Alien Abduction

by Irving Belateche

  “I can talk to my employer,” he said. “I suppose this has happened before.”

  “What has happened before?”

  “A snoop like you rears his ugly head and we have a problem.” He grimaced, and I was suddenly able to read him: he was disgusted. He turned away from me and opened the front door.

  As he walked inside, he said, “This isn’t going to turn out the way you want it to.”

  The confidence with which he issued that declaration made me uneasy. Was it a normal warning—that I was getting myself into something I’d later regret—or was it a veiled death threat?

  “I’ll give you a week to get back to me,” I said. But he had definitely put a chink in the armor of my confidence. Maybe I should’ve taken the money and run.

  JENNY

  CHAPTER TEN

  It couldn’t wait any longer; Eddie and I had to talk to Jake about his choice of colleges today. Otherwise he’d lose the scholarship that Lehigh had offered him and the spots at Berkeley and UCSD. We could have delayed the decision by putting down deposits at all three schools, but we didn’t want to flush the little money we had down the toilet.

  I had tried to talk to Jake on my own, but even our close relationship wasn’t enough to get him to understand that we didn’t have the money to send him to Northwestern, or to Columbia. Of course, it had been tough to come down hard on him, because of how he’d reacted to my first chemo treatment.

  He was the son every mother wished for.

  On the days that followed the chemo infusion—miserable days, filled with vomiting, fever, ill temper, fatigue, and other side effects—he did everything he could to help me out. He cleaned around the house, he ran errands for me, he helped me cook dinner. And of all the sweet things he did for me, the one I treasured most was the time he spent sitting at my bedside, cheering me up.

  It seemed cruel to reward his compassion by taking away his dream. But we had no choice.

  At least Eddie was in a good mood today, and that meant he’d be patient with Jake. It was critical for both of us to be patient, because the discussion was bound to escalate quickly into an argument.

  Up until the last couple of days or so, Eddie had been sullen and gloomy. And my chemo treatment seemed to have made his spirit sink even lower. He wasn’t used to seeing me weak. I’d always been a pillar of strength, and he was shaken to the bone to see me in such a fragile state.

  But why his mood had suddenly brightened, I didn’t know. I suspected it was because he’d found out he had a good shot at landing that investment job. And I also suspected that because my initial reaction to that job had been negative, he didn’t want to talk about it. He was keeping the potential good news to himself, but still, it had lifted his spirit.

  This morning he’d settled onto the couch in the den, and he was now absorbed in his laptop. He was so absorbed that I could almost believe he was working on a story for the LA Times again.

  I interrupted him, reminding him that we had to talk to Jake today.

  “I know,” he said. “I’ll talk to him myself if you want.”

  I knew he was offering to go it alone because he felt bad about what I’d just gone through with the chemo. “That’s okay,” I said. “We can do it together.”

  “Are you sure you’re up to it?” he asked, and closed his laptop. “It could get pretty ugly.”

  “Yeah. But he might be less angry if I’m there, too.”

  “Because he feels sorry for you?”

  “That sounds horrible, doesn’t it?” I said. “Using my cancer to crush my son’s dream. What kind of mom am I?”

  “We’re not crushing his dream. Lehigh is a great school.”

  “I know, but don’t say that to him. It makes him really mad when you put it that way.” I’d already put it that way several times and had been verbally punished because of it.

  “Maybe we should play it like Berkeley is the compromise school,” he said. “We can’t afford Northwestern or Columbia, and he doesn’t want to go to Lehigh, so it’s a fair compromise.”

  “We can’t afford Berkeley either. You know that. Unless something has changed.”

  “You’re right,” he conceded.

  But I couldn’t understand why he’d brought Berkeley up. Was it the possibility of the investment job coming through—meaning a salary would soon be rolling in? Or was it that he didn’t want to face Jake’s wrath?

  *

  That afternoon, Jake came home from school and headed directly to his room.

  Eddie and I waited in the kitchen before descending on him, to give him time to unwind. I plucked the envelope from Lehigh from the bulletin board, pulled out the letter from inside—the one offering Jake the generous scholarship—and read it again. Jake had read it once, the day it had arrived, and had never looked at it again. The only reason he’d even applied to Lehigh was because his high school counselor had insisted he apply to at least one school that was a sure thing. What the counselor had called a “sleep at night” school. A school where there was almost no doubt Jake would get in. So he’d grudgingly applied, and now the substantial scholarship he’d been awarded was a godsend.

  If only Jake could see that.

  After we decided he’d had enough time to unwind, I tucked the letter back in the envelope, pinned the envelope back on the bulletin board, and braced myself for the confrontation. I felt the insides of my stomach roll. It was nausea, which hadn’t crept up on me for a couple of weeks—not since the side effects from the infusion had subsided.

  But this nausea didn’t feel like a precursor to vomiting. It felt like a precursor to something worse: crushing my son’s dream.

  “Are you ready to go in there?” Eddie asked.

  “No—but that doesn’t really matter, does it?”

  *

  Eddie knocked on Jake’s door.

  There was no answer.

  I was sure that Jake had his headset on and was glued to his iPad, watching a YouTube channel.

  I did the knocking this time—hard and sharp.

  “Yeah,” Jake said, distracted.

  I opened the door, and Eddie and I stepped into the room.

  Jake was lying on his bed, headphones on, iPad in hand, just as I’d expected. He slid the headphones off.

  “What’s going on?” he said, already defensive. “Why is the entire cavalry here?”

  I expected that reaction—it was rare for both Eddie and I to appear in his room together.

  “Your dad and I wanted to talk to you,” I said.

  “I figured out that part.”

  “Can you please sit up?”

  “Okay…” He reluctantly swung around. “So what’s up?”

  I pulled out the chair from his desk and sat down. I didn’t want both Eddie and I towering over him. That would make him even more defensive.

  “We want to talk to you about college,” I said.

  He looked from me to Eddie and back again. “Haven’t we talked about it enough?”

  “Jake,” Eddie said, “we know how badly you want to go to Northwestern.”

  “And I know how badly you want me to go to Lehigh.”

  “Well, I guess that’s a start,” Eddie said, with good humor and patience.

  But the good humor didn’t take. “Guess what, guys?” Jake said. “I’m going to Northwestern.” His voice was hard. “That’s my decision, and it’s final.” He grabbed his iPad, then started to slip his headset back over his ears.

  “Jake, we’re part of that decision,” Eddie said, still patient.

  “It’s my life.” The headset was now over Jake’s ears.

  “It’s a family decision,” Eddie said.

  Jake lay back down on his bed, then put the iPad in front of his face, blocking us from his line of sight.

  “Jake—” I said, trying not to raise my voice. “If you don’t talk to us about this, we’re going to have to make the decision for you.”

  “I made the decision, Mom. I told Northwe
stern yes.”

  “What?” I was shocked.

  “You’re kidding, right?” Eddie said.

  “Nope.” Jake was still shielding us with his iPad.

  “Well, it doesn’t matter,” Eddie said. “Without the deposit, they won’t hold the spot.”

  “You’re right, Dad.” Jake lowered the iPad and looked up at him. “That’s why I sent in the deposit.”

  My stomach rolled, again, and the nausea bloomed through my body. I looked at Eddie, but I didn’t see anger on his face—he must’ve been containing it. As for me, it was a different matter. Maybe it was a way to fight back the nausea, but I couldn’t contain my anger.

  “Where did you get two thousand dollars?” I said, though I knew where, which made me even angrier.

  “The credit card,” he said. The one we’d given him for emergencies.

  “We’re canceling that charge,” I said, and stood up from the chair.

  “I thought this was a family decision,” Jake shot back.

  “It was—until you pulled this stunt.” I looked at Eddie, expecting him to join me, to lash out at his son’s defiance.

  He didn’t.

  So I continued to lead the charge. “I can’t believe you sent in a deposit without telling us,” I said.

  “You’re saying if we had talked about it, we would all have agreed on the same school?” Jake smirked.

  “That’s right—because you would’ve understood our financial situation.”

  “You mean you would’ve forced me to go to Lehigh.”

  “You’ll do well wherever you go, Jake,” I said, and looked over at Eddie for reinforcement.

  “Lehigh is a great school,” he said, finally adding his two cents, exactly the two cents that I’d warned him not to add.

  Jake bolted up from the bed. “That’s a fucking lie and you know it.”

  “Jake—watch your mouth,” Eddie said.

  “This is all your fault! You can’t find a job! So you want my future to take a hit!” Jake’s eyes were ablaze. “I’m not going to let that happen! I’ll find my own way to pay for college!”

  “Jake, come on,” Eddie said. “We have to be realistic. All of us. Lehigh is offering you practically a full ride—”

  “You be realistic! You said I could go to any school I wanted to! So I’m going to Northwestern, and if you can’t make that happen, I will!”

  “We can’t make that happen, honey,” I said.

  “Why not? Because Dad’s a loser?”

  “Your dad’s not a loser!” The nausea welled up again, and I shivered. “Please, Jake, don’t be like this.”

  He stared at me, his face rigid with hate.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m sorry that it’s not working out the way you thought it would.”

  “It’s going to work out exactly like I planned.”

  “But Jake. It ca—”

  “He’s right,” Eddie interrupted. “It’s my fault. I’m the reason we can’t afford Northwestern.”

  “It’s no one’s fault,” I said.

  “We both know that’s not true.” Eddie looked at Jake for a long beat before he added, “You worked hard. You set a goal. And you achieved your goal—”

  “But now I have to be realistic,” Jake said. “Please save your little speech.”

  “Okay—how about I just skip the speech part and get to the good part? You’re going to Northwestern.”

  Before Jake could even react, I blurted out, “What?”

  “He’s going to Northwestern,” Eddie said. He didn’t bat an eye, and a confident smile crossed his face.

  I looked over at Jake. He appeared stunned, his mouth agape in disbelief. “Wow,” he said. “Talk about a reversal of fortune.”

  Eddie stepped forward and patted Jake on the shoulder. “You worked hard to get into a top school, and that’s where you’re going.” He then gave me a peck on the cheek, and walked out of the bedroom.

  I didn’t budge.

  What did he just do? Had he just set Jake up for an even harsher disappointment? Wouldn’t we now have to tell him at the very last minute that he couldn’t go to Northwestern after all?

  But Eddie had sounded confident, not desperate, and again I went back to his mood—how it had brightened over the last few days. Right then, I concluded that he’d probably landed the investment job and was just waiting for the final confirmation.

  BEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  I sat at a table outside M Street Coffee on Moorpark, staring at my latte, weighing my options. The tutor had thrown a monkey wrench in the works. An asteroid-sized monkey wrench.

  Usually, I came to M Street Coffee to look over the material I’d gathered on a new target and develop a tentative course of action. The coffee shop was out of the way, served good coffee, and during the day was primarily frequented by customers who kept to themselves—mostly screenwriters who wanted to get out of the house and producers who wanted a low-key place to meet with directors, writers, or actors.

  But today, I was here to make a final decision on how to handle Eddie Hart. It was a decision I wasn’t prepared to make. I had known that my lack of fear was a bad omen, but I had never guessed it would put me in this bad a position. I should’ve been more vigilant. And more cautious. I should’ve taken seriously my suspicion that I was being followed down those dark hillside roads to Abel’s place. Those headlights behind me had been a little too persistent.

  Too late now.

  For four years I’d worked for Abel, getting better and better at abducting targets. But with each passing year, the fear of getting caught had lessened. And it wasn’t cockiness that had replaced it. Not by a long shot. It was that I’d become so good at the job that the chances of getting caught were small.

  Not small enough, I thought. But it wasn’t like the tutor had caught me on the job. Every single abduction I’d done for Abel—even the more challenging ones—had gone off practically without a hitch. And so had this last one. My mistake didn’t happen on the job; it happened between jobs. The critical mistake was inviting a desperate man into my house.

  That was stupid.

  Especially because I’d been very careful not to get too close to anyone since I’d started working for Abel. I didn’t want to answer any questions about my line of work, and friends were the most likely to ask questions. So the job had required that tradeoff. I would become wealthy, but I wouldn’t have any friends.

  Making that transition to loner status actually hadn’t been too hard. After the move from Torrance to Bel Air, I slowly lost touch with my friends in the South Bay anyway. And the same thing happened with my friends and colleagues at DirecTV. Once I left the job, it was out of sight, out of mind. So, as it turned out, my growing isolation had all looked kosher. My old friends in my old life assumed I’d made new friends in my new life.

  I sipped my coffee and looked down Moorpark. The quiet suburban street, lined with mostly two and three-story apartment buildings, looked pleasant and languid in the California sunshine. That was a big contrast to how I was feeling. My chest was as tight as a drum and my muscles were tense with dread.

  Did Abel expect me to take care of the tutor on my own? Did he expect me to kill him? Murder wasn’t part of the job description. Or was it implied?

  I had no idea. And the only way to get an idea was to talk to Abel. Which I was dreading.

  But I needed him in the loop, didn’t I? And that was the decision that I was really here to make: Should I tell Abel what had happened?

  On the one hand, I wanted him in the loop. How else would I know what the proper protocol was? My response to this problem should be based on what Abel had to say. Shouldn’t it?

  On the other hand, I didn’t want to tell Abel that I’d been caught red-handed. Just the thought of telling him made my chest tighten even more, which in turn sent a sharp pain shooting down my back. I clenched my teeth.

  So what the hell were you supposed to do when you’d been ca
ught? Certainly this had happened to one of Abel’s employees in the past.

  Of course, the truth was that this wasn’t certain. Nothing was certain when it came to my job. There was just too much I didn’t know. Abel kept me in the dark about practically everything. I could be one of a long list of employees dating back decades or even centuries; or Abel could have started his operation four years ago, and I was his first hire.

  The pain in my back passed.

  I took a deep breath and tried to will myself to make a final decision—and the one I was leaning toward was to go ahead and drive up to Abel’s house and tell him what had happened.

  But before I was able to convince myself that this was the best course of action, I went back to thinking about the tutor. Why hadn’t the guy accepted hush money? That would have been an acceptable outcome. There was plenty of money to go around. But no, I had to be stuck with a man who was going for all the marbles. He didn’t just want hush money. He wanted much more.

  All week long, I’d thought about offering him the hush money again. But the look in the tutor’s eyes—desperation mixed with determination—had stuck with me. Not only did the tutor want a lot of money, he also wanted to put his life back together. And the way you put your life back together is by putting a job at the center of it. That was as American as apple pie, even if that job was as far from a mainstream job as you could get.

  One way or another, my time for considering the situation was over. In the next few hours, I had to tell the tutor whether Abel was going to hire him. I had to tell the tutor whether his dream of getting back on his feet would come true.

  I took another sip of my coffee and looked down Moorpark again. I was just delaying the inevitable. The bottom line was that I had to tell Abel. He had to be in the loop. I didn’t want to tell him about my screw-up, but I had no choice. My chest tightened again and another pain shot through my back.

  *

  I pulled up to the gates of Abel’s house, and they opened as they always did. But this time, I didn’t feel like a triumphant soldier returning from a successful mission. I felt like a screw-up, and my pounding heart was proof that I was. Fear had returned, big time. The fear of confessing my blunder to Abel.