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“Yes, it’s on.” Rose’s fingers claw into the seat as I swing a right. She doesn’t protest. She doesn’t yell. Because she knows we have no choice in this moment. I look up at the rearview mirror and pull a sharp left. “Fuck,” Rose blurts, her palm slapping into the window.
“I’m sorry,” I say, taking an immediate right, bringing her flying across toward me. “Hold the handle,” I order, pointing to the top of the door. “And try not to tense too much.”
She laughs and takes the handle. “My God, what the fuck are we doing?”
I look up and see the blue lights gaining, the cop car matching every turn. I screech around the next corner, back onto the main road, and put my foot down. The light up ahead changes to yellow. “Fuck!”
“Oh, God, Beau,” Rose sings, both hands taking the handle, her face hiding in her arm.
I check the traffic, seeing a truck approaching the crossroad, ready to sail through and take us out. I need to beat it. If I don’t, we’re done. If I do, the cop car will be held up and we might stand a chance of making it back to the house alive and in one piece. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I chant, flooring it, bracing my arms against the wheel, closing one eye.
“Beau!”
“I can make it.”
“Fuck, Beau!”
I start yelling, shying away from the wheel, hiding like Rose. The sound of the truck’s horn blares, along with other cars. Brakes screeching, smoke rising from tires.
The truck about ready to plough into the side of us.
“Fuck!” I feel the back end of the car brush with the nose of the truck. “Oh my God!”
“Shit,” Rose gasps, her hand on her chest, looking back. I peek up at the rearview mirror to see the truck in the middle of the road, a faint blue glow surrounding it from the police car behind it.
I nearly lose my breath when I see the car appear around the truck. Not giving up. “Shit,” I whisper, pulling a sharp left, then a right, then another left. I screech down the bumpy road and skid out onto another main road, then back into another alleyway. I stop and look at Rose. “Out.”
“What?”
“Rose, they might catch up with me. You can’t be in the car when they do. That door leads into a hotel. Get Danny to pick you up.”
Her face falls. “No, Beau.”
I growl and get out, rounding the car and opening the door, physically removing her. “I’ll be okay.”
“Beau, for fuck’s sake!”
“Get in the fucking hotel, Rose,” I yell, and she flinches, moving back, stung. I take a few calming breaths and quickly hug her. Then I get in the car and drive off, looking down at my lap when my phone rings. It’s not who I expected.
“Beau?” Ollie’s voice sounds frantic with worry.
“Was that you behind me?”
“No, fuck, no, Beau!”
“Then who?” I yell, turning onto the street. “Who the fucking hell is it chasing me in a cop car?”
“I don’t know!”
“You’re lying!”
“Jesus Christ, I amnotlying.”
I look up and see the blue lights through the haze of my watery vision. “Is that you behind me now?” I listen carefully down the line. And I hear it. The sirens. Itishim. I hang up and smack the steering when on a yell, then take the next turning for the freeway, heading toward MIA.
And the bank.
I park on a nearby back street and go to the front of the building, peeking through the glass doors and gazing around. It’s quiet. To be expected in this part of town at this time of night.
