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From his hiding spot, Zaiden observed the biker carefully. He noticed him looking around suspiciously, checking to see if anyone was watching. With a swift motion, he reached down and placed something on Zaiden’s bike frame, right under the seat, then he hurried away.
Zaiden approached his bike cautiously. His mind screamed at him to check what the man had left, but instinct whispered to be patient. Heeding his gut, Zaiden decided to act nonchalantly. He swung his leg over the bike and rode it out of the alley where he had parked and down a few streets, doubling back twice to check if he was being followed.
Once he was a safe distance away, he pulled over. Methodically, he ran his hands over his bike, finally discovering a foreign object attached beneath his seat. As he inspected it, recognition dawned on him. It was a tracking device. It sent a jolt of anger coursing through him, accompanied by an unsettling sense that he was being set up. His mind was in overdrive.Fucking Juliette. And Chains. They know what’s in the box and they’ve gone to the cops. What the fuck do I do now?
Instead of ditching the tracking device, his cunning nature sparked a plan. He rode his bike to a crowded mall, knowing that the bustle would make it harder to be followed.
The biker had followed him, but Zaiden acted as though he was unaware of what was happening.
Once inside, he quickly purchased a backpack and stuffed his jacket and helmet inside. Then he headed to a nearby clothing store and bought a new, differently colored t-shirt.
Changing into the new shirt, he hoped that it would be enough to help him blend in with the crowd. He left the mall and, while keeping an eye on the tracker, spotted another bike parked out of the tracker’s sight. He stole the bike and rode off, leaving his old one behind as a decoy.
As Zaiden sped away on the stolen bike, he couldn’t help but feel a mix of adrenaline and apprehension. He knew he had managed to temporarily evade the man, but the questions remained: Why was he being tracked? Was it a cop? Had they found the evidence? How long could he ride a stolen bike before getting caught?
The need to resolve the issue of the box and its contents had ramped up a whole lot more. He had to push for it now…no matter what that involved.
As Zaiden made his escape on the stolen bike, his heart pounded with a cocktail of adrenaline and apprehension. He had sidestepped the pursuer for now, but a barrage of questions kept surfacing: Why was he under surveillance? Was his pursuer a cop? Had they discovered the evidence? How long would it take before he was apprehended for the stolen bike?
The urgency to settle the matter of the box and its contents had intensified significantly. He had to kick it into high gear now, no matter what shit storm it stirred up.
14
“Fuck all this walking,” Zaiden grumbled to himself, hitting the pavement for the final mile stretch from where he’d parked the stolen bike to where he was staying. He didn’t want to risk leaving it parked in plain sight of his place, not if someone had already reported it to the cops.
As he entered his room, frustration seethed through him, his hand tightening around his phone, ready to fling it against the wall. Yet, before he could carry out the act, his phone buzzed, displaying Juliette’s number. His frustration momentarily ebbed, replaced by curiosity and a tinge of hope.
“Casual, Zaiden. Keep it casual,” he reminded himself, answering with a laid-back “Hey, Juliette... got any good news for me?” He wasn’t holding his breath, but he wasn’t ready to throw in the towel either.
Much to his astonishment, she replied, “Yes.”
His eyes widened slightly, and he found himself echoing, “Really?” He needed to confirm he hadn’t misheard.
“Yes, I found it,” she stated, her voice firm and sure. As she described the box to him, a wave of relief swept over him. That was indeed the box he’d been hunting for.
Then she dropped another bombshell. The box had come from the very woman whose life he’d taken. The news elicited a triumphant fist pump from him. This was the breakthrough he’d been waiting for. Judging from her tone, he guessed that she hadn’t looked inside yet. He hoped she hadn’t, but given the recent turn of events, especially being followed, he needed to tread cautiously.
Deciding to probe further, he asked, “Anything inside?” His tone was casual, but the gravity of her answer couldn’t be underestimated.
“It’s locked, I’m afraid,” she informed him, “and no key was given to me with it.”
The update was music to his ears. If Juliette was clueless about what lay inside, then it seemed unlikely the tracking of his bike had anything to do with the box. He found it hard to picture Juliette lying about anything, and her candid tone convinced him that his mission was almost over. All he needed now was to grab the box and leave Louisiana behind him for good.
Still, there was one last piece to his escape plan: securing the Indian motorcycle to fund the next steps of his life.
“When can I swing by to grab it?” he asked.
“You’re welcome to come over tomorrow morning. Chains is here, he’s looking forward to meeting you,” she said.
Zaiden suppressed an intake of breath, hoping she wouldn’t detect his surprise. “Yeah, that sounds great,” he said, assuming a false air of enthusiasm. “I’d love to catch up with him after all these years.”
“Perfect, how does ten sound?”
“I’ll be there,” he confirmed. “I can’t thank you enough, Juliette. My grandmother would be looking down right now, just as grateful.”
“It’s no problem at all,” she replied. “See you tomorrow then.”
Once the call ended, he wasn’t too perturbed about Chains’ presence. He’d already prepared his narrative. Depending on the flow of their exchange, he’d either feign memory loss with “You don’t recall me?” and use Chains’ responses as a foundation for a shared past, or simply express mistaken identity: “Incredible... must be two guys named Chains, because you’re not the one I knew. Still, nice meeting you.”
