Dirty Power (11 page)

“I’m guessing he’s going to need a Eurail pass and a big backpack,” I said.

“Yep,” Ryan said.

That was it. Just yep.

“When you and Breno are settled, just let us know. We’ll show up at some point,” I said. Reese squeezed my hand.

“Okay.” Christopher nodded. He probably didn’t understand. But he didn’t need to.

“I’m totally serious.”

“Sure.” Reese glared. Okay, she was wearing sunglasses so it was hard to tell. But I was pretty sure there was a glare in there.

“Dead serious.”

“Idiot.”

“I could do it,” I said.

“Live off wine and bread and honey? It’s not possible.” More glaring.

“I’m sure it’s like biblical or some shit. I could probably start a foundation. People would pay me to eat biblically.”

“Yes, what a wonderful philosophy.” Reese turned away to stare at the ocean.

“I’m just sayin’ it’s that good.”

“I thought you hated wine.”

“That was American me. That bitch was dumb. Turns out, wine is good,” I said.

“And biblical, apparently.”

Why did her indifference turn me on so much? “The bread makes it biblical.”

“Sweetheart, maybe you shouldn’t speak so often.”

“Oh, I see how it is. You want me to take you out to dinner and fuck you, but not talk.” I pretended to be offended.

“Exactly.” She smiled and pulled out a slim cigar.

“Deal.” I dug around in Reese’s beach bag until I found her cigar cutter. I held it out in one palm, while searching through the bag for her lighter.

“Thanks.” Reese clipped the end of her cigar and tossed the cutter back into the bag. When I found the lighter, she leaned over to catch the flame I held. She puffed on the cigar and blew rank smoke into my face.

“Bitch.”

She just smiled at the ocean. But I knew the smile was for me. This was what happiness felt like. My girl and sunshine and a pretty ocean.

*

We were in Corsica. In an old port town. Like actually old. Not El Dorado Hills old. And I wasn’t lying about the wine and bread and honey. I could probably live off that shit. And cheese. And fish maybe. The food there was insane.

We’d spent a week in our hotel room before going outside. I hadn’t managed to get pants on the entire time. I hadn’t tried. But after that first week, we ventured out a little. And then went back to the room. Naked Reese was way better than an old town.

We wandered. We held hands. We drank wine and sat on the beach. Bought bread that had been baked that morning. We weren’t the only tourists. It was a tourist town. But at our little hotel, we were the only Americans. At first.

Reese saw them before I did. I don’t know how long they had been staying at our hotel. Maybe they were really good and had been there the whole time. That lost week kind of stripped away all awareness of the world around us. Reese noticed them at a little café over the water. Then again on the beach. And then at our hotel the next morning.

They could have been tourists just like us. But they weren’t. Something about her posture was too hard, too defined. That was what gave them away.

“How sad.” Reese tilted her wineglass ever so slightly in their direction. We were in that first café staring at the ocean.

“What?”

“You think that dude knows his wife is a dyke?” Reese smiled behind her glass.

I stretched and not so subtly checked them out. Then I laughed. “No, he doesn’t have a clue. But does she?”

“Come on, the cropped, peppered hair. Khaki cargoes. Columbia shirt. You don’t buy Columbia unless you know you’re into women.”

“So sad.”

We laughed in our smugness. Poor dyke trapped in a marriage to a dude. Made us want to help her. But not enough to do or say anything. Being twenty-one and having seven years out of the closet breeds a special brand of arrogance.

Later on the beach, we saw them again. She was still wearing a T-shirt. He wasn’t. Odd. Most couples sport the same level of public nudity. Reese and I did.

“Seriously, look at their body language.” Reese tilted her chin at them.

“I know. Arms crossed.” The dude. “And she is leaning in close.”

“But when she touches him it’s with the back of her hand,” Reese said.

We watched as the woman finished the story she was telling her partner. She nudged his leg with the back of her fingers. Second time she had done it.

“Like, they know each other really well,” I said.

“Yeah, intimately, but not with intimacy.”

“That was hella deep.”

“Shut up.”

But it wasn’t until the next morning when we went downstairs in the very late morning. Too late for a normal couple to be drinking coffee. And there they were. Drinking coffee.

“They’re staying here?” I asked.

Reese shrugged. We started walking. There was a place with perfect coffee, according to Reese. We’d gone there for the last few mornings.

They got up and followed us.

After that, we couldn’t shake them. I wouldn’t have even seen them if I hadn’t been looking. Except I was definitely looking. They split up partway through the day. He took the afternoon shift.

That’s what it was. Shifts. Those two were cops. And they were following us.

*

“We need to get the fuck out of here,” Reese said the second we got back to our room.

“No shit. Pack your stuff.”

“Leave it. If it won’t fit in here, it doesn’t matter.” She tossed her beach bag and my daypack on the bed.

“Good call.” After eight months on the run, we knew that favorite T-shirts and books were replaceable, but decent socks could save your life.

“How are we doing this?” Reese asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You want to fly or take a ferry?”

“You’re the exit strategy person. I was the carry the bags person.”

“Dumbass. I researched both. I’m asking if you would rather be trapped on a plane with the cops or trapped on a boat with the cops.”

“Boat.” Easy choice.

“Same here. And that means we can take another small bag. Story is we are doing a night in Livorno. Then we’re coming back here. We’ll book a return ferry for good measure.”

Reese pulled out her passport. In the back was a cleanly folded sheet of paper. I glanced over her shoulder. Bastia, that was where we were, but the rest of the cities on the list—Livorno, Ancona, Patras—I’d never heard of.

“How does that make any sense?”

“The arrows.” Reese drew her finger down the line of arrows that linked the city names.

“No, the list under each city.”

“Hotels, hostels, bars, restaurants. Addresses for all of them. Shit like that. So we know where to go in each city.”

“Plan much?” I was giving her shit, but at least she had a decent plan. It was kinda hot.

Reese rolled her eyes. “I’m thinking Livorno to Ancona. Then take a ferry to Greece. Backpack through there. From Athens we can fly to Vienna. If we can’t lose them in Italy, we’ll definitely lose them in Greece. Then catch a train to Munich, where we’ll hook up with Ryan and go back down to Spain.”

I shrugged. It sounded complicated as fuck, but that was probably a good thing. If I could barely keep up, the Feds would have an even harder time.

*

It was dark by the time we arrived in Livorno. We went to a small hotel for the benefit of the cops following us. The guy had managed to get his “wife” to the ferry in time to follow us. Not a travesty. At least we knew where they were. And this way they wouldn’t know we were running until we were already gone.

They stopped in a small restaurant across the street from the hotel. Watched as Reese pretended to book a room. Instead, she offered fifty euros for an escort through the back entrance of the hotel. It’s amazing what people will allow in exchange for a decent tip.

From there we found a bar. One from Reese’s list. Filled with twenty-something-year-old foreigners. Reese left me to make friends and headed for a nearby hostel.

It didn’t take me long to get invited to sit with a group of kids. I wasn’t above buying friends, so I offered to get them a round of drinks. I used one of the crumpled euros that Reese had stuffed in my pocket. Not one of the crisp, clean bills in my wallet. Reese had been very specific about how to flash money.

“So you’re American?” one of the girls asked me. Caitlin. I was pretty sure her name was Caitlin. She was Australian. Or that’s what her accent suggested.

I shook my head. None of them were from North America so I figured I could lie. Which was good because my passport was definitely not American.

“Canadian. British Columbia,” I said. The girl wrinkled her eyebrows. “I know.” I smirked like I got that a lot. “I lived in the States until I was fifteen. Moved back to B.C. Then back to California for college.”

“Oh.” Caitlin nodded and smiled like that made sense. “We were traveling with a guy for a while. He had the same deal. Except he was from Saskatchewan.”

I nodded politely. Where the fuck was Saskatchewan? Reese would know.

The other girl in the group spoke up. Her name was Sheer or something. She said it was a popular name in Israel, but I’d never heard it. She was the one who had invited me to sit with them. Which I was guessing was directly related to the amount of times she had cruised me since I’d walked in. She was super hot, but not my type. Not Reese.

“What about that girl you walked in with? The pretty one.” Sheer was setting herself up for failure.

“Oh, my girlfriend? She’s from B.C. too. But she came to the States with me for college,” I said.

“Oh.” Sheer’s face dropped. “So you guys have been together a while then?”

I laughed. “Not really. Her brother is my best friend. But Reese and I only started dating a few months ago.”

“Ohhh, your best friend’s sister. Really?” Sam asked. He was Caitlin’s brother. Or maybe boyfriend. I wasn’t sure.

“Yeah. He’s mostly over it now. But he was pretty pissed,” I said.

“So where is he? Back in the States?” Caitlin asked.

“No, he’s traveling with us. But we ditched him in Ireland. Reese wanted to do Italy. He wanted to do the Netherlands. So we split. What about you guys?”

“We hooked up in Spain.” Sam nodded at Sheer.

“I was tired of traveling alone,” Sheer said. “Getting hit on by drunk American boys is really annoying. Sam never hits on me, and he doesn’t mind when I flirt with Caitlin.”

They all laughed.

“So where did your girlfriend disappear off to?” Caitlin asked. “Reese, right?”

“Yeah. She went to get our bags.”

“Alone?” Sheer asked.

I shrugged. “She wanted to e-mail back home too. It’ll take her forever.”

They nodded like that was normal.

“You guys staying nearby?” Caitlin asked.

“We were. I dunno. The hostel we were at was a little sketch. I want to find a different one,” I said.

“Come back to our hostel. It’s great. Clean rooms. The guy who runs it is really nice. And I think there are a few rooms available,” Sam said.

“Serious? That would be awesome.” And it was exactly what I was hoping he would say.

We chatted for another hour. Caitlin and Sam were sociable types. Sheer was more quiet. But she got over her crush pretty quick. By the time Reese showed up they were all excited to meet her. Perfect.

“Hey, babe.” Reese dropped the not so heavy backpacks she was carrying.

I didn’t know how she had managed it. The bags were worn and the zipper was jammed on one of them. They looked like they were filled with clothes, but I was guessing she had stuffed them with newspaper or something. I shouldn’t have been surprised. She told me she was going to get backpacks so we would fit in. And she did.

“Hey. Meet Caitlin and Sam. And this is Sheer. Guys, this is Reese.” Reese shook hands with everyone. Repeated names. Smiled that Reese smile. They were hooked. “Sam said we should come back to their hostel with them. He said it’s really cool.”

“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.

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 arrest 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.