Page 88 of Alpha Bait

Winnetka

INDIE

The substantial funds Ames gave to me enabled me to stay on my feet until I could find a job. I had grown too fearful of recognition to survive much longer in Southern California. I had to move somewhere where no one would find me and no one would expect. That led me to the state of Illinois.

Until you know Illinois, it's easy to think of it as just another part of flyover country. I had very little knowledge about the state or about the city, but I figured that would make it an even better place for me to settle down. I rented an apartment in a wealthy suburb of Chicago called Winnetka.

My apartment was a small, cozy studio, nondescript in nearly every way with as few amenities as I could afford to get by on. I still relied on a few luxuries that I'd grown accustomed to from my past, but my new assistant asked only a few questions and my house staff asked even fewer.

My apartment was on the fifth floor of a 10-floor building. I furnished my studio without the help of an interior decorator for the first time in my life. I had never known how much detail and how much work goes into setting up your own space. The West Coast made me independent and I quickly adjusted to doing more on my own. I had to be frugal -- a new concept to me. I began to cherish my sense of independence and found new joy in the life I have chosen outside of my family.

Athena enjoyed the new place too. Moving her across the country in the middle of the night hadn't been easy, but once she bound into the apartment, I could sense my pup felt at home.

"Me too," I told her, comforted by Athena's companionship, even if she were mute on subjects like interior desire.

As Patsy, I could live like a normal American. I didn't have to be enclosed by my sheltered life, protected by bodyguards and security, ogled, admired and envied alike. As Patsy, I had never felt like more myself. My buzzcut, my pup, and my new place gave me intoxicating freedom.

The one person I wanted to share it with, was the only one I missed from my old life.

In my new town, I was far less worried about being discovered. With my new shaved head, I didn't think I'd have to worry much. I bought two pairs of gold hoops, including brassy gold bamboo earrings that I recognize from high school music videos.

After a week in Chicago, I even got a job. With my credentials, which although forged matched my true credentials rather closely, I landed a position as the chief financial officer of a midsized company based in the middle of Chicago.

For the first time, I took the train to work and had to claw my way in all on my own.

And I could do it. If I'd known how little I needed my family, perhaps that would have made following Rich across the world easier. I missed him.

Rather than working in tech where I would easily be recognized, or in the medical field where I had an equal chance of recognition, I had moved on to sports journalism. I knew little about journalism and less about sports. However, meetings and proposals were easy to muddle through thanks to all these front-row tickets to Knicks games that my brother had procured through for us throughout our teens and early 20s.

In a short space of time, I grew comfortable with Chicago. I had plenty of money, now I had a job, and I did not think that anyone in my family could ever find me.

After stopping at a small restaurant near my house for Thai take-out, I arrived home with a nagging feeling that something was wrong. I approached my door slowly, looking for something out of place. My mail had not been touched, I detected no footsteps in the hallway, and by all appearances everything was fine.

It was when my palms touched the door handle, shaking with anticipation that I could not yet understand, that I know that something is wrong. Someone else had been here. When I turned the knob, the door was unlocked. I never left my door unlocked, for obvious reasons.

I was scared to step inside, terrified of what I would find. I feared that I had been robbed or worse, my brother had found the outage had sent someone with the sole purpose of ending my life. I countered, by acknowledging the possibility that somehow Rich had found me.

The thought comforted me.

I could not live in fear for the rest of my life. While I could stand to live as Patsy, I could not live as a terrified woman.

"Hello?" I called into the hallway. The noise echoed and instead of a response, I heard a shuffling noise.

I called again, "hello?"

My second greeting inspired a response.

I heard a familiar voice replied back to me, "Hello, Indie."

My head grew light. Dizzy, I swallowed the lump in my throat and attempted to appear tough while my eyes scanned the room for an escape plan. The most obvious was out my front door, but I imagined Donnie had people waiting in the streets, ready to grab me and throw me in a trunk back to New York.

My heart rate quickened.

My cousin Donnie stood before me in the center of my studio apartment with a look of anguish on his face. At least it was anguish and not the cold-hearted reptilian stare I had seen in my brother's eyes when he had dropped me off at Will Harkness's place to be used.

"How the hell did you find me?" I snapped.

Donnie didn't scare me. Although he killed somebody, I knew that he had only done it out of self-defense, and he had taken no enjoyment out of the process. We grew apart since the incident, but I did not genuinely believe that he carried the malice that my brother did in his heart.

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