iRobotronic

by Bella Street

  The brunette nodded. The other Seffy ran her hands through her hair then hurried from the room.

  Suddenly aware of her elevated breathing in the small bathroom, Seffy inhaled and forced herself to chill. The idea that she was leaving because of Verity? Unbelievable. Had Gareth kicked her out? Addy?

  But Camera Seffy seemed okay with it. The only explanation was that she was moving in with Trent. Unless—

  Seffy found the rewind button and went ran the video backward until she got a shot of the other Seffy's hand. Peering at the grainy image only showed a glint on her left hand. If she was engaged there was no fancy piece of bling, that much was certain. But maybe the shine was just a trick of the light. Moving in with Trent was bad enough. She could barely conjure the idea of a fling. But marriage?

  Not in a million years.

  She went all the way back to the beginning and rewatched the video. Lani's shaky camera work made finding a detail like a ring impossible. Even when the camera was on the dresser, the other Seffy kept her hands out of the frame. There was just that one glint. Not enough for confirmation.

  After Camera Seffy left the room, Lani lowered herself onto the bed. She looked at the photo and sniffed away a few tears, seeming genuinely distressed.

  Seffy wondered why. On one hand she was flattered one of her besties was upset at the thought of her absence, but if a wedding was in the offing, Lani would be one of the most uncontrollably excited people on the planet. That killed the marriage theory.

  So I'm going to shack up with Trent, either because Trent 'loves' me or because Verity is forcing me out. Lani is either upset about Verity or just about change in general.

  Lani wiped her face. Then she tugged something from beneath her shirt collar. A pendant popped out. Seffy recognized the necklace from when they were in middle school—a junk pendant featuring the logo of Lani's favorite movie Zannytu. Lani must be feeling nostalgic for the old days.

  You and me both, hun.

  Seffy knew what she had to do next. Trent must never find this video. He had too many ideas already. Still, she couldn't explain the odd feeling of regret stealing into her heart as she deleted the incriminating video and photos.

  Setting the camera on the back of the toilet, she wondered what to do with the hard evidence. The photo from the picture frame did strange things to her insides. But she couldn't bring herself to tear it up and flush it down the toilet.

  Seffy folded the picture up and slid it back in her bra. She didn't want to risk it falling out where Trent would find it. Gripping her hands together as if in prayer, she tried to sort her rampaging thoughts and emotions. But what she'd seen and heard defied explanation. Better to broom it for the time being. When she was sure she had a semblance of control, Seffy unlocked the door and went out into the room. Trent was in the chair eating a hamburger.

  She stared at him as if seeing him for the first time. But he was still Trent, still someone trying to muck up her already complicated life.

  He pointed to a fast food bag on the desk. “We missed that lunch, so I went out and grabbed something easy.”

  Her stomach turned. She lowered her gaze, concerned he might see the contempt in her eyes. “I'm not hungry. You can have mine.”

  “You have to eat.”

  “What, so I can fill up my bikini again?” Fresh anger mixed with an inarticulate longing for who knew what welled up within her. She headed for the door. Apparently her grip on her emotions was as tenuous as her existence in an alternate reality. “I'm going to go for a walk.”

  “No,” he said calmly. “You're going to sit your butt down and tell me what the hell is going on.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Trent wiped his mouth with a napkin and leaned forward, noting her alarm. “Seriously, Sef, I've done something to piss you off. Tell me what it is so we can get past this.”

  Seffy stared at him from where she sat on the edge of the bed. Her dark eyes swirled with something shadowy and secretive. At least anger brought color to her cheeks. She'd been so pale lately. Pale and stressed and malnourished—nothing like the blonde beauty in the mantle photographs.

  And he'd never wanted anyone so much in his life.

  Seffy looked down at her hands as if discerning his thoughts. Trent regretted she'd seen the Hallmark card. He'd noticed it at the store—it was a whim—and something he didn't know if he'd ever have the nerve to give her. He leaned back in the chair. “So I'm gonna guess you're upset about seeing Gareth with Verity.”

  Her eyes flashed when she looked up at him. “You don't know anything.”

  “Then why don't you bring me up to speed?” Trent saw the conflict in her gaze, stubbornness in the tilt of her chin.

  “It has nothing to do with Gareth.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  She stood. “I don't care what you believe, Trent.”

  He got up and faced her. “Okay, if you're not willing to share, I think I'll take a stab at it. You and Gareth have some dark past secret thing that's eating you alive. The question is, what do you two have to hide?”

  Her eyes widened in fury.

  She tried to push past him, but he grabbed her arm and lowered his voice. “You know, one of the things I find so fascinating about you is this diametric vibe you put off. On one hand I can see there's something bad behind your eyes, something that's got you on a short leash. And yet you project this insane innocence. Like you're truly untouched by the crap of this world. So which is it? Are you Persephone before or after?”

  Her eyes darkened as she jerked her arm away. “This is definitely less Dr. Phil and more Sally Jesse Raphael.”

  He scrutinized every emotion flitting across her face. “Gareth knows about what's lurking inside you. So is he exploiting it?” He shook his head. “No, that doesn't make sense because you're not together.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and smirked. “You're enjoying this, aren't you? But let me tell you, you're way off.”

  “I don't think so. Is he protecting you from something?” Trent stepped closer and narrowed his eyes. “Yes, I think that's it. What's he protecting you from, Sef?”

  “He'd be protecting me from you if he knew what you were up to.”

  He snorted. “What am I doing? I've kept you safe. How is that any different?”

  “I've already told you. I trust Gareth.”

  “And you don't trust me. Why? Because I hurt your feelings when we first met?”

  “No, because you showed your true colors when we first met.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “So people don't get a second chance with you, huh? And yet, I'm thinking you've been granted several chances. Seems stingy, if you ask me.”

  “Obviously no one's asking, beyond the voices in your head.”

  “Hey, if you want to go down the crazy jokes road, trust me, you're the punchline here.”

  Her face heated. “I'm going for a walk whether you like it or not.”

  Trent stepped to the side and motioned to the door. “Don't go too far, princess. We wouldn't want you to be late for your reunion with Gareth.”

  She slammed the door on her way out.

  So much for keeping this room hidden. Trent was pretty sure every tenant now knew they were there. He rubbed his forehead and wondered why he always went off the rails with her. There were times when they were in perfect sync, and then other times like...now.

  A muffled scream sounded through the stucco. Trent tensed and headed toward the door. It was probably just some kids in another room goofing around. Still, he should be sure. As he reached for the knob, a blast shook the building. A piece of plaster separated from the wall and fell at his feet, shattering into dusty crumbles.

  Amid renewed screams, Trent yanked open the door and raced down the stairs. He burst out into the alley and staggered to a stop. The scene telescoped down into a slow-moving moment where he was unable to act.

  Seffy was on the ground gaping up at a man in abject ter
ror. He was tall and stood over her, calmly reloading a shotgun.

  The man from the club!

  Seffy scooted backward, using her feet to propel her, beginning to cry. The man cocked the gun and aimed. She gasped and struggled to get to her feet. The man pulled the trigger at point blank range, but she jerked to one side and a hole appeared in the dirt where her shoulder had been.

  Trent forced himself to move, knowing the next shot wouldn't miss. Suddenly the man's head jerked sideways in a macabre shudder. He went down like an deflated accordion, the shotgun clattering to the ground next to him. Trent swung around to see a heavily tattooed Latino pointing a Glock 9 mm. He kept pulling the trigger but the clip was empty. When he saw Trent, he lowered the weapon, his eyes huge.

  Trent looked at where Seffy clung to the wall of the stuccoed apartment building next door, sobbing and hysterical. Her hands and clothes were filthy. Tripping over the man's body in his rush to get to her side, he tried to deal with the knowledge that she'd be dead if it weren't for the other shooter. Pulling her into his arms, he held her tight. Her hands clutched at the back of his shirt as she pressed her wet face against his neck.

  Trent's mind felt like a jumble of stripped gears. What does this mean? What do I do next?

  “Dude, is she all right?”

  The Latino, looking as shell-shocked as Trent felt, slowly shoved the gun in the back of his waistband.

  “Yeah. Thanks, man. You saved her life.”

  “You know this guy?”

  Trent shook his head. “I don't have a clue what just happened or why.” He had to get the backpacks and get Seffy out of here. But where to go? He was getting low on cash.

  The guy went through the dead man's pockets but didn't find any identification. He stood up and shrugged. “I can't call the cops about this, man. I got my own problems.”

  “Understood. I'm just glad you were here at the right time.” As Trent said the words, a red pinpoint light appeared on the Latino's forehead, which was suddenly replaced with a hole. The man collapsed. It took Trent a stunned moment to realize he was dead. Not pausing to ask why, Trent lunged into a run to the main street, dragging a gasping Seffy with him. A glance over his shoulder revealed yet another man with a gun in pursuit.

  Up the street, he saw a cab. Running flat out, he hailed it, pulled open the door, and shoved Seffy onto the seat. “Go!”

  “Whoa,” the cab driver yelled, “there's a guy with a gun coming after you!”

  “I know! Go!”

  The driver floored it and lurched into a gap of traffic, then tore around a corner.

  “That's good, keep taking turns. We have to lose him!”

  “Who the hell is he?”

  “I don't know! He just killed someone.”

  The driver got on his radio and called the police. While he reported the incident, Trent looked over at Seffy, where she sat hunched on the seat, staring straight ahead, tears running off her chin. He looked out the rear window but didn't see the shooter. Reaching out to Seffy, he touched her shoulder. He needed her to be out of sight. “Lean down and put your head on my leg.”

  She complied, curling up on the seat and resting her cheek on his thigh. “I saw that man before,” she said quietly.

  “When?”

  “After I left Carney's last night. He was staring at me on the street, then he disappeared into the crowd.”

  The taxi veered around another corner. “We're heading to 101. The cops have been sent to the corner where I picked you up.” The driver glanced at Trent in the rear view mirror. “They're going to want to question you.”

  “Yeah.” But Trent wasn't worried about the cops. He had to figure out a way to keep Seffy safe and retrieve the backpacks. He snorted. Keeping her safe. Right after bragging, he'd stood like a statue, unable to move while a shotgun barrel was nearly planted in her skull. Trent put his hand on Seffy's back. Her shoulders tensed, but after a moment, she relaxed, her fingers toying with the leg seam of his jeans.

  Where could they go that was safe and close? Some place where they could get lost and not trapped like a rat in a gutter. He sat up straighter. “Head to Universal Studios.”

  The driver nodded and turned on his blinker. Trent leaned back and pulled out his wallet to count his remaining cash. Five hundred and forty dollars. It should be enough for a few more cab rides and admission into the Studios. Then he realized it was summer. They'd have to wait in long lines.

  “Hey, dude, have you ever been to Universal Studios?”

  “Sure,” the driver said. “I have an annual pass.”

  Yes. “Would you be willing to sell it to me?”

  “Why would you go to a place like that when you just had someone shooting at you?”

  “It's a good place to hide.”

  “You in trouble with the law?”

  “No, some guy just starting shooting at my girl.”

  The driver made a face, then stared at Trent in the rear view mirror. “Yeah, I can sell you my pass. It's the premium one. I even got a free ticket for your girl. I was going to take my granddaughter, but I want to help you out, kid. Two hundred bucks cash.”

  The price the driver was demanding was more than double what the tickets were worth, but they needed a place to hide out until he figured out what to do. Trent handed over the cash and examined the tickets he got in exchange to make sure they were valid. They were.

  The cab pulled onto the boulevard leading to the Studios. He got them as close to the entrance as possible and dropped them off. Trent helped Seffy from the back seat and they hurried to the entrance. Even with the pass, they still had to stand in line a while. He continually scanned the crowd, but was hindered by the sheer number of people. He hoped the converse would save their behinds. Seffy's tears had dried, but she stood with a blank look on her face, not seeming to care if she lived or died.

  Once they were inside the park, Trent pulled Seffy out of the main thoroughfare. He touched the sparkling zipper pull of her tracksuit. “You got a shirt on under there?”

  She nodded listlessly and didn't resist when he unzipped the jacket and slid it from her shoulders, revealing a white tank top. He wrapped the arms of her jacket around her waist and tied a loose knot in front. Spotting a gift shop, he bought a couple of baseball caps. After stripping off his top shirt and stuffing it in a trash can, he put a blue cap on Seffy's head and adjusted her sunglasses.

  “There. You're less Juicy and more crowd blendy this way.”

  She looked up at him from red-rimmed eyes, visible even from behind the shades. “Why does someone want me dead?”

  He rested his hands on her shoulders. “I don't know. Let's just hang out here for a few hours, regroup, and figure out how to get back to the medical supplies in time to take tomorrow's ride home.” Despite the southern California heat, he felt her shivering under his hands. “Sef, listen, I know I'm not Gareth, but I'm going to keep you safe, okay?

  She regarded him solemnly and nodded. “But just so you know, I'm not your girl.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Seffy stared at the hot dog Trent placed in her hands. Her stomach twisted at the thought of eating, though she knew she was hungry. But she couldn't get the sight of the gunman out of her brain. It was as if his image was seared onto her retinas; his eyes cold, almost mechanical. He'd just walked up to her and aimed the shotgun.

  She'd dropped like a stone, avoiding getting her head blown apart by the barest second.

  “You have to eat that, Sef.”

  Seffy looked up at Trent. It took all her strength to keep the hot dog from falling out of her hand. “Why would someone want to kill me?”

  He sat down next to her on a curb in the shade. Hundreds of tourists and park visitors wandered past. Why can't my life be just a walk in the park? Am I doing some serious karmic payback? But I've never done anything to hurt anyone.

  Right?

  “I don't know,” Trent was saying. “But I think it's safe to say our parallel selves di
d not suffer untimely tragic deaths. I think we were murdered.”

  She stared at him from tired eyes. “That's helpful.”

  He looked at her dog. “Eat.”

  Seffy took a drink from the cup of soda he'd handed her, then sputtered. “Gross, this is regular Coke.”

  “I know.”

  “I asked for Diet Coke.”

  He held up another soda cup. “I have it right here. You only get it after eating the hot dog and drinking something with serious amounts of sugar and caffeine.”

  Her shoulders slumped but she took a long draw on her straw, trying not to grimace. After a few moments, she sensed the effects of the sugar and admittedly felt a little better. “If it's true that the other Seffy was murdered—and if I take into account all the attempts on my life—maybe I'm making a mistake fighting it. Maybe I just should've let that guy blow my head off.”

  “Don't talk like that.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I like you better with your head.”

  She made a face and took a bite of the hot dog. The effort of chewing and swallowing made her want to lay her cheek on the concrete and sleep. “Maybe if I just gave in to the inevitable, I wouldn't need all this protecting. It's very demoralizing, you know. I'm like the only female wimp left in the United States.”

  He smirked. “I doubt that. Anyway, have you ever asked anyone to protect you?”

  She thought about it and finally shook her head.

  “So you have volunteers on the job. No need to feel guilty about that. Besides, I think that whole 'I don't need a man, independent woman' meme is crap. What is the point of men if they can't protect the girl?”

  A snicker escaped her lips.

  “Seriously, since woman have made men superfluous, we just sit around watching sports and scratching ourselves, which only gets us into more trouble. Maybe if we were actually allowed to do what we're designed for, we wouldn't be such troglodytes.”

  “I can see you've thought long and hard about this.”