Griffin
Attending a professional football game at Heinz Field is definitely an experience I won’t regret. I’m a Bills’ fan myself, but I’ve always had great respect for the Steelers. While the game has been great, it’s been even better watching a ten-year-old who can’t contain his excitement. Aaron repetitively jumps up and down in his seat, once prompting someone a few rows back to yell for him to sit down. I turned in that general direction, eyes scanning for the fuckwad who would steal a little kid’s joy and leveled a murderous glare around at the people. No one said another word after that.
The clock ticks down the last few seconds of the half, and a horn blares to call the end of the play. I reach into my wallet, pull out forty bucks, and hand it to Aaron, who is sitting in between Bebe and me. “Go grab us some food and drinks, kid.”
Aaron snatches the money, then starts to push past his mom. Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, I give him a playful tug. “Hey… see what your mom wants first.”
Aaron gives me a sheepish grin, then looks down at her. “What do you want?”
“Hot dog,” she replies. “And a diet coke.”
“Sure thing.” Aaron starts to move past his mom. As an afterthought, he glances over his shoulder. “What do you want, Griff?”
“Same. And get whatever you want, obviously.”
“Thanks,” he calls before darting into the aisle, thrilled at the freedom to be on a mission on his own inside Heinz Field.
Bebe’s gaze follows him as he moves with the crowd up the cement stairs leading to the main concourse where the food stalls are located. I move over, plopping into the seat Aaron had vacated as his placement there was clearly strategic. It made it hard to talk to her during the game, so I figure I’ve got a good fifteen to twenty minutes while Aaron is getting food.
“Having a good time?” I ask.
She casts one last, “worried mother” glance at Aaron before bringing her eyes to mine. Her smile is genuine. “Of course I am, but, more importantly… Aaron’s having the time of his life. I really can’t thank you enough.”
“He’s a good kid,” I say truthfully. I like being as honest as I can, when I can, and no doubt… her son is a pleasure to be around. “And he has some talent.”
“Really?” she asks hopefully, her expression going soft and wistful. “He’s nervous about tryouts.”
“He’ll be fine,” I assure her. Her gaze doesn’t linger. It drops to her lap where she twists her fingers with agitation.
I make her jumpy… I can tell.
“So, what is it you do for a living, Bebe?” I ask to get her talking. I need to figure out as much as I can about her, and the clock is ticking down on Anatoly’s demand.
She freezes, her eyes darting to me in what I think is panic, but then her features smooth out just as quickly. “I’m in IT.”
“Computers, huh?” I give her an encouraging smile so she’ll continue. I would love to find out what she does inside that abandoned warehouse.
“More like low-level computer repair,” she replies with a jittery laugh. “Just a strip mall computer store, you know?”
No, I don’t know, Bebe. That’s a definite lie because I know you don’t work in a strip mall.
“How about you?” she asks.
My lie comes more easily since I’ve given it some thought. I need to be as non-threatening as I can. “I’m a lineman for the power company. Just relocated to Cranberry about a month ago.”
“Why Cranberry?” she asks. While I’d like the attention to be on her instead of me, I know the easiest way to get her to open up is to make her comfortable.
“I’m originally from upstate New York,” I say, another truth. Always best to keep it as real as possible. “My parents had a small dairy farm. Not really a city guy. I figured Cranberry was close enough to the Burgh for my work needs, but it still gives me that country feeling.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” she murmurs.
“So, is Aaron’s dad not in the picture?” I’ve been genuinely curious about this. I couldn’t find anything in the news articles I’d read, but there were hardly any mentions of Bebe having a kid, either. Guess that wasn’t newsworthy compared to the crimes she was charged with.
Bebe shakes her head. “Never has been. Just been me, and well… my mom has done so much for Aaron. For both of us.”
Yeah… raised your kid for seven years while you were in prison.
And even as the thought comes to mind, I realize I don’t have an ounce of negative judgment for Bebe. What little bit I’ve come to know and observe, I almost feel sympathetic to whatever it is she was doing. I have no idea what drives people to commit the crimes they do, but, in Bebe’s instance, I almost have the feeling she was probably naively lured into a bad situation.
Now, I have no proof. Maybe that’s why what is left of my conscience is telling me to give her the benefit of the doubt.
Not that it will make a difference in how this will turn out, but still… there’s something about her that deeply intrigues me, well beyond the information I need to collect per Anatoly’s request.
“For what it’s worth,” I say sincerely, “I think you’ve done a great job raising that boy on your own.”
Again, her gaze drops to her lap. “My mom helped a great deal.”
“Still.” I pause, forcing her to look at me. “He’s a good kid who clearly adores his mother. That means something.”
Bebe blushes, scanning the field that’s empty except for the media personnel on the sidelines.
“I’m wondering what it’s going to take to get you to go out to dinner with me.” Once again, her eyes snap to mine. Her mouth parts, a tiny gasp escaping as if she’s completely shocked by my request.
I have to wonder just how naïve she is, because I’ve learned she’s not a dummy. Bebe is incredibly smart, so any confusion on her part must be because she’s been out of the dating game for so long.
I press my advantage. “Come on, Bebe. Put me out of my misery. I’d love if you’d accept a simple dinner invitation.”
“But… but… I don’t even know your last name.”
“Stoltz,” I say. Another lie.
“But—”
“Just say yes,” I encourage in a low voice. “If you don’t want me to pick you up at your house, we can agree to meet at a restaurant.”
“But,” she says again, so I shore up my resolve to keep the pressure up. However, she immediately backpedals. “Wait… you know what,” she breathes heavily, giving what appears to be a self-chastising shake of her head. Her eyes meet mine, clear and determined. “Yes… I’ll have dinner with you. But I would like to meet you at the restaurant.”
“Tomorrow night?” I don’t want to give her any time to change her mind.
“Sure,” she replies. “I just have to make sure Aaron’s set up for the night and has his homework done. But I can meet you any time after seven.”
I lean in toward her, giving her shoulder a playful bump with mine. “Now that makes me very happy indeed, Bebe ‘I-don’t-even-know-your-last-name’.”
Also a lie. I know it well.
She laughs. “Grimshaw. It’s Bebe Grimshaw.”
Grinning, I tease. “Going to tell me what Bebe stands for?”
“Not until I see how much I like you after the first date.” Her eyes dance with playfulness.
♦
When Anatoly gave me two weeks to handle his problem, I made quick work of renting a furnished apartment in Cranberry. I certainly had no clue at the time whether I’d need the cover, but it was a good preemptive move.
It’s a small one-bedroom, and it came fully furnished. While I have no plans or even hopes Bebe will ever come here, I can explain the lack of personal mementos as having just moved here and have yet to unpack or something.
For now, it’s just as comfortable as the hotel I’d been staying in, and Anatoly never balks at my expenditures. While he may be grumbling because I asked for extra time to complete his task, he knows I’ve always been trustworthy and I don’t ask for unnecessary things. If Bebe decides to check me out—and let’s face it, she has the abilities—I want to make sure I appear legit.
I unlock my new apartment door, balancing a bag of groceries under one arm. After the football game, I said goodbye to Aaron and Bebe after programming her number into my phone and promising to call to arrange our dinner date. I then set off on some errands, which included not only the grocery store, but also the car rental agency to extend my lease for another two weeks on the off chance I need to surreptitiously follow Bebe again. She’s already seen my bike.
Finally, I went to the mall and splurged on some nicer clothes for dinner tomorrow night. While I get the distinct impression Bebe doesn’t care about trappings like that, I feel like I should try in case I’m wrong. Nicer clothes for me mean jeans that aren’t so faded and threadbare as well as a black button-up shirt versus my standard t-shirt or Henley I normally wear for comfort.
I move into the apartment, locking the door behind me. After I take a moment to unload my groceries, I head into the small living room.
Deciding to preempt the inevitable call that should be coming soon, I call Anatoly to update him. It always soothes his anxiety when I provide him information before he asks.
He answers on the second ring. “Talk to me, Griff.”
“Spent some time with Bebe Grimshaw this afternoon,” I say.
“You actually talked to her?” he asks incredulously. “Or you killed her?”
“Talked to her,” I clarify, ignoring his grunt of disappointment.
“And what did you learn?”
“Not a lot just yet. She’s a little closed off. I’m having dinner with her tomorrow.”
Anatoly barks a laugh. “Dinner? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Relax,” I say in a low voice. “You want to learn whatever you can, this is the way to do it.”
“Can’t believe you’re fucking dating the target,” he mutters petulantly. “I don’t want this to drag on.”
I roll my eyes. Despite being the kingpin in a massive criminal enterprise, Anatoly can act like a child at times. “Just hang tight. She’s settled into a new life here. She’s not going anywhere. From what I can tell, she’s working a very nondescript job in a strip mall. My gut says she’s flying way under the radar, and she just wants to live a peaceful life.”
Not sure why I feel the need to say that or why I blatantly lied about where she works. I know nothing I can say will ever assure Anatoly enough to call off my mission.
“She’s feeling secure in her life,” I say. Another lie, but I’m adept at making them up when needed. “She’s not looking over her shoulder. Kind of just keeps her head down, goes to work, and comes home.”
“What about her kid?” Anatoly asks, and I jolt. “I remember she had a kid, right?”
I have to be careful I don’t reveal the entirety of the information I’d found researching Bebe. Anatoly tells me what I need to know, and he expects me to do what he asks without further question.
I play stupid. “I haven’t seen a kid yet. She hasn’t mentioned one. I’ll find out, though.”
“You do that,” he replies, and there’s no mistaking his sinister tone. I expect if he wants Aaron dead for some reason, he’ll ask me to take care of it, too.
For now, though, he merely says, “Keep me updated.”
Anatoly disconnects the call, and I lean back into my couch cushions with a sigh. This is definitely getting more complicated than I had originally considered.