Let's Get Lost (7 page)

2

WHEN BREE JOLTED
awake, they were pulling into a gas station.

“‘The Trapeze Swinger
'
by Iron and Wine,” Leila said, unbuckling her seat belt. “If you're even a little bit tired, it's impossible to stay awake for the whole song.”

Bree stretched her muscles, trying to find a way to pull every single one of them into wakefulness all at once. “How long have I been out for?”

“Not long—about half an hour.” Leila parked the car at one of the pumps. “Sorry if I woke you up. We need gas.”

“No, I'm up,” Bree said, blinking away the sleep from her eyes. “I hate sleeping anyway. I always feel like I'm missing out on something.”

Leila got out of the car, leaning against it as the fuel pumped in. Bree opened her door and joined Leila, squinting at the midday sun. She looked around at the gas station, noticing that it looked just like one in Reno, down to the surrounding trees, the streak on the front window. She and Alexis used to stop there to pick up snacks to sneak into movies, back when Alexis had just started to drive and their dad was sick—well, before Alexis met her fiancé, Matt. Skittles and a bag of chips, always.

“I know what you mean,” Leila said. She did that thing where she chewed on the skin between her thumb and forefinger again. “Want anything from inside?”

“I'll come with you,” Bree responded. She let Leila start walking and then grabbed her duffel bag from the backseat and swung it over her shoulder. They passed a man in his twenties working the credit-card reader at his automated pump. He noticed them walk by, and Bree could almost sense the stupid and insulting pick-up lines in his eyes. She suppressed the urge to throw something at him and entered the convenience store.

The clerk was tall and sporting a moustache. His build must have once been athletic but was well past its best days. He glanced at them disinterestedly, then went back to watching something on a small TV beside the register.

Leila led the way to the back of the store, which was made up entirely of coolers shelving beverages. Bree joined her and crossed her arms, then looked back to see if the clerk was still distracted. She unzipped her duffel bag and shifted it over to her right side, where Leila was standing. Then she opened the door to the cooler and quickly but casually placed two bottles of water and a tall can of iced tea into her bag. She closed the cooler door gently and stepped away, crossing her arms again.

Leila sidestepped closer to Bree, keeping her eyes on the drinks in front of her. Bree noticed that she was quite a bit taller than Leila, maybe five or six inches. She was also thinner from her months on the road. Her skin was darker, worn by the sun, and perhaps not at its cleanest. Leila leaned in toward Bree with a slight grin. “What was that?”

“My soul's itchy,” Bree said. “Have you ever shoplifted before?”

“No, not really.”

“It sounds stupid, but it's kind of a thrill.”

Leila didn't look too sure, glancing over at the clerk.

“Seizing the day isn't always about something meaningful,” Bree said, slipping another tea into the bag. “Sometimes it's just about indulging in stupid whims that make you feel alive.”

Leila made a why-the-hell-not kind of shrug and moved toward the cooler directly in front of Bree. She opened it, keeping her back toward the clerk, and reached in blindly, pulling out the first thing she got her hand on. She slipped it inside Bree's bag, and her eyes widened with excitement.

“You feel it?” Bree asked.

Leila grinned, then whispered a little too loudly, “Let's take more!”

They took a couple of sodas and an energy drink; then Bree grabbed a small bottle of water and kept it in her hand for appearance's sake. The clerk was oblivious or simply too far gone to care. Keeping their faces as stoic as possible, they moved over to the row of candy bars, which proved to be a little too easy. The chocolate bars fit snugly in the palms of their hands, their wrappers too tight to crinkle. They siphoned off a couple of handfuls anyway, and Bree tucked them into one of her shirts inside the bag.

They turned the corner, and Bree nearly bumped into the chips display. Now, this was a challenge. The aisle was closest to the clerk, most of it in plain view if he happened to look up. And there was the way chips bags rustled as soon as they were picked up, as if they were setting off an alarm. And somewhere beneath all of that was the memory of her and Alexis in the movie theater all those years ago, trying to extract chips without making noise, their own version of Operation.

Bree's bag was heavier than it had been in a long time, its strap pulled down by the weight of stolen goods, reviving the sting of her sunburn. Leila kneeled down, pretending to tie her shoes, and shoveled packages of beef jerky and sunflower seeds into the bag. Bree held up a pack of gummy bears and pretended to read the nutrition information. She heard a noise and looked over at the clerk, who had pulled out his cell phone and was scrolling up and down his contact list or his messages, as if begging someone to take him away from his monotony. He looked over at the two of them, his gaze lingering for a while on Leila, whose rear was pointed in his direction as she knelt. Bree adjusted the strap, careful not to move the bag too much.

“I'm gonna head outside for a smoke,” he called, his voice gravelly and higher-pitched than Bree had expected. “If you ladies don't mind. Just holler when you're ready to be rung up.”

“Sure thing.”

He stepped around the counter and then out the door. They could see him through the glass, opening a new pack of cigarettes, tapping it languidly against the flat of his hand.

“He is making this incredibly easy on us,” Leila said, a little suspiciously. She looked over at the security cameras behind the register.

“People have a long, stupid history of mistakenly trusting those they find attractive,” Bree said, moving over to the coffee section and tossing a couple of glazed doughnuts into a paper bag.

Leila put the doughnuts into Bree's bag and laughed out loud. “Wow, we took a lot.” Then she got a mischievous grin that spoke directly to Bree's soul. “Let's see how much we can fit.”

What they managed to fit were three frozen burritos, a few packets of ramen noodles, a bottle of hot sauce, and even a perplexing miniature sewing kit on sale for two dollars among the containers of motor oil and antifreeze. They took as much as Bree's bag would allow, and then, just for the hell of it, they grabbed a little more, a packet of Twizzlers, making it impossible to fully zip up Bree's bag, the wrapping showing like the wet nose of a curious pet. Outside, the smoking clerk was staring forlornly out at the highway on-ramp. His cigarette was all the way to the filter, but he lingered a while longer.

Bree got an idea. She walked over to the big cardboard display of a celebrity that was propped up near a stack of soda twelve-packs. She picked it up, careful not to knock anything over.

“What are you doing?” Leila asked her.

Bree handed the cutout to Leila and grabbed a bright yellow packet of gum from the counter. “It's so much more exciting when they can
see
the things you're stealing from them. Just walk out with me and smile.”

Leila hesitated, then held the door open for Bree. “Of all the things I'd thought I'd be, I never figured I was an adrenaline junkie. You're corrupting me.”

“That's just what boring people call those of us who are open to excitement,” Bree said, knowing she was a little full of herself but enjoying the sound of the words anyway, believing them to be true. She stepped outside and immediately addressed the clerk. “I left ten dollars on the counter,” she said, holding up her bottle of water and the gum to show what they'd taken. “You can keep the change if you let us take this display.”

His vacant gaze went from Bree to Leila holding the cardboard cutout. It was a look she'd seen before, people too far settled into their lives. Then he chuckled and shrugged. “You kids be safe.”

They walked slowly but triumphantly to the car, and once inside they burst into laughter, the kind of manic laughter that refuses to die down, grasping on to everything around it and saying,
Look, this is funny, too
. Leila tossed the cardboard display into the backseat and, still laughing, put her forehead on Bree's shoulder. When they could control themselves, Leila started the car, and Bree realized that it had been a while since she had truly shared a laugh with someone. She'd laughed
with
others, sure. But they'd either been drug-addled laughs or laughs directed at a television. Those were isolated laughs, lonelier. This—well, it was sisterly.

 

3

“I THINK I'VE
been here before,” Bree said when they reached downtown. She fiddled with the air-conditioning vents, lowered and raised the windows, hoping and failing to find the ideal air flow.

“Kansas City?”

“Yeah,” she said, looking around. “My family used to take a lot of road trips. It's hard to tell with downtowns, though. They all have something to distinguish them, sure, but if someone blindfolded you for a few hours and dropped you off right here, it would take you a while to figure out where you were.”

“That'd be an interesting social experiment. Blindfold people and drop them in a city they can't immediately recognize.”

“I think most people would just curl up on the floor and cry.”

“I guess that's what I'm doing on this trip.”

Bree raised an eyebrow. “Curling up on the floor and crying?”

Leila laughed. “No. Blindfolding myself and dropping in on strange cities. I guess I know where I'm going before I get there, but I don't think it'd be much different if someone just dropped me off. I'd stumble about, find something to eat, watch people and think about them and the world and, if I'm being honest, mostly myself.”

They were at a red light, and Leila was biting the limbs off her gummy bears.

Bree reached for her drink. “This heat's worse than Reno,” Bree said. “I should have had to pee twice by now, but I'm sweating out everything I'm drinking.”

“Yeah, sorry about the AC. I think the mechanic I took it to didn't fix it on purpose so that I'd have to come back.”

“Really? That's messed up.”

“No. Not really. It's just an old car.” Leila sighed and popped the torso of a gummy bear into her mouth. “So, you're from Reno?”

“Yup. Biggest little shithole in the world.”

“When are you going back home?”

Bree shook her head as she chewed down some beef jerky. ”I'm not.”

“Why not?”

“My sister was making my life hell,” Bree said, surprising herself with her candor. She'd only talked about it with one other person, some boy in San Francisco, mostly because he was quiet enough to be a good listener and their skin on each other seemed to pull secrets out of their hiding places. “Our parents died within a year of each other, and she stepped in as my guardian, but she took the position a little too seriously. So I left,” Bree said, choosing not to give the whole story.

“Do you keep in touch with her?”

“No,” Bree said. She took another bite of beef jerky and watched as a minivan pulled into a parking lot across the street and a young, attractive couple got out. “I didn't leave on the best of terms. We didn't always get along, but after our parents died, all we did was fight. She'd get mad at me for going out and partying—which I was only doing because how the hell else are you supposed to react when you're orphaned at fifteen?—and I'd get mad at her for trying to baby me. Plus she was spending all her time with her boyfriend, Matt.”

The minivan let out a beep as its doors locked. Bree watched the couple walk away, the woman pushing a stroller, the man holding a little girl over his shoulder.

“Do you ever miss your old life?” Leila asked.

Bree raised a cold soda can to her forehead as the light turned green. “When I'm in between places, maybe. No matter how much I love the road, logistically it's impossible to keep moving all the time. Sometimes I get the urge to go back. But I can't even imagine facing my sister.”

“Why?”

“She never cried at the funerals,” Bree said calmly, as if it didn't break her heart just to think of it. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't exactly the truth, either. “She can say what she will about my actions, but at least I had the decency to feel something.”

Leila acknowledged this with a little “Hmm,” which Bree preferred over one of those empty responses that most people gave.

After half an hour of aimless driving, the air hadn't cooled at all. The faux-velvet seats had become uncomfortably sticky, so they decided to park and stretch their legs for a bit. Seeking solace from the heat, they chose a spot under the shade of a tree with long, low-hanging branches that reached out over the street like protective arms.

Across the road from them, surrounded by a ten-foot white wall that stretched farther than Bree could see, was the Kansas City Country Club. The landscaping outside was immaculate, everything bright green and evenly trimmed, bushes rounded into perfect spheres. Every now and then a car would drive up to the lone valet attendant. The people getting out of the cars were dressed up, the men in expensive-looking suits, cuff links, and pocket squares, the women decked out in jewelry and brand-name handbags. A big, golden Mercedes came up the driveway. A car like that had never once stopped to pick Bree up when she was hitchhiking.

“I bet that Mercedes has some pretty sweet AC,” Bree said.

“I bet,” Leila said. She wiped at the sweat on her forehead. “It looks like there's some kind of event going on.”

The sun was still high, the sunset a couple of hours away. Bree felt her shirt stick to her lower back. “Yeah...” Bree said, her voice trailing off. “You think they'd mind if we borrowed it for a little while?”

Leila turned to Bree, arching one eyebrow. “It would be nice to drive around with some air-conditioning for a bit. Why? Your soul getting itchy again?”

They watched the valet attendant get into the car, drive about fifty feet up the driveway, and turn into the parking lot that was hidden from view. After a few moments he reappeared, trotting back to the entrance, waiting for the next car to show up. He left the keys of the Mercedes on a hook next to about two dozen other sets of luxury-car keys.

“We'll just borrow it for an hour,” Bree said. “They won't even notice it's gone.”

“I'm not so sure about that. Rich people have a weird sixth sense about their belongings.”

“It'll just be a few quick laps on the highway.”

“Quick because there'll be someone chasing us?”

“No one will be chasing us.”

“I know,” Leila said. “I'm stalling because I'm nervous.”

“Hey, I'm not gonna deny you the right to be nervous. But once you've dealt with your nerves, I think you know what we have to do.”

“What do we say if someone catches us?”

“That we were dying of heat stroke and it was a medical emergency,” Bree said.

Leila paused. “Then we'll come right back and leave it exactly where it was before?”

“Same parking spot.”

Another car was coming up the street, likely headed for the club. The girls looked at each other, grinning like madmen. Bree could feel her heartbeat speed up.

Bree opened the door. “Come on, we'll grab the keys when the valet's parking this car.”

Leila took a few deep breaths, as if she was about to try swimming a long distance underwater. “Seize the Tuesday,” she said.

They jogged across the street and hid behind the outer wall of the country club. When they heard the valet start pulling the car around, they left their cover and walked quickly up the driveway. The keys were hanging unprotected, as tempting as pies cooling on windowsills. Bree reached them first, grabbing the set with that recognizable Mercedes symbol glinting silver in the sunlight. It was almost disappointingly easy.

“Just act like you belong here,” Bree said as they walked into the parking lot. “The best ID in the world is a smile and a wave.”

The weight of the keys in her hand already felt so gratifying, more than her entire duffel bag of stolen goods had. She couldn't wait to get into the car, to start the engine, to drive around and pretend that cold air had been their only motivation.

“Can I help you guys?”

The valet appeared up ahead, a couple of rows over. He wasn't bad-looking, Bree thought to herself. He was goofy in his valet's vest, his white button-down shirt more shoved into his pants than patiently tucked. He had the kind of facial hair that can't quite yet be more than scruff.

“We just need to get something out of the car,” Bree said, not slowing down.

The valet squinted at them, noticing the keys in Bree's hand. She closed her fist tightly against them, as if he might try to take them away from her forcefully. She wondered if they could outrun him.

“Oh,” he said, starting to walk in their direction. “Are, uh, are you guys club members?”

“My parents just forgot something,” Bree said, pointing vaguely in the direction of the golden Mercedes.

Leila followed Bree's lead, but the valet kept walking toward them, as if he meant to cut them off. He'd pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “Okay,” he said, but it was clear that he wasn't going to leave them.

Shit,
Bree thought, sensing an impassable obstacle. Then she remembered how easy it had been to just walk away with all they'd stolen at the convenience store, how that guy pumping his gas had looked at them. The Mercedes was only about three cars away now, close enough that the remote would have no trouble unlocking the doors. She met the valet's gaze, searching his rather pretty eyes for something besides suspicion.

“Can I ask you a question?” she said, stepping right up to him.

“Um,” he said. They were standing by the Mercedes now. The valet's gaze went from the car, to Leila, to Bree, who was now less than an arm's length away. “Sure.”

“When was the last time you felt really alive?”

“What?”

Without another word, Bree put her hand on his waist and pulled herself toward him. She kissed him with abandon. Despite what had happened, Bree still believed in reckless kisses. She pulled back and couldn't help but laugh at the dazed look in the valet's eyes.

“Whoa,” he said.

“Listen, I'm going to be honest with you,” Bree said, keeping an arm around his waist. “This is not our car. But we're not stealing it.”

“No?” He looked at the two girls, and Bree wondered if his worries were already being replaced by fantasies.

“No. But we do plan on borrowing it.”

“Uh,” he said. “I don't know if I can—”

“Just an hour,” Bree said. “We'll bring it back before anyone notices.”

“I don't think that's a good idea.”

Bree kissed him again. His scruff was ticklish but not in a bad way, more like a finger tenderly grazing the contours of her lips. This time, she brushed her tongue against his before pulling away. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“You just pretend you never saw us,” Bree said, stepping away from him, her heart pounding with adrenaline. “And we'll come back in an hour with the car. Then, when you get off work, we can all hang out together.”

He scratched his chin, looked at Leila leaning against the Mercedes, then turned back to Bree, his eyes roaming past the neckline of her shirt. A honk sounded from behind them. “Damnit,” he said, turning toward the front of the club. “Okay. Okay. Wait until I pull this car in, and then you can go.” He started a halfhearted jog back to his valet stand, looking over his shoulder. “See you guys later,” he called back.

When he ran out of sight, Bree turned to Leila and unlocked the doors. “Time for some German air-conditioning.”

“You're my new hero,” Leila said, climbing into the passenger seat.

Bree smiled to herself and got into the driver's seat. She had expected the interior to smell like leather, or that new-car smell she had once read was actually formaldehyde. But it smelled of stale cigarettes and body odor, of too much cologne and perfume. She wondered if the windows had ever been rolled down.

They started the car and immediately blasted the air-conditioning. It was wonderfully powerful and loud, as if the German engineers who had designed it wanted to create not just air but wind. When the valet drove up in the new car, a silver BMW, Bree waved at him and pulled slowly out of the parking lot and down the driveway. She could feel her heart pounding away the stillness again.

When they reached the street, Bree revved the engine beyond what was necessary, the trees on the side of the road turning into blurs so suddenly that it felt cartoonish.

“Did you hear how he said, ‘Whoa,' when you kissed him?”

Bree laughed and pressed the gas pedal down a little harder. It barely offered any resistance. They shot past a yellow traffic light, and a woman walking her dog shook her head in disgust.

They turned the now-cool air-conditioning to its full potential, lowered the windows, and let out a yell that would have made Maurice Sendak's Wild Things quiver with delight. The car roared in unison, the air rushing in and making their hair dance across their eyes. Maybe she was just imagining it, but Bree could feel the adrenaline rushing through her body, microscopic particles crashing around in her veins, little wild things in their own right. She let out another yell, a lung-emptying bellow that the wind grabbed a hold of and swirled together with Leila's laughter.

Bree found the highway and quickly turned the Mercedes onto the on-ramp. She stepped harder on the accelerator, so hard that she could practically feel the fuel burning. Leila drummed on the dashboard as if their getaway was soundtracked by one of those burst-of-energy songs. Bree could see for miles. It was just her, Leila, the Kansas City metropolitan area spread out beneath the big midwestern sky, and the highway disappearing inch by inch into the horizon, beckoning them forward.