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I won’t lie. My heart jumped at the thought of Callie being with women. It was both irritating and exciting. I wasn’t surprised in the least that each woman gave me a different name. Callie wouldn’t be stupid enough to use her real one, nor would she keep her appearance the same. The one thing she couldn’t change, though, was her freckles. Callie has beautiful hair, it’s like looking at fire. Along with her red hair, she has distinctive freckles on her face. A couple of the women described her freckles perfectly. That’s when I knew I was on to something tangible.
The real breakthrough came yesterday morning. I got a DM from a waitress in Sweden. She claimed that Callie was in her village. The only way to know for sure was to go and verify the information myself.
Less than twenty-hours later, I was checking into a quaint little B&B in Malmö, Sweden. I updated Betty with vague messages. They seemed to work.
Thank god I work remotely and that my boss has been trying to get in my knickers for the past year, therefore giving me what I want without much protest. Gary is a thirty-five-year-old man child who doesn’t understand no for an answer. I should tell him that I like ladies, but why should I have to justify the reason I don’t want to go out with him? Oh, and he thinks shout-talking at me is okay, like I’ll suddenly hear him if he gets louder. The only thing I get is a disgusting view of his tonsils. Anyway, enough about that tool.
Google maps tells me the café is only thirty metres away. I hadn’t planned to be that close, but it worked out well. I could stand by the window and watch for any sign of Callie, but first I needed to make sure that it was her the waitress saw.
Thirty minutes later, I confirmed with Freja—the waitress—that she had indeed served Callie a few times over the past couple of weeks. Finally, I was getting somewhere. My next steps were crucial. Callie has been on the run for a long time. I had no idea how she would react to seeing me. The last time we saw each other, I was still pretending that I had no idea Betty was a sociopathic crime boss, and I liked boys.
After talking to Freja, I headed back to my room and parked myself at the window. I had to get eyes on her myself. Freja told me that Callie usually took a coffee around eleven thirty. It was eleven forty-five when I caught a glimpse of her beautiful, flaming hair. It was her, I was sure of it. All I wanted to do was run into the café and take her in my arms. I hadn’t realised what seeing her again would do to me.
I resisted, but did get a little closer. There was a boutique across the street that gave me a decent view of Callie sipping her coffee and definitely checking out Freja, which pissed me off. As my irritation spiked, Callie paid for her coffee and left.
Now, as I’ve said before, Callie was and probably still is a great chameleon, but I’m no slouch myself. I can disappear into a crowd. It comes from years of being ignored. I learned quickly that I could use that to my advantage, and I taught myself to blend into the background. Honestly, that’s how I was able to get so much information on Queen B without anyone being the wiser.
I followed her through some back streets. Curiously, I saw her flick her head in the direction of a little Kia. She didn’t stop, but she looked. I dropped back. It might have been nothing, but I had a feeling that the Kia was one of her getaway cars. I went over to check it out. Nothing obvious. I could have been wrong. It was a gamble to stop following Callie and check out the car. Sure enough, when I turned around, she was nowhere to be seen. I would have to wait until tomorrow and pray she returned to ogle Freja.
It’s eleven twenty-seven now, the day after I first saw Callie Compton after ten years. I’m standing in the boutique window again watching. There she is, her hair flowing freely, with the sunlight illuminating its fierce colour. I’m surprised she’s kept her hair natural. It’s not very subtle. She takes her seat and pulls out a book. Her demeanour is off, though. She looks edgy. Shit, I think she knows someone is following her.
Ten minutes later, she heads into the toilet with her bag. I wait nervously for her to return. After a minute passes by, I know she’s going to run. I take off towards the café. Instead of going in I head to the alley at the side of the building. Fuck, she’s gone. There is an open window, which I presume she crawled out of. Sneaky.
I pick up my pace, hoping I can catch up. As quickly as I can, I head towards the Kia. As I turn the corner, I stop and back up. There she is, walking cautiously to the car. The blonde wig is a nice touch. What is she looking at? Shit, shit, double shit. I accidentally left a smudge on the back of the car and she’s seen it. Backing away, she hotfoots it in my direction.
I should just step out and let her see me, but I think that would be a big mistake. Betty’s reach is immense and Callie hasn’t seen me for so long, it’s reasonable to think she will believe I’m under Betty’s thumb. Which I am, kind of.
I can’t feel the vibrations from her footsteps anymore. I need to see where she is going. I take off in the direction I saw her last. The street leads to an abandoned building. Another type of vibration pulls my attention. A scooter whips around the corner at the far side of the building. Bollocks, it’s Callie, and she’s going to get away again.
There’s nothing I can do to catch her. I take down the licence plate. Now I have a vehicle I know for sure she is using. I can implement my other talent to help track her. My job is… let’s just say it revolves around technology and I am stupidly talented. That’s not me being egotistical, it’s just a fact. I can’t describe my actual job in detail because I would get sent to prison, so I’ll stick with the umbrella term of ‘Technology’ as my occupation.
My laptop is already open and waiting when I get back to my room. I open a programme that I shouldnotbe using for personal use but I don’t care. I came within touching distance of my best friend and the love of my life. I have been with plenty of women, but, as Sinead O’Connor correctly sang, nothing compares. No one comes close to owning my heart, not whilst Callie is on the earth.
Concentrate Daisy. I have work to do. I enter the licence plate of the scooter. It’s registered to a Cilla Black. I can’t help but laugh. For whatever weird reason, Callie had a thing for Cilla Black growing up. I would put money on her, naming her scooter Cilla. She used to name everything. Her favourite chair in the kitchen was called Chelsea. She was too adorable sometimes.
Callie was the only person in my life growing up who saw me for me. I fell in love with her at first sight. I didn’t know what it was though because I was too young then. I just knew I wanted to be with her all the time. I was eleven when I fully understood what I was feeling. I should have told her.
Chapter 3
Callie
Cilla did me proud. It sucks having to leave another vehicle behind though, especially her. She was a zippy little thing. But I have no choice. Now I know that I have been found, I have to be extra careful. Shit, howwasI found? I have no online presence; I change my name and appearance regularly and I never stick around one place too long.
Those questions will have to wait. There are three thousand kilometres between me and my next destination. After dumping Cilla, I was able to get to my next car within the hour. I implemented some evasive manoeuvres just in case I still had a tail.
Tanya, the Toyota iQ, is waiting for me patiently. Almost a year has passed since I parked her up and covered her. She might be small, but she packs a punch. I paid for every upgrade possible. I can’t have many material things, so the ones I do have are top of the line.
With my map unfolded on the steering wheel, I take some time planning the route. Ideally, I want to stay off the motorways, even if they are the quickest way. They’re quick, but they’re also jam-packed with surveillance equipment. It’s going to take me over thirty-two hours to get to my destination. A ball ache but a necessary one. I have to put as much distance between me and Malmö as possible.
Just south of Frankfurt, I sense a problem with Tanya. I thenseea problem with Tanya when smoke starts pouring out of her bonnet. Fuck my life with a spoon. I can’t call a pickup service because that attracts too much attention and I would be leaving a trail. That only leaves one option. Hitchhiking.
Let me tell you that hitchhiking is shit! I did it for a few months in the beginning and to be fair, I did meet plenty of cool people but also some crazies. My favourite was Enid Pit. She was in her late sixties, with purple hair and had a penchant for taxidermy, as evidenced by the full menagerie in her car. Have you ever driven one hundred miles with a stuffed parrot staring at you? No? You should try it. I guarantee you won’t sleep for a week. Fun times.
Well, I have fuck all choice now. I grab my bag and stick out my thumb. The sun is shining, which is a small mercy. I once had to wait three hours in a storm before someone took pity on me and gave me a ride. It’s only forty minutes this time. An original VW Split screen camper pulls up. Hippies, I adore them.
My German is good enough that I can tell them where I’m heading. They tell me that they can take me as far as Lyon in France. Perfect. Is my luck changing? I certainly hope so. Wolfgang (what a friggin’ awesome name) and Heidi are delightful. The air in the van is thick with incense, something sage-y I’m guessing. I spot a bong in the back and wonder if they’re game enough to share. I could use something to take the edge off. Saying that though, I’d probably end up paranoid.
Vicky the v’dub, as I have affectionately named her, is not the fastest of vans. Wolf—he insisted I call him that before doing a marvellous howl—and Heidi don’t seem to be in any rush either considering we’ve stopped seven times to “feel nature’s warm embrace.” Of course they’re vegan, so dinner is a bowl of green. I shouldn’t complain, though. They have happily shared everything they have with me.
