Page 2 of Paths

Until now, when I fucked up and almost got Crew killed along with me. I almost got the one person I care about outside of my family killed and right when he found something to live for. That path led me here, hanging by a thread—beaten, bloodied, and almost dead.

He must’ve cut the rope. I groan in pain as the blood starts to flow, even as my arm falls limp to my side. When my ass hits the ground, Crew rips the stench-soaked cloth off my head. I have to squint from seeing light for the first time in almost twenty-four hours. My friend is bleeding from the mouth and a bruise is already forming on the side of his face.

He’s serious, all business, when he demands, “I’m gonna pop your shoulder back in. It can’t wait, then we’ve gotta get out of here.”

I wince and barely nod.

“Brace, I’ll go on three,” he warns.

I swallow and nod. Then, I brace.

“One … two …”

I scream, allowing the first sound I’ve made since they got me. “Fuck! You said three.”

Crew yanks me up by my good arm and I don’t know if I feel pain or relief in my shoulder.

“Sorry, man. It would’ve been worse on three. Come on, we’ve gotta get the fuck outta here.”

I shouldn’t feel the weight. No matter the condition of my body, all parts are still attached, and I’m alive. I should be light as a fucking feather.

As Crew drags me out of the broken-down makeshift warehouse—littered with bloody, dead bodies—I’ve never felt heavier.

Chapter 1 – The Middle-of-Nowhere Virginia

Maya –

“You sure you’ve never waited tables before?”

I look up at Maggie as I balance a plate on my forearm, another in the same hand, and pick up a third in the other. How do I answer without sounding like an entitled bitch?

“No. Just eaten out a lot I guess.”

Maybe that will appease her. It’s not a total lie. I have eaten out a lot, but it was either at my parents’ Country Club or five-star restaurants. And never would I tell the full truth, that I’ve been served my entire life at the house I grew up in.

“Well, you’re a natural. I didn’t know what to think when Addy gave you a job with no interview and not knowin’ your skills. That’s so Addy. To be honest, I was plain pickin’ mad I didn’t have a say in who was gonna help in my kitchen. You’re lucky you’re a natural. I know it’s hard to see, but I’m not usually so good-natured about things.”

I try not to let my eyes widen in surprise, disbelief or, when you get right down to it, fear. From the moment I met Maggie, I’ve done my best to please her. It’s a good thing I paid attention to how I was served all those years and enjoyed working in the kitchen with our cook. Maggie’s downright scary. I accidentally spilled a bowl of soup last week and I thought she was going to come undone. She didn’t care one bit that I burned my hand or offered to clean it up immediately.

I do my thing, get in and out of her kitchen as fast as I can, and smile every chance I get in hopes she doesn’t snap at me.

“Everyone’s been great to work with,” I tell her the truth, or mostly the truth. I’ve been here a while now, and I’ve learned how to best work with Maggie—that being to always agree with her, stay out of her way, and for the love of all things holy, don’t spill a drop of anything on her floor. The soup and I learned that the hard way.

With that, I swiftly exit her kitchen for the tasting room. It’s best to leave Maggie to her work, not chat too much, and never spill.

“Your meals,” I announce as I approach each guest from their left. This is a lesson learned as well—my mother would have a fit if we were served from the right. I guess one learns a lot about waiting tables when their help has been chastised in front of them their entire lives.

I’ve never thought about waiting tables, but I do enjoy it. Other than the rare difficult customer, everyone is pretty laid back. I realized this after a few weeks of work. Customers come for the environment and wine, wanting a chance to take a break from their hectic lives. This is something I’m not accustomed to, but during my short time here, I’ve mastered the art of appreciating it. Relaxing long enough to sit and enjoy life isn’t something I’ve ever been allowed to do. But if there was ever an environment to encourage it, it’s here.

The middle-of-nowhere Virginia where no one knows me has proven to be the perfect place to be. There are no preconceived notions that I’m an entitled bitch. Here, I get to be me, and after all this time juggling work between Whitetail and Rolling Hills Ranch, I’ve stayed tucked deep in the woods in my bungalow, as Addy calls it, and I’ve almost stopped looking over my shoulder. Almost.

There are days I find myself going hours without scanning my surroundings for anyone familiar, their people, or especially him. I never worry about my mom, though. She’d never bother herself with looking for me. She’d say she’s too busy with her philanthropies—pretending to solve the world’s issues.

But I think I’m good. I’ve found a little slice of heaven an hour outside of the Capitol. After driving far enough south, I found a part-time opening at an assisted living center. Even though I’m a physical therapist who graduated at the top of her class, I took a job as a part-time activities director.

It’s been an experience, to say the least. I can’t practice physical therapy in Virginia since I’m not licensed here yet and I hesitate starting that process. I’m worried I can be tracked somehow. I’m sure that’s the first thing they’ll be looking for since it was my only source of income. I spoke to the director about a possible position in the future, as the therapist on staff is slated to leave early next year, but I’m still apprehensive. I’ve done everything I can do to avoid a paper trail. The position hasn’t been promised to me, but they said they’d see how I interact with clients since they tend to be persnickety. The pay sucks, but for now I’m content with working hard to make their elderly clients like me.

When I left, I had no idea how to create a new identity—who does? It’s risky enough being lawfully employed, but it was a risk I had to take. I needed a job, but applying for my PT license in a new state would be pushing it.

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