by Bella Street
“Ha. You've apparently never been in a West Hollywood taxi.” Giving in, he twisted the wires back and covered the steering column. If he ever made it back for good, he'd give the owner money for repairs.
Seffy led the way to the cab and got in. Trent slid next to her in the back seat and told the driver to head to the nearest sporting goods store. When they got there, he bought them each a backpack.
“What are these for?”
“To put the...stuff in.”
“This is ugly and doesn't go with my outfit.”
Trent stared at Seffy until he realized she was teasing him. He wished he could enjoy her lighter side, but so much depended on this trip. They grabbed another cab and when they got to the address he gave, he asked Seffy to stay on the sidewalk and wait for him.
She looked around at the rough crowd hanging outside the doors and grabbed his arm. “Why? What is this place?”
“A methadone clinic.”
“What? Why?”
“For Fenn of course.”
“Why of course?”
“Seffy, it's to help him with his addiction.”
“How can you be sure methadone is the best treatment?”
He snorted. “Do you have a better idea?”
“Trent, you know about the controversy that methadone might be a worse cure than the addiction, right?”
“Okay, this was supposed to take a few minutes to get in, buy some medication and get out. Why do you have to turn everything into a drawn-out discussion?”
“Hey, I worked in an office where the doctors debated methadone treatment. Some patients on high doses of opiates—even synthetic ones—get addicted and can't quit after treatment. It's not unheard of that some end up buying street drugs or using methadone as a substitute.” She lowered her voice. “I mean look at some of these people. They could've been clean by now except they're strung out on the 'treatment'.”
“It will help Fenn,” Trent said, his face set.
“If he goes cold turkey, it will be a week of hell, but he'll be clean. Besides wasn't Fiona with him while he was going through withdrawals? Why do we need this at all?”
“Not every attempt at cold turkey is successful.”
“Even still, methadone treatment can take years.”
Trent didn't know how to convince her and didn't have the time to try. “Then I will get a year's worth and hope he never needs it.”
“It's still a bad idea.”
He shook his head and went inside the clinic. Trent suppressed a groan when Seffy followed him, but he didn't blame her. It was a rough crowd out on the street. He approached the woman at the desk. “Can I speak to the office administrator please?”
The secretary didn't want to comply and it took some shrewd tactics to get her to call the supervisor, but she finally relented. The supervisor met them, a man whose weary expression told him he'd seen and heard it all. When Trent offered to buy a years' worth of methadone, he wasn't surprised when the man refused. After a few more minutes of fruitless negotiations, Trent pulled a gun from his back waistband and insisted.
He heard Seffy gasp but ignored her.
“Listen, kid, I already told you this is a government-run clinic and I can't sell the medication.”
“Then I can steal it. Or I have the money to pay for it and you can replace what I buy. Your choice.”
The man looked at the gun and gave in. Trent showed him the cash and followed him to the supply room, leaving Seffy behind for a few minutes.
“I've been stuck up before but no one's ever offered to pay,” the administrator said in a tired voice. “I suppose you think you can recoup your expenses by cutting it and selling it on the street.”
“I already told you it's for someone who can't get access to help.”
“Sure sure,” he said, giving Trent the once over, “and you've never liked the taste of the needle.”
Trent scowled and told him to hurry up. Once he had the boxes stowed in his backpack, he tossed the man more cash than was needed. “Don't call the police.”
The supervisor shrugged. “It wouldn't do any good around here anyway.”
Trent replaced the gun in his waistband and quickly left the room. Breezing past the secretary, he experienced a moment of panic when he didn't see Seffy where he'd left her. He shoved open the main door and found her halfway down the block with a waiting cab. Casting a glance behind him to make sure he wasn't being followed, he hurried and jumped in the cab after Seffy. After giving directions to his old building, he leaned back against the seat and sighed.
Seffy suddenly punched him hard in the arm. “If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I'll...I'll ...God!”
Trent rubbed his arm, wincing. “You'll what?”
She shook her head, her eyes shooting sparks, and crossed her arms over her chest. When they arrived at the stop, she paid the driver and jumped out of the cab, storming off before he could get out. He found her at the back door, her head turned away. Trent waited until they were up in the room before attempting to justify himself.
As he formulated an argument, Seffy grabbed the gun from his waistband and leveled it at him.
Damn. He wasn't expecting that.
“You are a complete and total idiot, do you know that?”
“Hey, I got the job done. And in less time than it took for your little hair cut.”
She dropped the clip and checked the ammo. There was none. Then she checked the chamber. Sliding the clip back in, she threw the gun at him. “Cute trick, brain trust.”
Trent caught it and replaced it, surprised by her knowledge of firearms. Gareth probably went and trained her when he wasn't looking. Whatever. “Like I said, mission accomplished.”
“Well, next time, I run the show. And keep your little toy out of sight.” She checked her watch. “It's almost one and the staff at the oncology clinic will be going to lunch. This is probably the best time to try there. If that doesn't work, we'll talk about a night attempt.”
He saluted her, but based on her expression, she didn't appreciate the gesture. After a bathroom visit, she headed outside without waiting for him. It didn't take her long to get the attention of a cab driver. She had an intriguing hip move coupled with a certain lift of her chin that got the attention of drivers right away. Trent decided to try the clinic plan her way and see how far she got. Knowing Seffy, she'd need rescuing pretty darn quick.
***
“That was easier than I thought,” Seffy said sliding next to Trent in the waiting cab. She shoved the heavy backpack at him. It was stuffed full. Her arms actually ached from schlepping it the several feet from the clinic into the vehicle.
He stared at her in shock. “You've been gone for half an hour.”
“Yep, I got the job done in less time than it took me to buy my shoes.” She turned her shoulder to him and stared out the window while he gave the driver directions.
Seffy needed a moment to collect her thoughts. She finally agreed that she was in a parallel universe. None of the staff or doctors recognized her at all. And the receptionist in Earth #2? Not nearly as pretty.
Seffy had posed as a family member who needed to use the bathroom. Since she knew the layout of the office and there was only a skeleton staff, she'd filled her bag with the pertinent medical tomes and equipment listed on the paper Fiona gave her, along with equipment she knew would also be needed. Most of it was in blister packs and she made sure to leave some behind for the day's patients. Unlike Trent, she didn't want to use death as a threat.
What had really freaked her was the same security code was in use for the drug cabinet. She'd taken at least one of everything just in case, again making sure that no scheduled patient would go without. Plus, she knew everything could be quickly restocked via the hospital if necessary. Seffy left three thousand dollars cash in the cabinet, locked the door and slipped out of the office with her backpack, barely able to lift it. The receptionist had been chatting with a couple of patients and hadn't tak
en notice.
It felt weird being at the office. Someone else was sitting in her desk chair, talking on her phone, tapping on her keyboard. The only thing different was the smell. Someone perfumed the office with a cinnamon spice smell. Seffy had always used pomegranate. Cinnamon was the wrong choice obviously, but there was nothing she could do about it.
She bit her lip. No matter where she went, she didn't belong. Not in Tangent-land, not at Fugere. Elation at being back in 2006 fizzled out completely, and the old, heavy lead blanket of depression settled down on her shoulders for a long stay. She leaned her forehead against the glass and closed her eyes.
Trent tried to talk to her as they made their way back, but she ignored him. Once they were back in his room, he dumped out the contents of her backpack on the bed and sorted through everything, matching it to the list.
“This is good, Sef. You did an amazing job.” He looked up from the organized piles. “If only we could access patient medical files and get notations of treatment to see—”
Seffy felt her face heat. “There will be no accessing of files, do you understand me? I will not be party to anything that jeopardizes any patient's health. Fenn is hardly the only person suffering from cancer!”
Trent put up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Okay. What we have here should be enough.”
She watched him as repacked the backpack and stowed both in yet another hidden wall panel. When everything looked secured, she turned and left the room.
“Where are you going?”
“Out.”
“Out where?”
Seffy didn't respond. She let herself out the little door into the narrow section between buildings. She turned north, seeking to vent a measure of her frustration. Moisture built behind her eyelids. She walked faster. It had only been a few hours since she'd woken up in Elysian Park, exited and free, with the prospect for two whole days stretching before her. Leave it to Trent to suck all the oxygen out of the parallel universe.
Loneliness ate at her. It wasn't any fun being anonymous. Bruno would've been thrilled to see her and catch her up on all the gossip. The girls at the shops would've at least been familiar with her face enough to smile. Same with the staff at Pink's. And the clinic. The doctors and staff alike had apparently never heard of Seffy Carter and didn't care if they ever did. She was just as alone here as she was in remote Montana in some half-baked compound.
She spotted Carney's across the street and decided it was perfect to grab something to eat—no reservations needed and casual wear was just fine. A portion of her tension eased as she entered the noisy eatery. She found a small table for two and slid onto the chair. As she waited for the waitress, she stared out the window, watching the endless stream of traffic—foot and automobile—go by. Everybody had some place to be.
And I just have time to kill.
When the waitress arrived, she ordered a Thai chicken wrap and lemonade. Protein was an important part of her plan tonight. Puking must be avoided at all costs. A guy at the next table looked over at her and winked. He had big brown eyes...like Gareth. She smiled back and sat up a little straighter. Maybe in addition to drowning her sorrows, she could flirt with a Hollywood hottie for a little while—and forget that Gareth no longer had any interest in her. Seffy scanned the restaurant, looking for other potentials for flirtation and saw...
Trent.
She twisted back to the guy next to her table and sent him a slow smile.
A moment later, she sensed Trent before she saw him. She tried to ignore him even as he slid onto the opposite chair.
“So is this how it's gonna be?”
Seffy refused to look at him, instead keeping her eyes locked on the brown-eyed hunk. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Hey, is this guy bothering you?” the stranger said, his dark eyes concerned.
She let her smile show his appreciation for her regard. “Unfortunately, he's with me.”
“Yeah, so butt out, pal,” Trent snapped.
Seffy shot him a dark look. “Wow. Classy.”
The waitress arrived with her order. Seffy tried to hide her dismay when Trent gave his own order. She prayed for the sun to set already so she could move on to better things. She was done eating by the time his food arrived. Seffy dropped a twenty on the table and got up to leave.
“You're not going anywhere.”
Seffy let him know in succinct terms what she thought of his attitude. She threaded her way through the crowd and left the restaurant. It didn't take her long to realize that she would be an easy mark for him to follow with her bright pink outfit and all. Her watch said it was only four. At least another hour before the bars officially opened.
Seffy headed for the nearest green space, enjoying the vista of tall palms and sculpted lawns after the rugged scrub of remote Montana. The sky was mellowing into soothing oranges and pinks, highlighted by all the neon signs, street lights, and sparkling high rises. She closed her eyes for a moment, reveling in the distinctness that was Los Angeles. When she opened her eyes, she noticed a tall man watching her from about twenty yards away. He stood like a rock in a sea of people, then he angled away and melted into the crowd.
“I don't appreciate having to chase after you all the time.”
Seffy turned and found Trent slightly out of breath. This was getting ridiculous. She started walking, taking in all the sights she could absorb in case she really did get sucked back twenty-six years the day after tomorrow. What if traveling back didn't work? She'd be stuck in parallel-o-land, but would that really be so bad?
Bruno was here and she could begin another styling relationship easily enough with him, though she may have set a bad precedent by tipping so high right up front. Maybe her clinic was taking applications. Heck, maybe she'd finally get an acting gig. Seffy was pretty sure she could make it work here. And maybe Gareth, Lani and Addison could make their way to her some day.
The thought gave her pause. Her friends were really here. Somewhere in town. Then Eugene's worries intruded. Seffy decided as much as she'd love to see them, maybe she shouldn't upset any paradoxes just yet.
She checked her watch, still aware that Trent was following her. Bag it. She couldn't wait until happy hour—it was five o'clock somewhere. Speeding up, she headed back down La Brea and went into a Mexican restaurant and bar, deciding a margarita would do nicely. The bar was sparsely populated but the restaurant side was filling up. She slid onto a tall chair and ordered a lime margarita on the rocks.
Trent pulled up a chair next to her. “What, are you going to get drunk?”
Seffy refused to look at him. “No, just pleasantly buzzed. Besides, you would drive anyone to drink.”
A waitress in a tight tank top and booty short shorts winked at Trent as she walked by with an order.
“On second thought, maybe this isn't such a bad idea,” he said in a low, sexy voice.
Seffy pretended not to hear, though she privately damned the waitress as a tramp. The bartender placed her drink in front of her and she took a sip. Delish. She heard Trent ordering a Corona. Despite her best intentions, she followed his movements from the corner of her eye. He turned around, leaning his elbows on the bar and surveyed the growing crowd.
“Have you ever been here before?”
“Once.” She took another sip, already feeling some of the tension leave her shoulders as the tequila worked its way into her blood.
“I used to come here with my friends.”
Another tiny blonde waitress swished past. “What a shock.”
“It can get pretty rowdy later in the evening.”
“Sounds like fun.”
He turned back to her. “C'mon, Sef, you don't want to be here.”
She licked her lips. “I most certainly do.” After draining the first margarita, she ordered another.
“Aren't you curious why we're here in the wrong place? About how it went wrong?”
“I don't care about what I can't change.”
“What, like Sally Jesse Raphael?”
Her brow went up. “Uh, maybe if we were still stuck in the 80s. For the record, most normal people would've said Oprah.”
“Okay, Dr. Phil.” She sniggered and leaned toward him. “Uh, he's still on the air, right?”
Trent sighed loudly as the bartender served him his beer along with another margarita for Seffy. Trent moodily scanned the crowd, looking for what, she didn't know.
She sipped at the drink with a focused devotion, feeling her cares slipping away salt crystal by salt crystal. Soon all that was left was melted ice cubes.
“If you're going to drink like that, at least eat something with it.”
“Trent, I'm warning you. Leave me alone.” She turned to the bartender. “Let's go with a shot of Patrón this time.” She jerked her head toward Trent. “He's buying.”
Trent stared at her, shaking his head. “Maybe I should let you get loaded. Then I could finally take advantage of you.”
“You're not letting me do anything. And I'd have to be passed out to let you have your way with me.” She started to giggle. “It'd be just my luck to get knocked up in a parallel universe.”
“You wouldn't have to worry about that with me.”
Seffy looked him up and down in astonishment, then laughed out loud. “Is that a thing you should be admitting publicly, what with all these hot waitresses around?”
He rolled his eyes at her. “I just mean that I'm not able to have kids.”
Her smile faded. “Oh. That's kinda sad.”
“It's by choice.”
“What? There's no way any doctor...I mean, at your age—” She slapped her forehead. “Wait a minute, of course there is. If there's money to be made, you'll find a L.A. doctor who'll agree to do anything.”
“Exactly.”
“Well, it's still sad and really cynical.”
“Why? Isn't it more cynical to decide you don't want kids after the fact?”
She regarded him for a moment, taking in his scruffy good looks. “Someday you'll get tired of loose waitresses and want a little plain Jane to settle down with. And Jane will definitely want kids. What then?”