by Dale Mayer
“I don’t know,” she said. “I made it very clear that I’m not currently dating anybody, and, if he is pulling any shit like that, I would have the cops call him.”
“What kind of reaction did he have?”
“Well, he was definitely interested in whether I was dating or not,” Annie said, sounding weary. “But I still don’t want to get back with him.”
“Did you make that clear?”
“I’m not sure you can make that clear to him,” she said. “He doesn’t want to listen. He doesn’t want to hear what I say. He wants to hear only the words he wants to hear.”
“I get it,” she said. “But still, maybe it will be the end of the shenanigans, if he doesn’t think you’re dating.”
“What happens when I do date then?” Annie asked, worried. “Will he turn around and feel that way again?”
“It’s possible,” Sammy said.
“What are we supposed to do then?”
“I don’t know. Give it some time, I guess.”
“I did call my mom and told her, and she wants me to contact the lawyer and get some no-contact order against him.”
“Well, you could,” she said. “I just would hate to see anything escalate, if you are on peaceable terms with him right now.”
“And yet, if he did it, how peaceable is it right now?” she asked, with a sad sigh.
“I hear you,” she said. “You’ve got to do what you feel is best.”
“Whatever that means,” she said. “Listen though. Why are you so rattled?”
“Just some shit going down,” she said. “The usual.” She tried to keep her voice happy. It appeared to work because Annie was off again on another tangent.
“I’m thinking about moving,” she said abruptly.
Sammy winced. “Why? You know how I feel about that,” she said.
“I know, but you’re the only one I’d miss from here,” she said. “But honestly, after this, I don’t want to be anywhere around here.”
“Understandable. Where would you go?”
“I’m not exactly sure yet, but I have friends in Holland. I was thinking about visiting there for a while.”
“Well, that’s a surprise,” she said. “When you’re talking about moving, you’re talking about really moving. I thought you just meant to a different house.”
“Yeah, well, if you’ll take the time and effort to do it, you might as well do it right,” she said. “Right?”
“Yes,” she said, trying to be encouraging. “Besides, it would give me a reason to come visit.”
“True,” she said. “You’ve got lots of local friends anyway, don’t you?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” she said, “but I have to make some decisions regarding my father in the future anyway.” She sighed. “So who knows what my plans may end up being?”
And this time, Annie stopped, suddenly subdued. “That’s right,” she said. “Our lives are changing, aren’t they?”
“They definitely are,” she said, “and it doesn’t matter because we’ll still be friends, whether we are sitting around the corner from each other or not.”
“Right, that’s what I was hoping you’d say,” she said, with a half laugh.
“When are you looking at going?”
“Well, it really just came up from the conversation with my mother.”
“Where is she living now?”
“Oh, she’s in Amsterdam too right now.”
“Living there?”
“She is doing a special study there. Something about the water levels with the sea levels rising,” she said, “so she’ll be there for a few years.”
“Well, you know that sounds like a great reason to move there, at least for a few years anyway,” she said. “You haven’t spent much time with her.”
“No, and it was her suggestion,” she confessed.
“You don’t need to feel bad about that,” she said. “Go. If I had a chance to spend time with my mother, you know I would do it in a heartbeat.”
“Well, that’s partly what I was first thinking about, you know? With your father and the shape he is in. Who knows how much longer I’ll have my mother?” she said.
“Exactly, and it’s important that you end up enjoying something in your life and taking the time that you have for each other,” she said. “In a way, with my father’s condition as it is, that reminds me every day that what time we have together is special and that it will be over one day. So instead of focusing on the future and missing out on the time we have now, I’m trying to make the most of it.”
“Yeah, I think that is partly what I’m thinking right now. Something about the divorce, the tire slashing, just that whole nightmare,” she said.
“You don’t need to explain,” Sammy said. “I understand. So when is your rent up?”
“Well, that’s another thing,” she said. “The landlord contacted me to see if I was staying long-term because he has a family member looking for a home.”
“And he wants to give your rental to him, right?” she said, with an understanding nod. “Sometimes life is like that. It gives you these hints and these offers, then waits to see which way you’ll bend.”
“Well, the bend looks like a move,” she said. “I’m just not sure what to do with all the stuff that’s here.”
“Ditch it,” she said. “Most of it is secondhand stuff anyway, not like inherited from your family, right?” she said. “If you care about anything, have it shipped, but that’s probably expensive, and you could replace nearly everything there.”
“I know, but still I have to get rid of it somehow.”
“Even better, sell it, or give it away,” Sammy said. “Put a ‘free, come get it’ sign on it. Just be sure you’ve got anything you want to keep out of the way. Whatever you don’t give away, you can have someone haul it to a secondhand store or maybe a charity bazaar or even a church or homeless shelter.”
“Ha, I never thought of that,” she said. “This is why I keep you around.”
“It might be a good idea just from the standpoint of a new beginning.”
“Yeah, new, indeed,” she said. “And then what?”
“Hard to say, but be open to whatever comes.”
At that, her friend rang off.
Sammy stared at the phone and placed it slowly on the counter. She realized it was the end of an era happening. It was sad, yet it was all happening at the same time. She would miss her friend, but she didn’t have to make that absence huge. Just so much of Sammy’s time and energy were spent with her father right now that Sammy hadn’t had much time to spend with friends anyway. She could pick up with her friend later; at least she hoped to. But still her priority was her father.
As she sat here at the kitchen table, she’d forgotten to put on the teakettle. She’d come in to do just that but hadn’t gotten any farther when her phone rang. With the kettle on now, she kept looking down at her phone, wondering what was happening with Eton. She wanted to find out, but, at the same time, if he was in the midst of some supersecret spy stuff, she didn’t want to buzz his phone and distract him or, even worse, alert the enemy. She didn’t think Garret was in the same boat, so she quickly sent him a text message, asking for an update.
The answer came back fast. Nothing yet.
She responded with a simple inquiry.Joe?
The ambulance is there.
She wondered about going up to see for herself, making sure Joe was okay, but almost immediately she got another text from Garret.
Don’t go.
Frowning, she replied at once. Are you psychic?
No, but I’ve come to understand who you are from Eton. So I know that you care, but, in this case, I need you safe.
Why? She wrote back, still frowning.
Because Eton cares.
She stared at the message in shock and sat down again. No, he doesn’t. She wrote, stunned at the thought.
But did she know that? Did she know anything about him at all? It
just seemed so odd, all of it. But, at the same time, he was also fascinating. Just the thought of a guy like that being interested was enough to set her back a little bit and to cause her to rethink her strategy in life. She was okay to sit at home and do nothing when nothing else was on offer, but, when something else was right here, maybe her life needed some reconsideration. Maybe it wasn’t just Annie who needed to do a complete switch. Certainly something to think about. Besides, it was early. It’s not like Sammy knew Eton though.
But what she did know? She liked Eton. It was just stressful being in a scenario like this because she wasn’t prepared to let her father be alone for any length of time in the next little while. She wasn’t prepared to let him go at this stage. Or ever. Regardless he needed her, and that was her focus. But, at the same time, that small voice inside her said they didn’t have to be mutually exclusive. She could have a friendship and even a relationship with somebody, while caring for her father in his golden years. She could be there for Dad without giving up everything else in life.
She frowned, wondering just how much of that part of her that always yearned to have that special relationship was just a devil’s advocate, voicing any alternative opinion. Her father never understood why it hadn’t happened, and maybe she’d never taken a swing at it because it seemed that the men out there were little boys instead, while what she wanted was a man secure in his world. There seemed to be a shortage of those around.
At that, she smiled, made her tea, and then walked into the living room to check on her father, not surprised to find him once again sleeping on the couch. She studied him with a soft look on her face. He had such an otherworldly look to him, almost as though he already had one foot in the grave. In that moment, she realized that part of the problem was that he was probably sticking around for her sake.
In many ways she imagined he may be ready to go to whatever came afterward. She’d been raised without religious beliefs, and her father was a bit of an agnostic. It would be interesting for him to discover the truths evermore. All of them. It was a journey each had to make alone, hoping they had made the right choice all these years before or even in their last minute of life here. In her case, she just wanted him to be happy and safe. She imagined it was likely the same for him.
Just then he opened his eyes, looked at her, and frowned. “Is there a problem?”
She shook her head. “No, not at all,” she said quietly. “I was just wondering if I should wake you.”
He yawned, nodded, and said, “I should probably just go to bed.” Then he stopped, focused on her, and asked, “How was the date?”
She didn’t even bother trying to explain. “It was good, Dad.”
He beamed. “Perfect,” he said. “Let me know when the wedding is.” Then he got up and stumbled toward his bed.
She just shook her head. “No wedding, Dad.”
“There will be,” he said. “I knew as soon as I heard that voice.”
“Why is that?”
“Prayers were answered.”
“You aren’t religious,” she said. “Nobody is answering your prayers.”
“That’s what you think,” he said. “I’ve been asking your mother for help forever.”
*
Eton stared down at the unconscious man at his feet on the forest floor. He’d already texted an update to Garret and had sent a photo image of the man’s face, but, in this poor light, the flash bleached out his features, so Eton hoped it was good enough. He sent Garret a message, asking him to check with Ice as well.
On it, Garret replied. Anything else down in the buildings?
Ambulance and police are there.
Anonymous caller, huh?
Must have been a Good Samaritan who called it in.
Eton smiled, as he hung up. He’d already checked the man in the trees in front of him for identification but found nothing. He’d taken off his shoes and socks, then checked every inch of his clothing for anything that would identify him. He even had his shirt off, looking for tattoos. But found nothing. The man groaned; suddenly his eyes flashed open, and he jolted, tried to come up, but no way he was getting up since his ankles were tied together and so were his hands. He glared at Eton and swore a blue streak, but in a language that Eton didn’t know. He pulled out his phone and put it on Translate, with a special app that a friend of his had developed. Immediately the curse words turned into English. The spoken language was identified as an Italian dialect. When the man ran out of insults, Eton waited, but his prisoner had laid back down again and said, “Fuck you.”
“Well, that I understand,” he said, “but, if you’re the guy who hit old Joe on the head, you have a maker to meet who is also pretty likely to say that to you too.”
The guy stared at him, then spoke in English. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You were hiding in the trees, like a criminal,” Eton said, “while the old man is down there, working to raise money for surgery that his grandson needs. Meanwhile, you are being an absolute asshole and hitting him over the head.”
“Maybe I didn’t do it,” he said.
“Maybe you did,” Eton said. “So, I’m asking you once, and I won’t ask again. What are you doing up here?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
“But you don’t know anything about me,” he said.
“I know that you’re one of Bullard’s men and that your life is marked.”
“You’re not the first person to tell me that,” he said, “but I still don’t know why. So unless you have any answers to that question, you really are of no use to us.”
“What will you do then? Kill me?”
“Well, I could,” he said. “You’re just the dregs of society, aren’t you? It’s not like anybody needs you.”
“Same as you,” he said. “I’m just getting paid to take you out.”
“Well, apparently they didn’t pay enough to get good help,” he said, “because you’re not taking me out, not in the situation you’re in,” Eton said, with a half smirk.
“You’re just some fancy asshole,” he said, “but you’re nothing special.”
“I don’t have to be special,” Eton said “because you’re nothing. Besides, you’re my prisoner now.” He raised the man to his feet. “Now, start walking.” He led him cross-country. Slowly. The guy’s feet were bound, so he was taking baby steps.
“Where are we going?” he asked.
“I’ve got a friend waiting,” he said.
“And I don’t believe that,” the man said.
“I don’t give a shit if you believe me or not,” Eton replied.
“Why are you taking me anywhere?”
“Because I want to. We already went over this,” he said. “Besides, you’re just an asshole. What do I care if you believe me or not?”
“Maybe,” he said, “maybe not. Maybe there is a method to my madness.”
“You hit an unarmed senior citizen,” he said, “just because you were directed to, I presume.”
“Maybe he was too nosy. Maybe he came where nobody goes, saw me there, and tried to stop me. Maybe he was trying to play the hero. Maybe I had no choice, and I had to knock him out. Or maybe I didn’t do it at all.”
“Shut up, asshole. You could have stopped him without hurting him, but you like to hurt people,” he said.
“I’ll enjoy hurting you,” he snapped.
At that, Eton elbowed him hard across the head.
“See? You’re just the same as I am.”
“No, I’m not. I’m nothing like you,” he said. He frowned when he got a text from Garret. He picked up the phone and called him. “I’m bringing him in to see if we can get some answers.”
“What about the vehicle?”
“I’ll truss him up, leave him in the trunk, and bring him over to you,” he said.
“Good enough,” he said. “Watch your back.”
That was a good reminder, and, as he put away his phone, he wonde
red if this guy was working alone. “Where is your partner anyway?”
“Who says I’ve got one?” he snapped. “If you’ve got a partner, you’ve got to share the wages.”
“Ah, so you were just hired to take me out,” he said. “That’s not too smart of you to come alone.”
“Smart enough to get paid for it,” he said. And he started to laugh. “You don’t know jack shit, do you?”
“Well, one of us doesn’t,” Eton said. “It’d be nice if you’d give us some answers.”
“Won’t happen.”
“Was that written into the contract?”
“What?”
“Your silence?” Eton asked.
“Everybody knows, with this guy, that if you don’t keep quiet, you’re dead,” he said.
“What do you mean?” Eton said. “Because everybody knows that whoever works for this guy is dead regardless. We’ve been following his tracks all the way along, and he is cleaning up. Nobody is left alive.”
“That’s not true,” his captive said hotly.
“Yeah, it is, but I don’t give a shit if you believe me or not,” he said. At the car, he unlocked it, kept the keys in his pocket, and standing the captive at the end of vehicle, grateful that all the cops and the ambulance were gone, quickly knocked his prisoner on his head and lowered him into the trunk. Then he snapped it closed, walked to the driver’s side door, sat down in the seat, and called Garret. “I’m on the way back.”
“Okay, but remember. There could be a second one.”
“So, if you can, keep track as I come up,” he said, “because I’m on my way now.”
“See you in five.”
Eton sat, with the door open, taking another look around. As he turned on the engine with one hand and had his other hand on the car door to shut it, the car exploded. Eton was blasted through the open door, hitting the ground a good ten feet away. He stayed there, stunned, and realized the blast had come from the trunk, where his prisoner was. The trunk had been blown open, but it was obvious his prisoner was dead. He stood up, backing away from the inferno, then pulled out his phone and quickly told Garret what had happened.
“Goddammit,” Garret snapped. “Do you think he did it?”
“I don’t know,” he said, “I have no fucking idea at the moment.”
