Frustrated, I toss the phone onto the bed as I come into the bedroom I share with Clark, my eyes on the closet, trying to make up my mind. The slacks I had been wearing that day were hanging from the little knob on the door, still encased in the billowy plastic with the rest of the items Clark had picked up from the drycleaner’s yesterday.
Instead of the slacks, I pull out a light dress. Clark’s always told me I look good in it, but that’s not the reason. I’m feeling more feminine than I usually do, and the reason for that is out there somewhere. The thought of Reed brings more emotion than I would have ever guessed that first day in his basement. Things change. I glance at the phone again as I’m dressing, wondering if all this is nothing but a symptom of what I’ve just read.
“Does it matter, Des?” I ask myself, looking down for Ted, but I’m alone in the bedroom.
Does it? That’s a question that only I can have an answer for, and so far, it’s eluding me like all get-out.
The plan was to go down to the store and pick up a few things for dinner, since I normally don’t have the time to actually cook anything. The reality finds me heading out to the garage. When I see it, it suddenly dawns on me why I’m out here.
I pull the big rucksack down from the shelf, dust and debris falling into my hair. I cough and clear my eyes, running my fingers over the rough canvas, the buckles and the straps. It had served me well in the year between high school and college I had spent in Europe, but I suddenly didn’t feel the urge to reminisce. If any of the neighbors had been out, it would have been quite the sight. The tall, willowy red head in a cute dress, carrying a big rucksack slung over her shoulder.
Ted greets me at the door, as if I had been gone for hours rather than minutes. “Don’t worry, Turd.” I say, using one of my mock names for him. “Clark will take care of you while I’m gone.” He tilts his head to the side, as if questioning my motives. “I know.” I say. “You’ll be fine. This will be as hard on me as it will be on you, buddy.”
I lean down, giving him a quick snuggle and I want to think he understands. I glance at the clock on the dresser and start packing.
Monday Afternoon - Reed
Honestly, I think the three college girls were more interested in the situation than I was. Granted, I’ve never been against that sort of thing in the past, but either there was too much going on in my head or my emotions are all muddled up by the events of the past couple of weeks.
Darla made a good play of it as we rolled into Madison, and as we gassed up, she invited me back to her dorm, ostensibly just to wash up before being on my way. I’m not modest enough to deny the fact that she was looking for just a little bit more than that. It’s nice to know that I still have game, but I’m thinking of Des right now, but there’s definitely mixed emotions.
I’m still at the gas station that I had the trio drop me off at, and the thought of them is all mixed into the thoughts I’m having about her. Hopefully Gray will be here to pick me up shortly. I’ve never really put much thought into the guy’s name, even though it’s odd. As I sit here, though, it makes me wonder. Hell, I’m just bored and my mind’s trying to come up with shit to distract me.
I can feel the sun making its way down into the clouds on the horizon when the Hummer finally pulls in, Gray at the wheel. I hear the passenger door click unlocked and climb inside. He gives me the silent nod and we’re on our way.
“Not a lot of people I’d drop everything to haul up to a godforsaken place like Duluth, Reed.” He says as he merges quickly onto the freeway. I can feel the acceleration of the big engine, silently hoping he keeps things down. By now half the law enforcement in Wisconsin and likely Minnesota are looking for us.
“I appreciate it, brother.” I say, looking at the dark-skinned driver. “I need to get as far away as possible, so I’m hoping to catch a ride from there.”
Gray looks over at me, his dark eyes unreadable. “Shit, man, I had thought you were done for. When you called, I was half suspecting it would be someone else, if you know what I mean.”
“I thought I was too.” I sigh, looking out the windshield at the white stripes approaching and being sucked up by the speed of the vehicle. “I’m blessed, I guess.”
He looked over at me, the expression in his eyes a little more dubious this time. “About that, Reed.” He says, and I know what’s coming. I had realized in my time hanging out at the gas station waiting that I was probably just stepping into the fire, despite Des’ assistance in helping me escape custody. How is anyone in the organization going to believe me when I tell them that the captive FBI agent I had in my basement just let me stroll out of her field office?
That’s why I called Gray first, though. Despite any doubts that he might have, he owes me a solid, and that’s one of the things that we don’t take very lightly. I decide to clear the air a little bit.
“I know what everyone’s thinking.” I say. He nods, knowingly.
“They don’t know shit right now.” He says, sliding into the left lane and accelerating. “Nothing on the news about you walking out, and if you haven’t called anyone else, you’re good. It won’t take too long, though.”
“That’s why I’m trying to get the hell out of here.” I say. “I know full well I’m completely burned. No one’s going to believe what I have to say and I don’t fucking blame them.”
Gray smooths out the acceleration, flying quietly in the left lane, passing the exiting traffic as we finally break out of Madison. “It sucks, Reed. You’re only getting this from me because of…” He pauses for a second. “No offense, brother.”
I understand completely. He’s taking a pretty big chance to repay his debt to me. “All good, man.” It doesn’t seem like much, but an understanding passes between our eyes quickly. Once we’re in Duluth, I’m on my own.
Most of the rest of the drive is as silent as a mausoleum. There’s little need for conversation and Gray’s never been much of a talker anyway, unless there’s women around, and that’s a whole different story. The man is smooth as hell, I’ll definitely give him that. The long drive gives me more time to think, and yet I still can’t remember what Des was talking about. I try to think about all the places we talked about during the time we spent together, but nothing is coming. I can’t get her out of my mind, which is a far cry from when we first met and I wanted her the hell out of my house. Something about that one had gotten to me.
Fortunately, Gray drops me off relatively close to the port, which is where I’m heading. The sun has gone down and it’s unseasonably chilly, but I have other things to worry about. Namely the FBI and whether I’m going to be able to talk my way onto one of the container ships that I’m used to being around for pickups. As long as Gray’s right and word hasn’t spread, I can use some of the connections I’ve made, if I’m lucky enough for one of the ships I know to be in port. I know they usually sit for a day or two, so I’m hoping to catch one on the way out. I’m not looking forward to bunking in an empty container or a hold for too long.
I watch the Hummer drive off. Not even a goodbye. He didn’t ask me how I escaped and I didn’t volunteer it; what would be the point? Heading towards the port, I try to resist the urge to keep looking over my shoulder, looking for whatever might be coming next. It’s a lonely feeling, but I’ve definitely known worse.
Thinking about Gray, I realize that it’s almost the same deal with Des. He owed me, he paid me back, and that’s the end. Does Des think the same thing? If it weren’t for those last words she spoke to me, I would be more likely to believe it, but she was definitely wanting me to meet her somewhere, I couldn’t have misinterpreted that. But where? I remember talking to her about Oxnard, where I grew up, as well as some of the stops along the way that brought me here to the Midwest and the business I ended up in. Smuggling guns was not originally the plan. Most people can get that, right? Choices we make along the way guide us, and sometimes we take the wrong path. Don’t get me wrong, the money’s been good and the job is interest
ing; even exciting at some points, but it is a job just like anything else. Unfortunately, with this one, getting fired means you’re pretty much blackballed forever; not to mention ending up a fugitive.
That fact is starting to sink in as I look out into the water of Lake Superior. The breeze is kicking up and I’m only able to see the names on some of the ships where they have lights illuminating the hull. Nothing promising, yet.
People are passing me by, even though I’m not really supposed to be here. It’s always amazed me where you can go and what you can do if you just act like you belong somewhere. This is no different. As I’m starting to wonder whether I’ll need to find a place to hole up for the night, I see it.
BELTRAN
The big lettering is brightly lit, and it makes me smile, despite my exhaustion. Donny Crispus is the Captain, at least the last time I saw it, and he’s a decent guy. I think he only does the occasional smuggling run because he’s planning an early retirement. There’s a guard at the gangplank, one I don’t recognize.
“Captain Crispus on board?” I ask, still playing the role of the guy that has every right to be where he is. “Tell him it’s Reed.”
The guard looks me up and down, then calls the Captain on the two-way clipped to his belt.
“Shit, send him up.” Comes the remarkably clear voice from the little radio. The guard steps aside, still playing the tough guy, though I can tell he’s disappointed that he has to let me pass.
Donny’s on his cell as I get up to the bridge, but he unlocks the door, giving me a nod as he continues his conversation.
“No, it’s a done deal. If you can let me know when, I’ll get back to you as quick as I can.”
He pulls the phone away from his ear and presses the disconnect icon.
“Reed, you rat bastard!” He says, extending his hand. “What the hell can I do for you? Crew already picked the shit up this morning.”
I took his hand, feeling the firm grip. “I need a favor, Donny.” I say, knowing how rough my face probably looks.
The return look is one of understanding. “Not going to ask, but we’ll be pulling out in a few hours. If there’s one more body on board, how the hell am I going to notice, right? Maersk only gives us a skeleton crew.”
“I’ll only trouble you to Sault Saint Marie. I’ll try to find a way off at the lock there.” I say.
“Won’t be easy. You a good swimmer?” He says, nodding.
“Good enough. Not something I’m looking forward to, but Ontario’s definitely looking good right now.”
Donny turns, looking at some of the equipment on the console, then back to me. “Like I said, no questions asked. Let’s go get you a place to chill. Inspectors will be on board in a bit. Just a formality. We’ll shoot the shit more than they will look around. They don’t want to have to do any more real work than I do.”
I smile, feeling a little bit of confidence burning off the paranoia and stress I’ve been shouldering for almost twenty-four hours. “You’re a good man, Donny.” I say as he gestures me back out the cabin door.
Sitting in the cabin, I’ve got the lights off. I don’t want to take any chances on being randomly discovered, so I’m playing it the safe, if not boring route. I’m basically waiting to hear the engines rumble up as we pull away. Only then, I might start feeling comfortable. The lock will be the easiest way out of the country, even though I know what that’s going to take. I want to rest up for it, but there’s no way I’m going to sleep at this point. The darkness makes my imagination run wild and I have a clear picture of Des in my mind. That red hair, straight as an arrow, framing that face that can run the gamut from drop-dead gorgeous to frighteningly harsh, depending on the mood she happens to be in. I smile inwardly thinking about the hair, replaying the moment in my mind.
“Shit, Des. That’s a new look.” I had said, coming back down into the basement. It was the first time I had acquiesced to her desire for a shower. Looking back on it, even though I supervised her visit upstairs like a hawk, I didn’t take advantage of it. It just felt wrong. Looking, I mean. It had startled me enough when she came out wrapped in one of my towels, the first look I had really gotten of her out of the clothes she had been brought in.
“It’s not something I want to talk about.” She had said, but I saw the hint of a smile on her face. You don’t happen to have a straightening iron, do you?”
I ran my fingers through my short hair in answer, shaking my head slowly. “Yeah, no.”
“Well, fuck.” She said, tossing the surprisingly perfect curls of her red hair over her shoulder. “Now I’m going to look like Merida from Brave.”
I hadn’t been familiar with the movie, but I had looked it up along the way between then and now.
“Your secret’s safe with me.” I had said, smiling. She gave me a withering look.
I’m jarred from my reflection by the door opening. Unfortunately, when the lights come back on, it’s not Donny telling me we’re safely underway.
About Mariska Hutchence
Mariska Hutchence was born in the former Yugoslavia, but she feels no desire to return. Part of that is because she never really lived there, part of it is that it doesn't exist anymore. A classically trained pianist holding a degree in social work, Mariska uses her education and experience to model complex characters for her novels, as well as keeping her kids on the straight and narrow.
A fan fiction writer for years, she's finally turned her talents into publishable works with her own stable of relatable heroines and soul-searching heroes in stories torn from the latest headlines. Living her own 'Happily Ever After' with her husband Scott, she likes to put a positive spin on the vast majority of her stories, while reminding us that 'HEA doesn't mean perfect.'
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I absolutely love to hear from readers and will answer just about anything you send my way. Catch me at [email protected]! - Mariska
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