Page 76 of Total Exposure

Then more movement as one of my monitors picks up a cab pulling up in front of the house.

But I smile at her tenacity. Her grit. Her gumption. Her balls.

So I get up, put on my coat, and follow her out.

Chapter Twenty-Seven - Evangeline

There’s a moment as I get in the cab, right after I hand the driver the printout with the address of my destination, when I wonder, should I just go home? I don’t need my things inside the house. I didn’t bring much. Wouldn’t even miss that stuff.

But then I picture my sad life. The emptiness of it all. The loneliness. How desperate I was for a change last week and how I seem to be on a new path this week. And decide… not yet.

Not yet.

I can leave any time I want. Walk out, go back—or even just walk out and go forward. This isn’t a chance to escape. It’s an opportunity to grow. And now that I know there’s a computer in the basement—how the fuck did I not know there was a basement? God, I’m so oblivious to the world around me—and now that I know I can call a cab any time I want…

Well, the urgency to find a way out of this messy plan seems to have dissipated.

I might even have hope.

Not the hope of dreams. I already had that when I agreed to this crazy scheme. But real hope. The dream of playing my violin again, of playing in front of an audience, of making money again, and being whole again, and letting go of the past and living again. Well, that’s something quite different than actually taking steps towards that goal. Dreams are just that. Wishes.

But getting this cab feels like an accomplishment.

And yes, that’s sad. Most people wouldn’t see this as an act of courage.

But I do.

And anyway, I’m intrigued. I want to see this Jordan again. He was very attractive. I want to know more about this game he’s playing with me. Why he’s playing it. And even though X said I wasn’t allowed to talk to him, who gives a fuck what X wants? This isn’t about him, this is about me.

So I’ve already decided that if I see Jordan today, I’m talking to him. He’s not gonna slip away like he did yesterday. I’m gonna ask him just what the fuck he’s doing. I’m gonna ask him if Lucinda gave him permission to put X in that house. If they know what he’s doing with me.

I have decided to take control.

So there. Take that, Mr. X.

Far too soon the cab pulls up to a curb and stops.

“Twelve seventy-five,” the driver says. I hold up my credit card, ready to hand it over, but he says, “You have to use the machine.” He nods his head at the thing mounted on the back of the headrest.

I fumble with that for longer than seems appropriate. But the device seems to be made for idiots and has been programmed to walk even the most clueless people through the act of paying for a cab ride, so about a minute later, I manage to conclude the transaction.

And then it’s time to get out.

It occurs to me then… I don’t have a way to get back. Jesus, I don’t even know if I remember the address.

“Lady,” the driver says. “You need to get out now.”

I nod at him, take a deep breath, and open the cab door to the bustle of the strange city I’ve called home for almost ten years.

The second I close the door, the cab pulls away and I become just another person in his past.

I stare up at the sign. Mile High Cafe. There are a ton of people coming and going, all of them wearing business attire. Men in expensive suits, women in professional dresses. All ages, but mostly middle-aged. The courthouse is nearby. I can see the golden dome of the capitol building from where I stand. So these people probably all have an intimate relationship with the city that feels like a stranger to me.

“Don’t wuss out now, Evangeline,” I mutter under my breath. “You’re already here. Just go inside.”

It’s a confident statement. Like going inside is so easy. Like going inside is normal. Something I do every day. Just go inside.

But none of that is true. And even though my head is trying to trick my body, my body isn’t listening, because I’m suddenly breathing too fast, and my heart is beating too fast, and the whole world is moving too fast.