The Rhythm Of Rescue

003 | Slice of secrets

Immersed in Stranger Things, I cheered as Eleven flipped a van with her mind to clear their escape route, the booming impact echoing through the apartment.

Suddenly, my answering machine beeped, momentarily yanking me from the scene.

Pausing my laptop, there was a beat of silence, then Ember And Co's secretary, Cynthia's voice with the usual flat tone sliced through, "Casey Castleman? Mr. Dupont isn't a huge fan of the complexity in your latest weekly dashboard. He wants you to take another crack at it first thing Monday morning."

"Ughhh! I spent two damn hours on that thing!" I yelled at the answering machine in the corner.

A groan rumbled in my chest.

Mr. Dupont, the ever-demanding founder of Ember & Co., was notorious for turning into a tyrant around year-end and holidays. Two years of working under him had drilled that fact into my skull.

I shoved a stray strand of hair back into my messy bun, the whole thing threatening to come loose at any moment.

Pushing my annoyance aside, I hit unpause, but the momentum was gone. Stranger Things could wait - what I really needed now was pizza to fuel the rest of the season finale.

Grabbing my phone, I dialed my favorite pizzeria and ordered a BBQ chicken - my ultimate comfort food.

Thirty minutes later, a knock on the door practically had me vibrating with anticipation.

"Finally."

I hastily made my way to the door, my laptop teetering precariously in my hands, threatening to topple to the floor in my eagerness to reach the entrance.

Swinging the door open, I froze.

There stood the tall, grumpy stranger from the park. Angry Bird as I liked to address him - the one Brutus seemed to just follow around, and the same one who'd occupied way too much of my headspace for the past week.

He looked like a walking contradiction.

Towering over me in a red jacket and matching cap, he held a pizza box in one hand, the other shoved in his pocket. Clean-shaven now, the scruffy beard I remembered was gone, revealing those sharp features. But that familiar dark cloud loomed over him - the same unwelcoming aura I'd noticed at the park and at the subway.

What was with this guy?

Was it a permanent fixture, or was he just having a particularly rough streak?

"Didn't you order pizza?" he rumbled, his voice deep.

He adjusted his cap lower, a few strands of his unruly brown hair peeking out.

"Uh, yeah, one sec."

I rushed back inside to my purse on the coffee table. Panic bloomed in my chest as I realized it was empty. Where had my cash gone? A quick mental search reminded me - I'd blown my last bit on groceries.

Great.

Just great.

Flustered, I returned to the door, my face burning with embarrassment. "I am so sorry, I thought I had cash on me," I blurted, then braced myself for his reaction. He remained stoic, no hint of amusement or annoyance flickering across his expression. "If it's not too much trouble," I ventured, "maybe you could follow me to the ATM? It's just across the street."

Silence stretched for a moment, then he held out the pizza box to me.

Relief washed over me - he'd agreed!

I mumbled a thank you and dashed back inside with the pizza, to change into something a little warmer than my shorts and tank top.

He followed me silently down the hallway and outside, his tall frame casting a long shadow beside me. As I crossed the street, I saw him get on his motorcycle as he drove ahead to wait near the ATM by a quaint antique shop.

When I got there, I fumbled with my card, finally getting the transaction through and handing him the cash.

He hopped back on his motorcycle and disappeared into the afternoon traffic.

As I turned to leave, I spotted a glint of silver on the pavement where the motorcycle had been. It was a locket, heart-shaped and gleaming.

Curious, I bent down and picked it up. It popped open easily, revealing a crumpled piece of paper tucked inside. Unfolding it carefully, I found a faded signature and a smudge - a rusty-colored fingerprint nestled beneath the ink.

Could it be his? Had it fallen out of his pocket? I hadn't noticed anything around his neck earlier.

As I scanned my surroundings, I noticed that no one was paying attention, or seemed to be frantically searching for something they'd lost.

I placed the locket in the zippered pocket of my jacket and headed back into the safe haven of my apartment, where I changed back into the comfort of my shorts and tank top.

I placed the pizza box on the coffee table beside my laptop and sunk into the plush embrace of my sofa

Lifting the lid on the pizza box, I froze.

One of the eight triangular slices was missing, leaving a glaring gap in the pizza's otherwise perfect circle.

My jaw dropped, surprise quickly melting into laughter.

In all my pizza ordering days at that pizzeria, this had never happened. But then again, I guessed this wasn't your average pizza delivery guy.

I sank back on the couch, a chuckle escaping my lips. "Maybe that explains the grumpy face," I mused to myself, "always a little hangry."

A grin stuck to my face as I snagged a slice and hit play on my show, pondering over why I found the whole situation more amusing than annoying. Sure, I could've called to complain about my pizza missing a piece, but that just wasn't my style.

If he'd swiped more than two slices, maybe I'd have made a little fuss. If it had been someone else, perhaps I'd have picked up the phone. But there was something about this guy that tickled my curiosity-though not enough to turn detective over it.

I treasured my quiet little life too much for that.

***

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