The Ex Files (Ocean View #1)(6)

“We’ll need to get your location in order to dispatch a truck to you for help.” Gone is her cheeriness, annoyance in its place. It’s very “what an idiot, how the hell does she not know where she is?” and I cringe, trying not to be frustrated.

“Well, I don’t know where I am. I’m somewhere on County Road 324, right outside Ocean View, but that goes for miles.”

“Are there any landmarks in sight?” The words fill me with an uneasy dread because no, there are no fucking landmarks, and how are they going to find me, and am I going to be stuck here forever? And if I am, who will know? Gabrielle will probably notice when I don’t show up tomorrow, and the date might call the office, but he might not. My mother is off on some single woman’s retreat, and my father is getting married, and I have no one at all who will notice I’m gone!

“No, nothing. Just.. uhm… trees and grass.” And even that isn’t much. With winter here, everything looks dark and desolate. The tiny bit of sun is fading, the winter night is setting in, and the panic rising in my voice is unmistakable. This is confirmed when her voice goes from annoyed to calming and reassuring.

“No problem, we’ll figure this out, Ms. Reynolds. Can you turn on the coordinates in the app so we can pinpoint your location?” Relief. There’s a plan B. I won’t be completely screwed, freezing in my car and found, mummified years later. The headlines will read, “Local Matchmaker Found on CR 324 Years Later: No One Knew She Was Gone!”

The app. I need to open the app. Simple enough. I mentally make a note to bring Gabrielle a latte in the morning as a thank you for forcing me to download the app when I bought this car. Pulling my phone from my ear, I hit the speaker button before tapping to my apps.

“Okay, I’m in the app. What do I do next?” My eyes keep looking up at the bars, which keep flicking from two to one. My gut drops. Just hold on, little bars! A few minutes, I’m begging you!

“You’re going to go to the Find My Location tab and accept the location tracking.” As I do it, the line starts to crackle, the bars flickering to one and staying there.

“I think I’m losing service,” I say in a panic.

“Just click the location services. Once it’s activated, someone will be dispatched.” As I tap the bar accepting the terms of the tracking, my phone crackles more and then beeps. The call has dropped.

Staring at my phone in horror, all I see is a rotating loading circle above “Track my Location.” Shit shit shit! I jump in my heels, phone raised in the air, trying desperately to get the service I need to send my location. The last thing I see is the rotating circle before it’s gone, and “No service” flashes on my screen. It feels like at the exact moment, the night drops around me, everything going black.

“Well fuck,” I say to myself. Taking a deep breath, I realize all I can do now is pray it sent and try not to cry as I carefully walk down the hill in the heels, promising I will forever carry a pair of flats in my car and learn to change a tire as soon as I’m out of this mess.

Let’s just hope I won’t become a local news headline before I can make that happen.





Four





-Luke-





I’m still thinking about my sister’s call as I drive back from towing a car to a customer’s house outside of the city. The loud rumble of the tow truck is near deafening as I go, perfect for attempting to drown out the thoughts of my sisters and mother worrying for me. I hate making them worry, almost as much as I hate being treated like the hopeless boy who needs their help to make my life complete.

It’s not working.

Should I be looking for a woman to settle down with? It’s not like I’m running rampant and hooking up with random women every weekend. Sure, I occasionally go out with Ben or Chris and the guys, and sometimes I leave with a woman, but even that has been far and few between lately.

And then I try to figure out the last time I went out with my friends other than Ben and Chris, who are also happily single. Sure, we text regularly, but now that most of my friends have married off, random guys’ nights are becoming less and less popular. They have kids to find sitters for and partners to cross-check plans with. My large group of friends has migrated into a group of couples with me watching from the outside. When did that happen?

Fuck, have I somehow missed the memo that I was supposed to start looking for someone? Between work and hobbies and family, it’s just never been something I felt the need to focus on. Maybe Quinn is right. Perhaps I need to focus on the future and who I want to spend it with before it’s too late, before I’m the lonely single friend that gets invited to birthday parties out of pity.

These are the thoughts flying through my mind as I crest the hill on CR 324. At the valley between the two hills on the windy road sits a small white car pulled to the side, interior lights near blinding in the dark night. Slowing the truck, I pull over to check if there’s anyone in it and if they need help. From here, I can glimpse into the car, where a pretty woman with dark hair tumbling over the shoulders of a white coat sits. The coat alone looks more expensive than my entire outfit combined, face made up perfectly, except for the rivers of black that stain her face and down her cheeks. Jesus. Hopping out and jogging over to her window, I tap on it, but it’s unnecessary. Her frantic eyes are on me.