushing. But her friend was freakishly strong, and she found herself down the stairs before she knew it.
"Just pretend!" Delia hissed, giving her another push. "He's at the mailbox. Go!"
Molly nearly tripped over her own feet, but somehow she found herself walking in the direction of her neighbor, who was now leafing through his mail mere feet away. Molly gulped when she reached the end of her driveway, glancing back at Delia. All she did was glare and motion at her to go, go, go.
Molly didn't know how it happened, but all of a sudden she was across the street and on J. Timberlake's side of it. He'd yet to turn around and notice her, and Molly froze for a second, wondering if it was too late to run. Then again, Delia would never let her hear the end of it. But she had to live near this guy - and clearly he was going to think she was some kind of freak.
Before she could talk herself out of what she was already doing, her neighbor turned away from his mailbox, spotting her on the sidewalk. Molly forced a smile for lack of anything better to do.
"Um, hi," she greeted, taking a few steps closer. He matched her smile, though she didn't miss the way his brow furrowed slightly in confusion.
"Hi," he said, and Molly noticed he was wearing jeans, and he was barefoot. She swallowed.
"I'm Molly." She held out her hand. "I live across the street."
"Oh, yeah." He took a step forward and took her hand. "Yeah, I've seen you before. I'm Justin. I live...here." He gestured towards his house and shrugged.
"Hi," Molly said again, and winced. "It's nice to finally meet you. I guess I just realized that we've never officially met."
"Oh." Justin rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, looking sheepish. "I guess I'm not the friendliest neighbor. I'm not home a lot."
"Me either," Molly replied. "I mean, I work. A lot."
He smiled. "Me, too."
Molly smoothed her hands over her jeans. She couldn't help darting a glance across the street to Delia, trying to look inconspicuous on the porch. Now what?
Justin followed her gaze and Molly blushed. "That's my friend Delia. We're just...we were hanging out."
"Nice." He raised a hand to wave at her, and Delia waved right back. Molly was half-surprised she didn't march across the street to join their awkward little soiree.
"Well." Molly tucked her hair behind her ear and licked her suddenly dry lips. She could very easily go back across the street right now, without having soiled her normal reputation too much. There was nothing wrong with introducing yourself to a neighbor, no matter how belated or uncomfortable the greeting was. But she remembered Delia's urging and, somehow, all the wrong gears started turning in her head.
"Well." Justin matched her position, hands in his pockets, mail tucked under one arm. He watched her curiously, not quite frowning, but not quite smiling, either.
Molly felt her heart rate increase and she knew she was about to do something very, very stupid.
"So, I was wondering, if..." She paused to swallow again; god, why was her throat so dry? "If you maybe...wanted to go out later? Like, um, get a drink or something?"
Fuck. Could there be a more pitiful way to ask someone out? She resisted the urge to rub her temples.
Justin stared at her blankly for a few seconds. Molly crossed over from embarrassed to wanting to dig a hole and crawl into it for the rest of her adult life. Finally, he cleared his throat.
"Oh. Wow, that's...really cool of you. But I, um...have to work." He gave her an apologetic shrug and a half-frown sorta thing. "Yeah, I gotta work tonight. Big meeting, it really sucks."
"Ah." Molly literally felt every ounce of personal pride she possessed pop like a balloon and wilt pathetically to the pit of her stomach. Jesus, no wonder guys took so long to ask girls out. "Yeah, that's...lame. Um, maybe some other time."
"For sure. Take a rain check," Justin said, pointing at her like it was cute that he'd just rejected her in the harshest sense of the word. "Nice meeting you, though."
"Yep. Bye." Molly didn't even have it within her to smile, and she turned to head back across the street, feeling numb with embarrassment. She didn't dare look back at him, how could she ever look at him again without feeling the overwhelming sting of shame that she was feeling right now?
Delia sat on the porch like a starving puppy, waiting. "Well?! What did you say? What happened?"
Molly walked past her, heading for the door. "I asked him out."
"You did what?" Delia practically shrieked, jumping out of her seat. "Jesus, Molly!"
"This is your fault!" Molly shot back. "You're the one who told me to do it."
"I told you to go talk to him," Delia said. "Not ask him out. I mean...wow."
Molly turned away from the front door, glaring at Delia with rage and humiliation heating up her face.
"What the hell are you talking about? You said I should ask him out, not even fifteen minutes ago!"
Delia looked around, as if she couldn't quite believe she lived in a world where her friend could be that dumb. "I meant, like...a long time from now. This was just supposed to be an introduction. Jeez, Moll, who does that? ‘Oh nice to meet you, wanna bang?'"
"I didn't say that," Molly mumbled, yanking the front door opened and stalking inside the entryway of her air-conditioned house. Charlie, her cat, half-woke from his doze on the back of the couch and opened one eye to appraise her.
"What did you say?" Delia shut the door behind her and turned to Molly, hands over her mouth. "Oh, god. Was it bad? Did he reject you? He wasn't mean, was he?" She stood up straighter, calling out the loyal friend side. "'Cause I'll go over there and yell at him for you. I will."
"He wasn't mean." Molly ran her hands through her hair, tried to decide if she was going to throw up or not. "He was polite. I asked him for a drink and he said he had to work."
"On a Saturday night?" Delia trilled. "Oh, yeah right! What a goddamn liar."
Molly rubbed her forehead. "Yeah, make it worse, please."
Delia backtracked quickly, taking a couple steps closer to Molly. "Okay, sorry. Maybe he did, a lot of people work on Saturdays, actually."
"Yeah." Molly felt her stomach roll and knew it was unavoidable. "I'm gonna puke."
She locked the door of the hall bathroom behind her because Delia was absolutely one of those friends who would follow you in just to hold your hair and make sympathetic noises. Molly liked her privacy at the least attractive moments in her life, thanks.
When she was finished emptying the contents of her stomach completely, she could hear Delia on the other side of the door.
"It's okay, Moll," she said, her voice muffled but not enough so that Molly could ignore it. "He's obviously totally not worth it, anyway."
Somewhat grudgingly, Molly agreed to meet Delia at Rodolpho's at eight. She put on her new black dress that she'd been saving for a date, her favorite red stilettos, and did her best to suck in her pride. Delia was sitting at the bar when she arrived.
"Hey." Molly set her clutch on the bar and scooted onto the stool as the bartender made his way over. She ordered a dirty martini and rested her chin in her hand.
"What's new?" Delia asked, patting her on the knee in that condescendingly sympathetic way. "Your hair looks nice."
Molly reached back to touch the carefully placed chignon with a frown. "Don't baby me."
The bartender slid her glass across the table and she took it with a nod of gratitude.
"Do you need to get drunk tonight?" Delia asked. "Because I will fully support that motive."
"I don't want to spend my Sunday hungover," Molly said. "I was going to steam my carpets and drapes."
Delia groaned dramatically, throwing her head back. "Jesus, Molly. You are the most vanilla person I have ever met. Aren't you upset?" she demanded. "I mean, god, you got dissed hardcore. By a mega-hot guy. Maybe the hottest guy you'll ever meet in your life."
Molly downed half of her drink, trying not to scowl. "Okay, really? You don't need to say it like that."
"Sorry, but I'm just pointing out that it's okay to feel shitty." Delia tucked a lock of her chin-length bob behind her ear and smiled winningly at the bartender when he replenished her Jack and Coke. "So have a few drinks, we'll meet some passably attractive guys. Live a little."
Molly surveyed the dinner crowd in the lounge. "I don't see any passably attractive guys."
"They're coming," Delia promised. "Let me get you another one."
Molly didn't argue as her friend motioned over the bartender for a new martini. She finished off her first and felt her nerves begin to relax a little bit - admittedly, she'd been on edge since Justin's rejection earlier in the day. The worst part was that she was going to have to see him again...and again...and again. Maybe she could move. But, god, she'd just remodeled the damn kitchen.
"Wait. Isn't that him?"
Molly glanced up as she fished the olive out of her second drink. Delia was staring, open-mouthed, across the restaurant, and she turned to follow her gaze.
"Who?" The question died on her lips. Sitting in a corner booth near the restrooms was definitely, without a doubt, Justin.
"What the hell?" Delia hissed. "Didn't he tell you he had to work?"
Molly felt her jaw tense. Of course, she had known it was a lie, but to see the physical proof made her feel a little sick. "Yeah, he did."
"What a douche." Delia shook her head in disgust before turning away, but Molly couldn't quite tear her eyes from her neighbor's table. He wasn't alone, but he wasn't with a girl, either, which was somewhat of a relief. Instead, two suited men sat across the booth from him, and Justin himself looked rather solemn.
Delia flicked her shoulder. "You want another?" She was already slurring her words a little bit after three drinks. Molly shook her head slowly, not taking her eyes off of Justin as he rose from the table and turned down into the small hallway that led to the restrooms. She felt an odd surge of something rise from deep within her...a fiery, righteous anger that she'd never felt before.
Delia was right. It was okay to feel shitty. It was okay to be pissed off. Molly slid off the barstool with determination.
"Where are you going?" Delia demanded.
"Bathroom." Molly left her purse on the bar and headed for the hallway without looking back.
She only half-glanced at the men that remained at Justin's table. They looked normal enough, heads bent together as they discussed something seriously - probably co-workers. Maybe he hadn't been lying about having to work, maybe his business meeting just happened to be taking place here?
She shook her head, dismissing the thoughts that fought to muffle her anger. She needed this.
Justin was in the hallway when she turned in, his back to her, phone to his ear. Molly stalked up behind him and tapped his shoulder boldly. He at least had the good graces to look shocked when he turned around.
"I, uh, I gotta go. No, it's...nothing, look I'll call you back when I can," he said quickly into the phone, holding up his hand to ask her to wait. "It's not looking good, but I may be able to pull something off." He snapped the phone shut and slipped it in his pocket, attempting a smile. "Marcy, what a surprise."
Molly seethed. "It's Molly."
Justin winced. "Sorry, sorry. Molly, of course. Um, how are you?"
He glanced over her shoulder as he spoke, and Molly crossed her arms over her waist defiantly.
"Just what kind of game are you trying to run here?" she snapped, deciding not to waste time on false niceties. She needed to go for it before she lost her nerve, anyway. "I thought you had to work?"
"Uhh." Justin rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. "I did, sort of. Look, could we maybe-"
"That is...you know what, that is really shitty," Molly said firmly, uncrossing her arms to jab a finger at him menacingly. Her one-and-a-half martinis lending her liquid courage, she continued. "If you didn't want to go out with me, you should have just said so. I mean, it takes a lot of guts for a girl to ask a guy out. The least you could have done was been honest with me. I deserved that much."
Justin swallowed, still peering over her shoulder. "You're right, you're absolutely right."
"I am right," she shot back. "You...you're an asshole, ‘J. Timberlake'. And I'd be fine never, ever talking to you again."
He met her eyes then, looking apologetic. "I'm sorry, Molly."
"Well." She rested her hands on her hips, caught slightly off-guard. Maybe she hadn't expected him to be so genuine. "You should be."
"No, I'm sorry for this." He clamped his hand on her shoulder then, steering her towards the women's room. "And I promise to explain later."
She gasped as he pushed her through the door quickly, following after her. The restroom was deserted, and Molly's anger gave away to cold dread. These were the type of men her mother warned her about.
"What the fuck are you doing?" she demanded, whirling around to face him as he pushed the door shut and locked it behind them. "Oh, god, please don't...don't do this. I'm sorry for yelling at you, okay? Just don't...don't do anything insane."
Justin shushed her, pressing his ear to the crack between the door and frame. He appeared to be listening for something, and he wasn't making any threatening moves, so Molly looked around for an escape. Unfortunately, there was no second escape door, just a high, narrow window.
She had wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold in her fear, when someone on the other side of the door pushed. When it didn't give, the person pushed again, harder this time, enough to rattle the lock. Molly opened her mouth to yell, but Justin was too fast for her.
He wrapped one arm around her shoulders, slapping his hand over her mouth none too gently.
"Shh," he whispered, his mouth up against her ear. "You need to be quiet."
His voice was barely audible, but Molly froze, startled at their sudden closeness. The expensive smell of his cologne surrounded her, and even in heels, he had a good five inches on her.
The door rattled again, more intensely this time, and even Molly could sense the frustration of the person on the other side. She was starting to get the feeling that this wasn't just a woman who needed to pee.
Justin let go of her suddenly, and Molly stumbled a little bit. She watched as he dragged a low shelf, used to hold tactfully concealed rolls of toilet paper and bowl of potpourri, positioning it beneath the narrow window. Setting the bowl on the counter, he climbed up on the shelf to open the window. Molly couldn't help but find herself hypnotized by how great his ass looked in his suit pants.
"Molly," Justin whispered, snapping her out of her momentary reverie. He was holding his hand out to her and motioning her closer, so she stepped carefully across the room, feeling numb. What the hell was happening?
Justin pulled her up onto the shelf next to him. "I'm going to boost you up."
"I can't fit through there," Molly hissed, looking up at the small window nervously.
"Yes, you can," Justin assured, not waiting for her assent before leaning down to wrap his arm around her knees and lift her. Molly had no choice - she held her breath as she shimmied through the window. The view on the other side was slightly disconcerting; a straight brick wall down to the alley below. The window was at least ten feet up, and she cringed at the thought of landing on the other side.
None too gracefully, she managed to twist her lower body out the long window, hoping that Justin wasn't getting a view of the goods as she did. He poked his head out to watch her hanging against the wall, with still a good three feet to go to the ground.
"Careful," he recommended, and Molly scowled up at him before kicking off her shoes. She wasn't going to risk breaking a heel if she could help it.
She let go of the window frame, landing painfully on the balls of her feet. She fell instantly, landing on her butt on the damp asphalt, and was still rubbing the bottoms of her aching feet when Justin jumped down next to her, landing as gracefully as a cat.
"Maybe you should have gone first," she suggested snidely. Justin held out a hand to help her up.
"You alright?" He didn't wait for the answer, just left her putting her shoes back on as he strode to the mouth of the alley. Molly followed, now officially weirded out and ready to go.
"Look, I left my purse inside, so..." She started to move around him, but Justin snatched her wrist, pulling her back into the alley next to him. "Hey!"
He ignored her, peering out around the side of the building, and Molly followed his gaze. The men from his table were making their way out the front of the restaurant, arguing about something with the valet. Justin swallowed hard and gave her a push in the opposite direction.
"What the hell is going on?" Molly demanded, none too quietly. Justin shushed her again and quickened his pace, pushing her in front of him.
"I said I'll explain later. Right now all you need to know is that we need to get out of here, or we die," he said seriously. Molly didn't detect an ounce of mirth in his tone, and she felt her spine prickle in fear.
"What?"
Justin pulled her to a stop at the end of the alley, which forked off into two different directions alongside a chain-link fence. He gripped both of her shoulders, turning her to face him. His expression looked calm but firm. "Molly. You need to trust me. I don't want to drag you into this, but I don't want you to get hurt, either." He took her hand, squeezing it tightly in his larger one. "Can you trust me? Can you do exactly what I say?"
Molly didn't know what the hell she was thinking, but she nodded a slow yes. Justin dropped her hand.
"Good."
Glancing over his shoulder once more, he pulled her behind the next building and pointed down the dark back alleyway. "I'm going to need you to run. As fast as you can, and don't look back, no matter what. Can you do that?"
Molly swallowed, glancing down at her heels. "Maybe I should take these off..."
"Quickly." Justin snapped his fingers at her as he peered back around the building. Apparently he didn't like what he saw, because he cursed out loud. "Now, Molly, run! Go!"
Startled, Molly didn't have time to bend and pick up her shoes. She ran.
Doing exactly what Justin said, she pushed herself to go as fast as she could, not trying to pace herself like she did on the treadmill at the gym. She kept her eyes focused forward on the dark ahead, hoping there wouldn't be any unforeseen obstacles in her path. She was so focused, in fact, that she didn't try to hear Justin's footsteps running to keep up behind her. So focused that she didn't even flinch when the gunshot rang out, and she didn't stop when the resulting bullet whizzed past her leg, close enough that she could feel the searing heat of the gunpowder.
Molly saw a brick wall up ahead, and half-heard Justin yelling for her to go left. She made the turn seamlessly, feeling her hair begin to pull loose from its knot at the nape of her neck.
They made several more turns before coming to a dead-end at another fence. Molly slowed to a stop, starting to panic, but when she turned around, only Justin was behind her. Whoever had been chasing them was nowhere in sight, and he motioned quickly for her to climb. Molly saw that he had her shoes tucked under his arm, and she felt a warm gratitude even through her racing heart and labored breaths.
The climb over the fence was easier than the drop from the window, especially since Justin made it before her, and helped her down easily when he could reach to wrap an arm around her waist.
"Your shoes," he said, pushing them into her hands before motioning for her to follow him. They were in an empty lot, filled with gravel, knee-high weeds, and cinder blocks. "You're pretty fast. Done this before?"
"No." Molly waited until they reached the sidewalk before putting her shoes on quickly. She glanced behind nervously, expecting their gun-wielding assailants to appear at any moment. "Where are we?"
"Some side street off of North." Justin led them in the direction of the nearest cross street, alive with traffic noises and headlights. "Shit, you're bleeding."
Molly glanced down, seeing that her leg, indeed, was dripping with fresh blood. Justin pulled her behind a nearby dumpster before crouching to examine her wound.
"I think it just grazed me," Molly said, her adrenaline rush starting to wear off as the pain began to surface. It wasn't sharp, however, just a dull sting, but she winced when Justin wiped his hand over it, trying to clear the blood away.
"Yeah, just a nick." He straightened, pulling off his jacket. Molly watched as he ripped out the lining of the pocket.
"Have you done this before?" she asked drily, allowing him to tie the strip of satiny material around her calf. Justin straightened up, replacing his jacket with a humorless smile.
"Unfortunately, yes."
They emerged onto Fourth Avenue, still alive with people, and Justin led them west, towards uptown.
"So, can I get an explanation now or what?" Molly prompted. Justin glanced over at her as they wove their way through people walking in the opposite direction, down towards theaters and restaurants.
"Uh, it's kind of a long story." When she stared blankly at him, he sighed. "To put it simply for now, the two guys I was sitting with at the restaurant want something that I'm not willing to give."
"Like what?" Molly asked. Justin grimaced.
"It's complicated." He took her arm as a crowd passed by, his fingers curving around the sensitive crook of her elbow and pulling her closer. "The good news is that they didn't see your face. You didn't bring a car tonight, did you?"
"No, I took the L."
"I'm parked in a garage on Hamlin," Justin said, motioning towards the next major cross street, less than two blocks up. "I know they'll have someone staking out our neighborhood. Is there somewhere else I can take you, somewhere safe, preferably out of the city?"
Molly worried her bottom lip as she thought, trying not to get distracted from the feel of Justin's warm hand on her arm. "Um. My mom's house, maybe. She lives in Oak Park."
"Perfect." He shot her a quick, sheepish glance. "Sorry you had to get involved in this."
Molly shrugged. "I guess it's my fault for coming to tell you off in the first place."
Justin smiled, even as he stayed alert, scanning the busy sidewalk in front of and behind them constantly. "Or maybe it's my fault for being a dick this morning. I'm sorry about that, too. It's just...I've found that it's easier to lie and keep people at arm's length. You can see why."
Molly definitely could. "Fuck, I left my purse at the restaurant."
"Were you there alone?"
"No, my friend Delia was there with me," Molly replied. "She's probably freaking out by now."
"Maybe she'll grab it for you," Justin said.
"Hopefully. She's kind of an-"
Molly didn't have time to finish her sentence. She saw the two men that appeared out of nowhere up ahead at the same time as Justin did.
He didn't say a word, just gave her a quick push into another narrow alleyway. This one was lined with trashcans and didn't appear to have an outlet. Molly turned towards Justin to inform him of this, but before she could say anything, he pushed her up against the concrete wall, blocking her body with his own.
"What-" Molly sputtered, reaching out to push her hands against his chest as he moved even closer. "What are you doing?"
Justin shushed her. "Follow my lead."
He bent his head then, and Molly had no chance. His lips brushed over hers, once, twice, then moved in for the kill. Molly froze at first, the overwhelming sensation too much for her to handle. But Justin was an incredible kisser, she realized, and it didn't make sense to waste this experience. She smoothed her hands up his chest and over his shoulders to hold him in place as his tongue pushed past her lips. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized that he really didn't have to kiss her with tongue for this to be a convincing display, but she wasn't complaining. He tasted like whiskey and mouthwash, a surprisingly inviting combination. Somewhere in the background, she registered footsteps passing the alley on the sidewalk, just a few feet away from where they stood.
She'd hardly had enough before he pulled away, chancing a glance over his shoulder. The men were nowhere in sight.
"We need to get outta here," Justin murmured, apparently not as affected by the impromptu makeout session as Molly was. He pulled her along by the wrist, holding her just a little too tightly, but she was still too shaken to complain.
Unfortunately, they didn't make it very far, because the two suited men from the restaurant waited for them right around the corner.
"Mr. Timberlake," the bigger of the two greeted, his accent unmistakably foreign, maybe Russian. "Why do you run from us? This is not okay."
The two men advanced, backing them into the narrow alley once more, and Justin automatically pushed Molly behind him.
"We can talk this out," he suggested, and Molly blanched when the smaller of the two men pulled a very real looking gun out of his jacket pocket. "There's no need for violence."
"We tried to talk this out, but you ran away." The larger man, obviously the spokesperson, took a step closer to Justin. "This tells me that you do not take my employer's threats seriously."
Molly clutched the back of Justin's jacket as he attempted to smooth talk the men, all the while backing slowly further into the alley. So close by, people passed the alley on the sidewalk, oblivious. Surely these men wouldn't shoot them here? She gulped when the man with the gun screwed a silencer on the barrel. Maybe they would.
"Okay, you got me," Justin said suddenly. "I tried to double back, but I screwed up. You win, okay?" He reached for his jacket pocket as the smaller man raised his gun. "Just let me get a hold of my man, and we'll get this all squared away, alright?"
The large man crossed his arms over his chest. "Yes, let's."
Molly took a step back as Justin pulled something out of his pocket that she was almost sure wasn't his cell phone. He shot her a quick glance, and then moved like lightening. In one quick motion, he both disarmed and incapacitated the man with the gun, snatching the revolver out of his hand and whirling to plant an elbow in his nose. Once he was doubled over, Justin shot a swift kick to the groin of the larger man, who fell to his knees in response.
Molly watched the whole thing, eyes wide, until Justin turned to her.
"Run, Molly," he ordered. "Go!"
She ran past the groaning men, wincing at the unmistakable sound of the silenced gun behind her. One, two, three shots. She hurtled back onto the sidewalk, nearly losing her footing and taking out a kid on a skateboard.
"Hey, watch it lady," the teenager griped, but Molly ignored him, running as fast as she could in heels towards Hamlin.
When she got there, Molly stopped at the corner, leaning against a nearby building. A woman waiting at the crosswalk glanced at her warily, edging away, and Molly tried to compose herself.
He shot those guys, she thought frantically. Okay, it was self-defense, but you just witnessed a murder. A double murder!
Her heart pounding, Molly started to walk calmly down Hamlin. From here, she could cut back onto Grand and get back down to the restaurant. Maybe Delia was still there. She could make something up. She had to get out of this situation before it got any worse.
She was so lost in her thoughts that she screamed when someone clamped their hand on her shoulder.
Justin hushed her, glancing around nervously. "It's just me."
Molly shrugged off his touch, certain his hands were covered in blood. But they were clean, and the gun was nowhere in sight.
"Come on, I'm parked up here." Justin re-buttoned his suit jacket, nodding towards a garage ahead, and Molly stared at him as they walked. Finally, he returned her gaze. "What?"
"You just...you shot those guys," she accused. Justin reached up to loosen his tie.
"I didn't really have a choice."
"Oh, my god," Molly exclaimed, ignoring Justin's attempts to hush her again. "Holy shit!"
They approached the garage then, a young guy in coveralls standing outside the office door, smoking.
"Hey, how's it going?" Justin greeted easily (as if he hadn't just killed two men), pulling a ticket out of his pocket and handing it over. The attendant glanced at it, nodded, and tossed his cigarette aside before heading in to get the keys. Justin pulled Molly to the side, ignoring her attempts to twist out of his grip.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded quietly. "I just saved our asses."
"Excuse me for being a little uncomfortable with watching you murder two people," she shot back, and Justin frowned.
"What? I didn't murder anyone."
Molly raised her eyebrow. "I heard the gun."
"I didn't shoot to kill, Molly," he said. "Just a couple bullets to the kneecaps. They'll be fine."
Molly hardly thought getting shot in the kneecap constituted as "fine", but she couldn't help but feel slightly relieved.
"You think they would have hesitated to kill you?" Justin asked. "You're wrong. These aren't decent guys we're dealing with here."
Molly didn't have time to answer before the squeal of tires announced the arrival of Justin's black Mercedes at the garage exit. He slipped a couple bills into the hand of the attendant before walking around to open the passenger door for Molly. She hesitated, and Justin sighed, reaching up to rub his temples.
"I'm taking you to your mom's house," he reminded. "And then I'll be out of your hair. Promise."
Molly glanced at the attendant, lighting another cigarette nearby and trying not to look like he was eavesdropping. She squared her shoulders and crossed in front of the car, allowing Justin to hold the door for her as she slid onto the leather seat inside.
The radio was off, car silent, as he drove, maneuvering effortlessly through uptown traffic on the way out to the suburbs. Oak Park was in the opposite direction of the suburb they lived in, in a much more affluent area of Chicago. As they left the city, traffic thinned, and Molly watched the glowing clock in the dash. Somehow, nearly two hours had passed since she'd met Delia at the bar. Fuck, she was probably absolutely freaking out by now. What if she called the cops?
"Can I use your phone?" she asked abruptly. Justin glanced over at her across the dark interior of the car.
"Excuse me?"
"Your phone," Molly repeated. "I need to do some damage control, unless you think it will be helpful to your cause for my friend to file a missing person's report." She leaned back in her seat. "And you were the last person I was seen with."
Justin rolled his eyes and slipped his phone out of his jacket pocket, handing it to her across the console. Their fingertips brushed and Molly smiled her thanks.
Delia answered after two rings, sounding frantic. "Hello!"
"D, it's me."
"What the fuck, Molly!" Delia practically screamed. Molly saw Justin's eyebrows raise and she turned towards the window, as if that would somehow lower the volume of her conversation. "Where the fuck are you!"
"I'm fine," Molly insisted. "Sorry I just ran out like that. There was an...um....emergency."
"What kind of emergency?" Delia demanded. "I'm at the police station right now, so you better start spilling!"
"You're at the police station?" Molly echoed. She half-registered Justin's heavy sigh in the background. "Jesus, Delia, I'm fine."
"You just disappeared, how was I supposed to know!" With Delia, every sentiment was a shout when she got upset. "You even left your purse! Who does that?"
"Me, I guess." Molly smoothed the material of her dress over her lap and cast a sideways glance over at Justin. His right hand rested lightly on the gear shift as he drove, the other stretched out casually over the steering wheel as if he hadn't a care in the world. As if all that had happened to them was a figment of her imagination. Damn, he was sexy. "Something came up and I had to jet."
"What came up?" Delia demanded, and Molly knew her friend would not go down without a fight.
"Um." She paused, reaching to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "Booty call."
Justin's head whipped around, his eyes wide, just as Delia shrieked, "What?!"
"Yeah. I'm really sorry for bailing, but...he just had to have me." Molly smiled sweetly at Justin as she spoke. He shook his head, flustered. "What can I say?"
"Jesus." Delia's tone lowered considerably, to suit a more conspiratorial atmosphere. "Was it...was it Justin?"
"Yep," Molly replied gleefully. "I followed him back to the restroom to give him a piece of my mind, but I guess he's into that kinda thing. He was all over me."
Justin shifted uncomfortably in his seat, refusing to meet her eyes. Delia gasped.
"Oh, god. You're kidding. Did you do it there? In the restroom?!"
"Oh, yeah," Molly said. "In the restroom, then out in his car, and a third time back at his place."
"Christ," Justin muttered, and Molly bit back a laugh.
"So anyway, I'm really sorry I ditched you like that; I'll make it up to you, promise. But...I'm exhausted, so -"
"Oh, hell no," Delia interrupted. "I'm on my way home right now, and you are gonna give me every detail. And I mean, every detail. Shit, I can't wait. How big is he? He looks like he has a big dick, was it big?"
Molly tapped her chin. "It was...average."
"That's disappointing," Delia said as Justin frowned. "Okay, save the rest for when I get to your place."
"Actually, uh, I'm not there," Molly said quickly, frantically searching for a way to cover her tracks. "I'm on my way to...visit my mom for the weekend."
"What? Now? It's like ten o'clock. You didn't tell me you were going out there."
"Yeah, I'm in a cab right now," Molly fibbed. "Just for a short visit, I'll be back tomorrow night at the latest. Hey, will you do me a favor and feed Charlie for me? Just leave my purse in the kitchen."
"You're killing me," Delia groaned. "You mean I have to wait until Sunday night to hear the kinky details of your rendezvous with the ‘J. Timberlake'?"
"Yeah, I guess you do." They were exiting the expressway in Oak Park, and Justin motioned for her to wrap it up. "Gotta go, D. Talk later."
"Okay. Wait...your phone is still in your purse, how are you-"
Molly hung up quickly, setting Justin's phone in the cup holder. "Right on Ridgeland."
Justin followed her direction, flicking his blinker on and dutifully checking oncoming traffic before turning onto the avenue.
"Take a left on Washington about three blocks down," Molly added. Justin didn't say anything until they came to a red light.
"Average?" he echoed lowly, and Molly smiled to herself.
"It was all I could award you without knowing for sure."
Justin just pursed his lips and shook his head.
Minutes later, they were parked in front of her mother's house, a charming little American Foursquare in one of Oak Park's more high-end, gated communities. Molly knew the code by heart, and gave it to Justin so he could punch it in the keypad at the gate that was always closed and locked after dark.
He shifted the car into park and killed the motor. They sat in silence for a few seconds before they both began talking at the same time.
"I'm sorry again about-"
"Why don't you come-"
Molly bit her bottom lip and Justin rubbed his hand over his forehead with a tired smile. "Go ahead," he said, motioning at her.
"I was going to ask if you wanted to...come inside?" Molly suggested. Justin started to shake his head, but she continued. "Where will you go? This is a safe place, you saw the gate. And there's no reason for them to trace you here, right?"
Justin opened his mouth and then closed it promptly, glancing out the window to organize his thoughts. Molly waited, twisting her hands in her lap and trying to ignore the burning sensation on her right calf.
"You don't want to get involved with this, Molly," Justin said finally, his voice gentle. "I've got...a big clusterfuck on my hands right now, and I've already mixed you up in it enough as it is. The last thing I want is to endanger you any further."
Molly understood what he was saying, and had to admit that it was true. Logically, she should get out of the car, go up to her mother's house, sleep off the ridiculous night and pretend it had never happened.
Illogically, there was something inside her screaming not to let Justin leave. Maybe it was just hormones, she wasn't sure. But she did know one thing - she was tired of playing life safe.
"I didn't say you had to stay the night," she amended, holding one hand out like a peace offering. "Come inside for a minute, at least. Catch your breath. Didn't you have some phone calls to make?"
Justin frowned. "Yes."
"What if they have a tap on your phone?" she said, jabbing her thumb at his cell as she removed her seatbelt. "You can use my mom's landline. Problem solved."
She got out of the car then, walking around the front at a slightly slower pace than normal. When she came to the driver's side door, Justin opened it, joining her on the sidewalk.
"What do you know about wiretaps?" he prompted. "Are you sure you haven't done this before?"
Molly smiled. "Positive."
She led Justin up the sloping front walk, formulating her story as they went. Luckily for her, her mother had never been the type to ask too many questions.
Virginia Towers opened the glass-front door in her bathrobe, but Molly knew her mom hadn't been in bed. She was a creature of habit, and that habit including staying up on Saturday nights to watch reruns of Murder, She Wrote and drink hot chocolate with marshmallows.
"Molly!" she exclaimed. "What a surprise!"
She wrapped her daughter into a hug, surrounding Molly with worn pink chenille and the smell of Estee Lauder. "Hey, Mom."
"What brings you here?" Virginia asked, peering behind Molly at Justin, who stood awkwardly on the top step, his hands in his pockets. "And you have a guest!"
"Uh, yeah. Mom, this is Justin." Molly nodded at him, and he stepped forward politely to shake Virginia's hand.
"I'm Virginia. So pleased to meet you." She stepped back and motioned them in. "Come in, you two, come in."
Virginia led them into the kitchen, talking a mile a minute.
"I was all buckled down for a quiet evening at home when you two show up, but what a wonderful surprise." She poured them both mugs of hot chocolate from the kettle on the stove, urging them to pull up a barstool at the counter island. "And don't you both look nice. What brings you to my neck of the woods this evening, anyway?"
Justin cleared his throat after a particularly scorching sip of hot chocolate, and Molly forced a smile.
"Actually, funny story. We were in Naperville tonight, for a show," Molly explained. "We got a late dinner afterwards, and traffic on the expressway is just murderous right now. So I thought, why not stop and stay the night with Mom?" She shrugged sheepishly. "Hope you don't mind."
"Oh, honey, of course I don't," Virginia insisted. "You know my door is always open. I'm delighted."
They managed some idle chit chat for a bit longer before Virginia excused herself to go change the sheets in the upstairs guest bedroom. Justin shot her an even look over his mug.
"You're a good liar," he said. "Not to mention incredibly manipulative."
"What do you mean?" Molly asked innocently, fishing a marshmallow out of her cup and popping it in her mouth.
"You knew I would have to stay," Justin accused. "There's no way I can leave now."
She just shrugged. "Maybe it will all blow over in the morning."
Justin shook his head slowly and pushed his mug away. For a fleeting moment, Molly felt a pang of regret when she saw the fine lines of worry crease over his forehead. In the bright fluorescent lights of her mom's kitchen, she could see what she hadn't when they'd met officially earlier that day - he had several days worth of stubble covering his jaw, his eyes were slightly bloodshot, and he looked pretty exhausted. He was still one of the most attractive men Molly had ever seen, but she couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him in his current state.
"I need to make that phone call now," Justin said suddenly, glancing at his watch. "Is there somewhere I can use a phone privately?"
Molly directed him towards the den, across the entryway from the kitchen. She watched him step inside and slide the doors closed tightly behind him. She was just finishing off her hot chocolate when Virginia came back in, and Molly could tell that her mother had dabbed on lipstick and brushed out the waves in her blond hair.
"The room's all ready for you two," she announced happily, glancing around. "Where's your young man?"
"He had to make a phone call," Molly replied, motioning towards the den. "Did you fix your hair?"
Virginia patted her loose curls with a smile. "Just a little. I wasn't expecting company." She slid onto the barstool next to her daughter. "He's cute, Molls."
"I know," Molly sighed, reaching for the bag of marshmallows that her mom had left out on the counter. "It's not serious, before you ask."
"No?" Virginia frowned. "Well, I set you up in the same room. Is that okay?"
"That's fine."
"How did you meet?" Virginia asked, leaning across the counter with an excited look in her eye.
"He lives across the street from me." Molly chose to leave out the part about him turning her down in the most embarrassing way possible. "Don't go getting all crazy on me."
"I'm not," Virginia insisted, but the gleam in her eye didn't go away. Molly could read that gleam, and it clearly said I want grandchildren, and soon. "He seems very nice."
Molly just shrugged.
After Justin finished in the den, he humored Virginia a little more by asking for another cup of hot chocolate and making polite conversation about his job as an assistant marketing director (which Molly had started to suspect was not his real profession in the slightest sense). Virginia ate it up, laughing at his corny jokes and even patting his arm gently when he muffled a yawn.
"You two must be so tired." Virginia took their mugs and waved them away. "Go on up to bed! I'll take care of the dishes."
"Bed?" Justin echoed on the way up the stairs behind Molly.
"I'll sneak into my old room once she's asleep," she replied, opening the first door at the top of the stairs. Virginia had indeed changed the sheets and turned down the bed, even lighting a candle on the nightstand. Molly blew it out with a roll of her eyes.
"So how was your phone call?" she asked, sitting on the bench at the end of the bed to kick her shoes off with a grateful sigh. Justin removed his jacket before going to work on his tie in the mirror over the antique dresser.
"Fine," he replied slowly. He caught her questioning eyes in the mirror and shook his head. "It's hard to explain."
"We have time." Molly leaned back against the edge of the mattress. "Like I said, I can't relinquish the room to you until my mom's asleep. She thinks we're in cahoots."
"No thanks to your elaborate storytelling downstairs," Justin said drily. Molly watched as he folded his tie carefully, setting it down on the dresser top, and then starting on the buttons of his white dress shirt. She held her breath for a moment, then let it out when she realized he had a t-shirt on underneath. Damn.
"Look, I made a lot of mistakes when I was younger," he said suddenly, holding up his hands as if to ward of her judgment. "I'm a different guy now...I don't want to make you more afraid of me than you probably already are."
He sat next to her on the bench to take off his shoes. Molly crossed her arms over her waist. "I'm not afraid of you," she said. Justin glanced at her disbelievingly, and she shook her head. "I'm not. I know I should be. I mean, I don't even know you and I just watched you completely incapacitate two huge guys in an alleyway."
Justin set his shoes aside and smiled wryly. "I blame adrenaline. But I didn't kill them," he reminded, and Molly nodded.
"Anyway, by the contrary, I think if I knew more about you, I would be less intimidated."
Justin sighed and mimicked her position, arms crossed as he reclined on the bench. "Like I said...a long time ago, I got...mixed up in some crazy stuff. I was young and I wanted to make a lot of money."
"What kind of stuff?" she prompted.
"You name it, I've probably done it. Mostly I specialized in embezzling and laundering very large sums of money from corporations, sometimes individuals. I pulled some pretty stupid stunts...went to jail once," he admitted. Molly's eyes widened.
"For?"
"Not murder," he assured with a roll of his eyes. "Extortion."
Molly felt her eyes widen even more but she didn't say anything.
"It was a big mess, something with a clip joint that I never should have been involved in. But I was lucky and got out on a technicality. After that, I started being a little more careful," Justin continued. "Fake names, passports, stuff like that. I got better at covering up my trail."
He paused to muffle a yawn in the crook of his arm and lean back on his elbows. "But, to put it simply, a few years ago, I got involved on a heist that went wrong. Really wrong." He shook his head. "My partner and I took most of the heat on the deal, so we had to disappear."
"Disappear?" Molly echoed.
"Essentially. He went overseas, I came here," Justin said. "Things died down for a little bit, but the guy who got screwed on the job...he wants repayment, and he wants it now. Apparently, whether it's in the form of money or my dead body is irrelevant to him."
"So why don't you just hand over the money?"
"Don't have it. Never did, really. The set up went wrong from the start."
"Why can't you just...explain that?" Molly asked, feeling stupid. Justin didn't make her feel like she was.
"This guy...his name is Dieter Mikalsson. He's a German businessman, of a sort, runs an empire of hospitals and medical supply all over Europe," Justin explained. "He's...not the type of guy that forgets stuff like this. Basically, I'm in deep shit."
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and stared at the carpet silently for a few seconds. "That's the jist of it, anyway."
Molly had plenty more questions, but Justin didn't give her the chance to ask them. "How's your leg?"
He leaned down to gently remove the strip of material he'd tied there earlier, and Molly winced as he touched the tender skin around the wound.
"Doesn't feel like you have any bullet fragments in there. We need to clean it out, though," he said, "so it doesn't get infected."
Molly pointed him the direction of the adjoining bathroom and waited while he rummaged through the cabinet. He returned with a bottle of peroxide, a handful of cotton balls, and a bandage.
"That bathroom is stocked," he announced, setting his score down on the bench next to Molly as he crouched next to her leg. "Is your mom a nurse or something?"
"She is, actually. Retired." Molly sucked in a breath as Justin dabbed a peroxide-soaked piece of cotton over the cut. "Jesus."
"Sorry." He smiled at her sheepishly. "You're close with your mom?"
"I guess so. I come out here for dinner every Thursday - damn it!" Justin tilted her leg towards him, trickling peroxide directly from the bottle into her wound. It fizzed and mixed with fresh blood, and hurt like a motherfucker. "I'm an...only child, so I guess we have to be close."
"Me, too." Justin set the bottle of peroxide down and dabbed up the mess with a few dry cotton balls. "But I haven't seen my mom in years."
A hint of sadness seemed to sneak into his tone for a moment, distracting Molly from the pain in her leg.
"That's too bad."
"Yeah." Once her skin was dry and the wound cleaned off (Molly saw that it really wasn't that impressive after all, no bigger than a half-inch), Justin carefully smoothed the square bandage over it, holding her calf in his large hand to keep her steady. Molly held her breath without realizing it. "I don't know if she'd really like the person her son grew up to be, so maybe it's for the best."
He stood and took the bloody cotton balls back into the bathroom. Suddenly feeling more exhausted than ever, Molly crawled up onto the bed, sighing at the feel of laying down on a soft, yielding surface. It seemed as though every part of her body ached, from the balls of her feet up to her neck. Clearly, this kind of adventurous lifestyle was not for her. She closed her eyes for a moment, listening to the sound of running water in the bathroom and letting it lull her to sleep.
