Backed Redux … Chapter 3

​Seth parked outside a nondescript building in the flats area of downtown Cleveland. Located near the Cuyahoga River, the area had once held factories and warehouses. Now, most of those spaces had been converted to trendy restaurants and bars.
           
Also a dungeon and swingers club. Not that most people saw that, of course. But I knew it was just a couple of blocks away from where we sat. For a second, I actually missed the place. But I didn’t have time to linger on that thought for long.
           
“I’m going to go in here and talk to some people I know,” Seth said as he turned off the car. “But I need to ask you some questions first.”
           
I rattled the cuffs that remained hidden in my sweatshirt. “Nothing like a captive audience, right?” I asked.
           
Seth breathed out slowly through his nose. “Did Paul ever say anything to you about where he might go in this type of situation?” he asked.
           
I swiveled my head to face him. “We didn’t exactly have long, in-depth conversations, Seth.”
           
“You had at least one,” he said.
           
“No, I don’t know where he might be,” I replied.
           
“Any off-the-cuff remarks like ‘if I won the lottery, I’d finally buy that boat I always wanted and sail to the Bahamas’ or ‘I’d gamble it all away in Atlantic City’? That sort of thing?” he asked.
           
“No. Honestly, we never talked like that,” I said. “It was all very vague. Like, the way he talked, I felt stupid for having questions, so I ended up not asking any of them.”
           
“Of course you didn’t,” he muttered. “Just tell me what the fuck you were doing with him in the first place. I’m dying to know.”
           
I blinked at him. “I already told you – I ran into him. It wasn’t planned – ”
           
Seth grabbed the scruff of my neck and pushed my head down until my forehead was about an inch away from the dash. His grip wasn’t tight, but it was firm enough to hold me in place. “This wasn’t the first time you two had gotten together though, was it?” he asked. “How many times had you ‘run into him’ before this?”
           
“I don’t know,” I said and began to cry. “A few. What difference could that possibly make? You’re not in charge of me.”
           
His grip tightened. “Actually, right now, I am absolutely in charge of you,” he said. “And it’s been my experience that this dash is quite effective against even hard heads like you. So you need to start talking.”
           
“Then do it,” I said, swallowing hard. “If you’re going to kill me, just make it quick. Otherwise, I can’t live like this. I can’t live in constant fear.”
           
“Then fucking cooperate with me!” he bellowed as he let me up. “Knock off the smartass comments and work with me! If you don’t think you can do that, it’s back to your apartment with you.”
           
Our matching, dry sense of humor had been the bonding agent in our friendship. And sarcasm had always been my defense mechanism. But that was apparently over. “I’m trying,” I said. “I don’t know what else to say.”
 
He took another deep breath, calming himself before continuing. “Do you know what he’d been arrested for?”
           
“No,” I admitted.
           
“Armed robbery and assault with a deadly weapon,” Seth replied. “What possible business could you have with such a criminal?”
           
“I thought he was nice,” I replied and twisted my neck until it cracked twice. “Besides, aren’t you a criminal too? Seriously, what makes you better than either of us?”
           
Seth shook his head and opened his car door. “I am saving you from yourself, and you don’t even realize it.”
           
“Oh yeah? Well I don’t need a hired thug telling me what to do!” I yelled after him. He slammed the door shut and stalked away. It had been a cheap shot, but I’d needed to say something.
           
“Fuck you,” I muttered once he’d disappeared into the building. “I’ll rescue my own damn self. Just get me a blaster, and I’ll kill more stormtroopers than you too.”
           
Okay, that last part probably wasn’t true. I wouldn’t have known what to do with a gun and hated everything about them. But I’d wanted to be Princess Leia since I was a child.
           
I laid my head back and closed my eyes. This was not a trendy area of the Flats. It was rundown and shabby and smelled badly of the nearby river. I wouldn’t miss it and could work up no nostalgia regarding it. I settled in for what I assumed would be a long wait.
 
I thought about what Seth might be doing inside and who else might be there. Was he breaking kneecaps? Threatening lives? I imagined him running out all bloody after some sort of brawl he had just escaped. A hundred action movie scenes swirled around in my head. I alternately cast him in roles usually reserved for Bruce Willis or Jason Statham. The possibilities seemed endless.
           
But less than 10 minutes later, Seth returned looking very dour but otherwise unchanged. “Goddammit,” he muttered as he put the key in the ignition.
           
“What happened?” I asked.
           
“Not nearly enough,” he said.
           
“What happens now?”
           
“We try his house, and you pray that it’s a more effective trip,” he said.
           
I wanted to help. After all, that’s why he had brought me, right? “Is there anything I can – what do I – ”
           
“You can stop talking,” he ordered.
           
He needed to make up his mind, I thought. For once, I was smart enough to not voice my every thought. We rode in silence instead. He didn’t even turn on the radio, and I didn’t venture to suggest that either.  
 
We stopped on a residential street lined with older, sizeable brick homes with small yards. It looked like a neighborhood where people with families and dogs lived side by side with artists and yuppies.
 
“This is where you finally come in, babe,” Seth said as he dug into his jeans pocket.
 
“Okay,” I nodded and glanced at the house we had parked in front of. “Is this where he lives?”
 
Seth nodded ahead of us as he unlocked the cuffs around my wrists. “It’s the blue one up there,” he said. I spotted it through some trees.
 
When he exited the car, I followed suit and met him at the trunk where he searched his duffle bag until he founded what he needed. “I’m sure it goes without saying, but if you try anything – ” He looked up and met my eyes. “Screaming, running, trying to signal someone – you’ll regret it. Is that clear?”
 
“Of course,” I nodded. 
 
“You want to know what I do, well this is part of it,” he explained as we walked. His boot heels clacked on the cement with authority, and I rushed to keep up. “First, look for signs that he might be home. There are no cars nearby, which is our first clue.”
 
We reached the house and he continued confidently toward the back door. Meanwhile, I glanced around to check for anyone who might have seen us. There was no one around. By the time I had finished, he had made it to the garage.
 
“Nothing in there either,” he continued.
 
At the back door, he listened for a moment before kneeling down and working a metal stick in the lock. “Is that how you got in my place?” I asked.
 
“Sure is,” he said as the door popped open. Again, he paused and listened while gently closing the door behind us.
 
We had entered a basic kitchen. A small, formica table sat off to our left with four chairs. Nothing was on top. To our right were the appliances and cabinets.
 
“Do you feel that? The stillness?” Seth asked. “It’s more than quiet – a house has a different feel when it’s occupied. Doesn’t mean he isn’t hiding somewhere of course.”
 
I knew exactly what he was talking about, but it surprised me to hear him talk in such a way. About energy and whatnot. He’d never struck me as spiritual. “Right,” I said.
 
“I’m going to check the upstairs,” he continued, then pointed toward a doorway and stairs going down to our left. “You check the basement. Same warning as before – ”
 
“I’ll be good,” I said.
 
Seth continued to eye me suspiciously. Neither of us seemed to know what to make of the other. “What’s wrong?” he asked.  
 
“Nothing. I don’t know – everything,” I said and felt the tears threaten a return. “Never mind. I just – does this mean we have a truce?”
 
“We do as long as you do what I tell you to,” he said and disappeared down the hall toward the second floor.
 
It was as far apart as we’d been yet, and it occurred to me how easy it would be to simply slip out the back door, down the street, and then … where? How? Nope, not worth it. Instead, I moved down the stairs as if on auto-pilot, compelled by sheer self-preservation.
 
The stairs opened up onto something that looked like it had been intended as a rec room. In the 1970s. There was dark wood paneling, a brown couch with a long, low table in front of it, and a television on a rolling cart that had a combination DVD/VCR below it, and several DVDs.
 
That was the center of the room. Behind the television was a pinball machine on the left and then a large, empty space. As if Paul had intended to install a billiard table or dart board and never gotten around to it. Behind the couch were several clear plastic tubs with red and green lids. Only some of them looked to be Christmas decorations. More likely, there had been an after-holiday sale.
 
“Jesus, where the fuck do I start?” I muttered. Some papers strewn across the coffee table caught my eye, and I decided to start there. The top sheet had a list of internet passwords and the one next to it held … my phone number. In my own writing. I’d given it to him the last time I’d seen him.
 
Son of a bitch.
 
But if he had bothered with passwords, that meant there was a computer somewhere. I searched the immediate area, even between the cushions of the couch in case it was a laptop, but without success.
 
And then I saw it. In the corner, next to the plastic tubs was an old relic of a desktop. The monitor was huge and the base still had slots for floppy discs. I shook my head. No way that thing had internet access. Why have it at all?
           
Nothing nearby held any promise, and I turned my attention back to the coffee table and then the tv stand. Nada. Zilch.
 
Finally, I glanced through the tubs, knowing I wouldn’t find anything, just in case. But it was mostly Christmas bulbs, some of them antiques. “There’s a guilt trip coming from someone for leaving these behind,” I muttered.
 
In another were Easter and Halloween decorations. Some of those looked old as well, and I suddenly wondered if Paul had kids. It seemed the best explanation for a grown man to decorate so thoroughly for so many holidays.
 
Seth’s footsteps sounded above, and my heart raced as I hoped he had been more successful than I had. I was closing up one of the tubs when he came walking down the stairs. No, striding down the stairs. He never merely walked.
 
“Tell me you found something,” he said hopefully.
 
“These are mostly holiday decorations,” I said indicating the plastic tubs. “There are some passwords over on the table, but I don’t know to what, and I doubt that ancient computer over there is going to be any help.”
 
Seth’s eyes widened when he spotted the computer, “Wow – an Athlon. That was top of the line back in the day. Wonder who he stole that from.” He sat down and fumbled around looking for wires.
 
“And you know that?” I asked incredulously. “I’ve never even heard of them.”
 
“Yes, I know that,” he said. “But it’s not connected to anything, even the wall. So I’m guessing – ” He popped the front off the base; it was hollow. “As I suspected, nothing though I’m sure he’s used this to hide something illegal.”  
 
I continued staring at the alien who had just appeared before me. To me, Seth was all tough guy and muscle, not computer geek. “I thought you hated computers and all these ‘new-fangled gadgets,’” I said, complete with air quotes.
 
“Not everything is what it seems, grasshopper,” he said with a wink.
 
“Who ARE you??” I asked.
 
“Never mind that,” he said. “There was nothing upstairs either. He obviously planned to be gone a long time. There are a lot of clothes and toiletries missing.”
 
“So now what?” I asked.
 
He said nothing, just tossed aside the top tub of decorations. It landed with a crash of broken glass, and I was thankful the top was secure enough to remain in place. As he started for one below it, I huddled against the far wall in case he took his anger out on me.
 
And ran straight into a cardboard box I hadn’t noticed before.
 
“Where do you think you’re going?” Seth demanded.
 
“You’re scaring me,” I said, my voice shaking. “And I’ve looked everywhere down here. I don’t know what else I can do!”
 
He strode toward me and started yelling. “I want you to turn back time! I want you to not be so fucking stupid!” He took a deep breath and though he appeared calmer, his words were no less chilling. “Since neither of those are an option, I will make you pay for this yourself, one way or another, if we can’t find him. Is that clear?”
 
I nodded wordlessly and realized the box had popped open. Inside was old billing statements. The top one had Paul’s social security number. I was agape for several seconds before I held it out to Seth.
 
“Would his social help?” I asked.
 
“No, we have that,” he replied. “Didn’t bring up anything.”
 
Tossing the bill back in the box, I continued rifling through the stack until a set of credit card bills appeared, the most recent from only a couple of months prior. “Any chance this is still good?” I asked. “Or that you know what to do with it?”
 
In theory, I knew a person could be tracked by credit cards. In reality, I had no idea how it worked.
 
Seth snatched the bill from me. “Let’s find out,” he said and drew his phone out of his pocket.  
 
“Who are you calling now?” I asked quietly. He just glared at me until someone picked up on the other end. He gave whoever it was the numbers and waited, his gaze still fixed on me.
 
“Son of a bitch,” he said after a couple of minutes. Pulling a pen from somewhere in his coat, he scribbled down whatever he was being told. “I’ve got it … no, I know where it is … I owe you … we’ll work out terms later … okay, keep in touch.”
 
He snapped his phone shut and spread his arms. “Seems our friend took on a new identity but didn’t bother with new credit cards.”
 
“What does that mean for us?” I asked.
 
Seth turned to head up the stairs. “Means we’re going to Vegas, babe.”
 
I rushed after him. “How are we getting there?” I asked.
 
Once we were in the kitchen again, he turned and looked at me as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. “We’re driving,” he said. “I always drive.”
 
Well, that explained less than nothing, I thought.
 
“Do you mind if I raid the cabinets first?” I asked. “My stomach finally woke up.”
 
“Make it quick,” he said.
 
The refrigerator had nothing but some rapidly aging condiments and some bottled water. I grabbed some of the bottles and checked the freezer. Vegetables, a pizza, and a box of Girl Scout Cookies. I grabbed the cookies. One of the cabinets had a box of cereal and I nabbed that last.
 
Seth gathered the waters, made sure the door was locked behind us, and we made our way back to his car. I thought we looked like the pettiest thieves ever, and was grateful when I didn’t see anyone around.
 
Keeping one bottle of water for the front, Seth tossed the rest in back. The cereal joined them, but I kept the cookies with me.
 
“We can get fast food once we’re on the road,” he said as he started the car and pulled away from the curb.
 
“Okay,” I said. “Can I ask what you wrote down in there?”
 
“I got his flight number and what hotel he’s booked in,” Seth replied and glanced up at the sky. “His plane doesn’t take off for a few hours, he has a long layover in Chicago, and a storm is coming in. I’m hoping to get a jump on him. It won’t be that bad if we take turns driving.”
 
“Oh, cool.” Most boring response ever, but what else was there. “So, why don’t we just get our own tickets for the same flight and intercept him at the airport?”
 
“First of all, you don’t have any money,” he said. “Second, I’m not buying any last-minute flights that no one is going to use. And finally, I don’t want anyone tracing either of us to Vegas. Let him get there, think he’s gotten away with it. He’ll get complacent and make our jobs that much easier.”
 
“Okay,” I shrugged.
 
He glanced over with a cheesy grin. “Is that all you have to say?”
 
All of this seemed so natural for him, and I still didn’t understand how he could take it all in stride the way he was. “I don’t know – this is all new for me,” I said. “I suppose you’d prefer a ‘yes, Sir’ huh?”
 
Seth feigned mulling it over by wagging his head. “I could get used to that.”
 
“Don’t count on it,” I told him.
 
We stopped at a light near the highway, and he reached into his back pocket where he’d put the handcuffs earlier. For a moment, he simply held them.
 
“What are you doing?” I asked.
 
“Debating,” he replied. “I can’t take any chances, not while I’m driving.”
 
“So I didn’t prove anything to you in there?” I yelled. “It was all for nothing?”
 
“It’s not only about you running,” he said as the light turned green. He tucked the cuffs under his leg. “It’s about whether you’re going to try something else and minimizing my risk.”
 
“What do you want me to do?” I asked. “What more can I do to prove myself?”
 
He glanced over with an eyebrow arched. “Put yourself in my position,” he said and pointed toward the backseat. “You got one thing right. One and a half if you count stocking up on provisions back there. That’s not a pattern.”
 
“You haven’t given me a chance to establish a pattern,” I said. “If I was going to try anything, it would have been when we were separated before!”
 
“I don’t buy that for a minute,” he retorted. “I think you’re biding your time and acting in your own self interest until you see the right opportunity.”
 
“That’s – that’s not true,” I said.
 
“No?” he replied. “I know people, and I especially know criminals.”
 
Tears stung my eyes, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop them. “I – I am not one of your criminals,” I said. “Is that – is that what you really think of me?”
 
“Let me guess,” he continued. “Right now, you’re telling yourself that this is was just a one-off, that this isn’t who you really are. Well, I think it is. I think you’ve been waiting for the right opportunity for a long time, and finally found it.”
 
“Just playing a long game? Seriously?” I said. “You really think I’m that devious?”
 
“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” he said and pulled into a fast food restaurant. “What do you want?
 
“I don’t care.” I crossed my arms and stared out the window.
 
“You need to eat something,” he replied. “I won’t let you starve yourself.”
 
“I wasn’t trying to,” I said. “I just literally don’t care.”
 
“Okay, so one kids meal with extra tomatoes, right?” he asked. There were two cars ahead of us in the line.
 
I looked over at him, and he actually winked at me. “What are you talking about?”
 
“I’m talking about you acting like a child again,” he said. “Plus, I know you hate tomatoes. I was playing with you, trying to lighten things up.”
 
After calling me a criminal? That was rich, I thought. We’d been together a total of 12 hours, if you counted the previous evening and he hadn’t given me an inch yet. Even at Paul’s house, he had been suspicious.
 
We got through the line and he handed me the bag. He’d gotten two of the exact same thing, so I handed him his burger, then picked at my fries.
 
“Are you mad because I’m right or mad because I’m wrong?” he asked once we were on the highway. He was already halfway through his meal while I had managed to eat only a few fries.
           
And while there had been some truth to his words, I didn’t know how to prove that they hadn’t been entirely accurate. Sure, I had considered a couple of escape plans – and dismissed them just as quickly – but not because I was waiting for a better opportunity. I had stayed because I wanted to see this through.
                       
“Maybe fuck you,” I said.
           
“Fine. Have it your way,” he said. “Wouldn’t be the first time I drove someone who didn’t want to talk to me.”
           
“Ever wonder why that is?” I snapped.
           
“I know exactly why that is,” he retorted. “I make people take responsibility. For their debts, their promises, and their crimes. It’s not a real popular profession.”
           
My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn’t yet eaten real food. I reached for my own burger. “You know, I’m trying to trust you too here, and it’s not any easier,” I said. “Have you stopped to consider that?”
           
Seth glanced over at me and then back at the road. Then he glanced at me again, even more confused than the first time. “Are you serious?” he asked. “Because my cards are all on the table here, doll. My only motivation is to get my goddamn money back and secure your help with that. That’s it’s. No hidden agenda, nothing up my sleeve.”
           
“And what happens when I’m no longer useful to you, huh?” I asked.
           
“I told you. I can help you get set up somewhere, start over, but only if you work with me,” he said. “What that looks like and how that plays out is entirely up to you.”
           
“Right,” I muttered and returned to my burger.
           
We continued for several minutes in silence, until Seth finished eating and I was nearly finished myself. He tossed his wrapper in the bag and looked over at me. “When you’re done there, can I trust you not to try anything?” he asked.
           
“Does it even matter what I say at this point?” I replied.
           
“Promise me, and I’ll take you at your word,” he said.
           
“I promise,” I told him.
           
He took the cuffs from under his thigh and tucked them into his back jeans pocket.