Yogasm: A Romantic Comedy

I think he’s probably taking out all his frustration of not being able to beat up the guy in the bar who fell into me, because without hesitation, he yanks the would-be-attacker out of the car with his privates dangling in mid-air for all the world to see. Gah-ross.

I cringe and turn away as Miguel levels the guy with one brutal punch to the face, followed by another. He punctuates his words with vicious blows.

“We. Do. Not. Assault. Women.”

Her attacker’s crying and bloodied by the time Miguel drops him unceremoniously on the ground.

“And you,” he says to Michelle. “You’re coming with us. Take her with you, Sam.”

Still sobbing, she reaches for her bag, takes something out, and sprays it at his face. He ducks just in time.

“Hey! Stop that!” I yell. She’s got pepper spray or something, pointing it in my direction.

“Don’t come anywhere near me! Stay away, or I’ll spray you! Don’t make me!”

Miguel grabs me and hauls me to the ground as she turns away from us and bolts. She hops into a car, and it peels away from the lot.

“We have to go after her!” I get to my feet, but Miguel holds me back.

“Let her go.”

“No! We have to go after her! We have to find her!”

“Samantha.” He holds my hand. “We have more important things to worry about.”

“What?”

“Check your phone. I just got a text from Madison.”

“From Madison?” A shiver runs down my spine as he leads me to the car and opens my door. “Get in, baby.”

I power up my phone as he drives, frowning when I realize I’ve missed like ten texts.

Madison: I don’t know why you guys came so early. Where did Miguel go? Why so early?

What?

What’s she talking about?

A text from Allie.

Allie: I don’t trust the guy. Not cool that he just shows up out of the blue and takes Toni. Not even a word to us? We were supposed to make pizza.

“Miguel,” I say, cold fear trickling down my spine as my detective skills come into play. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either. But we have to go find out. Call Madison or Allie.”

Madison picks up on the first ring. “Babe.”

“Who took her?”

“What do you mean—”

“I’m sitting next to Miguel. We’re out on Cape Cod.”

“Oh, God. Oh my God. No, Samantha. Who took her, then?”

I put the phone on speaker. “Did you see who was in the car?” Miguel asks.

“No.” I can tell Madison’s crying. “I can’t believe this. She said ‘he’s here! I have to go!’ and when I asked her who, she just took off. I assumed it was you.”

Miguel’s jaw clenches. “Must’ve been my brother. Motherfucker.”

I want to cry. First, we had her mom right here, right within our reach. Then Toni goes missing, and we have no idea if we can trust his brother.

“Will he hurt her?”

He works his jaw. “I hope not.”

It isn’t convincing enough for me, goddamn it.

An hour later, we’re at Madison’s place. Allie’s pacing the small kitchen, trying not to cry. Several uniformed officers sit at the round kitchen table, taking notes.

“I can’t believe this,” Madison says. “We were so stupid.”

Miguel looks like he wants to strangle one of them, and I have to say, in this particular instance, I think his anger’s justified.

“So she just looked out your door, told you I was here, and you just let her go. Just like that.”

“Yes,” Madison says with a groan. “We were in the middle of unloading groceries. She was all excited and just took off. I assumed it was Miguel, and from a distance, it looked like him.”

“Is this even a case of a missing child if it was her actual father that took her, though?”

“He doesn’t have custody, does he?” The officer is young and clean-shaven, focused on taking in all the details we give him.

“Nope.”

“Then yes, this is a case of a missing child.”

“Where would he take her?” Allie worries her hands, looking paler than I ever remember seeing her. Madison unabashedly sobs. Miguel looks like he wants to break things.

My phone rings. I don’t recognize the number.

I discreetly walk into the bathroom and shut the door. “Hello?”

“Sam?”

It’s Toni. I nearly drop to my knees. My heart squeezes and tears blur my vision. “Toni. Baby, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” she says. “Shh, you can’t tell anyone I’m talking to you. I don’t want… my dad… to get angry with me. He isn’t nice when he’s angry.”

My hands clench into fists. “Of course not. Where are you?”

“We’re near a river, I think? There are… boats. And people walking. And I think I saw a sign that said something dirty river.”

Dirty river…?

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. He didn’t hurt me. But he lied to me. He said he was taking me to you, but he didn’t. Now he’s on the phone saying bad words.”

“How did you call me?”