The Girl, The Guard & The Ghost

A Walk In The Woods

Sienna followed Alvar Caputo along a trail which barely was wide enough for one let alone two people.

“Why a walk?” she asked as she followed him.

“Because the world listens in, when you’re in the middle of the city. All walls have ears, all screens have eyes, and all the world has spies. Coming into LA is tricky for me. Facial recognition software now in use by the government would pick me out in a crowd if I didn’t tamper with it enough. I have lived forty years on this planet, and I’ve never been arrested. I don’t intend to start now.” He waved his arm, “walking in the woods like this, on a trail which most people don’t know about, with all devices put away, means we can talk freely and not worry about being overheard.” He motioned, around them, “I also have a satellite program running surrounding this area which interrupts cellular service. Even if we did stumble across someone, their phone wouldn’t work which would limit any livestreaming or phone calls and my guys are all around here, at a respectable distance to intervene should an individual get in my way.”

“Oh.” She felt her eyebrows touching as she considered his words, “you have control over satellites?”

“Yes.”

She grinned at him as he looked over his shoulder at her, “it’s kind of cool.”

“It’s not kind of cool, it is cool.” He tossed back. His smile was wide.

“What is she like?” she asked suddenly breaking the silence after they’d been walking for several minutes, heading to a destination she was unsure of.

“Who?”

“Jonas’ girlfriend,” she swallowed the bitter lump. Why hadn’t he told her?

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.” No. She did not. She nodded outwardly while internally her head was shaking no with fury.

“She’s tall, blonde, thin and she works in a pub as a bartender and server. She’s loud and boisterous and my research has shown the neighbors in the apartment complex have complained multiple times to the superintendent about the noise she makes when they have s*x. She is, from what my source observed last evening, a very vocal woman.”

She drew to a halt and stared at him, “I didn’t need all this information. You could have stopped at server.”

“Yes, but you need to know the truth before you move forward with your guard. My intuition tells me, he is of the mindset, since he ended it with the woman last night, he has no need to tell you about her. Today he told you he wants to start over, fresh, as if today is the first day of your relationship. Which means, everything he did up to and including yesterday is his past.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“I’ll check back with you in a week. When I do, let me know if he told you.” He paused at the top of a small hill and looked down at her as she climbed up slowly behind him, “or are you going to confront him?”

“You think I should wait for him to tell me.”

“I think you’ll be waiting until Christ comes back before he tells you of his own free will.”

She groaned, “I’m supposed to say nothing?”

“Nothing speaks more to knowing whether you can trust someone by knowing one of their secrets and waiting to see if they confess.”

“I guess,” she grumbled. “I don’t understand though. He knew how I felt from the moment he found out the truth. He kissed me that day. He’s been yelling at me for two months the minute I talk to anyone else or engage in activity he doesn’t like, but he’s had a girlfriend?”

“I would say it would be one of those situations where a person is projecting their own behaviour onto their partner. I believe this is a scenario where he never believed he would get the girl and now the opportunity presents itself, the timing was off because he was back with the on-off girlfriend. He accused you of behaving inappropriately dancing and going for coffee with other men, because he was involved with another woman.” He held his hand out and helped her to the plateau. “You are out of shape.”

She put her hands on her hips and glared at him, “I’m not. It’s lack of oxygen. We must be high up.”

“You’re out of shape because for the last couple of months you’ve not been climbing ladders in the library or swinging on pole in a dance club. I own multiple clubs and parlors. If you ever want to dance, just to dance, I can arrange for it.”

“I’m good thanks. Miklos has Laskaris and he has a pole in one of the booths.”

“Yes, but you need to keep your clothes on there.”

“I didn’t enjoy dancing topless.” She frowned at him.

His eyes raked her from head to toe, “you’re a liar.”

“Excuse me?” she noted for the first time a small scar along the edge of his eye, which disappeared when he grinned at her as he was doing now.

“You’re a liar. You don’t like the way men leer at you or throw money at you, but you like the freeing sensation you have in taking ownership of your body and dancing. You like the way your boobs move when you dance.”

“Oh,” she shoved past him and kept walking further along the trail.

“Tell me about the woman who stole your money. What do you remember about her?”

“She was my height. Blonde. Green eyes. She was a bit bigger than me, maybe ten, fifteen pounds heavier than I was back then so maybe around one-thirty?”

He looked her over, “you do not weigh a hundred and fifteen pounds.”

“I said back then!” she growled at him as he gave her a toothy smirk.

“Your ass clearly puts you around a hundred and forty.”

“Shut up!” she squealed as she turned to face him. “You are not kind.”

“No kidding,” he mocked her. “What else do you remember?”

“She smelled funny.” She hated the way she was going to sound saying this, “she always smelled of sweat and garlic.”

“Garlic?” he frowned at her description.

She made a face, “my grandmother taught my mom to cook. One of my favorite dishes my mom used to make was a shrimp Fra Diavolo. It was very garlicky. The first time I met the nurse, I wondered if she had an Italian Nonna too.” She sighed, “but then it never went away. Ever. It was as if she packed her clothes and stored them in it.”

He chuckled, “I had a Nonna, and her kitchen always smelled of tomatoes and garlic. Always.”

“Yeah, well the b***h ruined garlic for me.”

“You need to take it back,” he was walking with his long strides as if merely strolling along a perfectly level path, not a bead of sweat on his frame. “Life is too short not to eat the garlic.”

“I’m pretty sure the saying is life is too short not to eat the cake.”

“We’ll agree to disagree.” He took note of her huffing and puffing and motioned for her to sit on a large rock, “she was blonde, smelly, and bigger than you. You gave me her name, Melissa, which you guessed was an alias, when we chatted yesterday briefly. How old was she? Ballpark?”

“I was eighteen. Back then anyone over twenty-five seemed ancient. She was at least thirty, give or take a year but I was a bad judge of anything.” She picked at the bark of the felled log near where she sat, “I’m not good at watching people up close. It’s why I study past civilisations and compare to current ones. I’d rather study text than an actual person. There are a handful of people I can honestly say, I am comfortable enough around I have looked them in the face long enough to pick them out of a lineup.” She twisted her lips, “my mom. I have studied every single aspect of her face right down to the little freckle she has on the side of her nose. Dimi, Darya, Magda, I know their faces. I could probably draw them blindfolded. Jonas too, I bet. There’s a couple of people I was in classes with for four full years and I had assignments with them. I could probably identify them.” She rubbed her hands on her knees, “but the rest of the world, I can’t connect with. It’s hard for me to make small talk or maintain eye contact.”

“Why? I’ve never had this problem. I’m curious to know why you’re so bashful?”

She looked at his expensive shoes, staring at the black laces, “my dad.”

“Your father? Your birth certificate said father unknown.”

“My mom put it on there to protect me, I guess. My dad, according to her, was not a good man. She said when I was about three or four, he came to the house. I don’t remember this at all, but I guess I looked him in the face, right in the eyes and he hit me. Mom said he had a rule about eye contact. I don’t know his name. I don’t know how they met or where he went. All I know is, I met him once, I made eye contact and he beat me for it. Mom said I was a different little girl after, always afraid to look anyone in the eye. I’ve tried to overcome it, but I grew up in a small town, I didn’t really have friends growing up, my mom left me alone, a lot because I didn’t have a sitter while she worked and the fear, I had put into me from the sperm donor, all have left lasting impressions. I’m introverted and I’m okay with it.” She shielded her eyes from the sun as she looked up at him. “Is this where you tell me I need to grow up and open my eyes?”

“No,” he frowned down at her, rocking on his heels. “You can no more change who you are than you can change the rock you’re sitting on.” He tilted his head, “do you recall your father’s name?”

“Damien. I don’t know the last name. I have no desire to go looking for him or to find out anything about him.” She shook her head angrily. “He was not a good man. My mom told him to leave and never come back. I know he visited a couple of times but never when I was there. I could always tell because she was slow to move. I’m certain he hurt her.” She whispered quietly. “About a year ago, I was sitting with her in her room at the home in Boston and one of the orderlies, my age, maybe a bit younger, must have looked like my father when he was younger. She freaked out and tried to get me to hide under the bed. They had to implement a rule for this guy not to work in her section because she panicked each time he came by. He felt badly of course but it wasn’t his fault.”

“How is she now? You visited her today?”

“No. I was supposed to go after meeting with Jonas.” She gave him a half smile, “well, do you think you can find her?”

“A woman with a phony name, blonde hair, and smells like garlic. It’s not much to go on but I’ll see what I can do.”

She giggled, “can I ask you something? Now we’re in the middle of nowhere? Just between us? I can keep a secret and I’m really curious.”

“I can’t promise to answer but you can ask anything.”

“Are you in love with Magda Onassis?”

“No.” he shook his head seriously.

“You’re sexually attracted to her. You put her over your knee.”

“I’m sexually attracted to a lot of women,” he shrugged. “Doesn’t mean it’s love, Sienna.”

“Then what is it? Why are you still following her?”

“I’m not actually following her though for the purpose of your question, Magda is a genuinely sweet person and I have a lot of respect for her. The way she can take the s**t people like Darya Pappas throws at her and still rises above, makes me curious to know how she does it.”

“You do know, Darya isn’t the b***h you make her out to be, right?”

He gave her a disbelieving snort. “You don’t think so?”

“I know she’s not. She’s blunt, I’ll give you that and she often says things which make us sit up and take notice but ninety-nine percent of the time, she’s right. Her delivery isn’t perfect, hell, it’s not even good, but when she says something, either calls us out on our bullshit or points out when someone else’s bullshit is negatively affecting one of us, she’s almost always right. She loves us. You didn’t see her when you took Magda. She and Magda are like two pieces of a puzzle fitting together. They argue a lot, fight constantly and bicker like little girls but it’s only because in each other, they find the sisters they wanted growing up.”

“Where do you fit in?” he questioned quietly. “Aside from being Dimitra’s body double.”

“I was Magda’s roommate first semester of college. She found out if she put alcohol in my mouth, I turned into a party animal. I could talk your ear off. She would give me drink and I’d chat for days. The girls took me under their wing and made me part of their group.” She smiled softly, “they’ve made so many sacrifices for me over the years. Darya once did an eighteen-hour shift in the club to pay for my mom’s hospital stay. She had a midterm the next day and aced it. They rescued my mom for me, more than once. I would die for any single one of them.”

His dark eyebrows lifted, and he regarded her seriously, “those are strong words. If I put a gun to your head right now and told you to make a choice between yourself and Dimitra, what would you say?”

She sat up at his question, suddenly unsure if it was hypothetical, “do you have a beef with her?”

“Not particularly but she has been digging into my background. She does not like being thwarted. However, if the man I have watching her right now, was given the order to put the bullet in her head or you take the bullet, who gets the bullet.”

“I do,” she said decisively. “She has her whole life ahead of her. She’s got a husband and a family to run and a family to plan. I’m expendable. She is not.” She waved to his jacket, “is this where you pull a gun out and engage in this test?”

“No,” he denied her question. “However, this is the part of the day we start walking back. I have the information I need to get started. You need to get back to your friends.”

The walk back was in silence, but not an uncomfortable one. More than once he helped her over a tree root or to jump down the small inclines, but no words were spoken. The quiet was maintained in the car until they were almost into the city center.

She looked up when the window partition rose, and a puff of smoke blasted in her face from what she had thought was a speaker. Her eyes felt heavy, and she quickly succumbed to the dreamless drug-induced sleep.