Covert Identity

by Maria Hammarblad

"I bet everyone else are thrilled to have you there."

  Jimmy chuckled. "Oh yes. There are usually parades in our honor. Picketing and riots and stuff."

  *****

  The time until he left went by much too quickly, and Sharon pretended she was okay. She even kissed him goodbye and watched him drive away without tears.

  I'm fine. I'm doing great.

  She lied so well she almost fooled herself, until she woke up in the middle of the night with her breath caught in her chest. The sheets fought her and the pillows seemed an impossible fortification attempting to choke her.

  Once she managed to breathe, it wasn't so bad. She stared up at the ceiling for a long time, focusing on breathing in, letting air out, filling her lungs, and emptying them again.

  It was just a dream.

  A particularly bad one, but still just a dream.

  She had been on the edge of a great chasm, so deep she couldn't see the bottom. She was alone, but on the other side, Jimmy worked on his bike. People came over to him, laughing and talking, but he wouldn't turn towards her. She couldn't get across, and the ground crumbled under her feet.

  She fell, screamed, but no one heard.

  She fell for a long time and was sure she would die.

  She'd be gone and he wouldn't even notice.

  Was her subconscious trying to tell her something?

  Maybe, but she didn't have to listen. She ignored it and kept pretending she was fine.

  The days and nights without Jimmy were some of the longest of her life, and when he returned she held him hard. She wanted to weep with relief, but swallowed the tears down. He must not know how dependent she was.

  The reprieve was much too brief.

  He left again after a couple of days, and she roamed from window to window wondering what to do with herself.

  Mona took her to the mall, but not even being surrounded by people helped her shake the thorns of worry. She stood at Macy's, staring at nothing.

  "I think you should get that. Did you ever consider coloring your hair green? We could tattoo scales on your cheeks and you could pretend to be a lizard."

  She heard that her friend talked, but not the actual words.

  "Yeah, sure."

  Mona put a hand on her arm.

  "Hey, he'll be back. He can take care of himself."

  "I know."

  "No, you don't. You look like you're going to a funeral. Here, this will cheer you up. Buy this and wear it around the house. You might get arrested for indecent exposure if you wear it outside, but indoors I'm sure Jimmy would love it."

  Mona held up a red miniskirt that wouldn't even go halfway down Sharon's butt.

  She stuck her tongue out. "I was never small enough to fit in that. I just don't know if I trust him."

  "With what?"

  Good question. Booze? He drank a lot, but odds were all these guys did. Drugs? She didn't think he did drugs. Crime? Women? Being jealous was below her, wasn't it?

  "I... I don't know."

  "Men are men and shouldn't be trusted, but I've seen the way he looks at you. He wouldn't risk losing you, he'll keep it in his pants."

  "I hope you're right."

  Mona's company helped, and gave a break from feeling miserable.

  Jimmy called Saturday evening and sounded a little drunk.

  "Hey, we're in Sebring. We're taking a little detour, but I should be home the day after tomorrow."

  "I miss you."

  Sebring, wasn't that a type of Chrysler?

  She grabbed her iPad and looked it up while listening to him. He was only a two-hour drive away. So close, but still so far.

  She heard him sit down and drink something.

  "I'm at the Econo Lodge. You should come over."

  "Are you serious?"

  "Yes, but you don't have to."

  She could be there before midnight.

  "Okay. I'll leave now."

  "Hang on. I have some shit to take care of, but I'll be done by the time you get here. If you meet anyone outside, don't talk to them. If you have to talk to them, tell them that you're a hooker and I already paid, so you can't go with them. Okay?"

  "No, that's not okay. I don't know what our relationship is exactly, but I don't think I should have to pretend I'm a whore to see you."

  The words came out in a colder voice than she intended, but enough was enough, right?

  "Sweetheart..."

  "Don't sweetheart me. If you want hookers you should get your shit out of my house and not come back."

  "I'm trying to keep you safe." His voice was quiet and sounded honest. She could imagine him rub his forehead, but she didn't answer.

  "Sharon... I wouldn't ask you to come over here if it were dangerous. It's too far away for anyone to follow you home."

  It kind of made sense. In a scary way.

  "Why?"

  "This is important. As long as no one knows how much I care for you, you're safe. If anyone would want to get to me, for any reason, they won't pick on you."

  It was an awful way of reasoning, but she could feel the truth in his words. He wasn't making it up, and he wasn't lying. She still said, "Paranoid, much?"

  "I wish. It was a bad idea, I'll see you the day after tomorrow."

  "No, I'll be there."

  *****

  It was a long drive and she played old pop music to stay awake. A McDonald's lured her in with the bright neon sign, and coffee from the drive-thru made the adventure easier.

  McDonald's. I wonder if someone has ever mistaken it for a motorcycle club. Hey, I heard those MC Donald's are coming to town.

  She might not have known where Sebring was a few hours earlier, but Siri did, and her phone brought her to a two-story building with a huge red sign.

  There was no doubt she reached the right place; the parking lot outside the motel was crammed with motorcycles, and she heard shouting and music from a couple of the rooms. Jumping down from the car, she tugged at her skirt. It was too short. Bad enough she let Mona talk her into buying a thing like this, worse that she chose to wear it.

  I need to re-think my life, because this isn't for me. Wanting me to play a hooker. Idiot... I'm an idiot too for going along with it. Is that a pool over there? I bet there'll be dead people in it before morning.

  At least her license plate said "The Sunshine State" and not what county she came from. This was a good time to be grateful for little things.

  A man staggered along the building with his arms around two women. She was so preoccupied with watching the trio she didn't hear footsteps approach.

  "Well, well, what do we have here?"

  The voice was too close and made her jump. Spinning around, she stared into a pair of cold blue eyes. They belonged to a mountain of a man with shaved, tattooed head.

  Her first instinct was to run for her life, but she wouldn't get far, especially not in these shoes. Mona would have been able to do it, but Sharon wasn't used to wearing heels and just standing in her pretty pumps made her feel about to topple over.

  Her assessment might be unfair. He might not be dangerous, but the word "Hate" tattooed across his forehead made caution seem prudent.

  She wanted to glance around and look for Jimmy, but taking her eyes off the giant could be dangerous.

  If she could make it to Jimmy's door she'd probably be okay, but he didn't even know she was there yet. His concern for her safety made much more sense, all of a sudden.

  An impossible image of Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman popped up in her head.

  Not helpful.

  What would a hooker say? A real hooker? On TV they always said something like, "Do you want to have fun," but she certainly didn't want to have fun. Not that kind of fun, and not with this guy.

  She forced a smile. "Hey cutie-pie."

  The words didn't ring true even in her own ears, but he pulled a finger over her cleavage.

  "Come with me and have a good time."

  Isn't that supposed to be my line? Don'
t shudder. Don't show him you're afraid.

  The voice of reason in her head sounded mousy, and provided less helpful advice than Julia Roberts in knee-high boots.

  "I already have something to do tonight. Maybe next time."

  Move towards the building. Walk away before he decides to just take what he wants. And whatever you do, don't fall.

  "Who?"

  When said in the giant's voice, the one innocent word sounded like a question of life or death importance. Would saying his name make things better or worse?

  "Jimmy, and he's waiting."

  It worked. The man took a step back. Thank heavens; she didn't want that sour breath pouring over her face one second longer.

  Maybe there was something to all this brotherhood crap after all.

  The man rumbled, "I'll walk you there."

  Anything leading in the right direction must be a good thing. She shrugged and resisted an urge to tug at her clothes. Touching them would bring attention to their smallness, and to her feeling awkward in them.

  She glanced at all the room numbers. They seemed to be on the right doors, in the right order, and he seemed to walk to the right door.

  Now who was paranoid? If she survived this walk she'd have to apologize to Jimmy.

  Sharon lifted a hand to rap her knuckles against the paint, but her unwanted companion beat her to it. He hammered a fist the size of a ham on the door, banging hard enough to wake half the neighborhood.

  Her relief when Jimmy opened was almost tangible and she wanted to collapse by his feet in a shivering pile. He held a half-empty bottle of vodka in one hand, but was definitely sober enough to take in the situation.

  "You're late." He pulled her inside and slammed the door in the other man's face. His arms around her were heavenly. "Are you okay? See why I worry?"

  "Yes... That's one scary dude." She whispered quietly, she expected the guy outside to hear and storm in.

  "He is." Jimmy pushed her away enough to be able to look at her, and lifted an eyebrow.

  "What are you wearing?"

  She could finally tug at the skirt without being judged.

  "You told me to be a hooker. This was the best I could do."

  When it came to showing off skin, the super short skirt and tight tank top had been the extent of her risqué wardrobe. Clearly a lapse into bad judgment. Mental note: never go shopping with Mona again.

  "Don't make it a habit. I might have to kill people to keep them off you."

  "You're joking, right?"

  Jimmy stepped backwards, sank down in a chair, and helped himself to a drink. Then, he held the bottle up to her.

  "I'm rude. Want some?"

  On a night like this, why the hell not? She took a sip and put the bottle on a table. Bending over him, she started to unbutton his shirt.

  He put his hands on her shoulders. "What are you doing?"

  "I didn't drive all the way here for a drink."

  Her hands couldn't find a zipper. Button fly? How quaint.

  *****

  Sharon dreamed of green grass and sunshine when someone banged on the door hard enough to make it rattle.

  She opened her eyes but didn't recognize the room. It didn't look right, and it didn't smell right. Jimmy's shoulder under her head was familiar, but everything else was off. It took several seconds before she remembered the previous night.

  She was in a motel, surrounded by crazy people with tattooed foreheads.

  Jimmy groaned, "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming. Stop making so much noise."

  He sat up on the edge of the bed and buried his head in his hands.

  "Fuck, we're late. I hoped to get you out of here before everyone woke up."

  "What time is it? Feels like the middle of the night."

  "I know. Fucking hangover from hell."

  He pulled on his clothes, so she crawled out of bed and did the same. Driving the long way home on this little sleep wasn't appealing, but she would have to.

  Jimmy paused just inside the door.

  "I'm going to walk you to the car. Get in and drive away. Whatever you see, whatever you hear, just drive away. I'll call you, and I should be home tomorrow."

  "Okay. Take care of yourself."

  The mere thought of meeting Mr. Hate again was a good enough incentive for obedience.

  "You, too. I'm so glad you came over."

  "I am, too."

  She stood on her toes and kissed him. He tasted like old booze, but being close still made her want to drop what little she wore on the floor and offer herself to him.

  He pulled free and said, "I'll have to be obnoxious."

  What is he talking about?

  Gazing into his eyes made her forget what he said. Oh yes, surrounded by bad guys, that was it. "I'll forgive obnoxious as long as you don't let Mr. Hate grab me."

  He pulled her close again and smacked a kiss on her temple. "You have a deal."

  Outside was busy, filled with people, and bathed in sunshine. How could the day be so hot already? Summer had sneaked up without her noticing.

  Jimmy kept an arm around her waist, holding her even tighter than usual. Good thing. There were too many men close by, staring and making obscene gestures. One licked his fingers and showed what he could do with them. God's gift to women, clearly. So talented.

  Left to her own devices she would have fallen in her pretty shoes and made an easy target. Seeing things from the bright side, if she needed to run she wouldn't have to pull her skirt up. It was so short it couldn't possibly impair running.

  Someone shouted, "Here, pussy, pussy, pussy, I got something for the pussy."

  Jimmy ignored them. "Fuck, it's bright out here."

  Mr. Hate approached with long steps.

  Crap. We won't make it to the car. I might have to talk to him again.

  Why would someone tattoo hate on their forehead? Was he happy with it?

  At least the word was spelled right. Could be worse.

  The large man called out, "You egotistical bastard, learn to share."

  Jimmy chuckled and grabbed her tighter.

  "Get your own."

  "That's not very brotherly."

  The other man sounded amiable. Jimmy slapped her butt. Hard.

  "How much man do you think a sweet pea like this can take?"

  "Surely more than you are. She needs some real dick."

  Friendly banter? Were the others closing in on them? She could swear the car had been closer than this when she parked.

  Key, she would need a key.

  Jimmy opened the door for her, but before she had the time to get in, he grabbed her, kissed her hard and squeezed parts of her that certainly shouldn't be squeezed in public. Then, he pulled out a pile of bills from a pocket and tucked it into her cleavage.

  "See you next time, babe."

  Was I just paid? He paid me. Oh my God.

  The man who yelled about pussy earlier was coming closer. Too close, almost within grabbing distance.

  Jimmy held a hand up for him to wait and kissed her again. Then, he whispered, "Go," turned around, and punched the other man right in the face.

  She bounced into the car as quickly as the tight skirt would let her, dropped the keys on the floor, and couldn't find them for what seemed like an eternity. When she looked out again, a new arrival to the brawl pushed Jimmy so hard he staggered backwards. He regained his balance and shoved back. Mr. Hate hit New Guy and Jimmy ducked when New Guy swung at him. What a mess.

  Should she say something? Do something?

  He had told her to go, to just go no matter what.

  Maybe that would be the best thing she could do for him. Maybe the fight would recede if she were no longer there. The hotel manager would call the police, unless the poor man or woman was locked up somewhere, zip-tied in a closet.

  She started the car and backed out, but had to stomp on the brake as Mr. Hate staggered out behind her. He had taken Jimmy's side in the fight, and she should avoid killing him.

&nb
sp; If it was like this at seven in the morning, what would it be like at night? Didn't these people ever sleep?

  She drove and kept an eye on the rear view mirror, but no one followed.

  She was about half way home when Jimmy called.

  "Hey, just checking you got out of there okay."

  "I'm fine. Are you?"

  "Of course. Just another day in paradise."

  *****

  Jimmy kept his promise and came home the next day.

  Besides some bruises he seemed fine, and she pretended she hadn't been waiting. He knew anyway, of course. He said, "You weren't worried, right?"

  "Of course not."

  "You're so cute when you're lying." He grinned and seemed content both with her worrying for him and with her making an effort to hide it.

  Sharon expected him to disappear the following weekend, too. After seeing some of his friends, being alone scared her less than meeting them again. She still didn't look forward to going to bed alone and waking up alone, but she wouldn't bug him about it.

  On Thursday night he sank down on the sofa, opened a beer, and stretched his long legs out. "So, wha'cha wanna do this weekend?"

  The question made her want to weep with relief.

  She couldn't show him that.

  "Mona's coming over for a bit tomorrow. After that, I don't know."

  He nodded and she curled up with her head resting against his shoulder.

  "Want my beer?" He sounded like he smiled, but even if he was joking he would probably give it up if she claimed it.

  "No, but thank you."

  "Are you okay?

  What a fine looking question. "Yes, but that stuff in Sebring was weird."

  "You wanted to see something of my other life. Now you know."

  There wasn't much she could say about that. She had wished for information, and she had it. He had been right all along: she hated it.

  Hopefully, she'd never have to experience it again. Why he stayed with them was beyond her, but maybe the problem would solve itself given some time.

  Jimmy brushed a finger over her cheek. "I think Doug fell for you. He asked for your number."

  "Doug?"

  "You called him Mr. Hate."

  The mere thought of Jimmy's friend made her want to hide somewhere. Were they friends? Could she ask?

  She should probably leave it alone.

  The next day, Mona came over when Jimmy was still out. She brought wine and snacks, and wanted whiskey. It was still early when she left in a taxi, so Sharon helped herself to another drink and turned on the stereo.