Chapter 1
I glance around myself nervously, anxious over being out in public and worried that someone is watching me. I feel scrutinized, my entire body one tense ball of stress.
Even though it is almost May, the weather is a little on the warmer side than what is average for Chicago, meaning I should still be wrapped up in warm clothes. However, I’m sweating badly and feel overheated as adrenaline pumps through my body.
I have never done anything illegal in my life. I have never even returned a library book late. Okay, I also don’t think I ever borrowed a library book, but still! No criminal record, nothing in my life needing to be covered up. I not only have a clean record, but an equally clean conscience.
Until now.
Because, now I am contemplating stealing a car as a means of escaping the hell I find myself trapped in. And given my lack of criminal history, how exactly am I supposed to steal a car? I doubt there is a book labeled Stealing Cars for Dummies. Even if there is a book that helpful, I certainly can’t afford it in my current situation.
But, I’m stuck. In my attempt to remain hidden and safe, I can’t keep travelling everywhere on foot, constantly dodging into alleyways and crouching behind parked cars. Any sort of public transportation I have attempted has been a bust. I have been to several different bus and train stations, only to find familiar faces searching for me. Not to mention all the cameras they have in those places. It is way too easy to track me. Hoping I can simply be lucky enough not to be seen is a sure way to get caught.
I can’t go home. Ideally, I would have some friends my ex-boyfriend Brian doesn’t know about, or long-lost family with a safe house that is off the grid, but I don’t.
In fact, I have no one I can rely on. And that is entirely my own fault.
I have been too wrapped up in myself to even consider branching out enough to make more connections. What twenty-four-year-old resides in one of the most populated cities in America yet has no close friends? Me, apparently. The few I have, who aren’t just friends through Brian, I only speak to via chatrooms and email. I should probably have some sort of physical friendship to show for in my life that wasn’t gained purely because of my boyfriend.
Regrettably, the only thing likely considered normal for a twenty-four-year-old, which I did have up until recently, was a boyfriend. Three days ago, though, I discovered that was anything but normal.
So, now I’m a twenty-four-year-old woman on the run, who has no home she can go to and no friends or family to rely on.
What the hell am I supposed to do? I’m not sure I am skillful enough to survive on the run, and I certainly am not capable to handle the information I found out about Brian. But I have to at least try. Therefore, I need transportation that isn’t traceable to me.
I glance around the quiet parking lot in front of me. There are many parked cars. Plus, the immediate area and the main street leading past isn’t busy. There is only one reason people are parking here at seven-thirty on a Wednesday night—the strip joint open across the road.
From where I am crouching, I can see anyone approaching. The too small parking lot on the side of that building is full. All the other buildings, plus this side of the street are closed for the night. Therefore, this is an ideal place to steal a car. And chances are, the car I steal will have an owner who will be occupied for a while, giving me more time to get away.
It isn’t like I haven’t tried to avoid this. Public transport is out, I don’t have enough money for a taxi, and my own vehicle is stranded at a police station that I can’t go back to since they definitely have cameras there, and no doubt it is being monitored for any sign of me. I did attempt to hitchhike. The vehicle that stopped happened to be a rundown looking van. The creepy guy who eyed me up and down several times before smirking and offering me a lift set off several internal alarm bells. Safe to say, I declined his offer.
So, here I am, in a deserted parking lot, looking at a bunch of cars, and wondering if I can possibly steal one.
Morally, I can get past it, purely because of my dire situation. Desperate times call for desperate measures. If I ever get out of my shitty situation, I will write the person an apology note and a check for whatever inconvenience I have caused them.
My issue now is that I have no idea how to break into a car. Where do I even begin?
In the back of my mind, I suddenly hear a soft bass pumping through me, driving up my adrenaline. It matches my heartbeat. I can’t tell if it is helping or hindering my ability to think.
If I can’t do this delicately, then maybe I need to just bite the bullet and smash a window. There most likely isn’t going to be an alarm on the older cars. Besides, I’m in a less than stellar neighborhood. I bet car alarms are a dime a dozen in Englewood. Especially if I wait for the sun to set, which should be less than an hour away now.
Then the music in my mind changes to something softer. I don’t understand why that is. In fact, why the hell do I have music playing in my mind at all? Sure, I love music, but I have never had unfamiliar tunes stuck in my head before.
I’m embarrassingly slow to notice that the music is real, and not a figment of my crazy brain.
I guess I’m not yet losing my mind, just brain cells.
Not sure if this is a good idea or not, but drawn to the music, I make my way slowly through the parked cars, keeping low to the ground and checking the entrance of the strip joint every few steps to make sure no one is approaching.
By the time I reach the car where the music is coming from, no one has exited the building and the stillness in the air helps me believe I’m alone out here.
The car has a window open, and a quick glance inside reveals it’s empty. What kind of idiot would leave their keys in the ignition with their music playing?
I have been trying to psych myself up to steal a car in this area for at least half an hour. This car was already here when I arrived, so where is the owner? Did they just forget to do something as normal as take their keys out of the ignition?
It’s like they want it to be stolen.
Could this be a trap? Some sort of awful TV show where you are caught committing a crime on camera?
Certainly no one is stupid enough to leave their car like this, not in this neighborhood, or anywhere in this day and age. Am I just seriously this lucky? Does the world feel a little bad about the shit hand it just dealt me, so it is trying to make it up to me by gift wrapping this car for me?
I would be an idiot to walk away from this, right?
In fact, I might be doing this person a favor by taking their car. They can learn a seriously valuable lesson from this. Don’t leave your keys in the car and your window down!
The music changes again, this one to something grungy.
I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. It is time to make a decision.
My hand shakes as I reach for the door handle, darting a glance inside the car and finding it a little messy.
There is a large tartan rug bunched up on the passenger seat, hanging halfway onto the floor, a few books and pencils on the backseat, and a backpack on the driver’s seat, with a half-eaten sandwich sitting on top. Not exactly what I expected to see inside a nice car. Then again, if the owner is on the younger side, then perhaps that might explain why they are stupid enough to leave their car unlocked, with keys inside, and an open window alerting passersby to their idiocy.
I touch the door handle and take a deep breath, trying to calm myself as I glance over the hood of the car and see a man approaching. He looks like one of Brian’s friends. I could be wrong, since I only see him for a few milliseconds before I duck down.
Fear is a powerful motivator that propels me into action.
I rip open the door, throw the bag and the sandwich haphazardly onto the backseat, and plonk myself down heavily, causing the car to rock. I turn the keys to get the engine running and, within seconds of opening the door, I am exiting the parking lot and making my way out onto the road, heading in the opposite direction of the man who looks too familiar.
I have met a lot of Brian’s friends over the years, and not once did I feel the need to fear any of them. But now I know better.
For one brief moment, I breathe in the cooling air that hits my face and feel a second of relief.
I did it. I not only got away from Brian’s man, but I’m out on the open road. My chances of escape just improved.
Then, the next second, I realize that I fucked up.
Massively fucked up.
Epically fucked up.
Have I ever done something so stupid before in my life? Well, besides deciding that dating Brian was a good idea, that is.
Because, I haven’t just stolen a car, but I have also kidnapped a child!
Under all that tartan, lying next to me, is a young boy!
He pushes his arms out of the blanket, surprising the hell out of me and almost forcing me to swerve off the road. I’m even more shocked to see him staring at me in curiosity instead of fear.
I open my mouth a few times to speak, but no words come out. I want to assure him that he’s safe, that I’m not a bad person, and this is all just a crazy misunderstanding. Unfortunately, my voice has momentarily deserted me. All I can manage to do is turn the music down low. Music that I am slow to realize this kid must have turned on.
He was obviously already in the car when I walked into that parking lot. He likely decided he wanted to listen to the radio, which is why I never heard the music earlier.
How could I be so stupid?
Finally, he nods, seemingly coming to some sort of conclusion about me.
“You are in so much trouble,” the kid tells me on a smile, clearly not at all concerned that I kidnapped him.
He pulls himself up into the seat better, his butt no longer hanging off the edge as he must have been seated in a position only a child could find comfortable. Then he shoves down the blanket that was covering him completely until it is by his feet.
“What are you doing in here?” I finally manage to squeak out.
“Me? What are you doing in here? And where are you taking me?” He crosses his arms over his small chest.
I again glance over his small stature, his messy dark curls, and innocent baby blue eyes. “I asked you first!” I cry, trying to collect my scattering thoughts.
What am I supposed to do? I can’t kidnap a kid! Stealing a car is one thing; taking a child is a line I cannot ever cross.
“Well, I was supposed to be doing my homework,” he answers, shrugging one shoulder. “I decided I was due for a nap.”
“Do you know how dangerous that is? You can’t leave your windows down and sit in a car alone in that neighborhood!”
“Why?” He sounds genuinely confused by this.
“Why? Why?” Okay, I sound hysterical now. Time to tone it down. “I think where we are right now is proof of why that is a terrible thing.”
“Where we are? You mean, because we’re near Hamilton Park?”
“What?” I wonder over his reference before shaking my head. I need to get back on track. “No! I mean, because I am a stranger and I’m alone in a car with you.”
“Oh. Are you here to hurt me, then?” Again, he doesn’t sound scared. I wonder if there is something wrong with him. What child wouldn’t be terrified right now? Does this happen often enough that he considers it normal?
“No! Of course I’m not going to hurt you!” I assure him as I try to stop myself from pulling my hair out. What am I going to do now?
With my window down, the air is cold, but I’m afraid to wind it back up since I’m pretty sure the only thing keeping me from panicking completely is the air pummeling my face. It feels a little like I’m being slapped. Without it, I fear I will faint, freak out, or just stop breathing altogether.
Also, I haven’t bathed in several days. I’m certain I don’t smell well.
“Then, what is the big deal? I mean, you’re pretty small. I could fight you.” He says this cockily.
My mouth drops open. “I’m sorry, but you’re a child. A child could not beat me.” I sound indignant and know part of the reason is because I have seen kids these days. Some of them are built like tanks, while I am scrawny and weigh less than a hundred and twenty pounds. I would be no match for those kids.
This kid, though, looks like he is short and definitely scraggy. I’m sure I could take him. I think …
Oh shit, what if even this small child could beat me? What hope do I have against Brian if I can’t even make this kid muster up any sort of fear when I have accidentally kidnapped him?
“I definitely could beat you in a fight. You want to see?” he offers coolly, maybe even sounding a little excited. I guess he’s confident. No one is excited if they think they are going to lose.
“No!” I shout as my mind scrambles again.
I consider what my options are. They do not look good.
I have to turn back. I have to take this kid back … Back where? What was he doing alone in a car at night, anyway?
“Whatever,” he mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. “So, what do you want with Zander’s car, anyway?”
“Who is Zander?” I ask as my mind races. I can’t take him back to an empty parking lot. He wasn’t under supervision there, and a child needs someone looking out for them, especially close to nighttime in a not-so-safe neighborhood.
“He’s my brother.”
“And how old is your brother?” I think of an equally scrawny boy, older than this kid by only a couple years. I’m certain, having zero knowledge or care about cars, that this one is a nice car. How did his brother afford it?
“He’s old.” He pulls a face while I consider what age this kid thinks is old. When I wave my hand for him to continue, he rolls his eyes at me. “He’s twenty-eight.” He pulls a face like he can’t even believe people can be so old.
This surprises me, since I expected much younger, and it annoys me because twenty-eight is not old.
“How old are you?” I enquire, already guessing his age to be around ten.
“Twelve, almost thirteen!” He sounds a little proud about that.
I suppose he’s likely small for his age, or I’m just way off since I don’t spend any time around children.
“You have a big family?”
“No.” He looks down at his lap now, his once calm features twisting as a cloud settles over him.
Okay, not sure what that is about.
“And this Zander just left you alone for you to do your homework?” I ask to confirm.
Where are his parents? Do they know of their sons’ whereabouts?
“Yeah, he usually does that. I don’t like to go in there.” The dark cloud remains over him, and his eyes almost look watery.
Is he going to cry? Shit, what can of worms have I opened now?
Can I really blame him? The only place open in that area is the strip joint, which is no place for a twelve-year-old. Besides, I’m positive it would be illegal to allow him entry.
“Well, I think your brother sounds like a right tool-bag,” I say, unwilling to use a swear word in front of him. Tool-bag is appropriate language for a twelve-year-old, right?
The kid smiles at me, his hunched shoulders straightening a little. “Yeah, he is a tool-bag. A big, giant, pain-in-the-ass tool-bag.”
Okay, is ass a swear word? Where are the rules on this written?
“I take it you don’t like him much, then?” I mumble, aimlessly driving around. I don’t know this area very well, add in my jumbled thoughts and I’m completely lost. How can I return the kid if I don’t even know where I am going?
Shit, can I mess this up any more than I already have? What is wrong with me?
“I hate him.” His eyes narrow as he says this, and I sense his body vibrating with anger.
“Hate is a strong word.”
“I know.” His confident response is a reminder of how young he really is.
You can be so decisive and confident when you are young. You don’t have to overthink things, or worry about consequences, or have any self-doubt. Many things are just so black and white.
“He hates me, too,” he confesses, pulling at my heartstrings painfully just thinking about how anyone could hate this kid.
I hesitate to ask the question, sensing there won’t be a nice answer, but I need to know what I’m dealing with. “What about your parents?”
He glances out the window, tightening his arms around his middle, going back to hunching over himself. That cloud from earlier has returned with a full-blown storm.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to answer that.” I don’t want to be the reason he’s in pain, but if his brother really was happy to just abandon him to go to a strip joint, and his parents aren’t around or in a good place, either, then what am I supposed to do?
I have gotten myself into a huge mess. I am nowhere near equipped to handle this.
“They died a few months ago. Zander took me in after that.” His voice is barely a whisper. I only heard it because the music, which is still quietly playing in the background, was paused between songs.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” I want to reach out and comfort him, but I’m still too much of a stranger to do that. “And sorry to hear you don’t get along with Zander. Does he often leave you alone in cars to do your homework?”
“He says it isn’t safe to leave me at home alone.”
My eyebrow rises as I consider how idiotic that reasoning is. It’s not safe for him at home, yet it’s safe for him to be alone in a parking lot while he’s watching women strip?
“Well, I am going to have to take you back,” I tell him, wondering if I should just drop him off at a police station. That will show this Zander person how irresponsible he clearly is. Maybe it might scare some sense into him. How is he able to care for a twelve-year-old?
Can I trust myself to get close to a police station, though? What if they see me? Things didn’t go well before when I was in one. And if they see me, then they will see this car, so driving it anywhere would be pointless.
“No! Please don’t! I don’t want to go back to Zander,” he begs, his bottom lip quivering.
“Does he …?” This is a hard question to voice. “Does he hurt you?”
He stares at me for a while. I get the feeling he’s sizing me up. Maybe seeing if he thinks he can trust me. Then he finally shakes his head, looking annoyed to be doing so. “No,” he grumbles, turning his head to stare out the window again.
In its reflection, I see him pouting as he glares at the passing scenery, his almost tears gone.
“Does he call you names?” I try to guess where his anguish comes from.
“Just my own,” he replies cryptically, which reminds me that I don’t have a clue what this kid’s name is. That probably should have been one of the first questions I asked.
“What is your name?”
“Van,” he says on a sigh.
“My name is Ava. Nice to meet you.” I give him a small smile and try not to feel too self-conscious when he just stares blankly back.
“So, then, why don’t you like Zander?” I get us back on track as I make another left. Am I driving around in circles?
“Because!” he suddenly barks. For a moment, I think that might be all he says. I know I used that line a few times to “win” an argument when I was a kid. It never really worked, though. “He is strict and mean, and nothing I do is right, and I’m never good enough, and I hate him. I wish he died instead of Mom and Dad.”
I’m stunned by his outburst and saddened by his words.
I don’t know much about Zander, and what I do isn’t great, yet I feel some sort of need to reassure Van that I’m sure things aren’t as bad as they seem.
Life has a funny way of making a situation feel worse than it is when you are in the moment. Although, I can’t say that works for my own situation. I don’t think any length of time will make the situation I’m trapped in seem any less awful. Still, it’s worth a shot if it makes Van feel less shitty about his brother, right?
“I’m sure Zander is trying his best.”
“Well, for once, his best isn’t good enough. He’s the failure this time.”
I almost hear a penny dropping as this piece of information clicks into place.
“Is he one of those annoying siblings who is perfect at everything they do?” I ask, getting a better picture of who Zander might be to Van.
“He was always Mom and Dad’s favorite. I was never as good as him. I always came second,” he rants.
I hold back mentioning that it is a bit hard to beat someone who is sixteen years older than you. Van likely needs to feel like someone is on his side.
“I was the same. My older sister got to have everything first. She got perfect grades, had a perfect boyfriend, and nothing I did ever measured up to her,” I tell him.
Van looks up at me. I can tell he is at least a little relieved to know he’s not the only one with a too-perfect sibling. “Is she your parents’ favorite?”
“I used to think she was.”
“But, let me guess, you now know it is all in your head, and you’re going to tell me I’m overreacting. And you are sure my parents loved us both equal amounts,” he grumbles, telling me he’s definitely heard that before.
“No, I’m not going to say that. I have a feeling she really was their favorite. Or, at least, she was our mom’s. Our dad ran off when I was young. I don’t remember him much.”
I have apparently stunned Van with my answer, so I take this moment to redirect the conversation.
“I know you don’t want to go back to your brother, and I can’t say I want to take you, either, since it means returning you to that seedy neighborhood, but I can’t afford to keep you with me any longer. I am already in some serious trouble, and adding a kidnapping charge is not going to make my life any easier.”
“You’re in trouble?” He seems to perk up at that, letting go for a moment that he is trying to get me to not take him back.
“You could say that.” I barely hold in my snort that tries to follow those words.
Understatement of the year.
Silence follows my words. I wonder what Van is thinking. Not that it matters. I need to figure out how to get back to that parking lot, and since I’m unfamiliar with this area, I don’t hold a lot of hope in succeeding.
“You don’t seem like a car thief,” he finally says, back to looking me over carefully. “Though your clothes are dirty.”
His observation embarrasses me. Being on the run for three days hasn’t allowed for a change of clothes. It has barely allowed me any sleep or food.
“I’m just in a little trouble. Nothing you have to worry about,” I attempt to assure him. I don’t believe it myself, so I doubt it comes across as truthful.
“Why did you need to steal this car?” he presses.
Because I’m in serious trouble. Because I can’t trust the people I should be able to. Because, if I’m caught, then I am positive my death will soon follow.
I don’t say any of this to him. Instead, I glance down at the time on the dashboard to see it is close to eight at night. Soon, it will be pitch-black outside.
How much longer until Zander notices his car and brother are missing? What if he’s in the parking lot right now, completely freaking out?
“I took this car because someone is after me,” I murmur. When his eyes light up with curiosity, I quickly shut that down. I shouldn’t have said anything. “How about I tell you after we talk to your brother? If he’s noticed you’re missing, then I need to make sure he hasn’t called the police.”
“Zander can help you with your problem,” Van offers confidently, nodding as if confirming his own words.
“I somehow doubt that.”
“He runs his own P.I. business. He has for years.” A little pride leaks into his voice.
“Oh really? And is he working on a case where a suspect is visiting a strip joint?” I snidely reply.
“Huh? You mean the place across the road? Why would he be there?” Van sounds genuinely confused.
“What do you mean?” I begin to feel uneasy. “If he’s not there, then where is he?”
“Working in his office.” Van’s tone sounds like he wanted to end that with a “duh.”
“His office?” My eyes widen as that implication sinks in.
“Yeah, it’s in front of the parking lot you took me from.”
Took implies kidnapped, which I don’t love. But, is that what I am now? A car thief and a kidnapper?
“But all the lights were off,” I jump to argue. There were no signs of life in any of those buildings to suggest I was reading this wrong. That area was dead, and the car looked empty. Leaving a kid alone in a bad neighborhood must be equally as bad, right?
“They turn the front lights off once Sasha leaves. She’s the receptionist. His office is in the back. He had to go back in to talk to a client and get some papers, or whatever,” Van drawls. Clearly, this news is incredibly boring to him.
“Why don’t you do your homework in there, then?”
He shrugs, no longer looking at me as he stares down at his hands in his lap. Okay, obviously a touchy subject.
“Shit,” I hiss. Then, realizing that is a swear word, I quickly add “vers” to it. Given Van’s smile, I’m not fooling him.
Forgetting my curse slipup, I consider what Van’s words mean. I have had this entire situation wrong from the beginning.
“Do you have a cell phone I can use?”
He nods, undoing his seatbelt to search his backpack that I threw into the backseat. Once he has it, he hands it over to me.
I pull over, still having zero clues about where we are, and hand the phone back to get him to unlock it. “Can you get your brother’s number up? I want to talk to him.”
When he hands me back the phone, I see the name written on the phone isn’t Zander like I assumed it would be, but Asshole.
Not a good start.
“I might need a map to get you back to him,” I mutter, connecting the call and placing it against my ear to hear it already ringing. I turn the music down until it’s basically nonexistent.
“I know my way back,” Van mumbles, crossing his arms again as he watches me, annoyance clearly winning out over anger or hope.
When Zander finally answers the phone, I get even more insight into Van’s life and his hatred for Zander.
“What now?” a voice snaps at me.
I glance over at Van, wondering if that is seriously how his brother greets him.
I almost want to lecture this Zander about it, but I remind myself that, not only am I a stranger and it’s none of my business, I also need to remember that I have currently kidnapped this man’s brother. I should likely give him a break.
“Hi, my name is Ava, and I am currently with your brother. I just want to assure—”
“You’re with him? What has he done now?” Zander cusses.
I narrow my eyes slightly, feeling annoyance at his attitude toward Van, who appears perfectly sweet to me.
“He hasn’t done anything.” I glance over at Van and see his eyes narrowing as he pouts at the dashboard. “There has just been a little misunderstanding. I’m bringing him and your car back now.”
“My car? Wait, what the fuck is going on? Did he take my car?” he growls down the line, his accusatory tone annoying me.
“No, I did!” I quickly snap, wincing at myself for admitting that. This guy would have been less likely to call the cops if he thought Van stole his car.
“You did? Who the fuck are you again?” Zander yells into my ear.
“My name is Ava. I’m bringing both back to you now.” I try to find my calm and remain matter of fact, but inside, my heart is racing. I’m not sure if it is from nerves, anger at Zander, or both.
“And I’m calling the police! Put Vaughn on the phone right this second!”
I gulp loudly, knowing that begging to leave the police out of this won’t help matters. Then I hand the phone over to Van and glance out the window to stare at the packed pizza place down the road.
I can’t remember the last meal I ate before all this happened. God knows I have barely eaten anything since. If I had enough money, I would jump out and grab a slice, especially since it sounds like this might be my last meal.
“What?” Van grumbles into the phone, his glare getting fiercer as he listens to whatever Zander says to him. “No! If you call them, I’m going to tell them that I don’t want to live with you anymore,” Van cries into the phone.
I wonder what Zander is saying to get him so upset.
“Don’t call me that!” he screams into the phone then throws it at the windshield. I half-expect it to either smash the phone or the windshield. It does neither. However, Van doesn’t make any attempt to pick it up, either.
“You okay?”
“No,” he snaps.
I hesitate to ask, but I can’t leave it at that. “Want to talk about it?”
“I hate him!” he cries, his outburst momentarily shocking me.
I let that hang in the air for a bit, not sure how to respond. In the end, Van carries on so I don’t have to.
“He thinks he knows everything, and that he’s so perfect. Well, he doesn’t know everything, and he’s not perfect!”
“No one is perfect,” I say gently. “And no one in the world knows everything.”
“Yeah, well, my parents thought he was perfect.”
“I think parents usually have blinders on when it comes to their kids,” I explain carefully. This isn’t an easy discussion, given I never met them. However, I’m pretty sure this is rather universal to most kids with siblings.
“They didn’t love me like they loved him,” he whispers like he’s telling me a confession.
My heart tugs again as I wonder over how much I feel for this kid, only having known him less than an hour.
“My older sister was perfect, too. Our mom adored her. Growing up, I always knew they had a special connection. People say being the youngest makes you special because you’re their last everything. But I think it’s much more special to be their first. It’s a connection we can never compete with.”
Van nods in agreement before fully catching on to what I said, proving to be a sharp kid.
“Why do you say she was perfect? What happened to her?”
Now my heart pulls for a different reason. I never talk about this, but maybe something good can come out of this story. If I am to be caught soon, then at least I can say I did something helpful with my life, even if it was just something small.
“She died a few years ago. She was mugged and shot; killed for the thirty-eight dollars in her purse.” I sound robotic, but I can’t bring emotion into it. If I do, then I might cry. If I cry, then this whole situation will overwhelm me, and then I will be a snotty mess for a long time. Long enough to be distracted and easily caught.
Van, however, doesn’t seem shocked or saddened by this, more like curious. “So, your mom loves you more now?”
“No, she died before my sister died. When I was fourteen, she got cancer. My sister was even perfect throughout that—nursing her and helping her while still maintaining great grades. She graduated with top marks. I couldn’t even manage anything close, and I wasn’t up half the night, cleaning my mom up after she …” I glance down at Van and decide those details are best left out. “Anyway, what I’m saying is, I understand what you’re saying. But just because things felt different, doesn’t mean they loved you less.”
“You don’t get it.” Van sighs loudly like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders and no one to understand him. “Mom always talked about him. She always told me how much she missed him once he moved out. She never missed me.”
“How often did your parents see Zander?”
Van shrugs. “He used to come over once a week for family dinner.”
“One could argue that she missed him more because she was able to spend a lot of time with you. One could also argue that, if we were to go on how much time you spent together, you would win that round since you still lived with them.”
“Doesn’t matter. They still loved him more,” he stubbornly states.
I sigh, realizing this isn’t a battle I’m ever going to win. “Okay, but that’s probably not Zander’s fault.”
“You’re on his side now? Even though he wants to call the cops and get you arrested?”
I gulp, wondering if the cops are already waiting for me, or are they prowling the streets searching for us?
“I’m not on his side. I’m on yours. Look, you seem incredibly smart, no doubt much smarter than a man who runs a P.I. company, who can’t even stop his car from being stolen,” I rush to say, hoping to get Van back on my side by throwing Zander under the bus.
It works. Van immediately releases a small giggle.
It isn’t much, but I will work with it.
“I’m just saying that, if Zander is the only family you have, do you really want to spend all your time hating each other? It just seems like a lot of effort that doesn’t accomplish much.”
“But he’s so annoying,” he quickly states like this explains everything. “He beats me at everything, and he acts like I’m some bratty, stupid loser. But he’s the loser!”
“Zander might be older and more successful than you are now, but truthfully, he will always be ahead of you.” Van pulls a face, and I quickly rush to continue. “Which means, by the time you reach the prime of your life, he’ll be way over the hill. Old man style. He’ll be the first to lose his hair, first to wear adult diapers, and the first to be doing full-time drooling and misplacing his false teeth. Plus, you’ll be able to beat him at everything. Younger, fitter, stronger, and definitely smarter.” I wink at him and am grateful when he laughs again, this time more openly, and the smile stays afterward.
Inside, I remind myself that Zander is only a few years older than me. I should be careful before I wish old age on anyone. Although, in my predicament, I will be lucky to reach such an age.
“So, who do you have then if your sister and parents are gone?” Van finally asks, his attention completely on me.
I smile sadly at him, never feeling more alone than I do right now. “No one.” I shake my head and hope to loosen my self-pity that has wrapped tightly around me. I need to stop making this about me. Wasn’t I trying to cheer Van up?
“But Zander can help you,” Van is quick to interject. “You can hang out with us, and then you won’t be alone anymore.”
It’s such a simple answer, full of innocence. It sounds so easy said like that.
Then I remember I am a complete stranger with only a few dollars to my name. Plus, I basically kidnapped Van, as well as stole Zander’s car. Every possibility from this situation ends with me being arrested, and then I will be back in Brian’s hands.
Then, my life will be over.
“You seem sure Zander can help me; that he will be willing to help me,” I point out, my voice shaking a little as I try to put my inevitable future out of my mind.
“He loves a challenge. I bet he would help you out just because it sounds difficult.”
Again, a simple solution. If only it could be true. Difficult, I could handle. My situation is more than that. It’s complicated, messy, and beyond dangerous. My situation is deadly.
“Then, what you’re saying is Zander is a good person, if he is willing to help me.”
Van frowns a little at that. “Are you trying to make me feel bad for hating my brother? Because, he’s an asshole. You heard him. He’s the worst.”
“I’m not trying to make you feel bad,” I rush out. No way do I want him to turn on me now. “I’m just saying that you seem to be describing two different people.”
“That’s because he’s nice to everyone else. He’s an asshole to me.”
“To be honest, the way he answered the phone sort of gave away that might be true,” I admit, and Van nods eagerly. “But he also sounded worried when he realized you were gone. I bet he doesn’t let much worry him, but he definitely cares about you.”
Van seems to consider this before shaking his head. “He’s worried about his car.”
I can’t really dispute this since I don’t know Zander. Maybe he is the asshole Van is convinced he is. God knows I have seen the worst humanity has to offer. I know better than most that monsters come in all forms.
“Okay, I’m only going to say one more thing, and then I’m going to shut up about this.” I wait for Van to nod, which he does reluctantly. “I was angry at my sister for a long time. I never bothered to see things from her perspective. Hell, even a part of me blamed her for dying. Like she even had a choice in leaving me. Not until a long time after she died did I begin to think on things from her point of view.
“She was going through all the same things as me, except I could let out some of my grief. She held all of hers inside to be strong for me. She lost our mom, too. She had to grow up way faster than anyone deserves, and I didn’t care at the time. So maybe, just remember that Zander lost his parents, too. He also suddenly became in charge of a very headstrong, smart, fearless twelve-year-old boy. I bet that is pretty daunting. So maybe give him a break every once in a while.”
Van doesn’t say anything for a while. I hope it’s because he’s letting my words sink in, and not because he’s tuned me out.
I fear I might have overstepped, and since I honestly have no idea what his situation is like, or if his brother is as good as I have tried to make him out to be, I hope I haven’t just screwed up another person’s life. I have done a great job with my own already.
“It’s a left up here,” he finally says.
I breathe out in relief and restart the engine. It’s almost completely dark now, so I turn the headlights on, as well.
“Thanks. I’m sorry about all this. I promise you I’ll shut up from now on.”
We drive in almost complete silence. The only words spoken are when Van gives me some directions. Part of me wonders if he’s not giving me a bit of a runaround, considering it takes us much longer to get back than the amount of time we were driving. I don’t comment, though.
All too soon, I begin to recognize a few buildings. We are only a couple blocks away now.
“Why is someone after you?” Van asks me quietly.
I look over at him, finding him looking more quizzical than nosy.
“I dated the wrong man,” I answer, which is the only part of my predicament that is safe for Van to hear.
“What does that mean?”
“It means that not everyone in life are good. My ex is finding it a little hard to let go.” I oversimplify things, hoping he won’t keep pushing this. My situation is not for the ears of a child. Hell, I don’t think my own ears can handle the story and I’m an adult, stuck living it!
“What happened to your car, then?”
“I can be traced with it.”
“Can’t you go to the police?” he suggests, his little forehead crinkled as he tries to come up with an answer to my problems.
“My ex is the police,” I say on a sigh. Things would be so much simpler if that statement wasn’t so true.
“Oh … My brother can help you,” he offers me again.
“Honestly, I doubt anyone can really help me,” I mutter, more to myself than Van.
I wish I didn’t sound so foregone about my situation, but the truth is, I’m tired, I’m hungry, and I know I will eventually be caught.
With no proper money and no help, what exactly do I have out here, anyway? I have no idea how to survive on the run. I couldn’t even manage to steal a car right!
“Zander can help. He has people who work for him, and they’re badass. They help people every day,” Van says quietly, reading my pitying demeanor. He knows I’m ready to give up.
“I don’t even have money to pay him.” I also know there is a huge chance police will be waiting to meet us when we return.
“He doesn’t care about money.”
“Then his business is doomed,” I joke, giving Van a smile to let him know I’m not worried. The last thing I need to leave Van with is any sense of guilt. I don’t want him to worry. I have burdened him enough by kidnapping him.
“It’s just a right here.” He points at the parking lot across the road from the strip joint.
I see a man standing at the edge, watching us with hawk eyes as we pull in, a cell phone to his ear. I fear he is likely on the phone with the police. At least there are no flashing lights waiting for me. Perhaps I will have enough time to make a run for it.
“That your brother?” I confirm.
“Yeah.” Van sighs like he has the world on his shoulders again, as only a kid can feel.
I glance out to see if I can spot the man from earlier, but I thankfully see no sign of him.
“Back safe and sound,” I say to Van as I put the car in park then turn off the engine.
I glance back at Zander, seeing his foot tapping and his eyes narrowed on us. Regardless, I can’t help noticing how in shape he looks. Van is a scrawny kid, but Zander looks like he’s in training for the Olympics’ weight lifting competition. His long-sleeved shirt is stretched to the max over his chest, and his biceps bulge as he fists one hand at his side, the other still attached to his phone at his ear.
“He’s not really that scary,” Van says, reading my apprehension. “He sleeps in Captain America pajamas, and he hasn’t had a girlfriend since I started staying with him. One woman was yelling at him the first night I stayed and said he was a two-minute wonder. I don’t know what that means, but I think that’s why they broke up.”
If I had any liquid in my mouth, I would have spat it out. It’s almost comical, if the man in question wasn’t looking so thunderous. It’s as if he can hear what we are saying. When I realize my window is still down, I suppose there is a good chance he can.
“Time to face him,” I say, opening the car door just as Zander finishes his phone call.
Was that to the police? How long do I have until they are here?
When he stalks over to meet us, I’m surprised when Van settles in beside me, reaching over to take my hand. I’m certain kids his age would rarely do something like this, and especially not to an almost stranger. I can’t help thinking this is his way of protecting me. I’m touched.
“Vaughn, get over here,” Zander grounds out, his jaw barely moving to allow the words through. His clenched fist morphs to make a finger pointing beside him.
Van squeezes my hand harder, his defiance obvious by the lock of his jaw and the glare on his face. It’s sad, but in this moment, with them both looking furious, I see the family resemblance.
“No,” he snaps at Zander.
“Van, you need to go with your brother,” I say softly, hoping he doesn’t feel betrayed by them. I’m already on the outs with this guy. I don’t need to be considered turning his brother against him.
“Why? I don’t want to.”
“Unfortunately, we rarely get what we want in life. Remember what I said to you in the car?”
“Yes,” he mumbles, glancing down at his shoes, his grip loosening from around mine.
“Can you maybe just give it a try?” I plead.
“But I hate …” He looks over at Zander, his sentence vanishing.
I know what he was going to say, and I’m sure Zander does, too, if he’s said it to him enough. Regardless, I consider it progress that he stopped himself.
“I know, but I think you both will feel better if you just gave him a chance.”
I’m surprised Zander hasn’t stepped in, insisting I stop talking to his kid brother and hand him over. For all he knows, I’m some crazy psycho who could be putting bad thoughts into Van’s head.
“Fine.” He releases my hand and walks woodenly over to Zander.
Zander places his hand on top of Van’s head, but Van is quick to scoot out of his reach.
I’m allowed a brief moment to observe them together. I swear I see relief and even love directed at Van from Zander. His brother was concerned for him.
Their similarities are obvious, with the same blue eyes and tanned skin. Zander’s hair is shorter and has less curl to it and more wave, but it’s clear that Zander is a look into Van’s future.
Then Zander’s gaze turns back to me, and I don’t feel so warm and fuzzy toward him anymore. Instead, I feel as though I’m facing a judge and ready to hear the verdict on just how many years I’m about to be thrown in jail.
“You stole my car,” he growls.
“Yes.” No point denying it.
“You kidnapped my twelve-year-old brother.”
“Technically, yes. However, I wasn’t aware he was in the car at the time,” I pathetically try to defend my actions.
“You came back, though, even after I told you I was calling the police.” His stance is stern, but I see the same expression of curiosity that I saw earlier in Van.
“Yes.” I glance around again, waiting to see the flashing lights of a police car approaching in the distance. Instead, I see a lone officer in uniform approaching us.
I don’t recognize him as one of Brian’s friends, but that doesn’t mean he won’t hand me over to him.
I barely even got to enjoy my freedom away from Brian. Well, it technically wasn’t freedom since I was chased the entire time.
Why can’t I just catch a break?
I can’t stop myself from stepping away from the young officer, my body back to being tense and shaky. I hate that this feels normal to me now. It never used to be. Now it feels strange to feel relaxed.
“What’s wrong?” Van asks me, his concern sweet.
“Excuse me, but did I just hear you accuse this woman of stealing your car?” the officer asks, swinging his hand to rest on his side arm in what looks like a reflex.
Silence falls over us. Van looks as panicked as I feel. I can’t read Zander’s face, but he hasn’t confirmed the man’s words. That gives me a small amount of hope. Maybe he is the most forgiving man in the world.
“No! She’s my brother’s girlfriend. She just took me out to get dinner!” Van blurts, leaving Zander’s side to rush to mine, grabbing my hand like he did earlier.
I wince, not wanting Van to get into trouble for me. “Van, you shouldn’t—”
“Yeah, babe, why don’t you take Vaughn back to my car. We’ll head home in a sec,” Zander says, and Van beams at him.
I try to not look shocked as I nod at him, like what he said isn’t unusual at all. Then I walk stiltedly to the car I only just vacated and hover outside a while before I can bring myself to get in.
Van gets into the backseat, and I take the passenger side, since I suppose this would make more sense than me being in the back with Van.
I push aside the blanket by my feet as I watch Zander exchange a few more words with the cop before making his way over to us. I then hold my breath as I wait for him to tell me to get out and that the cop is going to take me into custody. Instead, he opens the door and gets in, slamming it shut.
“Belt,” he mutters.
I look back to see Van hastily putting his seatbelt on.
It isn’t until Zander sends a stern look my way that I realize I haven’t placed mine on.
Once we are secure, he takes off, leaving the cop behind, watching us, and me feeling confused.
What the hell just happened? Have I gotten myself into a bigger mess now than what I just came from?