Don't Kill The Messenger (14 page)

Rebecca looks amazed at the forthrightness of my suggestion. “Jesus, can we do that?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“But isn’t that … I don’t know … altering history or something?”

“You watch too many movies,” I tell her. “This is why I’m there, to alter history before it happens. Okay, I’ll grant you that if I ever go back in time and change something,
then
I’ve probably broken the rules. But barring that, I think we’re okay.” I see an uneasy look on her face. “What’s the matter? Not up for manhandling anybody today?”

“I just wasn’t expecting it. I can manhandle. Pinned
you
pretty good last night,” she reminds me.

“That you did.”

As morning turns to afternoon, I become aware of the blue Honda sedan. It has been in the lane behind me for several miles, staying about four car lengths back, and staying in whichever lane I choose. I can see a single figure in the car, most likely male, but can’t get a good look at him. I keep an eye on him without being too obvious about it; I don’t want to worry Rebecca. Under ordinary circumstances, I would think nothing of it, but with everything that’s happened in the past three days, nothing is ordinary. I need to lose him without causing a fuss.

“You getting hungry?” I ask Rebecca casually.

“Yeah, I could eat,” she replies. “Drive-thru?”

“No, we’re making good time. There are some restaurants at the next exit. Let’s pick one and sit down like civilized people. What do you say?”

“I have no objection to civilized.”

“Great.”

I get off at the next exit without signaling. A check of my rearview mirror makes my heart speed up. The blue Honda is getting off as well.
Man, it sucks being right sometimes.
I still don’t want to worry Rebecca. I’ll proceed as planned to a restaurant, and if there’s going to be a confrontation, it’ll be out in the open.

I turn right, and as expected, the Honda turns right after me. “Any preference about where we go?” I ask.

“You pick,” she says. “I picked yesterday.”

I continue for about four blocks, giving the Honda a chance to prove me wrong by stopping at a gas station. He doesn’t; he just keeps going, either unaware or utterly unconcerned that I’m on to him. I stifle any fear I’m feeling and choose a destination—a Denny’s on the left side of the road. I signal this time and get into the left-turn lane, discreetly watching the driver of the Honda do the same thing. It is to be an epic showdown at Denny’s; not the stuff of legend, but it’ll do.

I choose a parking spot near the building and brace myself mentally for what’s to come. At this point, I can’t keep Rebecca in the dark anymore. “We may have trouble,” I say to her quietly.

Worry overtakes her expression. “What? What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure yet. I’m going to take care of it. Whatever happens, I want you to stay safe. Come on, let’s go.”

She looks like she has a thousand questions, but there’s no time. We put the top up, get out of the car, and lock it. By now, the Honda is parked and its driver has gotten out as well. I don’t recognize him. White male, thirties or forties, dressed kind of business casual. I don’t see an obvious weapon on him, but all I can do is watch him out of the corner of my eye. It’s time to make a decision. The restaurant is crowded; there are families inside. Forcing this confrontation in there could be dangerous. It’ll have to be outside, but in view of the building, in view of the road. I’ll go almost as far as the door.
It’s time. It’s time. It’s time.

We step away from the Sebring and make our way to the building entrance. Rebecca is just in front of me. She gets to the door and opens it for me, but I hesitate. Our pursuer is just a few steps behind, and it’s time to let him catch up. It has to be quick, and it has to be now.

Everything happens in a flash, a blur of motion. The man is a single step behind me now, and I turn. With coordination I didn’t realize I have, I grab him by the lapels of his shirt and push him hard against the brick wall just to the left of the glass doors to the restaurant. He is taken by surprise and doesn’t have time to put up a fight. His body hits the wall, and I am instantly in his face, demanding, “What do you think you’re doing?”

His answer is amazingly calm, given the circumstances. “Minding my own business. You should try it.”

I don’t share his calm as I continue my interrogation, to the horror of Rebecca, who can only look on in stunned silence. “Cut the shit. I know you’ve been following us for miles. Why? What do you want?”

Now growing tired of this, he moves swiftly, grabbing my wrists in a flash and holding them tightly. He makes no move away from the wall, but I realize to my embarrassment and fear that he is now control of the altercation. “I want lunch,” he says, still with that aggravating aplomb. “You’re the ones in the convertible?”

“That’s right. You followed behind us, you got off where we got off, and now you’re here. I want answers!”

“I was using you as bear bait.”

In response to my confused look, he explains, “You were driving fifteen over the limit, so I figured you had a radar detector. I wanted to speed without getting caught, so I paced you. Then I felt like lunch, so I came here.”

“So … you’re not following us?”

“No.”

“So I just assaulted an innocent person?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

I have to ask. “How can you be so calm about it?”

“Buddy, I’m a bail bondsman. First thing they teach us is to keep your head when a crazy person comes at you.”

“Yeah, about that …”

“So I figured I’d hear what you had to say, and then rip your heart out if it needed ripping out.” He releases my wrists and I take a step back.

“Look, I’m really sorry. I …” I pull twenty dollars out of my pocket. “Let me at least buy you lunch.”

“Okay.” He takes the twenty from me. “I think you’ll understand if I ask you and your friend to eat somewhere else.”

“Of course. Again, I’m very sorry. I overreacted, and I’m very grateful to you for being so forgiving, and not … doing the heart-ripping thing you talked about.”

“Look, pal, I don’t know what trouble you’re in, and I don’t want to know. I’ve been in this business a lot of years, and I’ve seen some shit. You can imagine. I know that things aren’t always what they look like. Just don’t be too quick to jump on somebody because you think he’s your enemy. And don’t be too quick to trust somebody because you think he’s your friend. All right?”

“Thank you,” I say humbly.

“You folks be careful.” He looks over at Rebecca, giving her a look that seems to me to say
especially you.
She smiles apologetically at him as he enters the restaurant. At this point, I am aware that patrons inside the Denny’s are looking at me. It’s time to leave here. I get back in the car, and Rebecca follows silently. Without a word spoken, I start the car and get us out of this town, back onto the interstate, heading north.

Five full minutes pass with both of us staring ahead at the road, neither able to speak a word to start the very necessary conversation. Finally, she finds the words and the courage, and a question emerges, quietly and without accusation. “What happened back there?”

I am ashamed, so ashamed I can barely speak of it. Though she saw every moment of it, I still want to hide it from her, pretend it didn’t happen, anything. “I made a mistake,” is all I can say.

“You thought he was following us?” she asks. I nod. “So why did you want to confront him like that? He could have killed you.”

“I know that now. But back there, all I could think was that he could have killed
you,
and I couldn’t let him do that.”

“You were ready to risk your own life for mine? Why? Why would you do that?”

“I don’t … Please don’t make me answer that, because I don’t have an answer. I just knew I had to protect you.”

“Tristan, I don’t want you getting hurt over me. Please promise me you won’t take risks like that again.”

I look at her face, see the insistence there. I can barely make eye contact. “I don’t know if I can promise you that.”

“Well, you have to. Because if you don’t, I’m gonna make you pull over right here, and I’ll hitchhike the rest of the way to Ohio.
Promise me.
”

“I promise,” I say quietly.

In the minutes that pass, we both try to regain our calm, find our composure. “I’m still hungry,” she says. “If you want to get off at the next exit, we can get that lunch we both wanted.”

In northern Virginia, several miles further up the road, we get off the highway, this time without accompaniment, and find a sit-down family restaurant where we can have some lunch. By now, the initial shame of the recent altercation is starting to ebb in me, slowly earning a place in my memory as something I’ll regret for the rest of my life. The thing that will stay with me the most is the man’s unwavering calm. He stood there patiently while a stranger accosted him in front of Denny’s. Sure, he’s a bail bondsman, so I’m certain this isn’t the first time he’s been threatened. And I imagine on the sliding scale between genuine threat and complete pussy, I fall closer to the latter than the former.

But Rebecca was right—he could have killed me, and it would have been self-defense. I got so caught up in the self-imposed role of being white knight and protector that I completely disregarded my own safety, which in turn would have jeopardized hers too. But what else could I do? If this man had been a legitimate threat to us, there’s no telling what he might have done.

I have to ask myself at this point, am I being this protective of her because of the message I was tasked to deliver to her or am I being this protective of her because I’m falling for her? I have no good answer; in fact, I’m not even convinced that I
am
falling for her. What she said earlier about my sexual history was right on the money. For me, sex always followed love. But not last night; I was willing to put aside my principles and just
feel.
Still, the feelings were so strong and the bond that emerged between us was so powerful that it makes me wonder if I really am falling for her.

And if I am, what then? Barring anything earth-shaking today, we will be in Ohio tomorrow, and I’ll have to drop her off, let her get back to school. Much as I would like to stay with her, I don’t suspect the assignments will stop, so I’ll be on the road again. Still, I can’t regret the intimacy we shared last night. It was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.

It is at this moment that I leave my own thoughts and become aware of my surroundings, realizing to my dismay that I have been sitting at the table with a fork in my hand and my mouth slightly ajar for several minutes while I had this internal argument with myself. Rebecca, ever the model of tact and discretion, is doing the wave-your-hand-in-front-of-the-eyes-of-the-catatonic-person-to-see-if-anyone’s-home gesture. A few nearby diners are watching in quiet amusement.

She smiles when at last I return. “Welcome back,” she says pleasantly. “You … uh … checked out for a little bit there. I thought you might be getting another message from the spirit world, but you weren’t writhing in pain, so I figured something else might be up. Care to share?”

“Sorry. Just got a little lost in my own thoughts.”

“A little? That’s an understatement. I was this close to writing something funny on your forehead.” Her thumb and forefinger held very close together indicate just how imminent my defacement was.

“I thank you for your forbearance.”

She downs a breaded mushroom. “What are friends for? So what’s got you so deep in thought?”

I look at my plate.
Chicken pot pie? Did I order this?
“The whole Denny’s thing. It’s got me thinking too much. I’ve been in potentially dangerous situations before, since this whole thing started two years ago, but then it was just me. With you along, it changes everything.”

“I’m sorry,” she says. “After tomorrow, that won’t be a problem.”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m glad you’re with me. I just can’t take chances like I have been.”

“Would it help if I told you I’m grateful to you for protecting me?”

“I suppose.”

“Would it also help if I told you I’m a big girl and I’ve done a pretty good job of taking care of myself so far?”

“I suppose.”

She reaches out and touches my hand, inviting me to look her in the eyes. “Tristan, it’s okay. We’ll get through this. We’ll help that family in Wyandotte, and then we’ll get me to Ohio.”

“Any idea what happens then?” I ask her. “Where will you stay?”

“With my father. He’s closer to the campus. And my mother and I haven’t gotten along well for years.”

“How will your father feel about you coming home again?”

“I don’t know. It’s been a long time. Once I get enrolled again, I’ll live on campus, so I won’t see much of him. I kind of think that’s the way he’d want it.”

“Am I dropping you off in the middle of a bad situation?”

She hesitates before answering. “I really don’t know. Things between me and my father have never been what you would call warm.”

“You’re not going to be in any danger there, are you?”

“No no, it’s nothing like that. I’m still his little girl. It’s just going to take some re-adjustment for a while.”

After lunch, we get right back in the car, put the top down again, and make the commitment to get to our destination. We are still almost five hours away and we have a little more than seven hours before the Harbisons’ house, hopes, and dreams are all going to come crashing down.

We’re able to continue at fifteen miles per hour over the speed limit. With little need for stops or breaks, we make good time, passing through Virginia into West Virginia, then into Pennsylvania. Conversation trickles down to a minimum, as we allow the radio to do the talking for us. I can’t be sure what she’s thinking about, although a few obvious topics come to mind. As for me, I’m doing what I usually do before an assignment: rehearsing what I’m going to say and how I’m going to say it.
Dear strangers, you don’t know me, but I’m here to turn your world upside down. I know this sounds crazy, but if you don’t do exactly what I’m about to tell you, horrible horrible things are going to happen. They’re not my fault, so please don’t kill the messenger, and if it’s not too much trouble, please don’t ask me how I know all of this, because I don’t have a good answer, even after all this time.