Unstuck Together

      I tried not to shiver as cool air blew from the open car window across my bare shoulders. My companions in the back of the stretch limo all wore thick long sleeves beneath sharply tailored and secretly armored jackets. Black, of course. Did personal security wear any other color? Needless to say, sweat dripped from more than one brow. So, when the leader of the group, a young and maybe a little arrogant, man rolled down the window nearest to where he sat, I didn’t complain. Even if I sat between them wearing a strapless mini-dress sewn from the thinnest materials I think the seamstress could find.

Under the blazing stage lights at the concert, I’d be grateful for the light attire. Now, I suppressed another shiver. Another guard, the leader’s partner back here with us while the other two sat nearer to the front, eyed me and nudged his boss.

A pair of dark eyes flashed up to meet mine, and though he kept his expression professional detached, amusement flickered there. “Everything alright, Miss Zane?”

I nodded. Something about surrounding myself with bodyguards always made me feel weak or unable. I surely wasn’t about to admit I was cold or subject the men paid to protect my life to discomfort. At the moment, their focus was more important than mine. Not that I was truly afraid. Yes, I’d received a few threatening letters recently, and definitely had a stalker or two, but what celebrity didn’t? That was simply the price of fame, of being the Maya Zane.

“I’m fine,” I told him, punctuating it with another nod. The guard’s lips twitched toward a quick grin before he turned and resumed his vigil out the open window, leaving his partner to keep looking at me.

We were about ten minutes from the event center, and already traffic was slowing. The show wasn’t even due to start for another three hours. I took a deep breath to combat my impatience. It was fine. I had little preparation left before actually taking the stage. Already, my wardrobe and make-up were complete. I’d undergo a quick touch-up after sound check, but otherwise, I was more or less ready to go. Now, if only the cars in front of us would get moving. Unfortunately, I was pretty sure some of the delay was my own fault. Who wouldn’t want to slow down, trying to get a look inside the fancy limo heading downtown the same night as the first show in Maya Zane’s national tour?

All of a sudden, we were moving, crossing a nearly empty intersection, and I sighed in relief. The slow down wasn’t actually that bad. But the lead guard was frowning. Before I could ask what was wrong, a blaring horn had us all flinching back. I wanted to close the window, but the leader leaned out to see what the commotion was. Then the limo swerved sharply to the left and he toppled off balance into my lap.

If I wasn’t trying to wrap my head around what was going on, I would have laughed at the quickly erased startled expression on his face. But the limo was still swerving. The next thing I heard was a roaring engine. Then an enormous impact. We spun the opposite direction of our swerve. I wasn’t even sure where my seat was anymore. My head ached. I couldn’t get enough air. After that, it all gets a bit fuzzy.

* * *

           “Uhhh,” I groaned, a little concerned with how rough my voice sounded. I had to be on stage soon and no amount of honeyed tea was likely to fully repair that gravely rasp. I also didn’t love the way it echoed back to my ears, as though I were in a large empty space, totally unlike the back of a limo. But that’s where I was supposed to be, wasn’t it.

           My eyelids were heavy and swollen. I didn’t want to open them, but it turned out that it didn’t really matter. Once I finally pried them apart, my vision didn’t change. Wherever I was, it was pitch black. The ensuing hyperventilation did little to improve the situation. It only set my head pounding again.

           “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God…” The ceaseless ramble tumbled from my lips unbidden. Where was I? How long had I been here? What the hell happened? Sitting in oppressive darkness, I found no answers to my questions.

           The last thing I remembered was something going wrong on the way to the show. Were we in an accident? But then, why wasn’t I in an ambulance or hospital bed? How had I gotten to this dark, dank place? Because yes, the longer I got used to being conscious again, the more I noticed. The air smelled damp and musty, and it was cool, like I was underground. I sat on a thin mattress, trying not to think about where it had been or its last occupant. What felt like concrete scrapped against my bare legs.

           “Hello?” I whispered, praying someone would answer and at the same time, kind of hoping no one would. Silence. “Hello!” I yelled louder and louder, my voice filling the empty space. “Help! Someone, anyone.” The yelling opened up my voice, eventually losing the thick rasp. Great, so I was all warmed up with nowhere to sing.

           “Gah…” a low voice moaned, nearer to me than I expected. “Will you shut up? My head is killing me.”

           I jumped, terror outweighing annoyance at the speaker’s abrupt manner. “Who-who’s there?”

           “It’s me, Miss Zane.”

           I squinted toward the voice, but could see nothing. Still, the voice was familiar. I realized. The leader of the security detail!

           “Oh thank God,” I gushed.

           He chuckled darkly. “I wouldn’t thank him just yet. We’re still stuck here…wherever we are. What do you remember?”

           I shook my head, then figured he wouldn’t be able to see. “Nothing really. Just the limo. There was something wrong. Then, we crashed? It’s all dark after that.” My heart started racing again. “Are the others here? The rest of your team?”

           He was quiet for a moment. “I have no idea. The only reason I knew you were hear was your shouting.”

           His tone made me feel like I should apologize for the disturbance. The hell I would. Yelling for help was a perfectly natural reaction.

           “And I thought I was alone when I first woke up.” I responded, intentionally making my voice a little wistful. Even to my own ears, it rang false. Already knowing someone else was with me in the dark had tamed the panic. Not by much, but it helped.

           The leader only grunted. Then I heard scraping and figured he’d stood up. “Do you feel any walls near you?” he asked.

           I stretched my arms out in every direction and felt nothing. “No.” I stood too, the mattress rustling beneath me. One heel clicked against the concrete.

           “Don’t move,” he instructed. “I’ll come to you. Just keep talking.”

           Oh now he wanted me to make noise. I’d already slipped my shoes off my sore feet and started stepping hesitantly to the right of my mattress.

“Uh, follow the sound of my voice?” He sounded closer. I wondered how big this space was. “Warmer, warmer…” I wasn’t sure what else to say.

“I can hear you walking around. Just stay put, okay? Otherwise we’ll—”

Too late. His voice was suddenly too loud and he slammed into me. I bounced back, confronted by a wall of solid muscle. Something whipped through the air in front of me, maybe his hand trying to steady me? Instead, I crashed to the concrete, scraping my knees.

“Dammit! I said to wait for me.”

“Sorry, sorry. Just trying to help,” I grumbled, rubbing my bruised hip as I stood. I reached out in front of me until my fingers brushed against a warm chest wearing only an undershirt, the sturdy work clothes and armored jacket gone.

Callused hands took mine. “Are you alright, Miss Zane?”

“I’m fine,” I said, repeating the same sentiment from the limo earlier. Suddenly I wished all I had to complain about was a cool breeze. “And you can call me Maya, if you want.” I paused, a little embarrassed. “I…um, don’t know your name. I’m sorry.” I looked down even though he couldn’t see me.

“It’s Jordan,” he said shortly.

“What are we going to do now, Jordan?”

He sighed heavily and I felt strangely bad to put the responsibility of getting us out of whatever mess we were in on his shoulders. Sure, he was probably way better equipped to handle situations like this than I, but still I felt useless.

“First,” he eventually said, “we try to figure out where we are.” He started walking in a straight line, pulling me with him. “And we stay together, just in case.”

“Lead the way,” I said a little redundantly, as he was already doing so.

Quickly, we found a wall. It was concrete, like the floor. Jordan ran his hand along it until it met another wall. At the corner, he stopped.

“Stay here. Don’t move.” I drew breath to argue, unused to being given orders and forgetting our predicament in a moment of privileged pique. “And don’t argue,” he cut me off. Though, despite the blunt command, his voice was a little softer. “I want to see how many walls there are,” he explained after a beat. “You’re my place-marker. And if we can’t stick together, then I also need to know where you are, okay?”

“Okay.” I released the rest of the breath in an embarrassed huff. He dropped my hand and his soft footsteps were quickly swallowed by the oppressive space.

Sooner than I expected, his fingers were groping again my arm, opposite from the one he’d held onto earlier. I took his hand.

“Four walls. Expected as much. About twenty paces each,” he debriefed quickly. “Seems like we are alone here. No doors or windows that I could find.” He spoke quietly. I matched his volume.

“Alright, what now?”

“Well, we got in this room somehow. So, we find that door.” He quickly explained how we would search the floor in as close to a grid as we could in the dark to make sure we didn’t miss something. He still held my hand, but while it had been awkward at first, it now felt right. Every time he had to let go, I felt like losing my grip on a life preserver or a comfort object from my childhood.

“How are you so calm?” I asked as we fruitlessly searched. I could almost feel him shrug.

“I’m not really. Just have a lot of practice compartmentalizing. I served three tours with the Seals before getting into the private sector,” he explained in his methodically thoughtful way that had at some point surface from beneath his initially gruff and arrogant exterior, though I couldn’t remember when.

“Wow,” I said. “And I thought I’d seen things when I lived briefly in Brooklyn.” I knew the joke was weak as soon as it left my lips, but he laughed softly anyway.

We reached the far wall without finding any exit. “Hmm. So, this next part will be a bit hard,” he told me after thinking for a moment. “We have to check the ceiling.” I stretched on my tiptoes, but even if I was still wearing my heels, I doubted I’d be able to reach.

“How?”

“I’m going to lift you up as high as I can. And we’ll move fast.”

It would be harder to keep track of any sort of grid this way, I knew. And I wasn’t in love with the idea of Jordan lifting me. But what other choice did we have?

“Okay, I’m ready.” I put my arms around his neck as he grasped my legs just beneath my butt. I felt his muscles flex against my skin as he picked me up.

“Can you touch the ceiling?” he asked, his breath only a little tense.

“I again stretched my arms up. “A little higher,” I told him, my voice more steady than I felt. He grunted and shifted me so I was sitting on his shoulder. And my fingers brushed against more concrete. “Got it!”

We maneuvered so I was supported by both of his shoulder, my legs on either side of his head. As I ran my hands along the ceiling, he paced across the room beneath me. It was slower going that when we’d scoured the floor.

I gasped when I felt a deviation in the otherwise featureless concrete. It was wood, I was pretty sure. “A trapdoor, maybe?” I mused aloud.

“Can you feel a handle?”

But I’d already checked. “No,” I sighed. “It isn’t very big, just a square of wood.” I’d found the seams where it was set into the ceiling, but nothing else.

“Try knocking on it, as hard as you can,” he suggested.

I looked down. He’d already been holding me for quite a while. “You sure?”

“Unless you want to stay in here,” he shot back, some of his gruffness returning.

“As pleasant as your company is…” I muttered. Then I pounded against the trap door. It rattled but the sound wasn’t particularly loud. I hit it again and my knuckles stung.

“Harder,” Jordan ordered. I tried to comply, slamming my fists, the heels of my hands, my arms if I really stretched, into the wood. I hissed in pain. “You’ve got to keep going,” Jordan encouraged.

“I can’t,” I said through gritted teeth, more angry with myself than him. “I’m not strong enough. It hurts.”

One hand came up to pat my leg, squeezing my thigh reassuringly. “I know it hurts. But I also know that you are strong.”

I snorted. “How could you know that? We met today. You were literally hired to protect me, because I am too weak to take care of myself.” I hadn’t meant it to sound so bitter, so self-pitying. But I once had thought myself tougher than the girl I saw when I looked in the mirror these days. Now I was just a pretty face, a pretty voice, meant to be coveted, meant to be taken care of, kept under glass and only taken out for shows and autographs.

The grip on my thigh was harder now, almost painful. “I could name a dozen pop princesses who would be laying on the ground, a puddle of tears and hysterics right now.” Jordan told me, his tone somehow kind and confident at the same time. “But you take everything in stride, doing what needs to be done. You think for yourself, and yet, you can take a step back too, let someone else take the lead when they are better suited.” I knew he spoke of himself, but that isn’t why I wanted to argue. How could he see all that in me? Hadn’t he heard my desperate shouts when we first woke? My hyperventilating? Didn’t he see that I wasn’t letting him take the lead, but praying he would because I was useless? These were his only basis for an impression of me seeing as we’d just me, and yet he believed I was somehow strong.

I wasn’t sure how to respond. “Jordan?” I whispered.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you’re stuck in here with me.” Even in an empty room full of unknowns, of that I was sure. From the beginning, I’d figured that this was my fault, that I was the target. Narcissistic? Maybe. But I was the one with more than a few unstable fans, the one whose every movement was tracked by paparazzi. I dropped my trembling hand to his shoulder. He released my leg to take it, gently rubbing his thumb over my bruised knuckles.

“I’m not,” he eventually said. Then louder, “Do you hear me? I’m not sorry I’m here. I failed you, Maya. It was my job to protect you. Being stuck here is just as much my fault as it is yours. Probably more. But I’m not sorry that I got caught up in it.”

“W-why?” I was startled by his outburst.

“Because, neither of us would be able to get out of here alone. But together, we just might.” He sounded so sure. He’d been holding my weight for who knew how long now, and still his voice and breathing were steady. He really was strong. Well, I wasn’t going to let him hold our escape on his shoulders alone anymore, my current ironic position notwithstanding.

I started hitting the trap door again, with renewed force as I shoved down the pain. I felt the skin on my hands split and still I hammered away. Sobs built and spilled from my chest. Still, I kept trying. At first, Jordan kept up a steady stream of encouragement. Then he told me I could stop. Again and again, he almost pled with me to take a break, to quit. That it wasn’t worth it. I ignored him. I still wasn’t used to following orders.

When the first crack of light speared into the room below, I almost didn’t notice, so frenzied were my movements. My head was a constant tornado of internal pleading to stop and shouts to keep fighting. Then the door slammed open, the wood cracking.

I was falling, strong arms crushing me to a warm chest. It didn’t feel awkward or presumptuous. It felt right. Like I’d hugged him a thousand times before and this was just once more.

“You did it!” he murmured into my hair. He didn’t sound surprised, but I could feel the relief shaking through us both. I had no idea what waited above us, but I was desperately glad I had a partner, a friend, whatever he’d become through all this, to back me up.