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“He's joking, right?” Phillip asks, continuing to hold my hand.
Angel laughs. “I think I'll miss this one. He's very entertaining. Have a safe trip.” The doors slam shut and Phillip’s breaths quicken the moment the truck moves. I can barely make him out in the dark but can feel him beside me.
I pull the earbuds from my pocket and feel around for his ears, slipping each one inside. “Time for the plane to take off, burrito.” I bring up my playlist on my phone and hit shuffle.
It works and he remains settled the whole drive to the airport. No banging comes to the side of the truck and there's no squeezing ourselves into small spaces. Not this time at least. Bright light from the sun beams inside the truck when the doors open and we both climb out. He hands me back the headphones before we walk through security and empties out his pockets.
After all our stuff is finished going through the machine, I take everything out and we slip on our shoes. I help Phillip through breathing exercises until he's calm enough for us to continue to the boarding area. We don't need him getting sick before we reach our destination. We also don't need to draw any attention to ourselves as we make our way through customs.
“It gets easier but sucks all the same,” he whispers to me, his body tensing a little.
“I know. I'm sorry.” I mean it too. I can't imagine being in his situation, but he did bring it on himself. We are both here because of choices we made. Mine was robbing Zacharias's men of their guns and shooting up one of his establishments, not leaving a single person alive. I wasn't given two options likePhillip though. I wanted to die that day and Zacharias wouldn't allow it to happen.
“Whatever. Let's get this over with. I'm hungry and my throat is killing me.”
I lift my carry-on higher on my shoulder, holding it close to my body until we're on the plane, and then I slide it in front of his feet once we're seated. Same as before, I give him gum, hand him the earbuds, and play music while rubbing his hand. Routines are what he seems to do best with. A specific order to things. We have that in common. Only, his were never supposed to be added to mine.
Five
Phillip
Making it safely through customs calmed me down a little, and I'm less restless than before as we leave in a car Antonio rented at the airport. But as we get closer to a hotel near the client's house, my heart rate goes back up. I still have to extract the drugs from my body, and there's only one way to do that once they’ve been digested. I hate this part the most. Hours go by, during which we check in to the hotel and then I sit in the bathroom after taking a laxative.
Once everything's out of my system, Antonio pulls gloves from his bag and fishes the bags out. I'm flushed with embarrassment.
“I could have done that. I've done it before,” I say, my words rushing out.
“We're in a hurry and your hands are shaking too badly. I'll get it done much faster.” He shoves all the drugs in a plastic baggie after they’re cleaned off and then into the small empty backpack Angel gave us. My stomach shifts and I swallow down the bilecrawling up my throat when he hands me the bag and flushes the toilet. No look of disgust ever shows up on his face but I still don't feel any better about this whole situation.
“If this doesn't stop me from ever trying drugs, I don't know what will,” I joke, trying to take my mind off what Antonio just did only seconds ago.
I won't think about it. I won't think about it.
He shrugs me off and we leave the hotel with only the drugs on us. Antonio tells me to wait in the car while he delivers the product. “I'll handle this part. You did all the hard work so far.” He smiles softly and closes the door without warning me not to run this time.
Not like he has to. Nothing inside me tells me to run when he's near. Only when I'm around other people. His presence makes everyone else more bearable to be around and I'm restless waiting for him to return.
He's in and out of the client's house within twenty minutes, slipping into the driver's seat like it was no big deal.
“Please tell me there won’t be any more airports.” I look at his hand, itching to grab it.
Side-eyeing me, he starts the car. “Not today at least. After we grab food, we're going back to the same hotel to get some rest.”
The first part of our trip leaves my brain the moment we pull into the parking lot of a local diner, and I perk up in my seat.
“Are we going inside?” I take off my seat belt, not waiting for an answer.
Parking the car, he turns off the engine. “We are. So behave yourself.”
“Keep the sandwiches coming and not only will I be your good boy, I'll also put out later.”
His brows lift and his hand freezes on the seat belt. “Put what out later?”
Laughing, I open the door and step onto the pavement. “I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually, Daddy.” Shutting the door, I blow him a kiss through the window and walk toward the front of the diner. He's right behind me by the time I enter.
“What did you just call me back there?”
“Hi, how many today?” a woman asks, stepping in front of us.
