Follow You Home

John grabs his cell phone out of his jeans pocket and dials a number as he pulls away from the curb. It's dark now and the glow from the phone lights up the truck. I stare out the window at all of the familiar houses as we drive by, listening as someone picks up.

"Hey, there's been a development. I need you to stop by my place tonight as soon as possible." he listens for a moment.

"Yeah, bring it. OK? Yeah, bye." he hangs up and drops the phone on the dashboard.

"Frank?" I ask.

"Yeah." I can tell by the look on his face that he's deep in thought, so I don't disturb him with any questions. I'm growing impaitent that whoever is stalking me hasent been caught yet. Everyday, I feel more in danger and it's pissing me off. Before this was just a little annoying, a prank, I thought. Chalk one up to my crazy life. But now, it's disturbing. They're threatening my family and growing more and more hostile. I sigh out loud and John looks over at me.

"You alright?"

"No." he doesn't say anything and a few minutes later he pulls in the driveway.

We get out of the truck without a word and walk up to the house. The dog is barking in the yard, but we ignore it's greetings. I wait for John to unlock the door and then we step inside and I start turning the lights on. I kick off my shoes and slouch down on the couch, watching as John turns on the TV and flips on a football game. He sits down next to me and starts rubbing my leg casually.

"How did you get my brothers number?" I ask, curiously.

"He gave it to me after you were shot with the tranquilizer dart." I nod.

"I didn't know you guys got along that well."

"We tolerate each other. We're not friends by any means."

"Were you ever friends?" he thinks for a moment before answering.

"There was a time when we were younger, but then he joined the police academy and Dom and I went our own way and the line was kind of drawn in the sand."

"Frank never liked all of the bullshit you guys did." he makes a face that turns on a lightbulb in my brain.

"Did he ever arrest you?" he pulls his hand away from my leg and leans forward, blowing out a sigh and I start to feel uncomfortable.

"What?"

"Frank never arrested me, no." he says.

"There's more." I say, sitting up straighter, not liking where this conversation is going.

"You're not going to like it."

"Just tell me." he rakes his fingers through his hair.

"A few years back, before my daughter was born, Dom and I started this operation."

"What kind of operation."

"A chop shop. We rented this garage/warehouse deal out by the marina. He would steal the cars and bring them back to me at the shop, because I was the only one of us who knew shit about cars. I would tear them apart and then we would put them on this truck we had and Dom would drive them out to buyers."

"Buyers?"

"Mostely legitimate. I never asked a lot of questions about who the money was coming from. I didn't want to know, because Dom was hanging out with a lot of mob guys. I kept my nose on my face and did my part and collected my money from Dom every week." I lean forward and cover my face with my hands.

"Oh my God. How did I not know any of this?"

"Nobody did. It wasn't something we exactly told everyone about. Anyways, one night, Dom and I were at the shop, getting this car ready to go, and Frank comes busting in, gun drawn. We didn't know it was him, so we pulled out our guns and we're all just standing there, staring at each other. Frank didn't know he was investigating us and we had no idea anyone was on our trail."

"What about Frank's partner?"

"I have no idea. Again, I didn't ask a lot of questions. Frank gave us an ultimatum. He told us to either stop what we were doing for good or he was gonna take us in and let the courts decide what to do with us. Dom and I got our shit and cruised, never talked about it again." I take a deep breath.

"So, he saved your ass."

"Fuckin' A. If it wasn't for your brother, I'd have been rotting away for ten years."

"Jesus, John. I can't believe you never told me. What else have you done that you haven't told me about?" I ask, standing up. He stands too.

"Listen, babe, I've done a lot of shit in my past. But it's over, I'm done with all of that shit, I swear." I walk into the kitchen and fill a glass of water from the tap. He follows me and leans against the counter next to me.

"I never claimed to be a boy scout. I never was and I never will be. But I have changed a lot. I'm not a stupid punk on the street anymore."

"I believe you. I just...I don't know. I'm second guessing everything right now." The doorbell rings and we both look up at the front door. He sighs.

"We'll have to finish this conversation later." he says. I nod and he leaves me in the kitchen to go answer the door. I finish my glass of water and then step out into the foyer where my brother is standing, talking to John. He walks over to me and gives me a one armed hug.

"How you holding up?" he asks.

"I've been better." I say. He nods and then looks to John, who hands him a Ziplock bag with the new letter inside.

"I don't know if it'll have any prints on it, but it's worth a shot." he says. Frank reads the letter and then tucks it in his pocket.

"I'll put a car on Mom and Dad's house, have them do a drive by every few hours so they don't get suspicous." he looks at me then.

"We need to have a talk about personal protection." he says to me.

"I already have the stun gun and pepper spray, what more do I need?" he reaches into the inside of his jacket and pulls out a gun.

"No, I'm not carrying a gun."

"This isn't an option anymore, Izzy. You'll have the gun on you at all times and you will use it if nesacarry." he says firmly. I look up at John and he's avoiding eye contact.

"You knew about this." I say, more of a statement than a question. He nods once. I shake my head.

"You know how I feel about shooting guns."

"Like your brother said, it isn't an option. This is about your safety. I carry my gun at all times and I want you to do the same." I roll my eyes and look back to my brother, who has been watching our exchange.

"Now, this is what is called a Mini Glock. It's smaller and lighter than the Glock I carry, more appropriate for a woman with smaller hands. Have you ever shot a gun before?"

"Yeah, down in Mexico, she shot mine." John answers for me. Frank nods.

"OK, this isn't much different." he carefully goes through everything with me and then hands me the gun. I test out it's weight in my hand and then try to slide it into the front of my jeans, but it's uncomfortable and poking me in the stomach. I try putting it in the back with the same results. I try my pocket, but it doesn't fit. Finally, I just put it in my sweatshirt pocket and then look up at the guys. They both are watching me expectantly.

"This is a pain in the ass." I complain.

"Better a pain in the ass than a bed at the morgue." Frank says in his cop voice.

"That was a horrible thing to say." I tell him.

"Facts are facts, babe." John says.

"I'm still mad at you."

"I'd rather have you mad at me and safe." I roll my eyes again.

"Do you want me to get you a holster?" Frank asks me.

"No, I'd feel like Annie Oakley."

"Fine. Keep it on you at all times. I don't care if you have to keep it under your pillow at night." He moves forward and gives me a kiss on the forehead.

"Be careful." he says. I nod. He gives John a small nod and then walks out of the house. John locks the door behind him and I pull the gun out for further inspection.

"If you don't want to carry it all the time, at least make sure it's nearby, like next to you on the counter or the couch, or whatever." he says, as if feeling sympathetic.

"It's fine." I say, quietly. I go back into the kitchen and fill my glass of water again and drink it at the sink, staring out at the back yard. I can hear John in the other room, talking on the phone to his daughter before she goes to bed.

I'm ready to go back to my apartment. To go back to work and to not rely on John so much. I feel like I'm keeping him from his life and he's keeping me from mine, even though I understand why it's all happening, to keep me safe. I'm just sick of feeling like everyone's burden and like I can't take care of myself.

*********************************************************

When I wake up in the morning, John has already left for work. I'm still feeling a little disapointed in him for not telling me about his past, but how can I be? I knew he wasn't a choir boy, I've always known that. That's always been why I distanced myself from him in the past and now I can see how he's changed. I don't judge him for things he's done in the past, so why am I so bothered that he didn't tell me about it?

I think about all of that for a while, and then get up and get myself a cup of coffee. I drink my coffee and watch the news until I'm done and then I go take a shower and get dressed in jeans and a black Pantera tee shirt that is fitted to my body. I pull on the same black hoodie I had on last night and zip it, then I go the bathroom to do my hair and makeup. When I'm done, I feel like a functioning human again. In fact, I feel ready to go to work. Then, I remember that I can't go to work. I sigh and look around the house. Everything is clean. I feel like all I've been doing is cleaning. I walk out to the kitchen and open the refridgerator to see what I can find. All that is in there is a pan of cinnamon rolls that John's aunt made that he brought home the other night. I grab the pan out and start eating.

Six rolls later, I feel full and disgusted with myself. How am I every going to look like a Victoria's Secret model, eating like that? I quickly decide that I'm going on a diet. No sweets, no carbs. Maybe I should start working out. John works out all the time. He runs and lifts weight. John never worries about if his jeans are going to fit. He has washboard abs. Maybe I should start running. I walk over to the window and quickly decide that it is not running weather. I always see people out running when it's sunny out. There are storm clouds in the sky and it looks like rain. Oh well, maybe I'll run tomorrow. A car drives by the house and I instantly miss my car. It may be a piece of shit, but it's mine and it's gotten my ass around for years. I think about John's old beater in the garage and a lightbulb goes off in my head. The sensable side of me says absolutely not. There is a stalker out there who wants to kill you. But, the other side of my brain is screaming to take the car and go for a ride. Just a quick ride around the block to get some fresh air. What could it hurt? I toss it around in my head for a few minutes, before finally running over to the kitchen counter and grabbing the key for the car. I grab my purse, drop my new gun inside and throw on my sunglasses. I go out the back door and cross the yard quickly. I step into the garage and walk over to the car and hop in the drivers seat. There is a garage door opener inside and I push it as I start the car. The engine rolls over instantly and my heart starts beating faster. I back out of the garage and close the garage door and then back out of the driveway. For a moment, I have a flash back to sneaking out of John's house once before and driving to my apartment and finding a phsyco cop waiting for me. I shake my head. That's not going to happen. You're just going around the block. The gas light jerks me out of my thoughts. The car is on empty. Well, it would be rude to drive John's car and then leave it empty, I think to myself.

I drive to the gas station and put twenty bucks of gas in the car and go inside to pay. I buy myself a bottle of water when I'm inside and then walk back out to the car and pull out. I decide to drive by my apartment since I'm in the neighborhood, and when I get there it looks exactly like I left it. I drive through the parking lot and then hook a left towards my parents house, just to check in. My moms car is in the driveway, so I decide to park and go in to say hi. I'm in John's car, no one will recognize me. I get out of the car and walk up to the house with my hand in my purse, holding my gun, just in case. I step into the house and am almost taken over by the smell of manicotti. I let out a contented sigh and drop my bag by the door and walk into the kitchen. My mother and grandmother are sitting at the kitchen table, eating coffee cake and drinking coffee. They both stand to greet me.

"What a nice surprise. I didn't know you were coming over." my mother says.

"Yeah, I was just in the neighborhood. I thought I'd stop by." I say, sitting down.

"Would you like some cake, it's fresh this morning?" my grandma asks.

"No thanks. I'm on a diet." they both look at me as if I've grown another head.

"A diet? But, honey you're so skinny." my mother says.

"I'm just not in very good shape." I tell her.

"Hmm." they both say. I roll my eyes.

We visit for a few hours, until my dad gets home and starts asking about what car I'm driving. I make an excuse about leaving and quickly run out to the car and pull away from the curb. I don't want my parents to know something is wrong. They would worry. I drive by my apartment again and then realize that I am hungry. I stop by Al's pub and have a BLT and some sweet potato fries, deciding that it's better than a burger and regular fries. When I'm done, I drive out to the marina to enjoy the rest of the afternoon. I'm feeling very safe and content as I walk out to the foot bridge to watch the boats. I lean on the railing and look out at the water for a while, forgetting the time completely, until I hear footsteps walking up to me. My heart stops and I look up to see John stalking towards me and he looks pissed.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he asks.

"I just, went for a ride."

"Really? You went for a ride? Do you even care that someone out there wants you dead? What if it hadn't been me walking up to you right now? What if it had been some crazy person coming after you? What would you have done then?"

"I have my gun."

"Oh, well that provides me with a lot of relief. I walked into the house and found you gone, I thought the fucking worst. I thought someone had come in and kidnapped you and I would have contiued thinking that if I hadn't found my car gone."

"I'm sorry, I just needed to get away. I'm so sick of sitting in that house all day long. I need space and fresh air."

"I know you hate sitting in the house, but dammit, it's for your own good. How am I supposed to protect you when you're out running all over town?"

"You shouldn't have to feel like you have to protect me!" I protest.

"Jesus Christ. When will you ever get it?" he asks, leaning with his back against he rail, running his hands over his face.

"Get what?"

"Nothing. Jesus, maybe next time I fall in love with a woman, she'll be a little more perceptive." We both stop then, absorbing his words.

"You love me?" I ask. He sighs.

"Yeah, I do. And I don't want anything to happen to you, so can you please stop doing shit like this. I had a fucking heart attack when you weren't at the house when I got home."

"OK, I won't." He stands and blows out a sigh.

"Let's go. I'll follow you home." I nod and follow him out to the parking lot and we get in our cars and pull out of the parking lot.