His Mafia Queen

Walking Away

Riley

I stand there, gaping at him in the distance while emergency lights swirl in the darkness, wondering what I should do. Call to him over the sound of paramedics and crying people dotting the street? Wave wildly to get his attention and risk letting everyone here know that we're together?

Now that I think about it, the mayor knows. And so does the chief. Duh. Gabriel and I have run into them socially, only then, I'm dressed to the nines. Not wearing my grungy reporter clothes like tonight.

I'm like a fucked-up version of Lois Lane, if Lois was sleeping with Lex Luthor. Or is Gabriel more of an antihero Superman, and we're living in some alternate, corrupt universe? It's all bullshit, I decide, because I'm not living in a comic book or fairytale tonight.

It's more like a nightmare.

What to do, what to do... maybe I should slink away and hope he doesn't see me.

It's impossible for me to decide and it feels like my feet are frozen to the sidewalk. Part of me wants to duck under this police tape and run to him, feel his arms around me.

Another part of me wants to throat punch him. Why hadn't he told me he was okay?

At least he's alive. Unhurt. That's the only positive thing I can think of right now. Although the thought of him being in the middle of a mass shooting makes my blood run cold. Was he even in the restaurant when it happened?

What is his link to this place and to the people who were shot?

I watch him, the chief, and the mayor, stand in a cluster a few feet from the front door of the restaurant. The mayor's gesturing wildly, the chief is nodding, and Gabriel is looking from one to the other with a flinty expression. To anyone else here, they're three official-looking men handling a tragedy.

For an excruciating five minutes, I watch, silently hoping Gabriel will somehow sense my presence and come to soothe me. Ask me how I'm doing. Assure me that he wasn't in the restaurant when the Russian guy opened fired.

Tell me that everything is going to be okay.

Finally, Gabriel nods slowly, as if he's finally absorbing some information. I wonder what they're talking about. What's going through his mind right now? Does he suspect I'm here? He knows I'm working the crime beat tonight. Did he even get my message?

So many questions swirl in my mind, and none of them are good.

Gabriel puts his hands on his hips and looks around while the chief and mayor stare at a piece of paper. I'd give anything to know what's being said.

Helen buzzes me, and I answer. "Hey, I'm in the middle of something."

"That's okay, I wanted to tell you that the story's looking great. Nice job tonight. We've got a full version with your byline on the website, and it's going in the printed paper tomorrow morning."

I'm so stunned I almost drop the phone. From the tone of every other conversation we'd had tonight, I felt like I was on the verge of being fired. Such is the news business, I guess.

"Thanks," I finally manage to squeak out.

"I'd like you to stay there for a while longer, maybe get some more witnesses and the next news conference. Then you can head to the hospital. I don't have anyone else to go there."

"Absolutely." I keep my eye on Gabriel. His back is to me now, as if he's surveying something on the other side of the building.

A raindrop falls on my notebook, and I wait for another.