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“The evidence would get burned.” I’m just picking apart his plan, looking for the faults. Anything could be evidence of lies.
“You’re going to doubt me, fine.” He reaches for the duffel bag and plops it beside my feet. “But get changed. I brought you a change of clothes and comfortable shoes.”
I unzip the bag to find a wig, the money, the two books I had picked in the Suspiro Room and the riding crop he had teased me with.
My stinky hair creates a curtain between us, blocking my heated cheeks. He had thought of everything, right down to a hair tie, which annoys me.
I glance up at his hard chin, my heart softening. Maybe, just maybe he’s telling the truth.
I hold up the pair of granny panties he had chosen and squint at him under the light. “Y-you went through my underwear d-drawer?”
He deadpans me and then squints his eyes. “D-do y-you not normally pack underwear when you go on a trip?” he mimics my stutter, which I don’t much appreciate. I do it when I’m overwhelmed or stressed the eff out, and he’s just doing it to be mean.
Find the positives.Fine.
Normally, people are found dead in dumpsters. Often chopped into pieces.
I’m in one piece, bruised, but alive. And, apparently, will be wearing yellow underwear with bows. I flip the cloth over. That say “Monday” on the ass.
“It’s not Monday,” I mutter to myself as I attempt to snag my pants down my thighs and undress in the middle of the street. At this point, shame isn’t much of a factor in my life, so I drop trou like a pro, managing to yank both pieces down together. With my ass in the air and a draft between my thighs, that’s not at all pleasant, I swipe one of the water bottles from the bag and rinse my toes out before sliding on the briefs of Styx’s choosing.
“I like yellow,” he spits out randomly. Pissy tone still active.
Narrowing my eyes on him, I slide the thin plastic of the garment tag between my teeth and tear it from the sweat pants he had chosen for me. “Fantastic.” I glance at the wig he had tossed into the bag. “Is that why you chose blonde?”
“The point is to go unnoticed. I went through your closet, you don’t own sweats.”
“I can’t afford clothes I don’t use.”
“That means none of these people have ever seen you in anything other than heels and tight clothing. They won’t be looking for you.” He glances toward the crowd at least five-hundred feet away. “Plus, they think you’re inside. When the gas tank in the kitchen exploded, I heard them whispering about the foreign girl who lived there to the firefighters.”
Me, I’m that foreign girl. The one who they all think is still inside but no one tries to rescue. “At least the emergency personnel showed up.”
“Because I think Beyer had a look out. She was watching us.” He rubs at his forehead and then along his chin line.
“Thanks for um, dragging me out of hell? I owe you my life.” I bite at my bottom lip, preferring to keep the truth about my little mental breakdown a secret as I tie my hair up into a low bun. “So, was throwing me in the trash you’re first option?” I snatch the hoodie from his hand, roll the fabric of the hoodie around my hands to stretch the material as wide as possible so it doesn’t touch my gross hair, then slide it on.
“I had to leave you somewhere out of sight, where you wouldn’t get into trouble while I went back into get the money and my jacket.” He reaches into this pocket and takes the written-on tissue packet out. “Come here.”
He grabs some water and spills it onto one of the tissues. “You have soot all over your face.” He gently wipes the streaks off and tosses the paper on the ground. “I can’t believe you doubted me. I’m a shitty guy, Snow. But I will always—always—look out for the people I promise to.”
His mouth wipes my lips clean.
A kiss that tastes like ash and fury.
Arms that feel like home.
A security that vanishes with the beep of a phone.
“Our ride’s here.” He checks his phone while I put on my socks and sneakers. It had been at least three years since I wore these, my feet find the flat sole more dangerous than the heels.
“Come here, let me put this on you so we can head out. We still have a couple blocks to go.” Styx discards my old clothes into the dumpster and ties the bag around his waist before zipping up the leather jacket.
Beer belly. That’s not the most unattractive look on him, but the fact that he arches his back and puts effort into it… that I smile for.
“I see you laughing,” he says as he side-eyes me.
“What?” I glance down the hill. “Where are they going to meet us?”
