If You Fall

Sixteen

I didn't think I would sleep but the next thing I knew I was opening my eyes and we were halfway across the Golden Gate Bridge, an hour from my house. It looked beautiful in the night with all the lights, and the dark Bay spread out way beneath us, dotted with boats. I looked over at Reed, a lump in my throat, just amazed to be with him like this regardless of the dire circumstances.

He looked back at me briefly, the music low on the radio, and reached for my hand again. "I know," he said. He kept it while he navigated the nearly unpopulated bridge and sped through the empty toll booths. I could hear soft snores from the back. 

He let go of my hand as he drove through the streets until I was completely lost, not that I knew San Francisco well. It was one in the morning by then. Finally he parked in front of a little blue house squished between two other colorful houses, like a Dr. Seuss book.

"Dane," he said, turning the Jeep off.

"Off wif ya, then," came the reply, and Dane popped his head up between the seats.

"Wait, what?" I was alarmed at this new development.

Reed caught my eye. "I must run in here. You're safe. Dane's sixteen going on forty, same as I was at that age." They fist bumped and it was so typically male that I rolled my eyes.

"Been seventeen for a monf, 'aven't I?" he asked indignantly.

"Sorry, seventeen going on forty. More importantly, he will guard you with his life, not that anything's going to happen. I'll be right back." He kissed the back of my hand and let it go, opening the door but leaving the keys in the ignition. He pointed at Dane. "At all costs," he said, then winked at me and shut the door.

"Nothing less," he was answered.

"At all costs?" I asked as Dane slid into the driver's seat. I uneasily watched as the house swallowed Reed. 

He grinned at me, and even as young as he was, I got a little flustered. I wasn't used to being around people, let alone guys, let alone guys as gorgeous as this one. "Keep ya safe, love. At all costs." He messed with the radio knob.

I ducked my head to make sure my hair was hiding the scarred part of my face, and rooted around aimlessly in my backpack because I was blushing. He couldn't really see me at all but still. "Can you tell me more now?"

He tilted the seat back a little and had a pack of cigarettes. "Don't see why not. Mind if I have a smoke?"

I gestured at him to go for it, using the opportunity to smooth on some concealer and foundation, followed by powder. I could see enough from the street lamp using my compact mirror, which was good as it didn't seem prudent to use the visor light.

He was quiet as he exhaled with relish. "Disgusting 'abit," he finally said cheerfully. "So you want to know more . . . Well then, guess we nab the kiddies back and do away wif the baddies."

"Do away with . . . you mean you kill them?" I asked it in a whisper because it didn't seem the kind of thing one says out loud.

"S'either that or lock 'em up, then someone will set them loose to do it again." Now he was serious. "They don't stop, see. Only the one cure for pedophiles, ain't there?" He took a drag and blew the smoke out the two inch gap at the top of the window.

"Wow," I said feebly.

"We 'ave an anonymous funda, call him Mr. Moneybags. For twenny five years 'e's orchestrated a ratha delicate balance of 'elping those needin' it, and disposing of the riffraff." He tapped a long ash and it fell down the inside of the door. "Bloody 'ell. So 'e formed this sort of board of directors to get the info and arrange fings. And then there's those of us who do the dirty work." He kept his eyes on the house, the fingers on his free hand tapping rhythmically on the steering wheel.