by C L Green
“Yo,” I hear her familiar voice on the end of the phone and nearly cry in relief.
“Ems, it’s me,” I almost choke the words out.
“Ari!” She shrieks into the phone and I have to hold it away from ear. “You’re fucking alive!”
Bringing the phone back to my ear I look up to see Jake leaning against the doorframe as he blankly watches me on the phone.
“I am. Long story. I have to vanish babe. Like big time vanish. New I.D. and I need my money.”
“You’re fucking alive!” She shrieks again and I wince at the high-pitched noise. Shaking my head I’m about to remind her of my request when her voice softens and she asks, “Did he hurt you?”
Not wanting to go into it right now I answer softly, “Yeah he did.”
“Mother. Fucker.”
“I need to vanish,” I remind her.
Pausing for a few beats, I hear her breathing steadily down the phone. “Okay,” she announces. “We can do this. We already had half a plan when the dumb fuck started whinging about your money so we can do this. Where are you?”
“Somewhere called Ridge Creek. Apart from that I have no idea.”
“Right,” I hear her fingers tapping on a keyboard. “This is good. You realize you are over four hours away don’t you? You’re not even in State. He’s not likely to find you there.”
“Where am I?”
“You’re in lower-central New South Wales.” I hear her doing some more tapping. “You got any money in your normal accounts you want?”
“No. There was only a couple of grand there and if he see’s movements on my accounts he’ll track it. I just need the money I left with you. You keep fifty, and I’ll make-do with the other two hundred. Thank fuck you talked me into hiding it.”
“There’s more than that…” She says almost warily.
“More?” I ask her confused as hell. “It hasn’t been that long since I shut my business down, how is there more?”
“Investments baby. I couldn’t help it. It was just doing nothing sitting there. The interest was okay, but I knew it could do better.”
“How much is there now?”
“Five hundred and sixty thousand dollars.”
Fuck.
“You’re shitting me?” I whisper reverently into the phone. “You should be a banker, not a hacker.”
I watch Jake’s eyebrows lift in question and a small smirk creases his mouth. Obviously he’s finding this conversation amusing.
“I don’t need that much. I’ve got nothing to spend it on.”
“You do now girl. You’ve got a whole new life to build. It probably won’t even be enough. On that thought, leave some with me. I’ll triple it this time. I was being conservative before.”
Shaking my head at her through the phone, I find myself smiling. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“Believe it baby. Now,” I hear more clicking on the keyboard, “I can get you a N.S.W. drivers license and a new birth certificate, what name?”
“I want to keep Arianna,” I announce firmly. And I do. I love my name and I don’t think that it’s fair that I have to give everything up just because my ex-boyfriend is an asshole.
“That should be okay but you are going to have to lose the Lovett. Pick a new surname.”
My mind blanking at the idea of a new surname, I slide my eyes around the room for inspiration. Faucet?
No.
Bath?
No.
Swinging my eyes back to Jake I look at the t-shirt he is wearing. Looking at the logo staring me in the face I say, “Davidson.”
“Davidson. Gotcha. I need two days, three days tops to get the I.D. Then you need to start a bank account in your new name. What are we going to do about money in the meantime? Is there somewhere I can send a cash check to or someone’s account you can use?”
“Um… Good question,” I respond as my mind scrabbles for more ideas. “I suppose a check in the mail might work, a bank transfer to an account would be quicker though.”
“Use mine,” Jake’s gravelly voice cuts into our conversation. “I’ll go get the numbers.” I watch as he turns and leaves the doorway.
“I’ve got some account details on their way.”
“Cool. One more thing Ari.”
“What?”
“I’m coming. Wherever you are, I’m coming. I don’t have any reason to be where I am and there is no way my best friend is starting a new life somewhere without me. I don’t have any ties here. I can hack and code from anywhere. I’m coming. Get me an address.”
“You can’t!” I let out a small shriek as panic sets in. “He’ll follow you straight to me.”
“No he won’t Ari. He doesn’t even know I exist remember? I’ve never worked for you, he’s never met me. Fuck, I even had a code name on your mobile remember? The chances he’s going to link the name Dick Magnet off your mobile contacts to me are remote. I’ll ditch this number today and get a new phone. Don’t worry about it. This phone’s not even in my real name. I bought it on a whim to see if one of my fake I.D.s would work to buy a prepaid mobile phone. It did.”
She sounds pleased with herself and I can feel the pressure of my newest panic attack receding.
“Okay. I’m currently sleeping behind some sort of Bikers shop just off the main street. He turned at a set of lights and it was just past the corner.”
“I’ll get this I.D. sorted and be there in three, four days tops.”
Feeling a rush of ‘almost’ hope course through my body, I lean back on the bathroom sink and smile. Jake returns and thrusts a piece of paper with numbers under my nose. The words Jake Holder stare back at me.
Smiling up at him, I recite his details over the phone and finish my conversation with Emma. Through this process Jake returns to his impassive stance leaning in the doorway.
Finally hanging up with Emma and handing the phone back to him he speaks softly. “Better?”
“Better.” I agree. “Apart from the fact that you should be ten grand richer by this afternoon, I have one other small favor to ask.”
Lifting his eyebrows in question, I go for it.
“Any chance there’s another spare bedroom around here?”
Chapter Four
Electronic Visibility
Flicking a door open in front of me, Jake announces, “That’s all I can spare.”
Walking in, I cast my eyes around a medium sized room currently furnished with nothing but boxes and motorbike spare parts.
“There’s another storeroom next door. I’ll get one of the boys to move this shit in with that shit.”
Nodding, I am suddenly overwhelmed with his generosity. Tears spiking my eyes, I turn and flee from the room heading back to the safety of my bedroom.
I have barely set a knee on the bed when an arm snakes around my stomach and I’m suspended midair.
“You’re not hiding in here anymore. Ma’s been waiting for you talk and you haven’t. She tells me you shut up like a fucking clam while I was gone. You’re gunna talk to me and you’re gunna get out of this room and start living.”
Wincing in pain at my suspension, I grunt out an, “Ouch.”
He retracts his arm instantly.
“Shit, sorry.” Turning to face him I tip my head back to see his brows knitted in concern. “Ribs or skin.”
“Both,” I reply. “It’s okay, you forgot. Where did you go?”
A look of caution flashes across his face. Just as quickly it is replaced by what looks like remorse. He steps back to give me room. His movement away from me affects me in some way and I tense up. I think I preferred it when he was close.
He doesn’t answer my question.
Stepping towards him to close the gap again, I tip my head back and decide to let it go. “Thanks for the second room… and the use of your bank account.”
Staring blankly at my face, I watch as his eyes soften and he replies, “You’re welcome.”
“You’ll like Emma. S
he’s a hoot. You can't help laugh when Emma’s is in the room, she’s that funny.”
I watch as he grins at my statement but then suddenly stiffens and looks alarmed.
“Does Tony mother fucking Giotti know she’s your friend?”
My heart stops. I swear it actually misses four beats. Blinking rapidly, I feel it kick back in again I instantly grab for my chest from the pain.
How on Earth does he know Tony?
Knuckling forward, I start to hyperventilate. Rasping short agonized breaths into my chest, I wildly try to run through all the scenarios of why Jake knows Tony.
“Fuck!” I hear Jake growl above me as a hand snakes behind my neck and I am dragged forward so that my face hits his hard stomach. Holding my face to him, he murmurs, “Breathe sweetheart. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shock you.”
Finding my face pushed up hard against his stomach, I am suddenly aware of the scent of ‘Jake’ hitting me. Soap, cologne and musky male mix in a delicious aroma and I find my breathing slows as I draw it all in.
Sensing the change in me, Jake uses his other hand to slowly rub circles along the back of my shoulders and I relax even more. Not knowing why I do it, I lift my arms and circle his huge girth. It feels strange to wrap my arms around another man. Strange for two reasons.
The first is that for over ten years I have lived with the same man. A man who if I even looked like I was going to touch another male, or they were going touch me, would put an instant stop to it. The second is that this man is hard. Every part of him. Not an ounce of fat can be felt. Tony had been short and stout and soft in the middle.
Taking a few moments to enjoy the pure strength of Jake between my arms, I calm myself. Then I slowly tip my head back up to see him staring down at me intensely again. “How do you know Tony?” I ask in small voice, fear ripping the strength of sound out of my voice.
“You’re all over the news sweetheart. Arianna Lovett – vanished into thin air a week ago. Your heartbroken boyfriend Tony is begging the world to help him find you. It’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever seen.”
“Oh.”
“I’ve got eyes on him. He works for the mob, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re safe here Arianna. I already told you that. Just because you’ve got an asshole ex-boyfriend who works for the mob doesn’t mean he’ll find you here. Right now most of the world thinks you’re dead and their expecting a body to turn up. We can work with that. No one is going to expect you to be wandering around in a small town, in another State. We’ll protect you.”
“Who’s we?” I have to ask. I can’t just blindly understand a ‘we’ll protect you’ statement from a person who, until a week ago, I’d never met or heard of.
“Me, Zane and the boys. It’s covered, trust me.”
Squeezing him tighter in an attempt to transfer my feelings of gratitude physically, I say, “I should tell you what I did to piss him off shouldn’t I?”
He stops rubbing the slow circles on my back and sighs. “It’d help.”
“Okay.”
*****
Leaving me sitting on the bed, Jake promises to return and vanishes out the door. Arriving back a short time later carrying a bottle of Jim Beam and two shot glasses, he places them on the bedside table.
Eying them off cautiously I mumble, “The last time you bought in a bottle of liquor and two shot glasses, you were here to share bad news.”
Ignoring me, he pours two shots and hands me one.
“I told you I drink wine. Red preferably but at a pinch a nice white will do.”
Tossing his shot glass back, he swallows the golden liquid in one go. Tipping his chin to the drink I am still holding he says, “You’re living out the back of a biker shop now sweetheart. You drink whiskey.”
“I’m only little, whiskey is a bit strong for me,” I inform him. “I once drank a whole bottle of red wine on my own and got so drunk that I fell asleep on a train and ended up in Gippsland. I also drank half a bottle of vodka with a friend once and the amount of vomit I produced an hour later belied the size of my stomach. Plus I’ve been taking pain killers. Everyone knows you shouldn’t drink while you are taking pain killers.”
With a thoughtful look on his face, I watch as he nods. He then removes the shot glass from my hand. Tossing it back, he leaves the room and returns a short time later with a bottle of Heineken beer. Smashing the lid off the bottle on the corner of the bedside table he hands it to me.
“Didn’t you hear my statement about pain killers?”
“When did you take your last one?” He asks unconcerned.
“Four hours ago.”
“You’ll be fine. Just drink the fuckin’ beer.” He leans across and pours another two shots. “I’ll drink your whiskey today but you are gunna learn to drink whiskey. Biker women don’t drink fuckin’ wine.”
Biker women?
Since when was I biker woman?
Deciding to move on from that one I ask, “What’s the bad news? I think you should just hit me with it and then I’ll decide whether I should drink the beer. I don’t think much of beer either but in desperate times it beats whiskey.”
“The bad news is that you’re about to relive your worst nightmare by telling me all about it. Drink the fuckin’ beer.”
“Right,” I suddenly agree wholeheartedly.
So taking a huge pull on my beer, I swallow it down and tell him my story.
My story takes longer to tell than I expect it to. Two beers and two full shots of whiskey later, I finish. By this stage I am curled in a fetal ball with my head in Jakes lap. I don’t even remember him moving to sit on the bed with me.
Snuffling my tears as he strokes my hair, he murmurs softly, “We need to change your look sweetheart. Although it kills me to do anything to your gorgeous hair, it’s gotta be done. You’re gunna have to cover up those eyes too. He’s looking for a knockout golden blonde with cornflower blue eyes.”
Knockout?
I’m most definitely not a knockout. I’m a short blonde woman with light blue eyes.
Nothing special.
He’s too kind.
Lifting my head from his lap, I shuffle my body upwards and tuck myself into his armpit. “Okay.”
“Dingo’s wife is a hairdresser. I’ll get her to come here. If you can get the Internet on that fucking piece of shit on the front desk, we’ll order some contact lenses too. What color do you want?”
“Green,” I mumble against his chest miserably. Moments later I realise what he has just said and I perk up a little. “Did you say you’ve got a computer?”
“Yeah, there’s a laptop out front in the shop. People sitting at the front desk use it to play cards.”
“And it’s got Internet capacity?” I ask with a small glimmer of hope building.
“It did have, until Reggie’s kid got on there and played a game that gave it a virus. It’s fucking useless now.”
“Ohmigod…” I breathe the word out. “It’s got a virus? I can work with that. Have you got a credit card?” He nods as I excitedly plow on. “You can pay it off with my money when it arrives.”
I squeal with excitement and launch off the bed. “Internet and a credit card means shopping! I can get clothes, make-up, contact lenses, even furniture. Yes! Furniture! I need a bed for Em’s new room. I’ll get it all delivered and I won’t even need to leave the building.”
Clapping my hands together I start pacing the room excitedly as I plan out all the things I need to buy. Through all my pacing and ranting I fail to notice that Jake remains sitting on the bed staring at me with an odd look on his face. Stopping to look at him for a few beats, I decide I can’t decipher the look properly. It’s somewhere between a smile and a ‘what the fuck?’.
Deciding to ignore his look I ask, “Can I look at it now? The laptop?”
“There’ll be someone playing cards on it right now sweetheart. The shop front is open.”
“Oh,” I respo
nd glumly as I feel myself deflating.
Standing slowly he crosses the room and takes my hand. “But I’ll kick them off and shut the shop. Have at it darlin’.”
*****
After kicking what looked to me to be one scary looking biker out of the shopfront, Jake settles me in front of his laptop. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out his wallet, flicks it open and slides out a black credit card. Handing it to me, he tells me he’s got ‘shit to do’ and he leaves me to it.
Closing the door behind the counter behind him, I am left alone to reconnect with my electronic world.
Quickly flicking through some screens on the laptop, I chuckle softly as I locate the virus checker and find it’s already clocked the virus but is just waiting for manual approval to remove it. Setting the cleaning software off to do its thing, I decide to wander the shop floor.
Like just about every room in this building, it’s a mess. There’s half a dozen shiny Harley Davidson’s scattered around the room with piles and piles of Harley memorabilia stacked around them. Much of the memorabilia is not displayed because it has not yet been removed from its wrapping. There are no prices to see, no shelves for displays and there are no real walkways. Everything is just stacked on the floor and shoppers are required to weave about between it all.
I’ve seen opportunity shops and car boot sales that are better organized.
Appalled at the disorganised mess, I wander through picking up and putting down items mentally rearranging the room and imagining it organized with display shelves and aisles. I marvel that they manage to sell anything, ever.
The only part of the whole show room that appears to be even remotely organized is the front window. Here someone has taken the time to set up the two main motorbikes with a few larger items of memorabilia.
Picking up a cool looking Harley Davidson tin sign, I wander back to the desk and lean it up against the wall next to the computer. With one small item on display, the front counter already looks better.
Returning my attention to the laptop screen, I am thrilled to discover the virus cleaner has done its work and the laptop has rebooted. It’s ready for action.