Call Out (2 page)

“I don’t think that’s it,” he said. It
sounded like he might be talking to himself instead of me, so I
didn’t ask what he meant. “Just look around and see if there’s
anything. I think you’ll know what to bring when you see it.”

“You’re kind of freaking me out.”

“Yeah,” London said. “But I’m not going to
apologize for it. Not this time. Just book that flight. If you
can’t afford it, call me or Brian back, and we’ll deal with
it.”

I wanted to get huffy, to explain that I’m an
independent woman and didn’t need his money. But truthfully,
finances and I had not been friends lately. The perils of being a
college student at thirty-five.

“I’ll let you know,” I promised. “And I’ll
make sure to leave a paper trail, just in case.”

London gave a little, humorless laugh. “Yeah.
Good idea.”

“I should go. Looks like I have some packing
to do and a flight to arrange.”

“Hold on a minute,” London said. I could hear
keys clicking again. “There’s a flight leaving from Bush
Intercontinental in a little over two hours. Can you make it?”

I did the math in my head. “Yeah, I can make
it.”

“Hold on,” he said again. More typing sounds.
“I need your full name.”

“Elizabeth Kathleen Morgan. What are you
doing? Wait...you’re booking my flight?”

“Yup. Date of birth?”

I didn’t even bother protesting. I just gave
him all the information he asked for.

“You’re booked. Itinerary’s in your
email.”

“I don’t even know what to say.”

“Say ‘bye’ and hang up. I want to be sure you
make your flight.”

“Fair enough,” I said with a little laugh.
“Bye, London.”

“Bye, Elizabeth. I’ll see you in
Orlando.”

I don’t remember the drive from the park back
to my apartment. That should have worried me far more than it did.
I more or less parked and then launched myself out of the car and
across the parking lot to my front door. I fumbled the key into the
lock, opened the door, and kicked it shut behind me as I started
stripping off my role-play costume – belt, tabard, tunic. The
jeans, though dirty from rolling on the ground, could stay, I
decided.

I dashed into the bedroom, grabbed my two
carry-on bags from the closet, and started packing. I do a lot of
travelling, though usually by train or bus. I hate flying. Anyway,
I was something of a pro at packing, even in a hurry.

Comfortable, serviceable clothes – socks and
underwear, bras, t-shirt, jeans. I remembered what Orlando weather
could be like, even in the early spring, and packed a couple of
pairs of shorts as well. I pulled off my hiking boots – too
impractical for dealing with airport security – and traded them for
my favorite pair of low-top Converse. The shoes, a gift from Dylan,
were black with little skulls all over them. Some of the skulls had
pink bows on top. A lovely blend of macabre and cutesy, they were
totally ‘me.’ I tugged on my favorite Red Chapter t-shirt and
stepped into the closet to grab a jacket for the plane.

I didn’t see my black leather jacket, the one
that I defaulted to, especially when travelling. I sifted through
the clothes on the racks, one hangar at a time, certain the jacket
had to be lurking somewhere. Near the back of the closet, I pushed
aside a garment bag...and stopped and stared for a moment. I moved
the clothes on either side of the bag and twisted it on its hangar
so I could reach the zipper. I opened the bag and pulled out one of
the dresses inside.

Dylan and I had found the long black and
white formal in a resale shop. It fit Dylan just right and made her
look like a movie star from the Golden Age of the Silver Screen. I
had urged her to buy it, assured her she’d have a chance to wear it
if we ever got to go on the cruise we’d been planning for years.
Less than a year later, we went on our cruise, exploring the
islands of the Caribbean. We spent our first night onboard the ship
hanging out in one of the lounges. It was there that we met Brian,
not knowing at the time that he was the guitarist for a big-name
rock band. Dylan and Brian hit it off from the very beginning.
She’d been wearing the black and white formal the first time he
kissed her. At the end of the cruise, the dress had gone into the
garment bag with my formal and so had ended up in my closet.

I realized London had been right; I knew this
was the ‘something’ I needed to take to Orlando, though I still
didn’t know why.

I took my dress out of the garment bag,
tucked Dylan’s back inside, and carefully folded the bag to fit
into the rolling suitcase that was the larger of my two carry-ons.
I moved on to gathering up the rest of my things – toiletries,
computer, phone, iPod. Grumbling about the TSA, I went to the coat
closet by my front door to dig out a fresh box of Ziploc bags - and
there was my leather jacket. Later I would realize that if I'd
known where I'd left the jacket, I wouldn't have found Dylan's
dress.

Chapter Two

The drive to the airport passed in a blur. I
parked in the hellaspensive garage and ran through the airport like
one of those crazy people in romantic comedies. TSA slowed me down,
but not too much. I made it to my gate with just enough time left
to grab an overpriced bottle of water and fire off a few texts. I
send my flight info to Brian and London, and I sent a cryptic
message to my brother Alex: "Starting weekend early. If you don't
hear from me in the next 48 hrs, file a missing persons. Srsly.
Getting on a plane. Don't blow up my phone." Then, just to be sure,
I tried Dylan's cell. No answer. Straight to voice mail.
Dammit.

I got lucky. The flight was nearly full, even
on a random Tuesday in mid-April, but I managed to get an aisle
seat. I'm not a big fan of window seats, at least not during
takeoff or landing. And being squashed between two strangers is a
special kind of hell. While we taxied, I said a little prayer for a
safe journey. As we left the ground, I squeezed my eyes shut to
block out the site of Houston falling away as we defied the laws of
gravity and mouthed the words to the first song that popped into my
head in order to keep from thinking about all the things that could
go wrong during takeoff.

As soon as the 'you may switch on your
electronic devices' announcement sounded, I scrambled for my iPod
and headphones. Listening to the engines and the murmur of
passengers I could handle, but there were whining kids on my
flight. And I could hear the flaps on the wings whirring and
clunking. Yeah, no. No thanks. Flying scares me enough without
hearing weird noises coming from vital parts of the plane.

I spent most of the three hours between
takeoff and landing worrying: about Dylan, about crash landings,
about missing class the next day. If worrying were an Olympic
event, I'd gold medal, no doubt about it. The funny thing about
worry is that it makes time spin out and out and out. Those three
hours felt like three days.

We landed ten minutes ahead of schedule, and
by ten o’clock I had wrestled my luggage down the jetway and
through the gate area to catch the train to the main terminal. Two
minutes later, I stepped out into the chaos of Orlando
International. I found a clear space of wall to lean myself and my
suitcase against and switched on my cell phone. I was scrolling
through my call history looking for Brian's number when someone
stepped just a little too close to my personal bubble. I snapped my
head up, and then looked up...and up. The guy who'd invaded my
space towered over me. I knew in that moment how the Ewoks must
have felt standing next to Chewbacca.

"Elizabeth?" Tall Guy asked.

I frowned up at him. "Do I know you?"

"We hacked your friend's email earlier," he
replied, flashing me a wide grin.

"London?" I asked, as if I'd been hacking
emails with a lot of strange men today. I admit, I was thrown. This
guy looked more like your typical college kid than a hell-raising
rock star. He couldn't look less like Mick Jagger. I shook my head
to clear it and shifted, trying to find a more comfortable way to
lean. Backpacks full of electronics do not make good cushions.

"I thought Brian was here alone. If you were
here, then why all the phone tag?"

The grin faded and London looked away. "I
wasn't here. I was in Denver when I talked to you, on a layover
from LA. I...it's a long story."

I shrugged out of the backpack and let it
drop to the ground at my feet. "I'll make time."

London sighed and rubbed his eyes. "The short
version, then. I just had a feeling Brian needed me. So I jumped on
a plane. I figured it couldn't hurt."

I opened my mouth to ask about the long
version, but a familiar voice called my name. I turned to see Brian
making his way toward us. He hadn't changed much in the months
since I'd met him, though his dark, wavy hair had gotten long
enough to tie back. I stepped around London and hugged Brian
hard.

"No word?" I asked, though I knew what the
answer had to be.

Brian just shook his head. I hugged him again
and didn't pull away when he held onto me. Sometimes when the world
goes to hell, you just need to feel someone's arms around you.

I turned my head so I could look at London
without letting go of Brian. "What now?" I asked.

London opened his mouth, closed it, took a
breath. "Now, we go find food. I'm starving."

With that, he slung my backpack over his
shoulder, grabbed the handle of my rolling case, and made an 'after
you' gesture. Brian moved away, taking the lead. I took my suitcase
from London, and to his credit, he didn't argue.

Brian led us to the parking garage, and
London managed to squeeze my suitcase in beside his gear in the
tiny trunk of Brian's rental car. The backpack stayed with me. I
stared out the window, not really seeing anything, while London
adjusted his seat and Brian dug out a pair of mirrored
sunglasses.

"What do you want?" Brian asked, and I turned
my attention from the window.

"Food," London said. "Anything that's not
airplane food."

Brian leaned back in his seat, but didn't
start the engine. I knew this game. I played it myself sometimes.
The good old 'we'll-just-sit-here-until-I-get-a-real-answer' game.
Apparently London had lost this game a time or two, because he
sighed and leaned his head back, too.

"What's near your hotel?" he asked.

"Disney World."

London sighed. "Food, Brian. What food is
near your hotel."

"The hotel's right in the middle of fucking
Disney World. That's all I can tell you."

"That's pretty vague, actually," I chimed in.
"Which hotel...wait, are you at the Dolphin?"

"Yeah. Dylan mentioned wanting to stay
there."

"It's an awesome hotel. We both fell in love
with it," I said. "Let's see...there's a sushi place in the hotel.
Well, in the Swan, but they're connected. I don't know how good it
is, though. I didn't like sushi when I lived here. And there's...”
I paused to think for a second, aware that I was babbling but
unable to stop myself. “There’s a steak place nearby. Pizza by the
slice on the Boardwalk. And...I really don't remember. We were too
freakin' poor to eat anywhere near the Dolphin. We mostly did the
fast food thing when we weren't eating sandwiches. But I know
there's a few choices in the hotel."

"Hotel it is," Brian said and started the
car.

“So after food, what then?” I asked.

“Then we find a private place to talk about
what happens next,” London said. I opened my mouth to reply, but it
was like he knew what I was going to say before I said it. “Yeah, I
know that we’ve got about as much privacy here as we’ll get
anywhere else, but trust me on this. We don’t want to be in traffic
during this discussion.”

I gave a little nod and sat back in my seat,
trying my best to be patient. It wasn’t easy, but what could I do?
I wasn’t the one calling the shots here.

London switched on the radio to fill the
silence as we drove across Orlando. I tried Dylan's cell again,
with no luck. I checked my voice mail and found the expected rant
from my brother. I texted him back, telling him where I was and
that I was okay. I promised to call him when I had a chance, but
right now I didn't have it in me. I didn't want to tell Alex about
Dylan, not yet. She was his friend, too, and he'd kill me for not
bringing him into this. But he had a job and a boyfriend to worry
about. All I had were a handful of classes that I could skip for a
couple days without missing too much. Worst case scenario, I'd
retake them in fall semester and put off graduating for a few more
months. Worst case scenario for Alex could end with him unemployed
and alone. I'd handle things myself.

Brian had checked into the hotel earlier in
the day, so we went to his room to stow our gear so we wouldn’t
have to tote it while we scrounged up food. After dinner I'd figure
out what to do about my own place to stay, but for now, we needed
to eat - and to figure out what to do next.

London decided on one of the cafe-type places
in the hotel, the kind that has open seating and serves burgers and
fries. It would be a lot quicker than any of the nicer restaurants,
allowing us to eat and then get on with whatever we were going to
do about finding Dylan. I sat across from the boys, feeling like
the new kid in school while they made small talk about London's
flight and what their band mates were up to. Being the third wheel,
I didn't have much to do other than chew and stare, so that's what
I did.

Even though Brian kept up his end of the
conversation and seemed cool and calm, I could see the strain of
worry around his eyes. He and Dylan had clicked from the start. I'd
never believed in love at first sight until I'd watched the two of
them fall ass-over-teakettle for each other in the space of a
week.

In a very different way, Brian and I had
clicked as well. From the first, he'd struck me as a truly nice
guy, the kind that I, jaded as I was, had decided didn't exist.
I've never liked talking to strangers, especially men who looked
like Brian - long, wavy hair; dark, soulful eyes; abs you could
break bricks on; killer smile - but I found him easy to kid around
with. Add to that the fact that he treated my best friend like a
princess. Yeah, Brian was good people; I had no doubt about
that.