Nine

  Once inside the airport. I dash toward the bathroom.

  “Where are you going?” Trig shouts.

  I barely manage to lift one bag high enough to toss up my middle finger at him. I’m angry at her death and at him for just now telling me. I’m about to get on a plane and leave. This feels wrong.

  I enter the bathroom and rush to find the closest stall. I can barely lock the door behind me because my hands are shaking so badly. I drop the bags, sit down on the toilet, and let the floodgates open from my eyes. I’m sobbing uncontrollably to the point I can’t even see clearly anymore. I still can’t believe she’s dead. I was supposed to protect her. I failed. But what if Trig is right. What if she did something bad? What if she really did betray me? No. I won’t hear of it. This is all Victor’s fault. Every bit of it is. He killed Trig’s brother, he stole from The Savior, and he hurt me. Everything that has happened is because of him. I hope he rots in the bowels of hell. I hope his soul is tormented for eternity. My head falls into my hands. I’m crying so hard that my breathing is labored. I hate this life. I don’t want to feel the pain that it keeps serving me.

  “Honey, are you okay?” I hear a female voice say.

  I grab a piece of toilet paper and blow my nose. I grab another one and quickly wipe my eyes. I exit the stall to see an airport TSA worker washing her hands. She’s thin, tall, and twice my age.

  “I’m fine,” I reply, as I try to clean up my face in the mirror.

  “You don’t look fine at all,” she says.

  I turn to her. I need to get some things off my chest or I’ll lose it.

  “I’ve just lost the only person I have ever cared about and now I’m about to start a new life with a person I hardly know. One of them was keeping secrets and the other is withholding information.”

  “Things will get better. I promise. I just left my husband for another man too,” she says.

  I almost tell her that’s not what I meant, but I figure its best if she doesn’t know. I smile, wash my hands, and leave the restroom. When I come out, Trig is exchanging money for an envelope with a short, bald guy.

  “Is this the one?” The bald guy points to me. I look to Trig who just nods. “The pretty ones are always trouble.”

  The man smiles, walks away, and disappears into the crowd.

  “What was that about?”

  “Social security cards, birth certificates and passports.” Trig says.

  He looks at me and I know he can see my red eyes and flushed skin. I quickly look down.

  He hands me a passport.

  “This is yours.”

  I open it.

  “Angelina Krackle. What in the hell type of name is that? I grab his passport and look at his name. “Mike Krackle. Oh great, we’re either married or related. What’s your real name, anyway?”

  “Trigger Matthews.”

  “Are you being serious?”

  “Yes. My brother was named Hunter. Don’t ask me about the names. Can we go now?”

  “This says you’re twenty-eight.”

  “Yup.” He blows out air in frustration.

  “Are you?”

  “Yes, Nine. I am. Can we talk about this later, like when we land in a new country?”

  I squint my eyes at him.

  “Don’t worry about the names. You can always change it later.”

  I continue to look down at my passport.

  “My picture’s on here, but it looks Photoshopped. I take it he altered our pictures so that we can get through check-in. How did that guy even have time to do this?”

  “I talked to him two days ago. I had him prepare them just in case. He hacked into a few sites and obtained our photos. I tossed your purse out shortly after.”

  “So you knew you might be leaving town.”

  “I figured it might come down to it.”

  “And you just knew I would come with?”

  “More like I hoped you would.”

  I look out over the crowd of people. I spot a pay phone in the distance. I have to do it. I have to hear those messages from her. I know he won’t let me make the call once we leave here. I walk toward one. I can hear Trig calling my name behind me, but I ignore him. I put the bags down by my feet once I reach a booth. I dig in my pocket for a few quarters until I realize I have none. I ask a man standing by for a few. He smiles and hands me fifty cents. The man lingers over me, until Trig steps into his view, and then he turns and walks off. I insert the coins and punch in my cell number.

  “Who are you calling?” he asks.

  His hand is on my wrist. I scowl at him.

  “My voicemail. Now remove your hand.”

  He knows why I’m calling it. I have to hear her. I push my code in and listen. Jenny’s voice comes on and it’s like a shock to my ears.

  “Nine, where are you? Call me back.”

  “Nine, this is really starting to freak me out. I haven’t heard from you since last night.”

  “If you don’t call me back in the next hour, I’m calling the police.”

  There are several of these type of calls. I listen from beginning to end. It’s not until I get to the very last one that I feel like collapsing. I grab onto the booth. She’s crying the entire message.

  “Jesus Christ. The news reports are saying that guy I set you up with is a pimp and drug dealer, and that he’s missing. I saw his face on the television. I wasn’t honest when I told you that he called me first. I actually met him at a coffee shop and we sat down and had a cup or two. He said he was a business owner. He told me he runs a rehabilitation home that helps get young women off the streets. He says most of them own their own companies now. I kind of told him your story and he was so moved to speak with you. God, Nine. I’m so sorry. I had no clue. I just wanted better for you. I wanted him to talk to you, and encourage you to start doing something else. Mr. V. and me talked over the phone a lot about helping you get out of this business. He said he would take care of it. I’m so scared. I just keep thinking that something bad has happened to you. Please forgive me. Call me, please. I know I never told you this, but I love you.”

  I hang up the phone. My stomach is sick. Jenny set that appointment up to try to change my life. She wanted me to do something else besides sell my body. She saw potential in me. If Mr. V. had surveillance pictures of me, he probably was watching Jenny too. He manipulated her. He followed her into that coffee shop, I know it. I wipe my eyes, and close my mouth to avoid my lower jaw from trembling. I look to see Trig leaning up against the wall. I pick up my bags and walk toward him.

  “She wasn’t working with Victor, just so you know.” I sniff to prevent my nose from running. I try to go on and tell him, but I can’t. Instead, I just cover my mouth.

  He doesn’t say anything. He just stares forward.

  “She was trying to help me.” I push out the words that are stuck in my mouth.

  “I know you’re hurt. I lost someone too. I understand what it feels like,” he says.

  “You could have fooled me,” I snap.

  “Don’t think for one moment that just because I’m not sulking and crying, that I’m not in pain. I just lost Bones. I saw him lying there with a bullet in his head. Bones was to me what Jenny was to you. Who do you think picked me up after I did my first job? He did. Let me also remind you that my only brother was pumped full of bullets. So when I say that I hurt, I fucking mean it.”

  I look at him. If he were in pain, you would never know it. He’s tough and holding it all in, which is something I used to do. Now I don’t give a shit. I’d cry myself dehydrated if I could just to make this horrible feeling go away. I wipe my eyes again. Trig pulls his back away from the wall.

  “Are you good?” he asks.

  I can see him checking his watch for the time, and just like that, he’s done talking about how he feels. He’s moving on, but I can’t. Not like that. Not when it comes to Jenny.

  I glare at him.

  “Depends on what you mean by good. Are you a
sking me if I can get through the airport without freaking out? Then yes, I guess I’m good. If you’re asking me if I’m emotionally okay with Jenny dying, and you not telling me until now, then no, I’m not. I’m about two seconds away from losing my shit when I think about her. The only thing that’s holding me together is the fact that I’m about to get away from all this drama and heartache. So, if you’re ready, maybe we can board a fucking plane and get out of here.” I breathe. “Unless you have some more terrible news to share with me. Maybe my favorite teacher from grade school died, and you haven’t told me about that either.” I sarcastically add.

  Trig shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to see you hurt. It wasn’t my goal.”

  “Too late,” I say.

  Trig knows this conversation is going nowhere. He picks up his bags and walks toward the counter to a book a flight. I reluctantly follow. I keep my head down. I don’t want people to see that I’ve been crying.

  “Hi. How can I help you today,” says the young woman behind the monitor.

  “I need two one-way seats for your first available flight out to…”

  Trig looks over to me.

  “Fiji,” I say.

  “Fiji,” he repeats.

  “Is economy fine?” the woman asks, punching keys into her computer.

  “Yes,” Trig responds.

  “You are in luck. I have availability. The next flight takes off in forty-five minutes. You’ll have to get over to security screening now, if you want to make it in time.”

  She then runs him a price and they exchange tickets and money. We scurry to security and wait in line.

  “Tell me you did something with that gun?” I say in a hushed tone.

  “I cleaned our prints off of it, and then I tossed it in a garbage can outside,” he whispers.

  “How are we supposed to get through the checkpoint with all of this damn cash?” I whisper back.

  “For one. Stop freaking out. You look suspicious.”

  I look over at Trig who looks really uncomfortable.

  “How’s your arm?”

  “Hurts like a bitch,” he says.

  “I can maybe carry another bag.

  “I got it,” he replies, almost as if the offer was an insult.

  It feels like forever when we finally reach the front of the line. I look up to see the woman from the bathroom checking bags. I start to panic. She waves us forward.

  “Is this the new guy?” she asks, as she points to Trig. She gives him an ugly stare.

  Trig looks confused. He looks at me for answers.

  “Yup,” I say.

  “Throw your bags up here, please.”

  We toss all four bags up. She opens them one by one and peeks inside. Her eyebrows raise. She motions for me to come closer. Trig takes a step forward.

  “Why do you have all of this money?”

  Worry fills my eyes and I have no idea what to say.

  “She cleaned out her husband’s checking account. He was banging the housekeeper. The asshole beats her too. Look at these marks.” Trig points to my face. “I’m taking her away from here.”

  “What the–” I say.

  “You don’t have to be embarrassed,” she whispers.

  The TSA worker looks at me. She shakes her head in sympathy.

  “Mine was doing our nanny. Go on, get out of here. Take it all and leave. I didn’t see a damn thing,” she says in a hushed tone.

  She waves a metal detector over us and then points us toward the terminal. I release a sigh of relief as we pass her.

  “Really? My husband beats me?” I repeat quietly.

  “It worked. What are you complaining about?”

  We make our way over to notice that our plane is boarding, so we line up. The line begins to move quickly, and before I know it, we are packing into the plane. We find our seats and settle in. Trig looks at me and then he pulls his wallet out. He hands me a picture from inside.

  “I thought you might want this.”

  I take it and unfold the picture. It’s of me and Jenny when we were about eighteen. I close it and hold it against my heart. I immediately look outside the window. I need a distraction to hold back these tears. I understand why Trig didn’t tell me, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt just as bad knowing that she isn’t here in this world anymore. I unfold it again and look down. My chest starts to heave, but I won’t let it. I place one hand over my mouth. I drop my head, close my eyes, and pray silently. I pray that her body is laid to rest and that wherever her spirit is that it looks after me. I can’t hold back anymore. I can feel my eyes watering up. I shoot up from my seat. Trig reaches out and grabs my hand. I look down at him.

  “I didn’t want to hurt you,” he says again, as if I didn’t hear him earlier.

  I let the storm in my chest settle before I respond.

  “I’m not mad at you, Trig. It’s exactly like you said to me before. I’m mad at the situation.”

  I see a flight attendant coming our way. She’s smiling and perky and I hate it, because I know she’s having a wonderful day. You can see it on her face.

  “Would you two like a cocktail?”

  “I’ll take a beer, any kind is fine,” Trig replies.

  “And for the lady?” she asks, smiling even bigger at me.

  “I don’t give a shit what you serve me. Just keep the liquor coming, and bring me some damn pretzels. I’m starving.”

  Trig squeezes my hand.

  “I have to use the restroom. I’ll be back.” I say, moving around her.

  “Sorry,” Trig says, apologizing for my behavior. “It’s been one of those days.”

  I don’t even look at either of them. I pass through the aisle and make my way to the back of the plane. I go in and do my business and when I come out a familiar face greets me. It’s the face of one of my clients. I could just die.

  “This is not happening,” I mumble.

  “I thought that was you when you passed by,” he whispers.

  I suddenly become nervous and uncomfortable. I’m supposed to be this new person, and here my past is traveling on the same flight as me. I can’t deal with this right now.

  “I need to get back to my seat,” I say quietly.

  “It’s just that my wife and kids are on board. I don’t want any issue,” he whispers again, as he leans into me.

  “No. I would never say anything.”

  “That is a relief,” he smiles.

  I try to work my way around him. He blocks me.

  “I was just wondering…” he looks over his shoulder. “How much for a hand job?”

  “Excuse me?” I say offended.

  “It’s just that with the kids around, I haven’t been able to get off in a while.”

  I see Trig look back. His eyes grow dark and then he stands up.

  “You need to go sit down now or bad things are going to happen,” I say, and try to push him away.

  “Come on. I just need you to touch it,” he says in a hushed tone.

  I see Trig approach us. He’s staring at the guy with murderous eyes.

  “Do we have a problem here?” Trig says through his teeth.

  “No. Just an old friend,” I say. “He was just about to go back to his seat.”

  Trig looks at me and then back to the guy. He leans into my ear.

  “Was this fucker a client of yours?”

  I pat Trigs chest. “Don’t cause a scene, please.”

  A flight attendant walks over. “I’m going to need you all to clear the aisle.”

  “Yeah, yeah. We’re just finishing up here. Give us a second,” I say.

  I notice the man’s wife turn around and glare at us. Trig leans into the man’s face.

  “I will take your dick, break it off, and shove it up your ass if you make any contact with her for the rest of the flight. I don’t even want to see you look at her. If I see even one sideways glance, I will rip your eyes clean out, put them in my beer, and then serve ‘em to you.
Get the fuck out of here,” he whispers.

  I don’t think I’ve ever heard such a quiet ass-whooping speech before. The man rushes back to his seat. Trig pushes me into the bathroom and locks the door.

  “Who’s watching all that cash out there while you’re in here with me?” I say.

  “Don’t worry about the cash. Nobody is making it off this flight with four bags of money without me knowing, especially when I tagged all of the bags as diarrhea medicine. No one is going to want to open up a bag that is clearly containing something to soothe my asshole.”

  “That’s disturbing,” I say.

  “No. That dickhead with his all-American family sitting out there while he pushes up on you is disturbing.

  “I can’t get away from my past. It’s always going to follow me,” I say.

  “That little bitch out there is nothing.”

  “He asked for a hand job.”

  Trig goes for the door like he’s going to go after the guy. I grab his arm.

  “When he asked me, I was offended. I’ve never been offended before.”

  Trig stares at me. “Nine, you’re supposed to be offended.”

  “Dainty ladies are supposed to be, not escorts.”

  “You’re not an escort any more than I’m a killer,” Trig says. “We can be whatever we want now.”

  “Sure. I’ll just apply for a teaching job once we land in Fiji.”

  “You can do anything. You can be whatever the hell you want. You’re Mrs. Krackle now.”

  “Whatever I want? That is a lie and you know it,” I snap

  I’m out of breath and my hands are shaking before I even realize it. I’ve been through way too much stuff this week, let alone in my entire life and I don’t know if I can go back out there, sit down in my seat and pretend like all is well.

  “Look at me. Everything is going to be fine.”

  He places my hand on his heart and his hand on my chest. I remember how this calmed me down at the cabin, so I look into his eyes. My breathing synchronizes up with his. My heart slows down, and my body relaxes. He slowly nods once, and I nod back to let him know I’m okay.