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“Blaise was traded from Dallas after a huge scandal with the Stars’ GM.” His eyes are bright. “It’s going to be mayhem when they play against each other.”
Freja snorts. “If you say so. I’m hungry. Can we eat?”
Flynn says, “There’s aWaffle Houseacross the street. We can go after we drop our shit off in the room and you two hide your hair.”
I’m hungry enough that my stomach rumbles at the mention of yet anotherWaffle House. I get why we eat there. We’re usually traveling at night and sleeping during the day.Waffle Houseis one of the few places open, and a place where we aren’t asked a ton of questions. Plus, you get a ton of food for less than fifteen bucks.
Flynn goes inside to check in and comes out a moment later with a rusty key on a grimy, plastic keyring. I didn’t even know hotels used actual keys. I snort. Well, that’s my problem. This isn’t a hotel. It’s amotel.
We follow Flynn up the flight of stairs to our room. He unlocks the door and enters first. Freja and I follow. My stomach roils. It smells like mothballs and something else I probably don’t want to put a name to.
Flynn makes a face. “Let’s open a window while we’re gone. Maybe it’ll help with the smell.”
He does that while Freja and I grab our baseball caps and put them on. The hat is more for me and the platinum strip of hair that makes me stand out. With our hats on, Freja and I can pass as sisters, though one lady asked if Freja was my mom, making me laugh.
“Let’s go, ladies.”
Waffle Houseisn’t busy, and we have our pick of tables. Flynn picks one near the door in case we have to make a quick exit. We put our order in and settle in a comfortable silence. There’s a TV on in the room's corner and an alert is flashing across the bottom of the screen. I’m always so freaking paranoid that the alert is going to be for me. It’s not. This one is about an escaped inmate named Beau Banner, who’s considered armed and dangerous. His photo flashes across the screen, making me shiver. He has killer eyes. I can’t explain it, but every true killer I’ve known has had this darkness in their gaze, just like Beau Banner.
Flynn whistles. “Damn, that’s scary. I remember when Banner was on trial a few years ago.”
“What did he do?”
“Killed his stepfather for beating on his mom.”
I say, “Sounds like the stepfather deserved it, then.”
“That’s the Mafia talking right now.” He says, “Us normal people know that what Banner did was over the top. I mean, they found the stepfather in pieces. The dude didn’t even try to deny it, either.”
“I wonder how he escaped? And why now?”
“Who knows? Maybe he has more people on his list. The cops will catch him, though. He’s too noticeable to just walk around these parts, you know?”
Our waitress brings our food at that moment and chimes in, “God will punish that man for taking a life.”
“Amen,” Flynn agrees, shooting me a wink.
I lift my fork, but my appetite is gone.
Freja notices and asks, “Still feeling icky?”
I’m certain that I’m pregnant, but I haven’t breathed a word to anyone. Not even my cousin. I keep getting bouts of nausea. Like now, for example. If I were to eat, I think I would barf it right back up. So I lied and said I had a stomach bug. But that lie is only going to last for so long before they wonder what’s up.
“Yeah, but it’s getting better,” I lie, reaching for a piece of toast.
They both watch me take a bite.
Freja says, “Poor Anna. You are not cut out for the life of a fugitive.”
Flynn asks, “Aren’t you the one who screamed when you found the spider in the bathtub?”
Freja quips back, “You screamed, too!”
I sit back and listen to them bicker while they eat.
When everyone is finished, I say, “I need to run into the gas station and grab some stuff. Anyone need anything?”
Both say no, and Flynn asks, “Want us to go with you?”
