Six: Tit For Tat
They holed up in another hotel, a dozen or so miles out of town, ready to jump to the next shit-hole when the need arose. They got lucky and found a cheap place with two room suites, where Seth counted their stash, with the new shipment added in, while Ritchie kept an eye on their hostage and watched cartoons.
As the greenbacks floated through his hands, Seth's mind kept wandering. What in the hell had he been thinking? Xanny or not, he shouldn't have dragged her along on this. It was getting distracting, especially the way she seemed to have become their third wheel. And the more he was around her, the more he was sure she was telling the truth. She was not Xanny. And if she wasn't Xanny, then who in the hell was she?
The last thing in the world he wanted to do was admit to her that he'd been wrong. It seemed a shameful thing, to lose face to a hostage. Then again, he'd tolerated her pleas to sit in the car instead of ride in the trunk, he'd let her sit out in the bar while he'd gone back and blown that asshole to bits and gotten back what was rightfully his, and she hadn't tried anything. She'd played along in the convenience store...the convenience store...the feel of her arms around his waist...
He heard the door creak open. Ritchie was standing there. "What's going on, man?" he said, slightly irritated. "You've been in here almost an hour. Is it all there or not?"
"Yeah, it's all here," Seth said, shoving the last stack of hundred dollar bills into the suitcase and latching it shut.
"He didn't touch any of it?"
"Maybe a few hundred, not enough. We did really good on that last bank haul."
"So what's the plan now?"
"We find a new place to hide it," Seth answered. "Where you wanna go?"
"Mexico," Ritchie said. "Rice and beans and 100 proof liquor, and all as cheap as horseshit."
"Sounds good. So we keep heading west, probably into Texas, try to make our way down to the border."
"And what about her?" Ritchie said, casually, a thumb shot over his shoulder into the other room.
"I'll take care of it." No, he did not want Ritchie to know that the woman wasn't Xanny. Although Ritchie had to have figured it out by now. She hadn't given him any evil eyes, hadn't said more than a few words to him outside of simple common courtesy ...in fact, she'd been too polite.
Xanny and Ritchie hadn't ever liked each other, and Seth knew why. They both vied for his attention, sought the number one position in his eyes. And in the bottom of his dark little ego, he'd relished it, their desiring to be important to him, more important than anything else. In his love-starved life, it was the only real affection he'd ever known.
Then one day, Xanny didn't want to play anymore. He'd never seen Ritchie so happy.
"Well, I'm getting tired of baby sitting," Ritchie grumbled, sitting down on the bed.
"I'll cover it for a while," Seth said, sliding the suitcase into the closet and closing the door. "Take a nap, you're on watch tonight."
"Yeah, yeah," Ritchie said, lying down without bothering to do more than kick off his shoes. Seth pulled the door shut behind him as he walked out into the small living room.
She was on the floor in front of the couch, curled up, her knees tucked up to her chin. He regarded her carefully, examining the changes again. If it was Xanny, it would have cost her a near fortune to get her hair to look so naturally blond, after all the different colors it had been forced to endure. She didn't look like she'd ever had to work a day in her life-she was plump, even, compared to the Xanny he remembered. And her eyes, as she turned her gaze to him. They never looked at him with such a distance, curious, wondering, not sure. She'd always been so sure with him.
He sat down on the couch, on the other end, away from her. She went back to watching television-some old rerun of a Dick Van Dyke show, God knew what channel. At least it wasn't the Brady Bunch. When the show was over, she reached over and flipped off the set.
There was a heavy pause, and then, he said, "So, let's say that, for a moment, I pretend to believe your story. That your real name is Augusta Charlene Baxton, an heiress, engaged to a multi-millionaire."
"News reports usually sensationalize things," she murmured. "Actually, he's a billionaire."
Seth made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat, not realizing it until she turned around, a little startled. "See, that's just my point. That's exactly the sort of thing Xanny would have said. Take a bad situation and make it worse."
Augusta unfurled her legs, and pulled herself up onto the couch. "I'm sorry," she said. "But it's the truth. All of it."
He nodded. "So then tell me about this Marcos Ferarre guy. Your fiancée. Other than the fact that he's a billionaire."
She seemed bewildered by the request. "What do you want to know?"
"Are you in love with him?"
Even more bewilderment, and he understood because he felt it himself. Why in the hell had he asked her that? But to his greater surprise, she didn't answer right away. Any other woman, completely in love with a man, would have said "yes" as a simple gut-reaction. She looked away, strands of her pale hair covering her face.
"I...uh...yeah, I love him."
Seth smiled. "Right."
She sharply turned back to him. "I don't really see what it has to do with anything."
"A lot, actually. He in love with you?"
She looked down. "Yes. I think so."
"And what would he be willing to do to have you back?"
"Anything," she said, with considerably less hesitation. "Probably give you a lot more money than anything you have in that little suitcase of yours."
He leaned just a little closer to her. "And would you like that? Him ransoming you? Would it make him more appealing in your eyes?"
Now she was getting a little angry. "Provided you actually gave me back to him, I would think we'd all have other things on our minds."
"Why haven't you tried to run?" he asked.
"Because you threatened to shoot me if I did," she shot back.
"And you always do what people tell you to do when they threaten you? A spoiled little rich girl like you?"
More anger. "How do you know I'm spoiled?"
"Either that or your just so soft you wouldn't know how to run if the door was wide open."
Flickers of rage. Any minute now and she was going to pop. "Have I been acting like I'm soft?"
He gave her a little smile. "No. You're acting like someone who's actually having herself a good time."
Her chin shot up. "Fuck you."
"Oh, so you do have fangs."
"What the hell are you trying to do?" she demanded. "What the hell do you want to know from me?"
He sighed, considering. "I want to know," he said, slowly, measuring his words, "is how the hell you think all of this is going to turn out."
The anger turned back into shock. "You're the villain mastermind," she said, "you tell me."
"Maybe it's time to give your boyfriend a call," Seth said leisurely, stretching. "See what he's really willing to do to get you back."
She folded her arms, turned away. Long seconds passed before she turned back, and said, "I stink."
He almost jumped. "Come again?"
"I haven't showered since...God, when was it? Two days ago? I don't know. I smell. You want a smelly hostage? Or do you want to let me use the shower?"
"Oh, so now we're planning on trying to run, are we?"
"Of course not," she sighed. "I just want a shower." She lifted the limp locks of her hair. "Please?"
"I don't know. What's in it for me?"
"A fresher-smelling hostage?"
"I don't plan on shoving you up my nose."
"Could have fooled me last night."
"Touché," he muttered, feeling a reluctant respect for her comeback. "But still, tit for tat." She shot a glare at him. He realized what he'd said. "What I mean is, you tell me more about this Marcos guy, and I let you shower. Fair trade?"
She sighed, deeply. "Whatever you want, Seth. Can I go now?"
"Just be quiet. Ritchie is sleeping on the bed."
%%%%%%%%%%
Xanny pressed the cotton swab deeper into her arm. She hated getting pricked with needles-she bruised like a peach. Her phobia of needles kept her from a heroin addiction about ten years ago, and she was rather protective of it. Plus, the way all these people acted like they were so important-Marcos on the phone, getting everything he wanted pushed to the front of everyone's schedule. And then there was Aunt Anette, who was running her around the house, showing her pictures, rooms, bits of knick- knacks that were important to her family history in some way...
The pictures were the worst. Especially the ones of her parents. Two people she'd never met. If they even were her parents. If the blood test didn't come back and state clearly that she was not Augusta's long-lost twin, that Anette was crazy, and that she was just a two bit hood who was desperately trying to reform for reasons even she wasn't sure of sometimes.
And now she was in a huge suite, bigger than any hotel room she'd ever holed up in, bigger than any apartment she'd rented, bigger probably than any room she had ever called her own. The four-poster bed had such thick, expensive-looking blankets covering it, she wasn't sure she was even supposed to sleep under them. It was the first moment she'd had alone all day, and now that night had fallen, she had a chance to breathe.
There was a soft knock on the door, and it opened before she had the chance to call. Carl stuck his head around the door. "You okay?" he asked, the first sign of sympathy he'd shown all day. It had been a matter of time for him, really.
"I'll live," she said, feeling completely exhausted.
He sat down beside her, not too close, but close enough. "Talk to me, Wallace," he said softly. "Tell me what you aren't telling these people."
So much for sympathy. "For all I know, this could all be a big joke," she said. "I don't know."
"And the Geckos?"
"What about them?"
"Is Augusta in danger?"
"As long as Seth believes she's me-"
"Do you think that will last? I mean, men have a way of recognizing the women in their lives. Mistaken identity only lasts for so long."
"True," she said with a deep sigh. "But it isn't Seth I'm worried about. It's Ritchie."
"The sex offender."
"Yeah. It's bad. He never messed with me because I could kick his ass, and he knew Seth would absolutely kill him. Plus he never liked me because I was so important to Seth. Ritchie's very possessive of him. Of course, so was I," she added with a grunt. "When Ritchie finds out she's not me, he might try something."
"Won't Seth be really pissed?"
"He'll figure it out before Ritchie does. I don't know if he'll tell Ritchie or not. It totally depends on Augusta, how good of a hostage she's being."
Carl started to grin. "I talked to Mr. Ferarre for a while, while you were being pricked and prodded," he said. "Got some information on Augusta, but I have a feeling he was holding back. I think maybe you should try to talk to him."
"Why me? You're the detective."
"And you're the star of this show, whether I like it or not," Carl replied, although he didn't sound at all resentful. "But from what I was able to get, Augusta is sort of a recluse. A private person, someone not a lot of people really know. She pretends to be all normal, goes through the motions of someone in her position-a rich woman with money to spend-but Ferarre says that she's got a side to her that he's only gotten glimpses of."
"A side?"
"Yeah. One that's a lot like you. You know, I was thinking...psychological research says that when twins are separated, they tend to develop some of the same personality characteristics. What if this Augusta is really a wild woman, whose been hiding it from everyone all these years for lack of an opportunity to really cut loose?"
"Are you saying I'm a wild woman?" Xanny asked with a grin.
"You used to be," Carl said seriously. "Maybe you've gotten wiser, but this woman, she's been sheltered. She's never really been exposed to any serious danger. Now that she is, I have a feeling she's going to become a wild card."
"You're not suggesting she'd run with Seth and Ritchie of her own free will, are you?"
Carl shrugged. "I have no idea what she'll do. But do you think she's been pretending to be you, all this time, or that she's been trying to convince the Geckos that they've got the wrong girl? I doubt she's been pretending to be you. People from this kind of background have a certain pride-they'd certainly never act to please a couple of criminals, no matter how threatened they were."
"So she's being a pain in their ass, most likely, and then they find out she's not who they thought she was. So what happens then? Seth feeds her to his brother?"
"That's where my theory of the wild card comes in. She joins up with them to keep them from killing her."
"Twists and turns," Xanny muttered, nursing her arm.
"We need to start tracking these people as soon as possible. You know the best place to start?"
"Well, they kept their loot somewhere in Moorseville, and I'm sure that they went back there to keep it all in one place," Xanny said. "Either that or they picked up their stash because they're ready to start spending."
"Think they'll stay in the country?"
"I don't know. Ritchie's always wanted to go to Mexico. I don't know if they've been already, but I guess now would be a good time, considering the haul they got from the bank."
"Then tomorrow morning we head out to Moorseville," Carl said, "and start following their trail."
"Sounds like a plan," Xanny said. Her arm began to throb.