Losing Me, Finding You (30 page)

Mireya shrugs and scoops some of her black hair back with her fingers.

“Because he's never once told me what he does or where he's going, not once. In a
decade.
” Mireya emphasizes the word, just so I can't forget for even a single moment who was here first, who has more history, more stake in this claim. Still, possession is nine-tenths of the law, and I'm the one who has Austin now. I just have to keep reminding myself of that.

“Never?” I ask, wondering if I could live with that, if I could watch him disappear everyday and not know what he was doing or where he was going. I was laboring under the idea that he would tell me sooner or later. My stomach flip-flops and I feel sick.

“Never,” Mireya says, and then she moves off down the hallway and slams her door behind her. I wait for awhile hoping I'll see Gaine or Beck walk by, so I can have someone to talk to, but I don't see anyone else. As far as I could tell, there are only a few of us staying here: Austin, Mireya, Kimmi, a girl named Margot, Kent and Melissa, and of course, me. I wonder how we were chosen or if there was some sort of lottery or something that I don't know about. The inner workings of Triple M are still a complete mystery. I mean, I've only just now figured out that the phrase
flying one's colors
means wearing your jacket or vest with the patches on it. I wish someone were around to fill me in.
No, no, not someone. Austin. I wish Austin were around.

I sigh and turn around, retreating back into my room with its grand, four-poster bed and its bloodred sheets. It's quite grand actually, probably one of the nicest places I've ever stayed, but then again, I don't exactly have much to compare it to. The one and
only
vacation I ever went on was when my father took us to his mother's funeral in Connecticut. We mostly stayed in chain hotels though, nothing at all like this, and if I said I had any fun on that trip, I'd be lying. Thinking about that makes me start to wonder about my family and how they're doing. No, I haven't been gone long, but I can only assume that something about this whole incident has affected them. Or at least I hope it has. My father has a very bad habit of erasing things he doesn't like from the family's collective memory. It's sad to think that he might try to do the same with me. I consider calling home to check, but I realize immediately that I'm not ready for that – emotionally, spiritually, or otherwise. I don't know how long it'll take, but a few days has not been enough. If I call now, I'll feel trapped again, and I can't have that, not when I'm just starting to realize what it's like to be free.

I tap my fingers on the windowsill and wish the clock on the nightstand would move faster, so I could call Christy. I'd call her now if I could, but I don't want to risk blowing it by getting us caught. It feels like she
needs
to talk to me about something, like if she doesn't tell me, she'll explode. Besides, it gets lonely sitting by myself for hours at a time. If I really could convince Christy to join me, I think this whole outlaw thing would be a lot more fun.

I stand up and stretch my arms over my head, moving over to the window, so I can peek out the curtains and get a good view of the city. To be honest, it isn't much to look at, so I'm not really sure why we're here. You'd think with the freedom of the road at our beck and call that we could find someplace better to park ourselves for a few nights.

With yet another sigh, I drop the curtains and climb onto the big bed, curling up into a ball and drifting off to sleep faster than I'd like to admit. I start off dreaming about Austin and the way his hands feel on my skin, but end up losing out to nightmares where men with feathered faces surround me.

I guess I wouldn't know a premonition if it bit me in the butt.

I end up waking up in a heavy sweat and grabbing at my phone with frantic fingers. It's ten till. I made it just in time. I sigh in relief and stand up, stretching my arms over my head and checking out the room for signs that Austin might've come back. His duffel bag is untouched and there's still a bit of colored tape on the toilet seat that says
I'm clean and ready for you
that's unbroken. I push back my feelings of disappointment and clutch my phone tight, itching for someone to talk to. As soon as the clock strikes six, I start dialing Christy's number and wait with bated breath for her to answer. When she does, I get butterflies in my stomach.

“Amy?”

“Christy,” I say with a sigh of relief. “Can you talk freely?” There's a rustling sound from the other end of the line like she's nodding at me.

“Just for a minute. We have to be quick.”

“What's going on?” I ask as I sit on the edge of the bed and curl my fingers around the mattress. “Are you okay?”

“Amy, I'm sorry for getting mad at you. I just … I couldn't stand that you'd lied to me and that you'd left the virginity building without me.” I can hear a smile in her voice, but it also sounds like maybe she's tired, exhausted even. I'm guessing the past few days haven't exactly been the most fun for her. “But I … I didn't mean to snap at you. I was just so caught up in my own problems that I wasn't paying attention. Can you ever forgive me?” I smile and try not to get all teary-eyed at her words.

“Of course.” I pause. “As long as you can forgive me, too. God, Christy, I have so much to tell you.”

“Amy,” she says, interrupting me before I can launch into a ridiculously long and detailed account of my recent sexual encounters with a one, Mr. Austin Sparks. “I need to get out of here. Like yesterday. I should've gone with you when I had the chance, but I … God, I don't even know what I was thinking, but now they know somehow, too, and they've just been horrible.” I cut her off and ask her to slow down; she isn't making any sense.

“Who? Your parents?”

“Yes. Please, Amy, please, can you come and get me?” she begs, pausing and lowering her voice a notch before continuing. There's a knock at my door, but I ignore it in favor of my longtime friend. Whoever is out there can wait. “Amy, I need you.”

“I'll come, but I don't know how soon I can get there. To be honest with you, I'm not exactly sure where we are right now. I'll have to wait for Austin to come back, so I can figure this out. As soon as I get more info, I can call you back or text you or something.” I can hear that rustling again. I think Christy's shaking her head.

“Just come when you can. I don't know if I'll be able to get anymore messages from you. My parents took my cell away, and as soon as they see Crandle in church, they'll know I wasn't talking to him.” She pauses. “Amy, I know I could leave now, just walk away, but I don't think I can survive by myself. I need help, and you … I trust you.” My heart starts to pump faster, almost as fast as the fist that's banging on the door.

“Sparks, you in there?” It's Gaine.

“Just a second,” I call out. “Christy, are you there?” It's gone awfully quiet on her end of the line.

“I'm here, but I'm going to have to go soon. Leave me your number and I'll try to call you back if I can.” I read my new cell number (which I've already memorized, please and thank you) out to my friend and stand up to answer the door. I can't stand to listen to that infernal banging anymore, and it appears that Gaine cannot take a hint. I let him in and step away, watching as he closes the door behind himself and leans against it with a sigh, eyes flicking around the room appreciatively. “Amy … I … I have to tell you my secret and then I'm going to hang up. If it bothers you, don't answer when I call you back.”

“Christy, honey, there is nothing in this world that would keep me from talking to you.” I watch as Gaine stands up and starts pacing around the room anxiously. His dark brows are knit together and his knuckles are white as bone, protruding from his skin when he clenches and unclenches his fists nervously.

“Amy, I'm … I think I'm a lesbian.” I pause for a moment.

“But you said you kissed Beck and liked it?” I'm not judging her, just asking a question. I just want to understand her better because I can tell that's what she needs.
God, I shouldn't have left her there.

“I liked doing something I wasn't supposed to do. That's what I liked. Amy, I … I think I've known for awhile, but I didn't want to admit it to myself. And then when we came home from the bar that night, it just clicked. I don't know how or why, but it did. I'm sorry I took it out on you.” She pauses for a moment, just a quick moment, not nearly long enough for me to tell her that I love her and that I don't care and that I'm coming back to get her no matter what – gay, straight, whatever. Christy is my friend and I don't care about any of that. But then she hangs up and I'm left with a dead line, one that doesn't ring when I call back.

“Shit,” I snap, slamming the cell phone down on the nightstand. Gaine stops and stares at me quizzically.

“Austin here?” I shake my head no, but I sure wish he was. I need to talk to him as soon as possible. I consider calling him, but wonder if he'd even answer. There must be a reason for his disappearing acts. I force myself
not
to think about what Mireya said about Kimmi. “Fuck.”

“What's wrong?” I ask him, but he just shakes his head.

“If I get you involved in this, Austin'd kill me.” Gaine glances over at the bed and whistles, pushing a forced smile onto his face. “You lucky fucks. I got stuck in that crappy motel over by the highway. If I hadn't already known that Kent had it in for me, I'd have guessed it from the room I got in that shit hole.” I try to smile back, but mine is forced, too.
Poor Christy.
I watch Gaine's face for a moment as he struggles to keep his secret inside. It isn't an easy thing to do.

“You can tell me,” I say to him, moving across the room and putting my hand on Gaine's shoulder, right over his broken heart tattoo. He looks down at it and then back up at me, reaching into his pocket for a cigarette and then seemingly thinking the better of it.

“Nah, you know what. I'm probably overreacting, I just … ” Gaine stops talking again and shakes his head. “Doesn't matter. Could you just tell that fuck to call me as soon as he gets here. And tell him to stop turning off his fucking phone.” Gaine touches a hand to mine and moves over to the door, pausing with his fingers on the knob. “And Amy, if you see anybody weird hanging around, stay away from 'em for me, would ya?”

Kimmi and I go out and get ready to do what we do best: robbing banks.

Our duo is ten tears in the making, a decade old partnership that's evolved against all the odds, managing to survive despite enhanced security and technological advances. Sometimes, I don't know even know how we do it anymore. Seems like people are more attached to plastic than ever, swiping away their money with the push of a button. Fortunately, for now, cash is still king in certain places, older places, places like this.

Fort Clinton.

The population is old, rich, and stubborn, and the bank, well, it's in a historical building wouldn't ya know? In fact, it's even got a plaque from the historical society displayed promptly out front, gladly announcing the decades that it's stood in this very spot, a testament to man's resilience and how far we've come. Unfortunately, this also means that security is much more lax and a little behind the times.

These are the types of places that Kimmi and I seek out through careful research, the places we guide the Triple M'ers around to without leaving a trail that's easy to follow. This is our fucking legacy, the one that nobody knows about except us – Kimmi, me, Kent, and Melissa. For some reason though, I'm almost desperate to tell Amy, to let her in on my secret and share all the stories that are built up inside of me, the ones that have been bursting to get out for years, but who had nobody to listen. Doesn't seem like such a strange thought until I remember that, following Kent's wishes, I've never told a soul, not even Mireya or Beck or Gaine.

Maybe that's why I'm so damn pissed when he surprises Kimmi and me on our way out of the spare room, the one we always check out to keep our things in when we're working. It's kinda sad that even after all these years of carrying around our gear, the other Triple M'ers have never thought to ask what all this crap is and why there's always one room that isn't registered to anybody in the MC. Guess they don't care, and I suppose I can't blame 'em. They have everything they need provided to them, and yeah, Kent recruits some of them for jobs that I don't know about, things that are as secretive to me as my job is to them, but for the most part, they get to enjoy life without worries.