Thom

The man shifted nervously in his seat. Thom was a good man, but even a good man can get in just a tad too deep. He sighed. That’s what had happened to him, he figured, he’d just gotten in too deep. Once again, he checked over his shoulders. There was someone hovering behind him. It was probably nothing, he figured. The café was full, after all. The man was probably just waiting for a table to open up. Even still, he waited for the man to leave before he began anything. Just because a lurker wasn’t involved didn’t mean he wasn’t a lurker.

As a table opened up and the man walked away, Thom let out the breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in all that time. Pulling up the poker site, he logged onto the chatroom server. After a moment, the panel blipped. One new message. It was ten strung together numbers. A phone number. Checking around him one final time, he dialed. It rang once, twice, three times.

On the third ring, someone picked up. “Yello,” the voice on the other end said, nonchalantly, “What up?”

Thom nervously answered. “I don’t know. I was given this number, like, ten seconds ago.”

The voice on the other end chuckled. “Right, right. The debtor. I was told I’d be getting a call from you soon. You can call me H. You’re going to help me out a bit, alright.” It was clear from H.’s voice that it wasn’t a request.

“Who are you?” Thom asked, clearly still nervous about whatever it was that was going on around him.

“I told you already,” she said calmly, “I’m H. Mister H, if you’re feeling formal. You owed some bad men a lot of money. Now, you don’t. You owe ME a lot of money. Unlike those bad, bad men, though, I’m a kind and forgiving soul. So, you’re just going to do a few teensy-weensy favors for me, and all will be forgotten.” From the formulaic-ness of her voice and the ease at which she said the spiel, it was clear that this wasn’t H.’s first rodeo.

“Alright,” he said, “What do you want me to do?” If doing a few things for this mysterious benefactor got him out of the debt, Thom was fine with that. Better than owing a hundred large to the Russian mob, that’s for sure.

“Over the phone, like some kind of animal? What do you take me for?” H. was paranoid too, it seemed. That probably was less than ideal, Thom figured, but again, better than the mob.

“What then?” he asked, trying to hide his exasperation from the surrounding ears. The lurker had begun to look suspiciously in his direction, but that was nothing new. Thom tended to stand out a bit in the crowd. More than he would like, at times.

“You’re at the coffee shop, on Third and Main?” the voice on the other end asked, then, answering her own question, continued, “Of course you are. I’ve got a friend there who can help you out. Head to the dumpster around back, and you should see them.”

“What?” Thom asked. This was one confusing as hell conversation.

H. laughed in response. “Kisses,” she said as she hung up the phone.

Thom sighed. Sliding his phone into his own pocket, he locked his computer. Turning to the gentleman next to him, he asked, “Hey, man, would you mind keeping an eye on it for a sec?”

The man looked up at him and nodded. “Of course, bro. I got you.”

Thom nodded in thanks and walked towards the rear exit. Checking once again over his shoulder to make sure no one was following, he slid outside. The dumpsters were just inside a small, partially walled off area behind the shop. Walking around the partial wall, he entered the small enclosure.

There was no one in the area. Whoever his newest friend thought was going to be there, wasn’t. Wondering if this was all some sort of cruel practical joke, he checked behind the dumpster for a mysterious hiding gnome. There was no one. Just as he began to give up, he heard a chime from under the trash container. Reaching down under the wheels, under the dumpster far enough that it took some effort to even notice, sat an old-school flip phone. Pulling it out of that spot, Thom opened it.

Checking the contacts, the history, everything, there were no numbers saved. All that was there was a single text from a blocked number. It read, ‘You really are fast, babe. Keep this on you at all times. XO.’ Thom shook his head, sticking the phone in the pocket opposite his normal phone. He went back into the café, and nodded thanks once again to the gentleman watching his stuff. After sitting back down, he began writing his essay for his graduate school applications. He needed something less insane than his normal life.

Three hours later, he’d finished the first draft of the essay, and got up. As he got into his car, the flip phone chimed once again. The text read simply, ‘Hey babe. I need you to pick something up for me. Broad and 7. No peeking! See you at the farmer’s market north of town. <3’ Thom shoved the phone grumpily back into his pocket and drove to the pickup point. For someone so flippant with the cutesiness and so roundabout with her talking, she sure made certain it was all grammatically correct. Whoever this H. is, she was definitely an odd one.

Broad and Seventh was a small bed and breakfast place. Thom knew about it, but he’d never actually been. He’d never considered the town a tourist destination before he moved there, and never needed a bed and breakfast since he’d gotten an apartment a few blocks away. He walked into the lobby. The concierge greeted him. “Hello sir, will you be needing a room, or do you have a reservation?”

Thom smiled. “Neither. I believe you have something for me to pick up.” His voice remained calm in spite of the oddity surrounding this exchange.

“Of course, of course. How silly of me. You must be Mister H. Just wait one moment.” He shuffled into the back room, putting the break sign up on the countertop, just in case any legitimate customers came by.

Thom furrowed his brow. Why would this man think he was H? H. was a chick. He’d talked to her. If she’s organized this thing, surely this guy would know that information, too. After a few minutes, the concierge returned with a large bag. “Here you go, sir,” he said with a smile, “Please, do remember us.”

Thom, still confused, nodded. “Of course,” he said as he took the bag. It was rather large and light. It felt almost like a dress. Walking away, he frowned. Was he being used to pick up his debtor’s dry-cleaning, he pondered. On the one hand, not having to do crime was a surprising twist to paying off his debt. On the other hand, that meant he was even less certain of this H.’s game.

He got into his car and lay the bag flat across his back seat. If it was a dress, he wasn’t about to get the woman he owed a hundred thousand dollars to irritated because he wrinkled it. He drove carefully out to the farmer’s market. Oddly enough, he normally went to the farmer’s market after his Saturday café runs. It was almost as though the mystery woman knew that and wanted to keep his day as normal as possible. As he pulled up to the lot, there was miraculously a parking space open right beside the entrance to the area. Pulling into it, the flip phone binged once again. ‘Hey babe. Hope you like the spot. A friend will stop by your car to grab the bag, so leave it unlocked. Hope you didn’t peek. Kisses.’ Slamming the phone shut in a mix of irritation and confusion, Thom exited the car and closed the door behind him, but left it unlocked.

Just then, his normal phone buzzed. It was Clara. He picked it up. “Hey,” he said.

“What the hell’s taking you so long?” his foster sister complained, “I’m stuck here alone shopping, and I’ve got a clinger.”

Thom sighed. “Listen, sis,” he said, “You can handle one guy for a couple minutes. I believe in you.”

Clara spat at him, “You also believe a flush is worth going all in on. I’m not nearly as confident in myself as you are.”

Thom laughed. “That’s probably a good thing. Anyways, I’m here now, I just had a thing I needed to take care of first.”

“Right, right, Mister Mystery over here,” Clara joked, “Just come save me. I’m by the winery stall.”

“Thank heavens for that, I need a drink.” He checked over his shoulder as he walked to the winery. Approaching the wines, he grabbed a sample barely in time for Clara to pull him aside.

In hushed tones, Clara said, “He followed me here.”

“What?” Thom asked.

“He stayed the night, made breakfast, and now he’s here. Make him go away.”

Thom shook his head at his little sister. “You’ve got a problem, you know,” he halfway joked. Like all good jokes, it was based loosely on the truth.

“I know, I know,” she whispered back, “Just, save me, please.”

Thom patted his sister on the head. “I got you,” he said.

A muscular man in a tank top and bike shorts walked up to them. “Hey Clara,” he said cockily, “How’re you doing?”

Thom stepped up to the man. Despite his heftier midsection, he was still near seven feet tall. “Are you talking to my sister?” he said in his most intimidating voice, “What makes you think you can talk to my sister?”

“What makes you think you can talk to me like this?” the short muscular man asked, like a petulant child, “She’s my girl, and by the looks of you two, you’re not really sisters.”

Thom’s voice got really low, as the anger that he had been faking became real. “What the hell did you say,” he murmured at the man, leaning over him and forcing the guy to backpedal.

“I didn’t mean anything,” the guy said nervously.

Thom smiled. “Good. And if I ever see you near my sis again…” he let his voice trail off.

“Alright, alright.” The man was practically running away already.

Thom turned back to his sister. “Clara, you’ve got to stop doing this to yourself.”

“At least I’m trying,” she shot back. She was right, of course. He hadn’t been on a date in a couple years, since the bad breakup that sent him here in the first place.

As though on cue to torture him, the flip phone binged, and Clara grabbed it out of his pocket. “What’s this for?” she said, opening it up. “Ooo, I think I might owe you an apology.” Then, clearing her throat, she read aloud, “Thank you, dear, for the dress. It’ll look nice on me tonight. See you soon. XO, babe.” She smiled as she handed me the phone. “So, who’s the lady?”

“No one,” Thom insisted, “It’s just a thing.”

She nodded, though she obviously didn’t believe him. “Only two reasons to have a burner like that, and that isn’t the kind of text a drug dealer sends.”

He shook his head. “It ain’t like that. We’ve never even met in person.” He felt bad about not being completely honest, but better a technically true white lie than drag his sister into the mess.

“It seems like she’s wanting to meet up tonight,” she said jokingly, “Any plans you want me to crash?”

“Go screw yourself, sis,” Thom said, jokingly pushing her shoulder, “Better than what you’ve evidently been screwing.”

Clara shook her head and wandered off to shop. Thom unlocked the flip phone and replied curtly, ‘ill do whatever you want, but if you end up pulling clara into this, ill find you and end this.’

There was a moment of nothing, then it binged again. ‘Sorry, babe. I wanted to give her a reason for you carrying around the burner. Never again. Kisses. PS Thanks for not peeking.’ Thom furrowed his brow as he read. It was almost as though the mysterious H. actually felt bad about involving his sister, even tangentially. He shook those thoughts right out of his head. This only worked if H. was a monster, or else he might start thinking it was anything other than blackmail. With a sigh, he walked back to the stall and picked up several bottles of wine.

The vintner looked at him. “You sure?” he asked.

Thom let out a breathy sigh. “Unfortunately. Seems like it’ll be that kind of week.”