“A small cheese pizza with Coke, please,” came the order from the lady at the register. “And please be quick.”
After her order, there was only one customer left - understandable, since it was pretty late - a man with a dark buzz cut and a decent stubble.
He walks over to the register and eyes me carefully. “Hey,” he says in what he probably thinks is a seductive way, but I answer sternly, “May I take your order, sir?”
“Of course you can,” he laughs, showing all his golden teeth. He orders and sits down by himself on a table. I serve him his pizza and am about to leave when he grabs me by the wrist.
“Let go,” I say in a tone I’d use with a dog.
He shakes his head. “Keep me company.”
“No, I have to work,” I reply. I search around the restaurant but see nobody but us.
The man looks around the restaurant himself and clicks his tongue. “There’s nobody here. Who you gonna serve for?” I knew he made sense, of course, but I snatched away my arm.
“I still have work to do,” I bark.
He laughs then takes a slice of pizza. “You want?”
I want to say no thanks, but instead I don’t say anything. I silently make my way towards the kitchen where cook was.
“That motherfucker,” I say to her, nodding at the man through the window. “A creep. Hope he leaves soon.”
But he doesn’t leave. He sits, smacking down his pizza slowly. Suddenly, he takes out a pack of cigarettes and puffs on one. I knew what he was playing at.
I approach him and say quietly, “Sir, it’s strictly prohibited to smoke in here. I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
He says nothing. His eyes are dark, and suddenly he grabs my arm again, harder this time, and starts dragging me away. I scream, but I knew that cook couldn’t hear me because she keeps her headphones on full volume. The man drags me outside to the parking lot.
He approaches a particularly grubby old Volvo and opens the door. “Get in there.”
“No, I-“ I wince in pain as he squishes my arm tighter and tighter.
“I said get in there.”
I have no choice but to climb into the old car. The backseat smells gross and is covered in food and used tissues.
The man sat at the driver’s side at the front. “So, honey,” he says in a soothing voice. “Let’s teach you some manners.”
“You bastard,” I spit, wiping my mouth. “I’ll call the police.”
“Oh, my sweet. You won’t have a chance,” He grins as he pulls out my phone and waves it in the air.
My eyes feel like they’re about to pop out of my skull. I pat down my pockets. Obviously, they’re empty.
“Bitch!” I scream, but there’s nobody outside except an old minivan parked across from this guy’s. My chest squeezes in tighter and there’s no air. Oh gosh, I can’t breathe.
The minivan’s headlights suddenly blare on.
My chest feels a little lighter. I keep screaming, and a man climbs out of the minivan - he’s tall and has a hat on, as well as a nice dark suit. He has a bag in his hand.
The man sees him too and his face pales. He tries to peel out of the lot, but the other guy waves his hands and yells, “Stop right there!”
And he does, because he has no choice or he’ll run over this man. When the other guy approaches, he looks a lot younger than I thought - maybe in his early 20s. He stares at the both of us with the icy blue eyes and knocks on the window.
The old man rolls it down and growls, “What do you want?”
The guy, who looks like a businessman from a fine company, ignores him and looks at me. “Are you OK, miss?”
I shake my head frantically. “No! No, this man! He…”
The guy looks back at the man. “Care to explain?”
“I’m… I was just… Can you mind your business?” He tries to roll the window back down, but the other guy roars, “I will call the police if you don’t stop right now. Do you hear me?”
“Fuck!” the old man yells. “What do you want from me?”
Again, the younger guy ignores him and says to me, “Maybe you should call a friend to pick you up.”
But my phone is there, right on the lap of the older guy. I point. The businessman notices and snatches it from him and gives it to me.
I smile at him and mouth a “Thank you” while I call my friend. She doesn’t pick up. I call someone else. She doesn’t pick up either.
“Shit,” I say under my breath, and the businessman frowns. The older guy is just staring at him with fury in his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” asks the younger guy, still staring at me with those icy blue eyes.
“My friend isn’t picking up.”
“Call a Taxi, maybe.”
I want to, but I can’t. I just can’t, not after this incident with this old guy. What if the cab driver kidnaps me, too?
I shake my head. The older guy spits at me, “Get the fuck out of my car.”
I almost laugh at this, because he was the one who was trying to kidnap me a moment ago. I obey and step out of the car.
He peels out of the lot and yells over his shoulder, “Fuck you!”
The businessman shakes his head. “I’m so glad I saw you.”
“Yeah,” I breathe, trying to call my friend again. “Thank you so much.”
I look back at the restaurant, hoping cook’s still there. But everything is closed and the lights are off. I sigh.
“Maybe you need a ride home?” the guy asks slowly, and when I look at him, he puts his hands up. “Sorry, you don’t have to. I’m not trying to take you to my house or anything.”
I try my friend once more and give up. I look at this man - at his smooth skin, icy blue eyes, his hat. He looks a little feminine, but a businessman, alright. He’s like that uncle that everyone loves.
“OK,” I say. He smiles and we start walking to his minivan. The cold air blows in my face and my legs are still shaking from what happened.
“I’m Edward, by the way,” he says, and I’m not surprised. He looks like an Edward. “But you can call me Ed.”
“Thanks, Ed,” I saw slowly. “I’m Penny.”
I stop right there in the road. My heart hammers in my chest and I feel a little queasy as another thought hits me - Can I really trust this man to take me home? How can I be sure he has pure intentions?
He must read my mind because he looks at the floor and exhales. “If you don’t feel comfortable going with me, I don’t mind. I really don’t care, I just want you to be safe and take you to the safety of your home. You don’t have to come with me.”
I give no reply.
“Look,” he says, his eyes darting around, searching my face. “I mean no harm. You don’t have to come with me. You can stay with someone on a call maybe, all the way home. I really don’t mind. But I could just drive away right now, leave you right here, in this empty parking lot at midnight on a Wednesday. Everyone’s asleep, nobody here. Do you want to stay alone?”
This seemed kind of like threatening to me, but I sigh as I think it over. I am a huge overthinker, and right now isn’t the best time to eliminate my best hopes.
“It’s alright,” I mutter. “I’ll come with you.”
A warm smile tugs at the man’s lips and we begin walking back to his minivan. I climb into the back, call my friend once again. But none of them pick up, and I exhale in frustration.
The guy tuts. “Not pickin’ up, are they?” he says, and with one flick of the finger he’s locked all the doors. My heart jumps in my chest and it’s hard to breathe again. “I made sure of that.”
I can feel the color drain from my face. “What the fuck?”
“You’re a fool,” he gives a heartless laugh, but his icy eyes are still staring into me from the front mirror. “Can’t go around trusting everyone.”
My grip on my phone tightens and I dial 911 quickly. He sees me and laughs.
It rings but nobody answers. Everything seems to turn darker for a second.
“The police will be no help,” he says once again. “They won’t even pick up. And I made sure your phone battery was low when I rescued you from that other guy.”
He continues. “Even if they do pick up, what will they do, huh? They’ll waste time to come here and an officer will ask you what happened. You’ll tell him I was trying to kidnap you. Will he believe you, though? With my shiny look and everything.”
My voice shakes as I say quietly, “They might.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he waves his hand dismissively, still staring at me. “They might. But think this over carefully, girl: Will they believe a 17 year old girl working at a restaurant or a 23 year old shiny, innocent, perfect looking businessman?”
My chest begins to squeeze in on itself as suddenly my phone freezes and then dies. My throat closes in and the tears prickle in my eyes.
“What do you want from me?” I whisper, looking around. No other cars. No other people. The restaurant’s closed.
“I don’t want anything from you,” the man says. “I just need you. You’ll be worth a lot. They usually like them blond and pretty. You’ll be like a meal to them.”
With that he laughs and the car lurched forward. For one last time he looks back at me with those clear blue eyes and whispers, “The thing is - if you had just gone with that other old man, you probably would’ve been safer.”