Dirty Power

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Dirty Power Page 12

by Ashley Bartlett


  “Awesome. That place we were in was a hole.”

  “For real.”

  I’d managed to find a group of kids and a hostel. That was my task. And it took me forever. Reese got them to invite us to travel with them. She even suggested a route—her route—and it only took her fifteen minutes. The girl was magic.

  Chapter Twelve

  Hitchhiking is hard with a group of five people. Like seriously.

  When Reese suggested Greece, Sheer had gotten all excited. She’d shoved Sam’s shoulder and grinned triumphantly. He started laughing and nodding.

  “All right. All right. You win.”

  So we were walking through this valley in Greece. It was all farmland. Everyone had given up on hitchhiking except Caitlin. Every car that passed she would valiantly stick out her thumb and start praying. It wasn’t working.

  I had settled on annoying Sheer.

  “Why couldn’t you get us a ride?”

  “Because my cousins don’t have Internet access. So I don’t have any way to contact them,” Sheer said.

  “How is it remotely possible that they don’t have Internet?”

  “If you haven’t noticed, we’re in the middle of nowhere.” Sheer gestured grandly at the olive trees on either side of the road.

  “It’s cold,” I said.

  “It’s warm considering it’s March,” Sheer said.

  “That isn’t comforting.”

  “It’s not raining. The sun is out. Enjoy it,” Sheer said.

  “But—”

  “Coop, shut up,” Reese cut me off.

  “I like this weather,” Sam said.

  “Tool,” I said.

  “Oh, oh, guys.” A truck was coming. Caitlin jumped closer to the road and stuck out her thumb. The truck didn’t even slow down. “Fuck.”

  “It’s only a few more miles to town. We can get a ride from there,” Sheer said.

  “Miles?” I hated walking. I hated exercise.

  “Walking is cheaper than anything else.” Sheer shrugged.

  Oh, yeah. I forgot we were supposed to be broke college students. Not millionaire thieves on the run from the cops.

  “Oh, another. Look.” Caitlin stuck out her thumb again.

  Reese rolled her eyes at all of us. Took a single step closer to the road. Smiled at the truck driving toward us. It stopped.

  “Why didn’t you do that an hour ago?” I asked her. She just arched an eyebrow.

  The driver of the truck got out and said something. I didn’t understand him. No one else did either. He and Caitlin had an exaggerated conversation with hand gestures. Sheer told him the name of the town we were heading to. He smiled and nodded and waved us to the back of the truck.

  Reese took one look at the dirty truck bed and glared at me. I shrugged. This was her plan, not mine. Everyone climbed in. Sam and I leaned against the wheel wells so the girls could line up against the back window of the truck. There was no tailgate. Hopefully, this guy wouldn’t go too fast. I stretched out my feet. Sam did the same. Seat belts are so overrated.

  *

  The farm that Sheer’s cousins lived on was old school organic. Like they served wine with lunch that was made from grapes grown on the farm. Actually, most of what they served with lunch had been grown on the farm. It was kind of cool. They belonged to some organization where traveling kids could work on organic farms in exchange for food and lodgings.

  But it was spring and they mostly had olive trees, so nothing was ripe. Which meant no traveling kids. They put up Sam and Caitlin and Reese and me in two small apartments built above their barn. We offered to help around the farm, but there wasn’t much to do and five extra people to do it.

  The first full day we spent the morning clearing brush from the paths around the olive groves. That afternoon, we just hung out in the sunshine and talked. I really wanted running away from the cops to always be this awesome.

  But it didn’t last.

  The next day was Saturday. We all piled into a pickup truck and went into town. There was a farmer’s market set up in a big parking lot. Sam and Caitlin wandered off. Sheer dragged Reese and me around to find cheese. Which was cool. Cheese is good.

  We were at this little stall tasting whatever it was that Sheer pointed out when Reese got very, very still. I wanted to look around to find what had spooked her, but I didn’t.

  “They’re here,” she whispered. “To your right. Don’t look. Don’t look. Okay, look now.”

  I glanced to my right. The dyke cop was a couple stalls over. She was picking out produce, but somehow I suspected she wasn’t really interested in kale.

  “Where’s the dude?”

  “I don’t see him.”

  “Here, mizithra. Try it.” Sheer handed me a bit of cheese.

  I popped it in my mouth. “Oh, yeah. That’s really good.” I did my best to pretend I was interested.

  “Hey, Sheer. When we’re done is there anywhere we can check e-mail? I want to check in with my brother. He’s supposed to e-mail me,” Reese said all casually.

  “Yeah. I should do the same. Lunch, then e-mail?”

  We nodded. Sheer didn’t notice because she was pointing out the various cheeses she wanted to buy.

  The cop followed us through the six other stalls that Sheer stopped at, but when we ducked into the small restaurant, she disappeared. Two minutes later, the guy cop walked through the door and took a seat.

  Reese and I did a decent job of feigning casual conversation. Mostly, that meant asking Sheer about Israel, where she was born, and Argentina, where she’d grown up. That kept her talking and let me watch the guy watching us.

  After a lunch that I didn’t taste, we went into a small Internet café. Sheer let us use the one open computer first.

  Reese checked into one of the anonymous accounts we had set up. Sheer and I sat across from her. I watched the door. The chick cop was sitting across the street. Neither cop had followed us in. That was good.

  “Oh my God,” Reese said.

  “What?” I asked. Even though I knew she was just going to lie her ass off.

  “Ryan broke his arm.”

  “What?” I got up and walked around to look at the computer. As if there was an e-mail up. There wasn’t. “Oh fuck.”

  “Your brother broke his arm?” Sheer asked. She was very concerned.

  “Where is he?” I asked.

  “Sweden.”

  “We need to go get him.”

  Reese opened up a new e-mail. She told Ryan that we were very worried about his broken arm and on the way to Sweden to meet him. Which meant that he would meet us in Germany. Codes are easier when everyone knows what they mean.

  “Fuck. I can’t believe him,” Reese said.

  “How did he break his arm?” Sheer asked.

  I looked at Reese. Yes, darlin’, do tell how he broke his arm.

  Reese responded without hesitating, “Hiking. He fell. Dumbass.”

  “Why the hell is he hiking? It must be freezing.” I figured I should point out the obvious before Sheer did.

  “It’s Ryan.” Reese rolled her eyes and shrugged.

  “Good point.”

  “There should be a train out of here tonight. If we leave now, there should be time to get your things and come back into town,” Sheer said.

  “Yes, if it isn’t too much trouble,” Reese said. We headed out to the street.

  “We really appreciate this,” I said.

  “Don’t worry. I just hope Ryan is all right.”

  “He’ll be fine. He may be stupid, but he’s pretty indestructible.” Reese smiled.

  We walked past the lady cop on the way back to the farmer’s market. I smiled at her in a polite, but absentminded way. She almost fell out of her seat.

  *

  Maybe I shouldn’t have smiled at the bitch. Or maybe they were just afraid of losing us again. But the entire flight to Austria they were stuck to us. Same on the train to Germany. I wondered why they didn’t just arr
est us. That had to be why they were there. Maybe they just wanted to talk. Probably not. Reese thought they were waiting until we met up with Ryan to make a move.

  Once we got to Munich, we did a half-assed James Bond to lose them in the train station. We wanted them to follow us, but we wanted a little distance, a little time. Reese and I split up outside of the train station. We figured that if they were waiting until Ryan showed up to arrest us, they wouldn’t be able to move in if they found Ryan but one of us was in the wind.

  I got to the hotel room fifteen minutes after Reese.

  “Were you followed?” Ryan asked as he opened the door.

  “Yeah, the chick is posted up across the street.” I dropped my backpack on the floor.

  “Fuck.” Reese pushed past Ryan and hugged me. “Let’s not split up anymore. That was the worst.”

  I nodded and held her tight. She smelled really good. How could I have missed her after only an hour?

  “All right. Break it up. Gross.” Ryan nudged me with his shoulder.

  “Tool,” I said. Reese just glared.

  “So how are we doing this?” Reese asked.

  “You aren’t going to like it,” Ryan said.

  “Why?” Reese asked.

  “Because I think we should split up.”

  “No.” Reese.

  “Yes.” Ryan.

  “Just split up?” I asked. That didn’t sound so bad.

  “No. I think Reese should go solo. In disguise, obviously. I’m thinking she should keep rocking the dirty backpacking look. And you and I are going to be a couple.”

  “Drag?” It had worked before, but not great.

  “Uhh, sort of. That’s the part you really won’t like.”

  “Why?”

  Ryan didn’t answer. Instead, he broke eye contact and walked to the bed. “I got supplies,” he mumbled.

  “Why are you being weird?” I asked.

  “I think you should dress like a chick.” Ryan cringed and held up a pack of barrettes. They had bows.

  “Fuck you,” I said.

  Reese started laughing.

  “It’ll work. I think. We’ll be a couple. Honeymooning, maybe. I think we’ll be wealthy. I’m in technology. You’re my wife. They won’t be looking for that. I know it sounds insane, but…” He shrugged.

  Reese laughed some more. “It’s genius.”

  “I hate you.” This was going to blow.

  *

  “If Ryan can walk in heels, you can.” Reese held up a pair of shoes.

  “I’m wearing a fucking skirt. I can’t do heels too.” I crossed my arms over my chest, but it didn’t work. Reese had done some weird magic with a push-up bra so I had mad cleavage.

  “They’re not that high.”

  “They’re high enough.” I sat on the bed and tried to pull on my dirty, bloodstained Chucks. But the skirt I was wearing went almost to my knees and was really tight. So my legs weren’t bending the way they were supposed to. “Fuck.”

  “Don’t even try.” Reese took my Chucks, tossed them in a suitcase, and threw the heels at me.

  I caught them and stared at the straps. They were even more complicated than the bra. “You’re fucking with me, right? These aren’t real shoes.”

  “At least they’re clean,” Reese said.

  “My Chucks have character.” My day was already long and fucked up. I was not in the mood to defend my shoes.

  “I’m throwing them out.” Reese looked serious.

  “I’ll leave you.” I managed to sound almost serious.

  Reese rolled her eyes. “Coop, you’re gonna end up wearing the heels. Stop stalling.”

  “She’s right.” Ryan was standing behind Reese laughing his ass off. “You need the heels.”

  “Shut up, J.Crew.”

  “What? You don’t like khaki?” Ryan tugged at his slacks. “Country club is totally a good look on me.”

  “Mock now. You’re getting a hair cut.” I dropped the heels to the floor.

  “What?” Ryan laughed. “No, I’m not.”

  Reese pursed her lips and stared at the floor. “Uhh, yeah. You are.”

  “What? No! I’m not cutting my hair.”

  “Country club boys don’t have shoulder length hair. Sorry,” I said.

  “Blow me.”

  “We don’t need to cut it all off. Just most of it,” Reese said.

  “Fine. But Coop has to wear the heels.” Ryan scowled at me.

  “Obviously. And she needs to learn to walk.” Reese knelt on the floor and started strapping on the heels. I gave up and let her.

  When she was done, Ryan offered me a hand. I stood. And realized that high heels are the worst invention ever.

  “Ouch.”

  “They’re not that bad,” Reese said.

  “For you. You’ve been wearing them for years.” I took an unsteady step.

  “Hey, I wore ’em,” Ryan said.

  “Don’t lie. You’ve worn them for years too.” I let go of Ryan and made a go at walking across the room. I probably didn’t look very graceful, but I made it. “Fuck this.” I leaned against the wall.

  “See? You totally got it,” Reese lied. “Keep practicing. Ryan, haircut time.” She grabbed his arm and dragged him to the bathroom.

  Ryan looked like he’d just lost his puppy, but he followed her.

  I walked back over to the bed, then back to the wall. I wasn’t doing well. But it sounded like Ryan was crying in the bathroom, so I was doing better than he was.

  *

  “All of this to drive to the airport and sit on a plane.” I leaned close to Ryan as I said it. He cocked his head to listen to me and smiled.

  “It’s working,” he said low enough so only I could hear him.

  We were on a plane to Portugal. First class. Our matching suitcases had been checked, but I was carrying a purse. It was stashed at my feet as if I cared about the contents. I really just wanted to throw it so I would have room for my feet. Which were killing me.

  Ryan was right about the plan working. I knew because our cop friends had been stationed across the street from our hotel. Reese left about five minutes before we did. The guy took off and followed her to the train station.

  The dyke stayed in place and scoped everyone who left the hotel. She barely even glanced at Ryan and me when we walked out and got into the waiting car. I didn’t blame her. We were unrecognizable. Ryan had on a cropped wool coat with a pale blue cardigan. His belt had dancing flamingos. And his shorn head looked fucking weird.

  I was wearing a fucking skirt. Plus, a shitload of makeup and brown contacts. And there was a little barrette in my hair. This was some weird twilight zone shit.

  So we were pretty damn sure no one had followed us. Now Reese just had to lose her tail. I wasn’t worried about it. I was worried about pretending that sitting in a skirt was comfortable. Also the top. It was all low-cut and flimsy, and I was pretty sure it was just going to fall apart at any moment. Or maybe that was me. Maybe I was going to fall apart. I’d never felt so naked in my life.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ryan rented a car at the airport in Faro. I smiled and pretended it was charming when he insisted that it be a luxury car. I even managed to look smitten when he demanded a stick shift. Apparently, his masculinity required it.

  We dropped the façade once we got to the car. It was late. Almost midnight. The garage was empty. We both climbed in the backseat. I stripped off everything I was wearing. Ryan got down to his boxers. Which was a problem when we realized that our bags were in the trunk. I pulled on the coat Ryan had been wearing and pouted until he put his pants and loafers back on and got our clothes out of the trunk. I was naked, he had underwear, it just seemed logical that he had to step up.

  It was three in the morning when we passed through Seville. Ryan had gotten lost, so that was an hour out the window. I took over driving. We hit the coast about four in the morning. Which meant Breno and Christopher were really surprised to find us poun
ding on the door at five a.m.

  “Why the hell are you here so early? I thought you were going to call when you were ready,” Christopher said.

  “Is everything all right?” Breno asked.

  “You guys know it’s a little weird to answer the door together, right?” It was a little homoerotic too because they were both only wearing their underwear. Small underwear. I didn’t tell them that ’cause I figured Christopher had dibs.

  “Totally.” Ryan muscled past them with our bags.

  “What’s going on?” Christopher asked.

  “Reese and I had company in Corsica. They followed us all the fuck over Europe. We ditched them in Germany,” I said.

  “What?” Christopher.

  “Where is Reese?” Breno.

  “Are you sure you weren’t followed here?” Christopher.

  “Who was following you?” Breno.

  “Whoa. Dudes. Ease off with the questions,” Ryan said.

  “Yeah. Is there any food? I’m starving,” I said.

  “And could you guys put some pants on?” Ryan asked.

  They stared in response.

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Ryan and I weren’t followed. Reese led them on a merry chase through central Europe to get them off our tail. She should have lost them by now. And they seemed like cops. Definitely not mob enforcement types.”

  “Now can we have breakfast?” Ryan asked.

  They didn’t let it go so easily. But at least they put on pants before quizzing us. Which was good because Christopher made omelets while we outlined the details. Cooking in your underwear has got to be dangerous.

  “So what you’re saying is that twenty-four hours from now, Reese will be hitchhiking on a main road in northeastern Spain?” Christopher asked.

  “Alone,” Breno said.

  “Well, yeah.” Ryan shrugged and took a bite of omelet.

  “Why did that seem like a good idea to you?” Breno asked.

  “We didn’t say it was ideal.” It was too late to change the plan. So I didn’t see what they were getting all worked up about.

  “And you want us to drive up there and pick her up?” Christopher asked.

 

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