Chapter Fifteen: Offer Best Refused

The morning after my thirtieth birthday dawned. While I lay in bed, I didn’t sleep for even a second all night.

Apprehension weighed heavily upon me. Whatever was I going to do?

There was no need to do delivery orders as I was well ahead of my monthly quota. I could coast off what I’d earned thus far for a few months if I rationed it. If I were going to skip town, that stash could dwindle fast. And every day spent on the run was a day spent not able to do more gigs. All that money was in online accounts tied to the delivery app—delivery apps that my baleful benefactors could have

I notice I was grinding my teeth so hard my jaw hurt.

As soon as the RV park’s front office—a squat hut of sorts that looked a great deal like what you’d expect from a hotel front office—and checked out.

With my reservation canceled, I just had to check out by 11:00 this morning. Where was I going to go? The plan was to head to Vegas for at least a weekend. Head across the Rockies, weather permitting, and stick east of the Mississippi River for a long while. That should be enough to leave the Teixieras behind.

I froze. The mobsters had indefinite access to my RV all yesterday. In the modern age, it only took a single AirTag or similar device to be able to track me indefinitely. Only the deepest of deep cleans had any hope of finding them all—a level of thoroughness a random civilian like me couldn’t hope to achieve. I ran deliveries for tips, Crickey’s sake.

The Vespa. My two-wheeler was a much smaller ride with far fewer areas to search for tracking devices. I concocted a plan to dump the RV at a used car dealership to get liquid cash, then take the Vespa somewhere, anywhere. If Vegas was too obvious, maybe I could drive up to Big Sur, camp amidst the Redwoods. Maybe even go to Oregon and beyond.

There were a great many sights to see out there, and I wasn’t yet ready to meet a watery fate out in L.A’s harbor courtesy of concrete boots.

Kind of wish I could show some of it to Yuki though.

Our… what, chance acquaintance-ship? Had only lasted a few weeks. We were birthday buddies, but did we have anything else in common? With Yuki’s movie done, whatever visa she was here on would likely expire. She’d be heading back to Japan soon. Even Jane would probably only escort her to the airport, then they would go their separate ways. By the time that happened, would either of them even remember me?

I put these trepidations aside as I did a cursory check for bugs and tracking devices. They had to have known where I lived somehow…

This self-imposed ransacking came to an end when I heard another text hit my phone.

It was a custom delivery order. Requestor: Yuki☆.

I almost didn’t want to even look at the details. Should I just cancel the order and flee for the hills? Even being associated with me could put a target on anyone’s head. Still, I willed myself to unlock the phone and check the app.

‘One Last Job,’ the request said, punctuated with a winky face. The details… pick up one last airport delivery. A public place where I was unlikely to be whacked by vengeful mobsters. One more delivery for me to say my goodbye. And to receive that promised birthday gift.

No sooner had I registered the parameters than was my phone accosted by another alert. A Teixeira alert from an unfamiliar number.

[Unlisted Number]: Underneath your fuse box, you’ll find a simple tag. Find a way to place this on the person or in the purse of your other associate. Do it stealthily.

Oh, well, that wasn’t good. I was hoping there’d be a few days before the family called in a favor, at least. They surely wanted it done now.

I checked a miniature fusebox tucked away in the squat hall leading to the bed chamber. Sure enough, a consumer-grade airtag-looking thing awaited. I held no illusions that this was the only such tracker in the RV.

My heart raced. I wouldn’t dare slip this into Yuki’s delivery order. Didn’t even consider it for a minute. The timing of the dueling requests was too on-the-nose; Mister Texiera surely had some form of advance notice of when my deliveries went through.

Things would move fast once they realized I planned on skipping town.

Briefly, I considered alerting Janae. She looked pretty tough and could probably take at least one or two mafia goons in a fight.

I moved quickly. The Vespa ought to be relatively safe from tracking devices, considering the fact that the mafiosos had limited access to it last night. I gave it a quick search-through regardless, then hitched it to my RV.

I drove the RV to the airport—to the long-term parking facility. Hopefully, whatever mafia goon was monitoring the tracking device or devices could be fooled by the change in location. I could come back and pay the bill sometime later, once I lost my tail.

From there, I disembarked on the presumably-cleared Vespa. I went to the international terminal and waited for the package.

This final delivery was brought in by a Japan Airlines stewardess, but by another one in a uniform I didn’t necessarily recognize. Maybe it was some kind of branch airline? My head was such a mess I didn’t bother to even ask. I took off as soon as the package was in my FECC.

+++

Yuki’s mansion awaited. The gate guards seemed distracted, disinterested, when just yesterday they’d shown an abundance of caution.

Something felt… off… as I approached the mansion’s now-familiar front door. I clicked the intercom, nondescript package in hand.

“Just a minute…” Yuki said over the comms.

There was a shuffling of feet, after which the door swung open.

“Janae is out again. Back chasing some kind of incursion on the other side of the neighborhood,” Yuki said.

I awkwardly presented the delivery with little fanfare. I couldn’t really put much heart into it.

“Hehe. That’s mostly a formality.” Yuki took the package.

Then, Yuki scooped her arm up between mine and dragged me inside.