Heading Home

Fresh air was a welcome greeting as Rome lifted his face to the sky and took in a few whiffs of the LA street. Fresh might’ve been an exaggeration, but at least the heavy floral perfume his mother wore and his father’s pungent cologne, along with the stifling weight of the conversation he’d just left, were behind him now. Bart hurried him toward the parking garage, neither of them speaking, which Rome thought was for the best since they had no idea if any of the people they were passing on the street were his father’s associates.
And there was the strange object he’d found in his pocket as well. He wanted to share that with Bart but not until he had assurance no one was watching them or listening in. How it had gotten there was still a mystery.
Bart kept careful watch in every direction as they retraced their path to the parking garage. Some people oohed and awed when they saw him, waving, even a few pictures. But no one asked for a selfie or invaded his personal space, so Rome got a bit of a reprieve from the norm. They got in the elevator alone and were soon in the vehicle.
Rome buckled up, wishing he could call Ella and let her know he was on his way home, but he didn’t dare do that yet. His eyes went to the car they’d noticed earlier with the two men. They were gone. Either they’d never been part of his father’s network or Monty was actually doing as he said he would and had called them off.
Bart steered them out of the parking garage, his eyes constantly flickering to the rearview mirror to make sure they weren’t being followed. It didn’t seem as if they were. He saw his friend relax slightly. Not wanting him to let his guard down just yet, Rome tapped him on the arm to get his attention.
Pulling his eyes away from the road at a red light, Bart raised an eyebrow. Rome shook his head, as if to say not yet. Bart nodded, his eyebrows knit together. Rome patted his pocket. When the light changed color, Bart headed through it, a look of understanding on his face.
He traveled on for about three blocks, past where they normally would’ve turned to get onto the highway that led to Rome’s house. Then, Bart turned right. Rome had no idea where he was going but figured he had a plan in mind. He sat still, contemplating whether or not it was safe to send Ella a text. Deciding it wasn’t worth the risk, especially if this thing in his pocket was a device that could somehow read cell phone data, he tried to stay patient.
After a few more turns and five minutes or so down a lane that led into one of the ritzier parts of town neither of them had ever lived in, Bart pulled over between two large houses with gates that rivaled the one outside of the Verona or Sinders compound. He shifted into park and then turned to look at Rome, his eyebrows raised.
Nodding, Rome pulled the device out of his pocket, hoping it was nothing. By his friend’s expression, he could tell that he had been right to be suspicious. Bart muttered something so quietly, Rome didn’t hear it and turned the tiny object over in his hands a few times. Then, he rolled down the passenger side window and tossed it out into the yard of one of the large houses, rolling up the window and driving on.
Since Bart still wasn’t speaking, Rome decided he’d better not either. Instead, he kept his mouth shut until Bart pulled over again in the back of a parking lot of a gas station several miles away. This time, Bart shifted into park and got out of the vehicle, leaving it running, and gestured for Rome to get out as well.
He did, and Bart came around to his side, taking his own jacket off and patting it down as he did so. He felt his pockets, and the rest of his clothing, and Rome got the idea. They were making sure there was nothing else on them. Rome patted himself down, taking his jacket off and checking it thoroughly, but that wasn’t good enough for Bart. He patted Rome down, too, and then insisted they both check their shoes. Satisfied that there were no other unusual objects, he said, “That was a bug.”
“I got that impression from the way you’re acting,” Rome replied, putting his jacket back on and glancing around. There were a few other people around, but no one was paying them any mind. “How did it get in my pocket?”
“I’m guessing the girl in the elevator put it there,” he replied. “She was the only one who touched you, wasn’t she?”
“Son of a bitch!” Rome hadn’t suspected that group in the parking garage had anything to do with his father’s plan. “Great. I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised that my parents can’t be trusted, but I really thought they meant what they said when they agreed to stop following me.”
Bart shrugged. “It was there before they agreed to that, but no, I’m not surprised either.”
“Why do you think they’d do that?”
“Probably trying to figure out who that girl really is. Your dad seemed awfully suspicious.”
Rome raised an eyebrow. “You think my dad is suspicious that Ella… is Ella?”
Bart nodded. “He implied that he thinks she is, don’t you think?”
Rome had caught his father’s implications as well, but he didn’t want to believe it, so he’d pushed it out of his mind. “What about the vehicle? Couldn’t they have planted something on that?”
“Yes, they could have.” Bart pulled out his phone and sent a quick text. “Your parents already know where you live, so a tracker wouldn’t do them any good. It would have to be some sort of a surveillance device to get them any knew information.”
“Why did you toss it in that particular yard?” He kept his voice low, hoping if there was a device on the vehicle listening to them, it wouldn’t be audible
“I’ll tell you in a minute.”
Rome was still confused, but he figured it had something to with Bart’s fear that his parents’ people were listening in.
A moment later, a dark grey sedan pulled into the parking lot, headed for them. Rome tensed up, his eyes widening, and his mouth dropping open. “It’s okay,” Bart assured him. “One of mine.”
Rome looked at his friend incredulously. “Since when do you have people?”
Laughing, Bart replied, “Since you got married. You got everything out of this vehicle?”
Rome nodded, and Bart led him to the car. The driver’s door opened, and a middle-aged man shaped like a bowling ball got out. “Hey, Rod. Thanks for getting here so fast. Take it in, get it scanned?”
“Of course, boss,” he said, lowering his dark glasses at Bart and giving Rome a small wave. How he drove with those on was beyond Rome.
Bart got behind the wheel of the sedan, and Rome climbed into the passenger seat, hoping this meant they could talk freely. Once the car started to move, Bart said, “You can call Ella now.”
“Right.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and quickly dialed her number, relieved when she answered on the first ring. “Hey, baby. I’m headed home.”
She let out a long sigh. “I’m so glad to hear that. Are you okay? How did it go?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll tell you all about it as soon as I get there, okay? I just didn’t want you to worry about me.”
“Well, I will keep worrying about you until you’re in my arms, but I’m glad you called.”
“Don’t be alarmed, but we’re in a different car now.”
“What? Why?” That shrill tone was back, along with a quiver that told him she was on the edge of panicking again, a state she’d been in ever since he’d agreed to meet his parents.
“It’s all right. We just thought there was a chance they might’ve bugged the other car, so we switched with one of Bart’s friends.” Friends sounded less hostile than associates. He glanced at the GPS Bart had just programmed to get an indicator of how long it might take for them to get home. “I should be there in an hour or so.”
“Okay. I’ll be holding my breath until you are.”
“Don’t do that. You’ll pass out.”
“Then, when you get here, you can revive me.”
The teasing lilt to her voice had him wishing Bart could drive faster. Damn traffic. “I’ll see you soon, baby. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Rome hung up the phone and turned to look at Bart. “Well, what do you think?”
“Where do you want me to start?” his friend asked, only slightly more relaxed now that they were in a different vehicle. His shoulders were still halfway to his ears, and he had both hands on the wheel.
“Do you think they’ll stop following me?”
“I hope so, but it’s hard to say. Probably for a little while. If they do sell the company and move to Europe, it’ll depend on how informed you keep them.”
Rome nodded, thinking that was probably true. “What about those lawsuits?” His stomach rolled over. “Can you believe Ella’s aunt sued me?”
“Could she have filed before Ella called her?”
“I don’t know. But I want to find out.” How could someone who knew the truth do such a thing? Was she really that money hungry?
“Maybe her husband did it. He doesn’t know about Ella, right? That she’s still alive?”
“I don’t think he does. That’s a good point.” Rome considered the contract he’d signed. “I wonder who this foreign buyer is. I sure hope I don’t end up having to make ten shitty movies because this person has a personal vendetta against me.”
“I think Lloyd Sinders is the only one in the movie business who fits that description isn’t he? Does anyone else hate you?”
Rome shrugged. His head hurt. “Who knows.” He had an uneasy feeling about the contract, but at the time, he hadn’t had much of a choice but to sign it. “If I catch one of my father’s men on my tail, that contract is null and void. That’s what we agreed on, right?”
Bart nodded. “Yes, that’s what you said. He’ll just have to be sneakier so he doesn’t get caught.”
“He’ll owe the new owner a hell of a lot of money if he breaks his portion of the contract with me. It said that, too.”
Bart changed lanes to go around a slower car. “Yep. That should be a deterrent, especially if he settled those lawsuits for a quarter as much as what they likely sued for. All the more reason for him to hate Lloyd Sinders.”
“Which is exactly why I didn’t bother to ask him to make peace with Sinders.”
His friend didn’t say anything, but there was a nod of understanding. They continued on in silence for over half an hour before Bart suggested, “You might want to contact your team at the house and let them know we’ve changed vehicles.”
Thinking that was a good idea, Rome sent a text to the security personnel he’d left at home and called off his people at the restaurant, too. He saw he had texts from the ones who’d been stationed outside the Italian joint saying that his parents had left a few minutes ago, and they were headed out. He told them to go home, and thanks for their work.
Once all of the texts were sent, Rome watched out the window as the city faded away and the ocean took over, ready to be home with his girl on the beach, ready to forget about his parents again for a while and just concentrate on her--the only one that really mattered.