The longest drive I would ever know continued. By the end of the first night, we had made it to Denver. Rather than drive through the night again, Seth agreed to stop at a small hotel that looked like somewhere Norman Bates would have called home. I was aware of every sound that every insect made outside. I heard cars arrive and neighbors enter the room next to ours at 3 a.m.
 
By the time dawn approached, I was more than ready to leave though it took a constant flow of caffeine to keep me going. We continued to talk sporadically about this and that. Sometimes it was personal tidbits, sometimes it was songs on the radio that spurred an interesting memory, or we would talk about which ones were particular favorites. This time we actually agreed as often as not about what was good and what wasn’t.
 
We made fun of disc jockeys and local advertisements, and marveled at the scenery. The mountains during the day were a revelation. They looked like a movie set or matte painting, almost too breathtaking to be real. Unfortunately, they were gone too soon and we were back in Nebraska.
 
“It’s just as boring as a passenger,” I remarked.
 
“At least we can take it at 80 miles an hour,” Seth said. “Imagine trying to cover this much ground in covered wagons.”
 
“No thanks,” I said.
 
Just then, the station we had on took a request for a song from Depeche Mode. “I wish I would have caught on to them sooner,” I said. “But I was so sheltered I didn’t even hear Master and Servant until I was an adult.”
 
“Nobody in my neighborhood would have been caught dead listening to them,” Seth said. “It was either rap or heavy metal around me. They were considered …” he flapped his hand around, searching for the right word. “gay, though that wasn’t the word anyone would have used.”
 
“Of course not,” I said. “What about now? Do you still hate them?”
 
“I never hated them,” he said. “I just sort of ignored them.”
 
“I’d love to talk to their songwriter,” I said. “See how kinky he is and what he’s really into.”
 
“Other guys,” Seth said.
 
“What difference could that possibly make to you?” I asked. He shrugged silently. “Anyway, I’m also betting he’s a bottom. And I don’t mean any of that as an insult. I mean that as a woman who not-so-secretly wants to be topped by him.”
 
“When was the last time you were involved in that scene anyway?” Seth asked. I told him my toy bag had been sitting around untouched for about a year and he was visibly surprised. “I thought that scene was a bigger deal for you.”
 
“It’s tough being single and broke in that community,” I said.
 
Seth nodded. “I can see that,” he said, his voice trailing off. “New York’s got to be pretty active though, right? Seems like a shame to be so close to it and not be involved.”
 
I felt like he was trying to talk me into something but make whatever it was sound like my idea instead of his. Either his attempts at reverse psychology were getting less subtle or I was catching on faster. But I highly doubted he was genuinely curious about the New York City kink scene. “I don’t know,” I said. “I would still be single. And I’d be starting over without knowing anyone at all. I’m pretty sure I’d feel out of my league in a place that big.”
 
Seth nodded again. The wheels were definitely turning. I just couldn’t quite tell where they were going. “Do dominants and submissives have to be romantically involved?” he asked several minutes later.
 
“Not at all,” I said. “Lots of times, it’s about pure service or meeting each other’s needs or n… whatever.” My speech slowed as I realized exactly where he was going. “Everyone has their own reasons. What are you suggesting?”
 
“I’m suggesting a possible solution to our arguing. The way I see it, you need someone to tell you what to do, and I really like telling you what to do,” he said.
 
As his words sunk in and I searched for the proper response, he grinned and continued. “I told you to be careful calling me ‘Sir’ back there.”
 
It certainly wasn’t the worst thing I’d brought on myself this week. In fact, I warmed to the idea quickly. But the doubts appeared just as fast, as I thought about the theory that submissives need to have power in order to give it over to someone else. The high-power executive who is a submissive in other aspects of their lives was a stereotype for a reason. Only I didn’t feel like I had any power. I explained this to Seth.
 
“You’ve made choices, Dani. And you’ll be making more as we go,” he said and stopped. “I mean, what am I supposed to call you now? Lucy?” I nodded, still not used to the new name myself. “You’re here because of those choices and that has to count for something.” He had a point, but it still didn’t quite feel like the same thing to me.
 
Further, although part of me wanted to leap at this opportunity and dive right in, I was also hesitant. There had to be a flaw, and I was determined to find it. “There has to be something wrong with this,” I said. “Some reason it’s a horrible idea.”
 
“I don’t know what,” Seth said. “At the very least, won’t it mean less fighting?”
 
“I’m not sure that’s a good enough reason to enter this type of relationship,” I said. “It’s more complicated than it looks.”
 
“Oh, so we finally found the one thing you can take seriously,” he retorted.
 
“You know what – fuck you,” I said. “What we found is the one thing I can teach you about, and you want to use it to control me. No, thank you.”
 
“So much for less fighting,” he replied.
 
“You’re not even planning on sticking around very long – what would be the point anyway?” I asked.
 
“Does it have to be long-term?” he asked.
 
I knew far more about the theory of power exchange – or D/s – relationships than I did the reality of them. I’d been in exactly one for any amount of time, and that break up had led to my leaving the Cleveland community. “Ideally. For me,” I told him.
 
Seth glanced over at me to gauge my response. I had already started to calm down. “Tell me how this works then,” he said. His tone was gentler than his words.
 
“It depends on the people involved – their goals, what sort of structure they want, etc,” I explained.  
 
“We have a lot of Nebraska left,” he said, indicating the road in front of us. “And this is obviously important to you.”
 
Actually, it wasn’t. Not anymore. First and foremost, I was a masochist. I could eroticize certain types of pain – in the right context. What had first drawn me, however – eight years prior – had been fantasies of someone “forcing” me to do all the things I couldn’t bring myself to do on my own. Controlling how I dressed – if I was allowed to at all, when and what I ate, whether I orgasmed – 
 
In other words, things that only worked in porn.
 
The reality had proven to be far different. And while I had explored depths I hadn’t known existed, and discovered truths about myself I never would have otherwise, nothing had turned out the way I had expected it to. Ultimately, I had been left disappointed.
 
“Look, these relationships crash and burn far more often than they work out,” I said.
 
“Oooooh, now I understand,” he said.
 
“You don’t understand anything,” I insisted. “You have to agree on rules. Or whether you’re going to even have rules. Whether you’re going to include punishments. I mean, D/s sounds easy – one person gives over a certain amount of authority to someone else – but it’s way more complicated than that.”
 
“I’m sure it is,” he said. “But just because someone – or multiple someones hurt you – doesn’t mean you can take out their shortcomings on me.”
 
“Alright,” I sighed. “But this is one more big, new thing – one more potential new thing at any rate – that I’m not sure I’m ready for.”
 
Seth nodded. He looked like he might want to comfort me, reach out a hand. Something. But I might have been projecting. “Now that’s understandable,” he said.
“Having said that – ” I hesitated to admit my next thought. It would only lead to trouble, I was sure of it. “I’m curious what this might look like with you.”
 
With any luck, such a relationship with him would feel supportive, help me develop new, healthier habits. If we did it right.
 
“Well, I don’t know anything about it, and you clearly do,” he said, and indicated the vast nothingness in front of us again. “Why don’t you explain it – start with the basics. Like I said, we have time.”
 
I thought back to when I had been new and every introductory class I had ever attended. It all felt like common knowledge now. Explaining it to someone who had previously dismissed the entire community was going to be a challenge.
 
“Can I ask why you’re interested now?” I asked. “You never were before, so if this is just about controlling me, or keeping tabs on me, or whatever – ”
 
“It’s not. Obviously, there’s more to it than I realized. So, teach me,” Seth said. And then he winked. On someone else, in a different context, it would have been easy to dismiss the gesture as condescending. Here, however, his interest seemed genuine.
 
“Okay, well, you know about dominants and submissives, and that we sometimes call that a power exchange,” I said.
 
“Right,” he replied.
 
“Like I said, the specifics are going to depend on the people in the relationship,” I explained. “Actually, the answer to a lot of questions is going to be ‘it depends,’ unfortunately.”
 
I expected him to cut me off, ask more questions, comment in some way. He didn’t. “So, one couple might play around with roles only on date night or on weekends, or whatever. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Other couples will do what we call 24/7. In other words, one person is in charge of everything, all the time.”
 
“That sounds intense,” Seth said.
 
“Sort of?” I replied. “Because they don’t have to be in charge of every little thing, but they are in charge all the time.”
 
“What sort of things can they be in charge of? Can you be more specific?” he asked.
 
That there was no one way to do kink was both the most comforting and most frustrating aspect of it. It was completely individual, which made it completely unlike the religion I had been raised with. But too many possibilities could be daunting for anyone. It had been for me once, and now it was daunting to explain.
 
“Literally anything,” I said. “Whatever fits in with the lives of the people involved. For one couple, it might mean they don’t do a lot of noticeable stuff because they have kids, are involved with extended families, have busy jobs, etc. I mean, some people don’t even have rules – one person simply defers to the other. If you didn’t know what you were looking for, you might not even notice they were doing anything.”
 
Seth wagged his head. Clearly, none of those factors mattered. “Let’s narrow it to what might apply to us,” he said. “Because I feel like you’re being deliberately evasive.”
 
Couldn’t fool him, I thought. “Yes and no,” I said. “Like, sure, I don’t want to give you ideas I won’t like, but it really is super individual.”
 
“Fair enough,” he said. “So, who decides on rules? As the dominant, is it my way or the highway, or what?”
 
“I’d have to agree to them,” I said. “Theoretically, of course.”
 
“Doesn’t that put you in charge though?” he asked.
 
In an attempt to avoid using the phrase, ‘it depends’ yet again, I said, “There are people who see it that way, but I don’t. If I agree to you dictating, say, what I wear every day, I don’t feel like I can bitch when you choose something I don’t like. In my mind, if you’re in control of a thing, you’re in control of a thing, if that makes sense.”
 
Seth’s eyes widened in understanding. I could see the concepts start to click for him. “But I can’t unilaterally make a rule with no input from you, is that right?” he asked.
 
“Honestly, I’m sure there are people who do that, but I would hope they’ve been together longer, and know each other a lot better than we do,” I told him.
 
“Of course,” he nodded, speaking more to himself than to me. “I can work with that. But are there rules that are more common? I understand it’s not going to be the same across the board, but I need to start somewhere – provided you end up agreeing, that is.”
 
I proceeded to list a vast array of rules I had either lived by or seen imposed over the years. From speech restrictions, bathroom restrictions, orgasm control, to more off the wall and obscure ones. “You could literally decide you hate the color pink and forbid me from wearing it,” I told him. “That’s how broad the spectrum is.”
 
“What’s off limits then?” he asked.
 
“Nothing,” I said. “Literally nothing if I agree to it.”
 
From there, I dove into the concept that no act is inherently dominant or submissive. A submissive could top, for example, if ordered to. Or be in charge of other submissives. An act like driving could be viewed as the person being in control of the car, or they could be in service to the passenger.
 
All depending on the perspective.
 
“You thought I was kidding when I said this shit is complicated, didn’t you?” I asked.
 
Seth blew out a breath. “I was not expecting this,” he said.
 
I looked over and chewed my bottom lip. “Dare I ask – what did you think kink was?” I asked.
 
“I thought it was a bunch of people dressing up in leather and role-playing,” he replied. “With sex.”
 
“I think you have us confused with ren faires,” I told him.
 
“I don’t picture much sex going on at ren faires,” he said.
“Then you’ve never been to a ren faire,” I snapped back. “The crossover is huge.”
 
We drove in silence for a bit then – at least the discussion had gotten us most of the way through Nebraska – and I considered more carefully what it might be like to submit to Seth. Although I identified more as a bottom than a submissive, there had long been people who could bring out my submissive nature.
 
There had been the female dominant from out of town who ran a much stricter household than I wanted to be part of. And yet, all I’d wanted was to was sit at her feet and await bizarre orders. We’d chatted off and on for a while, but nothing had come of it. Others had come and gone as well, and there had always been a reason it wouldn’t work. 
 
Now, Seth was pushing those same buttons.
 
“Tell me about punishments,” he said finally. He’d let me take over driving for a bit, and I had assumed he’d want to sleep. I had assumed wrong.
 
“You would want to know about that,” I muttered.
 
 “Why wouldn’t I?” he snapped. “I have a feeling they’re going to come in handy with you. Or do you have to agree to that too?”
 
Another complicated explanation. This time, associated with bad memories. Hooray for me. “Mostly, they shouldn’t go past someone’s established limits,” I said. “If I had canes listed as a limit – like, a hard and fast, I will never do that limit – it would be bad form to use them as a punishment. But it should be something the other person doesn’t enjoy. So, you know, pain doesn’t really work on me.”
 
“What does, out of curiosity?” he asked.
 
“You know what, fuck this,” I said. “I’ve done nothing but cooperate with you. I’ve gone to the trouble of explaining all of this. And I don’t believe you’re really interested in any of it. You want to continue punishing me, fine. You haven’t needed my help with that yet.”
 
“Are you trying to tell me you’re never going to fuck up again?” he asked.
 
“I’m saying I deserve a little credit for trying, for even starting the work to move on,” I said. “If you can’t give me that, you’re as bad as my mother. Nothing has ever been good enough for her either.”
 
He let out a slow breath. “You have a point,” he said. “But it’s been less than a week. It’s going to take longer than that for me to get past this completely.”
 
“I can see that too,” I told him. Punishments for me had often been tedious and uncomfortable, I explained. My most recent ex, Robert, had made me sleep on the floor, or not let me on furniture at all while I was staying with him.
 
Or he’d ignored me.
 
“That was what ultimately broke us up though,” I concluded. “I wouldn’t use that.”
 
“Ignored you how?” Seth asked. “Not answered the phone or ignored you in person?”
 
“He wouldn’t answer texts, nothing. Said I wasn’t allowed to contact him for a set period of time,” I said.
 
“And that’s bad?” he asked.
 
“I had called him out for doing something, confronted him,” I went on. “Instead of talking about it, owning up to it, he decided to ignore me. We broke up soon after.”
 
“What did you confront him about?” Seth asked.
 
I hated this memory. Hated how things had ended, hated that I had allowed Robert to chase me out of the community I had once loved. Hated him. “He was playing with someone else,” I said. “I heard her use a safeword. Watched him keep playing. I tried to intervene, but he claimed he hadn’t heard her. Later, he would claim she hadn’t said anything, and I couldn’t get her to speak out against him or report him.”
 
If he needed an explanation on safewords, he didn’t mention it. He simply muttered, “asshole,” then crossed his arms and slept through most of Iowa.
----
While re-reading this book, I realized just how quickly Seth and Lucy's dominant/submissive relationship took hold. I was so eager to get them to that point, in such a hurry to get past all the bad times, that I barely let either of them process those bad times. 

As a result, much of the next few chapters are devoted to exactly that - allowing their relationship to emerge at a more realistic pace. Further, now that I know so much more of their story, I was able to weave in references to characters we won't fully get to know until much later. Lucy's ex, Robert, for example, won't fully arrive  until Ace in the Hole, though he gets some time in Riding It Out. 

This chapter also includes what may be my favorite lines from both Seth and Lucy. I used Seth's line, "You need someone to tell you what to do, and I really like telling you what to do" in every promotional material I could. It was perfect. 

But this edit allowed for what may be Lucy's greatest moment. While I preparing the final edit for this blog, I wanted to cheer when Seth tried to mock her for finally taking something seriously and being so knowledgeable about it, and she retorted, "If all you want is to use that to control me..." 

Proof she's been challenging him since day one and I love it.

In the morning, my stomach growled before I even opened my eyes. We had missed the breakfast buffet at the hotel, so we stopped for food on the way to meet Emily. And while I didn’t want to know too much about how she did what she did, I was curious about their association. Naturally, it was just as likely that I would get only vague answers out of Seth, but I had to try.
 
“How do you know Emily?” I asked idly while I waited for my blueberry pancakes.
 
“We dated a few times when I used to live out here,” he said. Gambler or not, the flashiness and gaudiness of Vegas didn’t really seem like Seth’s style. “Emily is a good contact and has proven useful a number of times,” Seth continued
 
“How many times have you needed a new identity?” I asked quietly.
 
“Me? Just once,” he said. “But I’ve referred other people to her. She hates her government job but needs the benefits, so she takes every opportunity she can to screw them over. I think that’s the main reason she stays there.”
 
“What made you leave here?” I asked. This conversation felt like it was turning into an inquisition but it was easier than thinking too much about Seth’s friend.
 
Seth shrugged and sipped his coffee. “When I grew bored of Vegas, I picked a place where I already knew a few people and I thought had some interesting history. I liked the idea of being near the lakes again too.”
 
By the lakes again? I let it go. I felt like I’d already asked too many personal questions. “Find any interesting apartments?” I asked.
 
“A few – mostly in Brooklyn,” he said. “I printed out some pages – you can look through them in the car.”
           
Now that we weren’t arguing, I found making actual conversation difficult. I hoped it was yet another symptom of him being used to doing this work alone, and not indicative of how our second cross-country trip was going to be.
 
Our rendezvous spot was in the parking lot of a large business complex. I had thought I would stay in the car while Seth made the exchange. I suppose I expected some grizzled government worker – maybe a little older, definitely jaded, and perpetually angry at the world. Instead, she was around my age, pretty with shoulder-length red hair, and blue eyes.
 
She greeted me warmly. “Lucy’s a nice name,” she said. “I like it. Makes me think of Charlie Brown.”
 
“It was my grandmother’s,” I smiled. “I figured it would be easy to remember.”
 
“Good thinking,” Emily said, and smiled in return.
 
She and Seth exchanged envelopes – hers with new identifying documents for me and his with a few large bills. “A little warning,” she added quietly. “You won’t hear much of that type of encouragement from him.”
 
Seth just rolled his eyes. I smiled, thanked her again, and mouthed “I know” when I thought he wasn’t looking. I was a little sad that I probably would never see her again ,but I didn’t think getting her contact information would be appropriate either.
           
After she went back inside and we were settled into the car, I yelled, “NO SLEEP TIL –” and waited. Seth stared at me blankly and started the car.
 
“What’s wrong with you?” he asked.
 
“The song – by the Beastie Boys?” He kept staring at me as he pulled out of the lot. “I take it you’re not a fan then?”  
 
“My cutoff is 1977, you know that,” he said. He was deadly serious too, as if we were discussing something deeply personal. 
 
I rolled my eyes and smiled. “Oh right, you’re one of those weird Meat Loaf fans. How can you listen to such melodramatic, overproduced crap? God, those songs are like, ten minutes long. Each.”
 
“He’s not any worse than Zeppelin and you love them,” he retorted.
 
“At least Robert Plant is sexy,” I said.
 
“So that’s what important to you?” he asked.
 
“Shockingly, I like a little sex appeal in my rock stars, yes,” I said. “Meat Loaf does not qualify.” 
 
“Not lyrics, not musical ability, or talent? It’s all sex for you?” he asked.
 
“And what does Mr. Loaf play?” I asked. “And how deep can a song about dying in a motorcycle crash be? Or one about being stuck married to the wrong person?”
 
“There is a lot more to Paradise than that,” he said.
 
“If you say so,” I said. “For lyrics, give me Bernie Taupin and Leonard Cohen any day though.”
 
“Don’t get me started. You could cut the self-important pretentiousness with a spoon on both of them,” he countered.
 
“Are you high?” I yelled. “Tell me Chelsea Hotel and Levon aren’t two of the greatest songs ever written.”
 
“They aren’t,” he said flatly.
 
“I can’t believe I’m stuck in a car with you,” I said.
 
We’d had the same fight, in various forms, a couple of times. And certainly there were worse things for us to fight about, but for me the levity was short lived. For some reason, knowing that we were making tangible progress on our plans made me feel worse instead of better. Instead of feeling productive, everything felt more final – as if doors were closing forever. And while it should have been obvious long before that there was no turning back, the documents in my hand suddenly made it much more real.
 
As we merged onto the highway, I went quiet and stared out the window at the desert and distant mountains. “What happened?” Seth asked. “I thought you were having fun back there.”
 
“Back to processing for me,” I said. It was going to be a long trip. We needed things to talk about, and Seth’s vague answers earlier had only piqued my curiosity about him. Clearly, he had had to start over himself more than once but under what circumstances? I tried to think of a casual way to start that conversation and let my eyes wander over him in an attempt to find inspiration.
 
And then I remembered the knife. No wonder I hadn’t really noticed it before. It was hidden now, mostly under his shirt but also behind his seatbelt. All I could see was the tip of the sheath and still I was drawn to it. I wanted to reach out and touch it, and didn’t realize I had started to do just that until I heard Seth’s voice.
 
“Looking for something, doll?” he asked.
 
“What? Oh, I was admiring your knife yesterday and meant to ask about it –”
 
“Impressive isn’t it? I had that specially made for me out here,” he said proudly. “It’s customized so I can remove the blade before it’s even unsheathed.”
 
“How does that work?” I asked.
 
“There’s a button near the hilt that releases it depending on what I need it for,” he said.
 
I wasn’t sure I wanted to delve too far into the knife’s possible uses. “What’s the material?” I asked instead. “I couldn’t figure that out.”
 
“I don’t remember what they called it anymore,” he said. “I just know it’s very durable and very manmade. The stones though – those are fire opals from Mexico.”
 
I whistled and was more impressed than ever. “That sounds expensive,” I said.
 
“What’s your point?” he snapped.
 
“I just –”
 
“Because I would hate to think that you’re interested in more than its aesthetic value,” he said.
 
“Jesus you’re suspicious,” I said.
 
“You still have a long way to go before you prove I don’t have to be,” he said.
 
“What do you want me to do?” I asked. “Take a vow of poverty?”
 
Seth shook his head. “Nope, just be honest with me,” he said flatly. “And yourself.”
 
“How about you go first and be honest with me,” I suggested. “Because I would love to get more than vague answers out of you.”
 
“What do you want to know?” he asked.
 
I had to think quickly. I didn’t have a safe backup topic, one that would be productive and not start an argument. “Where are you originally from?” I asked. When I thought about it, I realized I had no expectations for what his answer might be. I actually found it impossible to picture him any younger than he was when I met him, let alone as a toddler or teenager. He could have said he was born on Mars and I would have believed him.
 
“Rural Detroit,” he said.
 
So he was human after all. “What made you leave there?” I asked.
 
“College mostly,” he said. But I could tell there was more to it. He suddenly looked very uncomfortable.
 
“I’m not trying to pry,” I said in an effort to reassure him. “But we do have … how long of a trip ahead of us? I thought I’d try to make conversation.”
 
“It’s not one of my favorite subjects,” he said.
 
“Detroit?”
 
“My childhood,” he said.
 
“What are your favorite subjects?” I asked.
 
“Anything that doesn’t involve my past,” he said with a heavy sigh. His tone wasn’t angry. At least, his anger wasn’t directed at me. He seemed more hurt than anything, and I found myself wanting to comfort him. But I also wondered if that sort of hurt was beyond being comforted away. He may have been a grown adult who was several years my senior but he suddenly looked very much like a frightened little boy.
 
“I guess I can see that, but you know damn near everything about me and yet you won’t talk about yourself. I feel like you’re hiding something and that makes it difficult to trust you.” I knew then that he had already started to rub off on me – it felt like the type of speech he would have made.
 
Seth took a deep breath and appeared to collect his thoughts. “I don’t open up easily,” he admitted. “And frankly after your reaction to the last time I talked about myself, I’m not in a big hurry to do it again.”
 
“What are you talking about?” I asked, perplexed.
 
“When I told you about how I started as a hacker,” he said. “I didn’t just tell you that to make you unhappy and keep you from going online. I actually wanted you to know a little more about me. And then you not only jumped to baseless conclusions, you completely disregarded my instructions.”
 
And I thought we’d moved past that. Unfortunately, it had been not just any old test but a pop quiz. Apparently, I should have paid better attention.  Out loud, I said, “I’m sorry. I guess I didn’t realize it was that big of a deal.”
 
Seth just nodded. “That much is obvious.”
 
“I just wanted to make small talk,” I said. “You know, pass the time.”
 
“It passes whether we talk or not,” he said. “Just remember that even when you don’t like what I have to say, it’s not like you have your pick of hired thugs out here who are willing to take a chance on you.”
 
“I’m not looking for another hired thug,” I said. “I’m just trying to make sense of … of you, of us, of this entire situation, and you’re not much help.” In that moment, what I missed most was the luxury of alone time and the ability to walk away and cool off.
 
“I tried to help – remember? But you want me to hold your hand and pour my heart out like some silly romantic comedy even after you disrespected me, and that’s not going to happen,” he said, his voice rising. I started to protest, mostly because I hated silly romantic comedies too, but it was no use.
 
“Silly me,” I said. “Taking a chance on maybe being close with someone as opposed to starting over alone and very likely going back to the same old patterns. Yes, that was stupid.”
 
“You just need to learn to think before you speak,” he said.  
 
I rubbed my temples. “I feel like I can’t say anything right,” I said. “I just want to talk about something that won’t lead to another fight.”
 
“Hey, it had been more than a day since our last fight,” Seth said. “That’s progress.”
 
“Maybe we shouldn’t bother going through with this at all,” I said, ignoring his attempt at humor.
 
“First of all, we are not doing anything,” he said. “I am helping you start over –”
 
“So you won’t discuss the future or the past,” I said. “That’s great. Because our current is sooo interesting. Oh look, more sand.”
 
“It’s deserted enough out here that I could gag you with hardly anyone noticing,” he said. “I think the truck drivers might even enjoy it. The trunk is still available too.”
 
I had no idea if he was kidding or not. For my own safety, I crossed my arms and kept my mouth shut. It really was no wonder we hadn’t had more dates. I wondered if this was why he and Emily hadn’t worked out either, and how many of his other relationships had died the same death. I wondered if we would survive another cross-country trip and if we could live together without ending up like the Odd Couple.
 
I don’t know how long it was before we actually spoke again. I found my book and started reading – after all, it was better than nothing. I think I even drifted in and out of sleep a couple of times. When we stopped for gas, I barely waited for him to put it in park before getting out and walking around the travel plaza just to have some time alone.
 
“I can’t do this for the next two days,” I said when we were on the road again. He’d let me drive so he could start calling apartments. “What can I say to keep the peace?”
 
“I don’t know,” he said simply. “Maybe you were right before – maybe this was a bad idea.”
 
My heart sank. Of all the things to be right about. And then I remembered his speech from our drive out. He’d yelled at me then for not following through on anything. I didn’t want to add this – add him – to that list of things I’d run away from.   “Don’t give up on me,” I said quietly. “I want to make this work. I just don’t know how. All I know is that I don’t want to run away anymore.”
 
Seth turned his head and smiled at me. A familiar gentleness returned to his eyes and I was grateful to see it again. “Are you sure?”
 
“I really am –”
 
“Good. I knew you were making progress,” he said.
 
I stared back at him as long as I dared keep my eyes off the road, trying to understand. “Wait - what just happened?” I asked.
 
“A little thing called reverse psychology, doll,” he said. “Thanks for calling my bluff by the way.” 
 
“You son of a bitch,” I said, laughing and punching his arm. “You really had me scared there.”
 
“Good,” he said. “I had to make sure you weren’t going to go back on your word again. For the first time, I actually believe you’re committed to this trip, and maybe even to doing the hard work that is needed to change your life.”
 
I shook my head. “Are you really this good at psychology just because of poker?” I asked. There seemed to be a definite connection between the two topics for him but I couldn’t quite figure out what it was.
 
“I see it as a microcosm of life,” he said. “Cards – specifically poker and games you play against other people – force you to read those other people and figure out when they are lying. You are not difficult to read under normal circumstances. The past couple of days have only made that easier. Gambling also forces you to read situations – you have to know when to stick with a hand and when to let it go, even when you think you have a good thing going. If you’re good, you learn to change things up, adjust your style to what’s going on around you.”
 
“You know, I think there’s an old song along those same lines,” I said, grinning.
 
“What can I say?” Seth asked. “The cliché is true. Because sometimes, no matter how hard you try or good you are, poker will screw you over royally. Other times, you back into a hand. The trick is learning how to spot the difference before losing everything.”
 
“Back into a hand?”
 
“It’s when you go into a hand thinking you’re going to get something simple – say a high pair – but as the cards reveal themselves, you end up with something unexpected, something that you didn’t see coming but better than anything you could have anticipated.”
 
“Wow – I knew there was a strategy but I guess I hadn’t thought of it as quite that complicated,” I said.
 
“Most people don’t,” he grinned. “And those are my favorite kind of people to play against.”
 
We both laughed and for the first time, the pieces started to fall together. Seth actually started to make sense to me. We were on a roll too. Just maybe it would be safe to attempt some more personal topics again.
 
As he made his phone calls. I listened to him make appointments for three days in the future with two different agents. He explained our situation and that we might be in town earlier than that, but that he was playing it safe. I started to wonder how long we would be in Cleveland, but doubted there was a way to know for sure.
 
“Dare I ask any more about your childhood now?” I asked hesitantly once he was finished.
 
“What do you want to know?” he asked. He really did seem to be in a much better mood, so I went for it.
 
“I want to know whatever you’re willing to tell me,” I answered and threw up my hands in a gesture of surrender. I wouldn’t push anymore. If he was going to talk to me, I would let him decide how far to go.
 
“Dad worked for the auto industry,” he said. He looked at me like that should have explained everything. When it didn’t, he continued. “We struggled hard after he was laid off. I had one brother and we ended up moving around a lot. Mom did her best, but she usually couldn’t find work either and what she found never seemed to be enough. I left at 18 and never thought seriously about going back.”
 
“That bad, huh?” I said quietly.
 
“Dad and I were polar opposites. We had the typical fights that fathers and sons have been having since time began. Once I was out, there was nothing worth going back to.”
 
“What about your mom?” I ventured.
 
“She died early in my sophomore year in college – what some people in my family still call the Big C,” Seth said. “I went home for the funeral hoping to make some kind of amends, but nothing changed. That was the last time I’ve been back.”
 
I knew Seth was a few years older than me, but not his exact age. I placed him around 40. I tried to imagine what it must have been like for him to fend for himself at such a young age. Suddenly my own past seemed tame, the bad times not nearly as bad as I had once thought. I commiserated as well as I could.
 
“Kind of sounds like me and my mom,” I said. “We were never close, but things only got worse after Dad died.”
 
“Did she blame you for his death?” he asked. “Dad always stopped just short of telling me that one. He preferred to imply that all her hard work had driven her to an early grave and blamed having children for their problems instead of himself.”
 
Twenty years had done nothing to ease the bitterness that was now so close to the surface. That well might never run dry, I thought. I considered pushing forward with more stories from my own past but now I was the one reluctant to discuss myself. He already knew enough about me.
 
“Mom never went that far but she never let an opportunity pass to let me know how disappointed Dad would have been in me either,” I said. “So which college did you escape to?”
 
“Ohio University – I got a scholarship and at the time they had a top rate engineering program,” he said. “I have no idea if they still do.”
 
 “What years were you there?” I asked, instantly excited. “I went for journalism, but I lived on that part of campus for a while. Those guys were intense!”
 
Seth laughed but ignored my question and for the first time in this entire journey, the mood in the car seemed legitimately light and friendly, as if nothing was amiss at all. “Did we really just now figure out that we have the same alma mater?” he asked.
 
“I think we did,” I said, still smiling. And just like that, all sorts of non-argumentative topics opened up. We talked about the hills on campus and how you could tell how long someone had been there by the shape of their calves. We talked about the supposed hauntings and the creepy but closed mental institution just off the west side of campus. We reminisced about everything and eventually figured out that we had been there about five years apart.
 
“I never believed any of the ghost stuff – about any part of campus,” he said. “I assumed every college in the country had similar stories.”
 
That was Seth, I thought, ever logical. “Maybe they do,” I conceded. “But OU is still as well known for its genuine creepiness as it is for its parties on Halloween.”
 
“Oh God,” he said. “I hated Halloween there.”
 
He sounded as if this were an inadvertent admission, as if he’d accidentally left his guard down though I couldn’t imagine how Halloween could be difficult for him to talk about. I tried to poke gently. “Really?” I asked. “I mean, I was never as much of a drinker as a lot of people, but I still thought it was a fun party.”
 
And just like that, I could see the wall go up behind his eyes. “Really,” he said. “I don’t enjoy drunk people as a rule and always stayed as far away from the wild parties as I could.”
 
He shut down almost completely after that. It would be years before I heard the rest of that story.

----

Backed Into a Hand is still my favorite of all my titles. It is by far the most meaninful, each word able to be interpreted more than one way. When I was first considering it, my concern was that no one would know what it meant. I myself had happened on it via a website of poker terms.  To this day, I have only had a couple of people see the book when I'm vending and understand the term. 

So, how to make sure everyone understood? 

I expressed this concern to a friend at the time and they suggested having Seth explain it. It felt so obvious then. Why hadn't I thought of that? Maybe that's what good friends are for though. 

With Seth gone, I sat in my chair and cried until the tears no longer came.  I wept out of fear, for what I was losing, and what I knew could possibly be gained. For all I knew I was on the verge of greatness instead of ruin but even that possibility was daunting. Amazing how frightening the prospect of happiness could be.
 
I opened the blinds and stared out the window, losing myself in the lights and the swarms of people all trying to find their way to what they thought would make them happy. They were all chasing their dreams and wishing for just a little bit of luck to get them through, an escape from their usual routines. 
 
I was chasing my own impossible dream. But it wasn’t money that was calling me – for the first time in my life, money was the least of my worries. It wasn’t even romance I was chasing, at least not in the traditional sense of the word.
 
I was quite literally being given a second chance at life, a new beginning that I could create from the ground up. I could reappear in a new city and make up any background I wanted, be anyone I wanted to be. It was inconceivable to me that just three days ago I had woken up to the same old alarm clock and driven the same old route to a job I had settled for because I thought it was the best I could do. Hell, I had settled long ago for merely existing instead of truly living, and I finally had a chance to change all that.
 
But was it really going to change? What would stop me from falling back into old patterns, no matter where I went? I had this image of myself as a strong, independent woman but was that accurate? And could I become the person I wanted to be without someone like Seth? Looking out into the world, I couldn’t help but be struck by the contrasts. In one direction were lights as bright as day. In another, the lights faded into an absolute blackness where the city disappeared into the desert.
 
Looking inside, I saw the same contrasts between who I told myself I was and who I had actually become. Both versions held some truth – it all depended on which way you looked.
 
I stood up and stretched. I needed to go for a walk and clear my head. I fixed my hair, which had flattened from sleeping on it, and grabbed my coat. It was colder at this time of night and the familiarity of the leather was a comfort. I grabbed a key and then spotted the briefcase full of money. It didn’t seem quite right to leave it out in the open, sitting on the bed. I wanted to hide it, or at least get it out of plain sight, but where? I briefly considered taking it with me but it was heavy and I didn’t know how long I would be out. I put it in the small closet instead, and closed the door.
 
I walked out of the room, rode the elevator down to the lobby, and felt real freedom for the first time in days. But I still didn’t know what direction to go in. Outside, I checked for landmarks first so I would be able to get back. This would not a good time to get physically lost.
 
I quickly learned that casually strolling around this city had its pitfalls. People constantly shoved fliers in my hands for shows, casinos and escorts. They were unavoidable. After an hour or so of trying to find some peace, I gave up and returned to the hotel, throwing all the papers into a garbage can outside.
 
Back in the room, I found Seth perched on the edge of one of the beds, waiting. “Where were you, Dani?” he asked. He didn’t look angry. Not yet.
 
“I needed some fresh air,” I said as I removed my coat and hung it on the back of a desk chair. “Though I couldn’t get a moment’s peace out there.”
 
“Where’s the money?” he asked solemnly. It was the same tone that had torn through me like lightning earlier and my gut tightened a little in panic. What if the money was gone? Nervously, I opened the closet door and pointed at the briefcase with a sigh. This time, I really hadn’t done anything wrong. “Right here,” I said. “It seemed foolish to leave it just sitting out.”
 
“You know I thought the worst,” he said.
 
Of course he had. But why hadn’t the closet been the first place for him to look? Maybe he hadn’t been back that long. Maybe he’d already found it and was testing me. It was hard to say. “I guess I’m not surprised,” I said as I crossed the room. “But I didn’t have a way to contact you and I assumed you’d be gone longer.”
 
I felt like I had been sedated. All the tension, all the anxiousness was suddenly drained from me and I was at a loss as to what to say next. All I knew was that I was still afraid of Seth’s reaction. “Do you want to hit me now?” I asked.
 
“No … no, of course not,” he said. I don’t think he knew how to respond either. “Did you eat anything?”
 
“No,” I answered. “Nothing looked all that good.” Honestly, I hadn’t even bothered to look at the menu.
 
Seth stood and picked up the laminated sheet from the bedside table. “Not exactly the best menu in the history of room service,” he said. “What does sound good?”
 
The question could have referred to anything from dinner options to the giant life choices we were both facing, but I didn’t have an answer for any of them. “I honestly have no idea,” I said finally.
 
“Is your stomach bothering you again?” he asked. He was trying so hard to be helpful. but I didn’t want to talk about food. It seemed like the least important topic.
 
“I don’t want to talk about food, Seth,” I shouted.
 
“Then what?” he asked. His eyes curled up in confusion.
 
I chewed my lip while I considered my answer. Still, the only answer that stuck out for me was New York City. With or without him, I felt like I had to take a chance there. When else was I going to have this opportunity?
 
“How do we get me to New York?” I asked.
 
“We drive,” he stated as he paced. “We take our time, pick up some things at our respective places along the way, research apartments while we’re here. One step at a time.”
 
There was so much I could have done in the car if only I had a smart phone. But the ensuing and inevitable lecture would not have been worth mentioning that. “I’ll need to look for a job too,” I said.
 
Seth’s phone buzzed and he glanced over. He shot back a quick response, then returned his attention to me. “That was Emily,” he said. “She’s nearby and can meet me in about half an hour. I need to know what name you want before I go.”
 
Oddly enough, choosing a new name had been among the easiest parts of this entire process. I’d chosen Lucy because it had been a beloved grandmother’s name. For a last name, I had combined a couple of family names from dad’s Italian side. In that way, I was able to retain my heritage, and pay homage at the same time.
 
I told him the name and he jotted it down.  
 
“How about you come with me and we can get dinner after?” he asked.
 
“I was actually thinking of turning in early,” I said.
 
Seth arched an eyebrow. “Are you up to something? If you are – ”
 
“No,” I assured him. “I promise. I’m just really tired. Do you mind? Would you rather I come with you?”
 
“Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll look up apartments tonight too, and if you drive tomorrow, I’ll make some calls depending on what I find.”
 
“Sounds good,” I said.
 
With no idea what we’d be able to afford, or even what to look for, it was an excellent plan. The smile I put on was wan and fake though.
 
Seth stepped toward me. In another context – hell, earlier in the day – his looming figure would have been intimidating. It still was, but the concern on his face betrayed him. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
 
“Everything is happening at once,” I said. “I need a minute to process some of it.”
 
He retook his seat on the bed across from me and folded his hands. “When I’ve made this sort of move, it’s been with a great deal of thought and planning,” he said. “What you’re doing is difficult, but I think it’s the right thing for you.”
 
Oh god, that was his version of being supportive and reassuring, I realized. He was either out of practice or had never been good at it because what I needed was a kind shoulder, an ear to listen to my concerns. Because it wasn’t simply the practicalities of forming a new identity that concerned me. There was an emotional toll as well that I couldn’t quite put into words for him.
 
“Thanks,” I said, the wan smile still in place.
 
“Order something if you want,” he said before he left.
 
I didn’t. Instead, I turned out the light, slipped under the covers, and cried myself to sleep. Later – much later – he would tell me that he’d had Emily meet him at our hotel, then sat outside the door for nearly an hour in case I attempted to abscond with the money.
 
The thought never occurred to me.

----

Again, no big changes, but I did feel it was important to see Seth go out and get her new identification documents. Or at least address when it happened. We see none of that process in the original, only the pickup. Upon re-reading, I realized it was something that needed at least a sentence or two. 

Is it still unrealistic to expect that process to take a single night? I'm sure it is. But I wasn't abandoning them in Vegas for longer than I had to. Far more important events await. 

At the base of Paul’s hotel was a row of shops selling everything from cheap souvenirs and knickknacks to nicer clothes and accessories. One of them also happened to have walkie-talkies, presumably so families could keep track of one another when phone coverage was spotty in the casino. We bought a pair.
 
“My warning from earlier still applies,” Seth told me. We stood not far from the shop’s entryway, and he spoke in hushed tones so that passersby couldn’t overhear. “If you try to approach him, signal anyone, the consequences will be the same. Tell me you understand.”
 
Again, I felt like a child, but I was sure that pointing this out would only get me sent back to the room – and not in a comfortable, sleep-inducing way either. “I understand,” I replied.
 
Seth looked over my head and smiled broadly as if catching a friend’s eye or perhaps sharing in the celebration of a slot machine spitting out winnings. “If you see him, do not do anything except contact me on the radio. Is this clear?”
 
The smile remained. Anyone who saw us would have thought we were making dinner or entertainment plans. Meanwhile, I had to concentrate to keep my voice from shaking. “It’s clear,” I said.
 
“And try to blend in,” he continued. “Don’t look like you’re looking for someone – gamble a little if you want but –”
 
“Seriously?” I was astonished.
 
“A little,” he said with more emphasis and passed me a few bills. The kindness seemed to be genuine now, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. “Stick to cheaper tables or, if you must, slot machines. What do you know how to play?”
 
“I’m decent at Blackjack,” I said.
 
“Not bad,” he said. I think he even looked a little impressed as he pointed towards a large bank of slot machines. “Just don’t waste too much time with those little thieves. It’s harder to people-watch at them and the odds are horrible. If you join a table, try to get one near a wall where you can get a good view of the room. And don’t make me sorry I trusted you again.”
 
I grinned as I whispered back, “Got it.”
 
“Good,” he said quietly as he walked off towards his own search. I do love to watch him go, I thought.
 
I started to wander myself, looking for a good vantage point. I noticed Seth glance behind him a couple of times to make sure I was still there, but I pretended not to notice. 
 
Blending in turned out to be pretty easy. There were people from all walks of life – all ages, all nationalities, all races – milling around. We were all tourists, and it was no use pretending to be anything else. I wasn’t even the only wide-eyed newbie who didn’t know where to start. I overheard conversations at a few tables with people who asked for clarification or specifics regarding the rules of whatever game they were trying to play. Surely I can do better than that, I thought.
 
I stopped at a craps table first. Someone was on a roll and it was easy to blend in with the rest of the crowd, all of whom were just hoping that a little bit of that good luck would rub off on them. The lucky streak ended shortly after I arrived, but I lingered a little longer and watched as someone else started their own streak. I’d never understood the game and was hoping to pick up something that would help me appreciate its appeal. I didn’t.
 
In search of somewhere to park myself awhile, I found a blackjack table with a low minimum that was near a wall. I jumped into a game during the next hand and even I was surprised when I won.
 
And just like that, the appeal of Vegas revealed itself. I had theoretically understood how winning could be addictive, but I felt the reality of it for the first time. Back home, I’d only been to the casino a couple of times and I’d either watched others or played around with a few slot machines. Now, I stuck around at blackjack, winning about half my hands and even coming out ahead a little. All the while, as the other players were doubling down, splitting aces, and folding, I kept an eye on the area around me.
 
During one of my scans of the room, I spotted a familiar face that was not Seth. About 20 feet away, Paul stood at a poker table and seemed to be debating whether to sit down and play. Although it hadn’t been that long since I’d seen him, it felt like it had been years, and I was surprised for a second to find that he hadn’t changed. He was still an average-sized middle-aged guy, stocky with short dark hair and bad stubble that he thought made him look young and hip.
 
I almost didn’t know what to do. I fumbled around and found my walkie-talkie after immediately folding the hand I was playing. I tried to keep my eye on Paul without staring. It was like a dream. And then I was so fixated I started to leave my table without my chips. The dealer had to call out to me, and I jumped back eagerly and apologetically.
 
I looked around for landmarks to guide Seth to where I was. “I think I found something,” I said to him.
 
“Where?” he asked.
 
“A hot little blackjack table near the south entrance,” I said. “It turned cold for me, but I think you could make a killing.” The phrasing was absolutely deliberate as I hoped Seth would unleash his violence streak somewhere else. God knows, I wanted to unleash a little of my own on Paul. If only my voice would stop shaking.  
 
“I’ll come check it out,” he said.
 
At that moment, Paul made his decision and headed away from the poker table. I followed him with my eyes but quickly lost him in the crowd. I moved forward, still trying to be nonchalant, and spotted him going towards some slots. I clicked the walkie-talkie button again.
 
“You know, I think the nearest slots are looking better,” I said. “I’m heading that way now.”
 
There was no answer, but I was sure he heard me and would understand. I tried to keep one eye on Paul and also look out for Seth – who I hoped would be approaching any minute – at the same time. I watched as Paul put a few coins in a slot machine, then shrugged and walked away when he didn’t win. I kept following, keeping as much distance between us as I could, sure he would turn around and spot me any second. He never did.
 
Seth caught up with me and I nodded silently in Paul’s direction. In my head, this moment led to a dramatic chase, complete with overturned gambling tables and screaming tourists. But Seth remained composed as we followed Paul through the heart of the casino toward the hotel lobby. When he started toward an exit leading to the garage, Seth whispered for me to stay in the casino and get out of sight.
 
As I walked away, I again expected to hear the sounds of mayhem behind me, the two men shouting threats at each other, hell, maybe even gunshots. Instead, I heard Seth’s boots as he jogged to catch up with Paul and I heard him exclaim, “Hey buddy! Good to see you again!”
I didn’t know what to do. I hovered near the entrance to the casino and tried to look normal, reminding myself that people only see what they want to see. I looked down and realized I was still clutching my meager winnings in my left hand. I spotted a stack of small paper buckets near some slot machines nearby and grabbed one. I couldn’t immediately spot a place to cash out, and I didn’t want to wander too far from where Seth had left me.
 
With my back still to the lobby, I heard Seth’s voice and pretended to be engrossed in a nearby slot machine that was spitting out someone else’s winnings. “We should get to that meeting though – wouldn’t want to be late,” I heard him say.
 
I glanced behind me and in the direction of his voice. Their backs were to me as they walked off together, Seth’s hand briefly on Paul’s back to guide him. I was left in total awe. When they disappeared down a hallway marked for elevators, I looked around to see if anyone was staring but they weren’t. It had been perfect.
 
Now, the question was what to do until Seth got back. I thought about trying my hand at the tables again, or even the machines, but I knew I would be too distracted. My book was back at our hotel, and I wasn’t interested in any of the travel brochures that were lying around.
 
I took my little bucket of chips and picked out an empty, overstuffed chair in the lobby, then sat back and simply people-watched for a while. The groups that really puzzled me were the tourist families. What could kids do at a casino? There were people who looked even more out of place than I did, and didn’t seem to know the first thing about gambling. I didn’t understand them either. 
 
On the other end of the spectrum though were those – mostly men – who walked in as if on a red carpet. You could see them practically expecting people to bow before them like servants. In the casino, and especially at the tables, they would snap their fingers for drinks and expected to be catered to ahead of everyone else.
 
Their arrogance reminded me of every two-bit dominant I’d ever come across, the type who thought all women were not only submissives but specifically placed in their path to serve them. Seeing the type here was every bit as nauseating as it had been in a dungeon, and I silently wished them horrible luck in all their games.
 
Seth, however, wasn’t like that, I realized. He had been right that I had brought most of my trouble on myself. But he wasn’t cocky or arrogant. He had a way of letting you know who was in charge without being obnoxious about it. His strength was quiet, controlled. Most of it came through in his mannerisms and how he held himself.
 
That he was also dangerous was unmistakable. Especially up close.
 
The longer he was gone, the more I wondered whether he had decided to leave me on my own after all. Just as I started to fear the worst though, I looked up to see him striding toward me with a wry grin. He carried a very large briefcase, similar to ones I had seen lawyers use to carry their bulky court documents.
 
I stood as he approached and quietly asked, “Is that…”
 
“Yep.” He allowed the grin to stretch just a little.
 
I stared at the briefcase. “Seriously?”
 
“Yep.”
 
“Now what?”
 
He pointed toward my chips. “First we cash you out, then we walk out and go back to our own hotel,” he said quietly. Turns out the cashier hadn’t been as far away as I had thought – if I had just turned a corner, I would have spotted the window.
 
As Seth led the way to his car, my eyes darted around the area, sure someone had noticed something out of the ordinary. The amount of money he was carrying had to stand out, even in a place like this. Wouldn’t it glow or send some sort of high-pitched signal only gamblers could hear? Apparently not.
 
When we got out to the car, I was still astonished that no one had stopped us. If not for carrying so much cash, at least for whatever Seth must have done to Paul. I looked at his hands for signs of a fight and didn’t see any. There were so many questions fighting in my head for priority that I was left speechless.
 
“It’s a good thing we spotted him when we did,” he said. “He was on his way out of town – apparently, he thought he’d put this in a safe place and then pick it up later.” He patted the briefcase which I now held in my lap.
 
 “Me,” I said. “I spotted him.” What can I say? I was feeling bold and knew I had a right to be just a little cocky.
 
“True enough,” he answered. “And it was a good thing you did.”
 
It was a small concession and I didn’t want to belabor the point. Instead, I asked what I really wanted to know. “So, what did you do to him?”
 
Seth looked surprised. “Nothing, really,” he answered. “He asked how I’d found him, and I was vague about that. I took the briefcase from him, counted the money, and here we are.”
 
“You are really good at that vague thing,” I said. “But didn’t you have to beat him up or anything? You know, handcuff him to the bed?”
 
“Paul threatens easy, kind of like you,” Seth said. “I had my knife and as long as it was pointed at him, he was quiet and left me alone.”
 
What he had done to me had been easy? Maybe for him, I thought. I would have to think on that some more later. But the rest of his answer still felt insufficient. I let that go too. “And why won’t he come after us now? Can’t he tell the cops we just stole all this?”
 
“He could,” Seth said. “But it wouldn’t get him very far. Any number of guys have the same basic physical description as I do, he doesn’t know what car I’m driving, what hotel I’m staying at or what name I’m using. Doesn’t give anyone much to go on, does it?”
 
“Wait,” I said. “What do you mean what name you’re using? Do you have aliases?”
 
“I have a couple of identities at my disposal, yes,” he said.
 
“So, couldn’t he give them all to the cops and have them after you?”
 
“If he knew them, but even then what would he say?” Seth asked. “That I took money that he can’t prove was ever in his possession in the first place?”
 
He had a point. But that was a lot of new information.
 
We got back to the hotel and walked in as casually as we had walked out of the previous one. I was getting used to how easy it was to do this.
 
Back in the room, Seth removed the light jacket he was wearing and hung it on the desk chair like he was Mr. Rogers. I found I was more surprised at his nonchalance than that of the people we had passed on the way in. But I suppose he had expected to get the money back all along. It had probably never occurred to him to consider any other outcome. Hell, he’d expected it days ago.
 
I sat down on the edge of the bed and watched his movements, trying to discern whether all that calm was also directed at me. It was impossible to tell. “Are we good?” I asked nervously.
 
Seth sat down across from me, hands in his lap, exactly as they had been earlier. This time, he allowed a small smile to creep up the corners of his mouth. “Yes, we are. You did well today.”
 
“Because it’s hard to tell,” I said. “Like, do I still need to be afraid of you, or – ”
 
“No,” he chuckled. “No immediate threats. I was proud of you today. You should get some rest though. Maybe think about where you want to go next. Meanwhile, I need to make a couple of calls, and then I’ll be hitting the hay myself for a while.”
 
“Jesus, how old are you?” I joked.
 
“It’s a phrase my mother used to use,” he replied. “I’ll be right outside, and – oh, where is your ID and other documents I asked you to bring?”
 
I stood silently and got my driver’s license from my purse, then my birth certificate and the rest from my suitcase.
 
“Leave them out,” he said as he opened his phone. “I don’t think I’ll need them right away, but I want to know where they are.”
 
“Got it,” I said. Naturally, I wanted to know more. Like who he was calling and what was going to happen with my ID. But I was too tired. My last thought before I was unconscious was how weird the past 24 hours had been.

            At some point, I woke up to find that Seth had returned. I hadn’t heard a thing. He lay on his back, arms up over his head to reveal the entirety of the knife that was so often at his belt. Although I had caught glimpses of it before, I hadn’t been able to see the details. The handle was black, made of some material I couldn’t immediately identify. It looked like it might be onyx. There were also inlaid precious stones cut in the shape of the four card suits. All of this was framed in silver which extended into what looked like a brass knuckle grip. It was impressive, as intimidating as anything else about him. I assumed it was the one he’d used on me and told myself I would have to ask him about it later.
 
And with that last thought, I passed out again to the sound of his usual snoring.
…
We both slept peacefully for several hours. By the time we woke, it was supposed to be dark outside but even this far from the strip, the glow of the lights was clearly visible from our window. I sat up on my elbows, wide awake, hungry, and sure I would never get back to a normal sleep pattern. Looking at the clock, I realized it was a time I would typically be going to bed.  Given the time difference between Vegas and Ohio, which I still considered home, I would have been asleep for awhile, certainly not getting ready to greet the day. Or night, as the case may be.
 
“I’m turning into a vampire,” I said as I stood.
 
“Why do you say that?” Seth asked. He lay on his side, his fist supporting his head. I explained. “You’ll be able to get back to normal pretty quick,” he said. I wondered what normal even meant anymore.
 
Suddenly everything was moving a little too quickly for me. I had expected it to take longer to find Paul, longer still to actually get the money from him, if he still had it at all. I wouldn’t have been shocked to find there were more steps to the process, more leads to find and follow. The question of what would happen next was far more pressing than it had been just a few hours ago.
 
“Now we just have to figure out how much of this is your cut,” Seth said. He sat up on the edge of the bed, stretched, and yawned.
 
My vague apprehension was replaced by surprise. “You were serious about that?”
 
“Of course,” he said. “You did well back there and proved yourself by alerting me instead of him. But like I’ve said, I’m not used to partnerships.”
 
“Right, so I suppose splitting it 50/50 is out of the question?” I asked hopefully. “I am the one who found him.”
 
Seth didn’t just laugh, he guffawed. “After all the trouble you’ve been, yes, it’s out of the question,” he said. Once he recovered, he added, “But you have more choices to make, too. You need to decide whether to return to Ohio and your old life – along with all the hassle that will now entail – or start over out here somewhere – with all the hassle that will entail.”
 
This was going to be my toughest decision yet on this trip and I was shocked to realize that my first instinct was to ask Seth what he wanted to do. I assumed he would be going back home, and I wanted to be close to him. The thought of being separated from him now was surprisingly upsetting. I looked at the clock again – I had made it almost 12 hours without crying.
 
Seth seemed to sense my reluctance and put his hands on my shoulders. “There’s no easy choice here,” he said. “No matter what you do, you’ll be starting over in a way.”
 
“It’s not that,” I said. “It’s … well it’s everything, really. I don’t know how to explain it.” It dawned on me that starting over didn’t mean life would be better or easier, only that there would be whole new ways to fuck up. I also knew that going home would mean too many questions that I didn’t know how to answer. But I also wondered if it might be the only way to keep Seth in my life. 
 
He'd made a reference to wanting to get out of Cleveland himself. Naturally, the phrasing had been vague. This memory brought still more questions.
 
Because why did I want him in my life at all when we’d done nothing but argue the whole way here? I’d considered us friends before, but that no longer felt accurate. He’d been a better friend on this trip, both despite and because of what we had been through, than he had in the year and a half I’d known him.
 
Further? I regretted not letting him fuck me in Iowa. More than ever, I needed a good fucking.
 
I opted to start with easier questions. “How does it work if I move?” I asked.
 
“We’d create a new identity for you for starters,” Seth said patiently. I realized it was at least the third time he’d mentioned the necessity of a new identity while I continually and conveniently kept forgetting that aspect.
 
“Couldn’t I do that in Ohio?” I asked.
 
“You could, but I wouldn’t recommend it,” he answered. “Too much risk of running into people you know.” He paused to let that that sink in. It made sense once I thought it through. “It’s also more likely that you’ll fall into your old patterns if you’re in the same location. I think in order to make a clean break – a real clean break – a person needs a completely new environment.”
 
I noticed he was careful not to make that last statement personal, like he was giving me advice. He didn’t say “you need a new environment” but he might as well have.
 
I finally asked the question I wanted answered the most. “And what about you?”
 
He looked at me and it was clear that he saw right through me, saw exactly how important his answer was to my decision. “I’ll refrain from answering that for now,” he said solemnly. “I don’t want to influence you too much.”
 
And that’s when I knew – I wanted him to influence me. I wanted him to be a huge influence on me, and I was suddenly very afraid that he would slip away and I would never see him again. That he would be merely a footnote in the story of my life, and that I would be left in some unfamiliar place all alone. I imagined him dropping me off on some random street corner with only a suitcase and a pocket full of money. Realistically, I knew it would be different, but I also knew I would feel abandoned if he wasn’t with me.
 
“I want this to be your decision, Dani,” he continued. “I don’t want you to be swayed by me. Consider the options. Take some time to think them over, and I’ll answer any questions you have.”
 
I was even beginning to enjoy his god-awful speeches. In my head, I was screaming for him to tell me what to do. In the real world, in this swiveling hotel room chair in Las Vegas, Nevada, I was silent and unmoving.
 
I pulled myself together. The tears were close, but I knew that crying on him yet again wasn’t going to solve any of this right now. “If I don’t go home, do I … well, do I have to stay out here? I mean, can I pick where I go next?”
 
“Within reason,” he said. “I only mentioned staying here out of convenience. If you want to go somewhere else, we can talk about that.”
 
Full of too much energy for our tiny hotel room, I began to pace. “I – I need direction,” I told him. “Somewhere to start. Pros and cons, something. It’s too big a country otherwise. If you give me ideas, I promise not to automatically go with one of them. Just give me something. Because I also – I also need to know where you fit into all of this. Just – just tell me again how I’m not doing this alone.”
 
Seth sat down on his bed and motioned for me to sit across from him. “Let’s break this down,” he said. “I still say a new place will be the most beneficial. You’ve lived in Cleveland all your life, right?”
 
I nodded.
 
“Is there anywhere else you’ve ever dreamed of living?” he asked. “Some place you’re drawn to?”
 
There was. Immediately convinced he would disapprove, I began biting my nails rather than answer. The reason for my hesitation must have shown on my face. “Don’t worry about what I’ll think – just say the first place that came to mind,” he said.
 
“New York City,” I told him.
 
Seth’s eyes widened, and he blew out a breath.
 
“You hate it,” I said. It wasn’t a question.
 
“It’s impractical,” he said. “That doesn’t mean we can’t make it work.”
 
“We?” I asked hopefully.
 
“I will help you get set up – new identity, the works,” he said. “I’m going to meet with an associate tonight and give her your documents. We should have something by tomorrow if she works at her usual speed. But once you’re settled, I don’t plan on sticking around.”
 
I narrowed my eyes at him. “But you mentioned you were planning on leaving Cleveland – where were you planning on going?”
 
“We’re not talking about me,” he said. He spoke quickly, almost too eager to move on. “Now, if you moved to one of the burroughs – ”
 
“What was your plan, Seth?” I asked.
 
He met my eyes with a new attempt at reassurance. “There’s no reason I have to leave Cleveland, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he said. “It’s more of an internal alarm. I get restless and it’s – it’s just time.”
 
“Were you going to say anything?” I asked. The world narrowed then until we were the only two people in existence. My words were barely audible, like a frightened child.
 
“To who? You mean you,” he said.
 
“To me – to anyone,” I replied. “Were you just going to disappear without a word?”
 
“Probably.”
 
My heart sank, and I felt the sting of tears. More than anything, I looked forward to the day I had fewer reasons to cry. “Oh.”
 
“It wouldn’t have been personal, Dani,” he said.
 
Unsure whether I wanted the answer to my next question, I nevertheless needed to hear it. “Will I – will I get any notice before you leave wherever we end up?” I asked.
 
“Yes – this will be different,” he said.
 
Forced to rely on his promise to never lie, I chose to believe him. “Where were you planning to go?” I asked.
 
“I was leaning towards Southern California,” he said with a chuckle.
 
Of course, I thought. We would have to have opposite sides of the country in mind. But California had never appealed to me at all, despite my love of movies. “You must have been kind of happy when we ended up out here then,” I said.
 
“You’re changing the subject,” he snapped.
 
“I want to stay with you,” I blurted out. “I know that sounds childish or silly or – I don’t even know what. I know it doesn’t make sense. But that’s what I want.”
 
Seth stood and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re saying that because you’re depending on me,” he said. “It won’t last.”
 
Maybe it was because his back was to me, but there was an unexpected sadness to his words. As if he was referring to more than our specific situation. He seemed to believe this was an indisputable fact about himself. That he was difficult – nay, impossible – to live with, and didn’t want to disappoint me.
 
Or I was overthinking again. I hoped I was. But this wasn’t a decision I could make while he hovered near me. I needed to be alone and process everything. Okay, processing everything was going to take longer than a single night. But I would make more progress without him.
 
I told him this, and he offered to go to the casino for a few hours to “win back some of the money Paul managed to lose.” He patted the case of money and grinned with a confidence I had come to expect from him. Even told me to get room service if I wanted it. I agreed knowing full well I was unlikely to bother.  
 
As he left, he seemed to genuinely understand how difficult this was going to be. There were no threats, no talk of whether he could trust me to stay in the room. He just gripped my shoulder in that way men do when hugging seems too intimate, and walked out.

------

This is one of the few early chapters that didn't see huge, substantive changes. The only change  I really wanted to make in this section of the book was impossible. Dani going to the very websites that Seth had forbidden and then getting chained to the bed felt more unrealistic this time. I didn't think she would defy him in such a way after what they had gone through. But it comes up too often, and in too many important ways - right up through the most recent book - to take it out. 

So I made Seth's threat more real. Why would he continue to bother with her at this point? He had to be ready to move on and leave her, and we had to feel that. Just as importantly, so did Dani.