Full Body Chills - Lucky

Episode Date: October 9, 2020

This is a story of a girl and her date with danger.Luckywritten by: Laurie Faria StolarzYou can read the original story at FullBodyChillsPodcast.com Looking for more chills? Follow Full Body Chills on Instagram @fullbodychillspod. Full Body Chills is an audiochuck production. Instagram: @audiochuckTwitter: @audiochuckFacebook: /audiochuckllcTikTok: @audiochuck

Hi listeners, I'm Ashley Flowers and I have a story I want to tell you. A story of a girl and her date with danger. So gather round and listen close. Did I ever tell you about the time I got lucky? Lucky my cat, that is. It was the summer after I graduated college, a particularly rough time for me in more ways than one. For starters, my boyfriend of two years had just broken up with me, saying that while it was nothing personal, he just wanted to put college behind him,

which evidently included me. Needless to say, I was beyond devastated, especially because I'd been totally head over heels for this guy and really imagined myself being with him for the long run. Plus, hello, how is that not personal? To make the summer worse, while most of my friends were moving into new apartments, all hyped about things like furniture, shopping, and employment benefits, I was jobless with no offers other than the one from my parents. I could move back home and continue my job search there, which is not exactly desirable, but I had no other choice. But about a month later, I got a glimmer of hope. My friend and college roommate of four years, Cara, knew the funk that I was in, and she invited me to come stay with her in Boston. She'd gotten the job of her dreams, working in PR for a design firm, and the position afforded her the rent on the cutest one-bedroom apartment where she could walk to everything. I mean, we're talking all the trendiest shops and restaurants.

Plus, it was near public transportation, so she didn't even need a car. But Kara deserved it. She was super smart and truly talented with the most generous spirit. So generous that her offer to come stay with her was rent-free. I told her, look, thank you so much. I appreciate the offer, but I just wouldn't feel right about not paying you. And right now, I literally don't even have the money if I wanted to. But she insisted. She said, why don't you just come for a month? The job market's great here.

You can go on some interviews, get a new perspective on things. And she insisted, you know, the best part is we can be roommates again, if only temporarily. Plus, she said, you'd be doing me a favor because you know I can't cook. And I know, like, right? Kara is just too nice. And admittedly, getting out of Dodge, sleeping on her sofa, sounded like just what I needed. I could give myself 30 days. Enough time to see if the change of location might make a difference in my job search, not to mention my perspective on things. And so I said yes.

Just days later, I'd already packed up and flown out to Boston. It was great to be with Kara again. She showed me around the city and took me to all of her favorite touristy spots, like the Freedom Trail and Harvard Square. During the day, while she went off to work, I stayed in the apartment editing cover letters and following job leads in the area. By the time the first full weekend hit, we were more than a little ready to hit the city and have some fun. Kara insisted on taking me to her favorite bar, this place called The Panda, and I could see why she liked it. It was this hip, modern, industrial-type building with this cool vibe and blue-toned lights and concrete floors.

It even had a cute little panda bear as its logo, and I remember blotting my lipstick on one of the napkins right over the panda's belly. We sat in the bar and ordered a couple of pretty drinks and caught up on our day, and I was excited to tell her about the job interview I'd scored at a local radio station with the help of our college alumni circuit. We toasted to the interview as well as to our friendship, as cheesy as that might sound. But this was the best I'd felt in a really long time. After about an hour, we ordered a second drink each along with some chips and salsa. But when the bartender brought everything over, he said the bill, including the

food, had already been taken care of, courtesy of the lone guy sitting on the other side of the bar. Kara and I turned to look. The guy, probably around our age or maybe a little bit older, waved in our direction. And he was cute, like really cute, with dark wavy hair and these pale blue eyes. He came over to introduce himself and said his name was Paul. He said he worked in security system sales and was in the city on business meeting with a corporate client. I remember he had a shy little smile. I mean, his whole demeanor was somewhat shy. And even he remarked on it, too, on how awkward he felt coming over to us and buying our drinks, which he admitted was sort of cliche. It's just that being on the road all the time, traveling all but a few precious weeks a year gets pretty lonely, he said. And you two

looked like you were having so much fun. He went on to tell us how he'd been trying to be more spontaneous and apologized again. This is probably just really awkward, he said, his face flashing pink, which was actually super adorable. That's when Kara chimed in, telling him about my spontaneity in agreeing to join her in the city. You don't even understand how major that is, Kara said, because my friend here is a type A planner, so dropping everything, coming to live with me for a month, is a pretty A planner. So dropping everything, coming to live with me for a month, it's a pretty big deal.

She shot me a wink and then invited Paul to join us. He pulled up a stool. Just tell me to leave at any point, he said. I won't be offended. It's just really nice to be out talking to people.

Usually on these trips, I hang out in my hotel room ordering room service and watching TV, so thank you. He grinned. This guy was even better looking up close with his warm smile and great taste in clothing. I also couldn't help but noticing that he was physically fit the way his pullover clung to his chest. Plus, he was sporting the perfect amount of facial hair, which is like a personal weakness of mine. I wasn't the only person to notice his appearance either. A couple of women at the bar were clearly scoping him out. The woman even inched a bit

closer as if she wanted to work her way into our conversation. Just then, Kara shot me another wink, which totally gave away her intentions. She wanted me to have some fun. And why not, she said when Paul excused himself to go to the restroom. This guy is super sweet. Okay, but need I remind you that I just broke up with my boyfriend, I asked her. All the more reason, she said. It doesn't have to be serious. The guy's here on business, so he's not looking for serious either. She was right. I deserved a little flirting fun.

And so when Paul got back from the restroom, I let down my guard. We ended up talking for two hours straight. While Kara had joined a couple playing pool, Paul and I covered topics ranging from where we'd both gone to school, our mutual affection of true crime stories, and blueberry cheesecake. Thank you, he blurted out in the midst of it all. I'm having so much fun tonight. Of course, I told him. I mean, I was having fun too. Paul seemed like the whole package. Smart, funny, interesting, and well-mannered. Travelings enabled me to see all over the world. Places I probably never would have, but it also has made me feel like a stranger all the time, if that makes any sense. I go into office buildings all over the world, but I'm just this faceless person to everyone, you know? I mean, they don't know me. I never really get to know them.

Well, I hope you're feeling a little less like a faceless stranger tonight, I said. He smiled, thanked me again, and told me he was in town for a few more days. Any chance I could see you again? He asked. My gut told me he was in town for a few more days. Any chance I could see you again, he asked. My gut told me no. It was too soon. I was too vulnerable. Plus, what was the point in going out with somebody I'd probably never see again? But since this new being spontaneous thing was working out for me so far, I took a chance and I told him yes. We exchanged numbers and then we parted ways. As Kara and I walked back to her place, I filled her in and she couldn't have been more excited for me. So maybe it will be love that'll get you to move here permanently,

she said. Except he isn't from here, I reminded her. Oh right, where is he from? That was the weird part, because I couldn't really say. In our more than two-hour conversation, it seemed like he'd been from everywhere, but nowhere in particular. I think he grew up in a suburb of Baltimore, I told her. But he also spent part of his childhood in Monterey. And I know he went to college in Chicago, then started his career at a tech company, I think in San Francisco. Ooh, a real-life nomad, she said. Still, I wanted to know more. Did he have his own place or stay with family in between trips? Or maybe he just went from hotel to hotel. The following day, Paul and I

made plans to meet at an Italian place on the outskirts of the city. The subway let me off a few blocks from the restaurant, and Paul was already waiting out front by the time I got there. His face lit up when he saw me and it felt like mine did as well. I mean, I was really excited to see him again. You look great, he told me. And he did too, in dark washed jeans and a light blue shirt that matched his eyes. So, shall we? I asked, moving toward the entrance. But Paul remained firmly in place. I take it you didn't get my text, he said. I shook my head no, because I hadn't. Apparently, he left his wallet back at the place he was staying. So, I'll pay, I told him.

I mean, it was no big deal. He had paid the previous night, and this would make us even. But he wasn't having it. He refused to let me pay. Plus, he said that since he didn't grab his wallet, he also didn't have his ID. The place I'm staying is just a few blocks away, he said. Would you mind if we just walked back to get my wallet? I'm really sorry.

He explained that he had tried to text me about halfway there when he noticed that he left it, but he hadn't wanted to turn back to make me wait. Now, my gut reaction is that this was a bad idea, and that's something Kara would have told me too. I could almost hear her voice in my ears, reminding me that I didn't even know this guy, and pointing out this could very well be his lame-o idea to get me back to his hotel. Look, don't worry about it, I told Paul.

You don't need an ID, we just won't drink. Still, he was adamant, saying if I prefer I could wait inside the restaurant while he went back to get his wallet. It shouldn't take more than 20-25 minutes at most, he said. But I ended up caving. No, it's fine. I'll walk with you. It was a beautiful night, plus I hadn't been to this more remote part of the city yet. As we walked, Paul asked me questions about my job search, moving from home, and if I minded starting over in someplace new. Where do you live? I asked him. Here, there, all over.

He grinned. Never in the same place for too long. That's why I always feel like a stranger. At that point, we'd been walking for a while, taking one side road after another. All of the neighborhoods looked so similar, blending together with their three-story homes and red brick buildings. He pointed us down yet another side street,

and it looked almost like a back alleyway. A handful of college-age guys stood in the middle of the road, making videos of one another doing stupid stunts. Like, this one guy was attempting to walk barefoot across a pile of broken glass, and another guy, clearly drunk, sang happy birthday while standing on his head not far from said broken glass. Right there. That is the upside of being a stranger, Paul said. They don't know us. We don't know them. People can do whatever they want, make complete fools out of themselves if that's what they choose, without feeling bad or self-conscious about it after.

So, is that what you do? I asked him, mostly joking. But his response struck me weird. People say it's easier to be yourself once you've gotten to know a person, but I don't think that's true. People are far less tolerable once they've gotten to know you. It's much easier to let loose and be your true self when you know you'll never see that person again, when they're just a faceless stranger. Am I a faceless stranger? I asked. Not at the moment. He smiled. I smiled back, but the mood had suddenly shifted. Awkward and somewhat eerie. Did he actually prefer not getting close to anyone? Did he have attachment issues? And if so, how did I fit in? Had hitting on me at the bar the previous night truly been an act of spontaneity, or had it been more about anonymity? To him, Kara and I had

just been random strangers at a bar. What difference would it have made if we rejected him? I looked away, suddenly feeling as though I were being examined under a microscope. It was only then I noticed that we'd stopped walking. The guys doing stunts stood in a huddle in the street. Let's ask her, one of them shouted. Why are we stopped, I asked Paul. Paul motioned to a plain brick building maybe two or three stories high and said that that was his place, an apartment rental his company had leased. I was about to tell him I'd wait outside when I noticed the stunt guys coming toward us.

One of them was slurring his words, shouting in our direction, asking if we wanted to play a game. It looked like the drunkest of the bunch had something hidden in his pocket where his hand was tucked. Come on, Paul said, ushering me toward the building through a narrow door, what seemed to be a back entrance, and he locked the door behind us. A moment later, something crashed against the door panel, making my insides jump. I dropped my clutch. Had one of those guys thrown a beer bottle? I'm so sorry, Paul said, picking up my bag, placing his hand on my shoulder. I should have never brought you back here. This is such a shady area. I should have had you wait He went on and on, seemingly embarrassed, saying he'd already complained to his company about the apartment's location, and they'd pulled this kind of thing once before on a business trip to New York, trying to save a little bit of money.

He promised he would just need a minute to grab his wallet. We climbed a steep staircase. Paul unlocked another door and we entered the apartment, which turned out to be a lot nicer than I expected, with bolted ceilings, a wide open floor plan, and dark wood floors. I waited in the living room while he went up to search. My wallet's probably in the bedroom, he called out, also telling me to help myself to the bar where there was an open bottle of wine. I checked out the bar, a fully stocked liquor cabinet, which didn't make sense. Why would an apartment rental have a bar? Unless maybe he was meeting clients here.

I didn't really know, nor did I understand the array of coats hanging by the door. They couldn't have all belonged to Paul. Did they belong to the owner? I poked around a bit more. In the kitchen, I found a loaf of bread and a gallon of water by the sink. I opened the fridge and it was jam-packed. All three shelves, which also made no sense for a company lease for someone traveling. I went to peek inside the cabinet just as the floorboard creaked. My heart instantly clenched. I peered over my shoulder, spotting a cat in the doorway. Did it belong to the rental too?

Nothing was making sense except the obvious. I needed to leave. Paul, I called. Where was he? A clock on the wall bonged 8 o'clock, rattling my nerves. Beside it was a door. Did it lead to a stairwell or maybe another way out? The door was open a crack, as if beckoning to be opened.

I reached for the knob and pulled the door toward me, feeling my skin turn to ice. My eyes slammed shut. Every nerve in my body pulsed. I was sure I must have been seeing things. But I wasn't. The closet was full of boxes stacked on shelves. Each one had a photo attached. Photos of women with missing faces. Like the faces had all been cut out. The women were all different. Dark haired, auburn haired. Some of them in dresses, others wearing jeans. One was on the beach, another appeared to be sitting at a park. Faceless women, at least

20 of them, just collected there for anyone to see. With trembling fingers, I reached out to grab one of the boxes. It wasn't heavy and there was no writing on the box itself. I lifted the lid to peek inside, nowhere prepared for what I would find. A single silver hoop earring, a movie stub, a skinny straw stained with lipstick, a used tissue and a membership card of some kind, but with no photo and no name. I took a step back and went to grab my phone, dropping it in the process. It clambered against the floor. The sound radiated to my heart and echoed inside my brain. I went to go pick it up, noticing right away something on the bottom shelf. Another box. On it was a photo of me, one from last night walking home with Kara by the bagel

shop we passed. With tremoring hands, I opened the lid and inside was the napkin from the panda bar, the one I'd used to blot my lipstick. My lipstick stain was right there over the panda's belly. I backed away, my pulse racing, my mind reeling, and I hurried for the door. But it was locked. And there was no bolt. It was just one solid panel, no place for a key, or at least not one that I could find. Don't panic, I told myself, peering up at the stairwell. It was still empty, still quiet. I tried the side window and then another, both locked.

My head was spinning. What could I do? Where could I go? That's when I remembered. Entering the building, it appeared as though we'd come in through a back entrance. Was there an access point somewhere else? There had to be. I hurried through the dining area, spotting a window on the far wall. At that same moment, the lights went out and chills rippled through my core.

A drizzle of sweat ran down my face as I held my breath and tried the window. The pain lifted, giving way to a fire escape. I crawled out onto the metal platform and reached for my phone. Where was it? Not in my hand, not in either of my pockets. My pulse racing, I began down the ladder, picturing him following, knowing this must have been planned. Everything. Getting me here, disappearing upstairs, shutting off the lights. I jumped down about six feet onto the sidewalk, still unable to find my phone. Those stunt guys from before were gone now. My heart continued to thrash inside my chest,

so loud and so hard that I could hear it in my ears. But I heard something else too. The cat scrouched on the metal platform, ready to pounce, and once it had, I scooped it up and ran for my life, down the narrow street, cutting between buildings, taking turns left and right. Finally, I made it to the main road where I found a cop and told him what happened. He took me for a ride and together we searched the streets looking for the apartment building. At one point, I thought I spotted it, but it'd been a dead end, both literally and figuratively. The following morning, we searched some more, but things looked so different in the light of day. The police also tried to locate my phone, but its last pinged location had been the subway stop.

It was no longer traceable, and I never got it back. To this day, I have no idea who that guy was or what his intentions were, or why he'd kept those boxes in his cabinet. I've spent years asking myself questions, trying to figure it all out. What I can only guess, he'd wanted to keep those women close, but he also wanted them to remain faceless strangers. Maybe that way he wouldn't feel judged for whatever he'd done for however their belongings had wound up in that box to begin with. Sometimes at night when I lay awake in bed unable to sleep, I can still hear the velvety tone of his voice telling me how people are less tolerable once they know you, how it's easier to be yourself in front of faceless strangers. Obviously, I don't have all the answers, but I now have a cat.

I named him Lucky and flew back home to move in with my parents. To be continued... by Ashley Flowers. This story was modified slightly for audio retelling, but you can find the original in full on our website. Full Body Chills is an AudioChuck production. So what do you think, Chuck? Do you approve?