by Maz Maddox
His chest expanded as he pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly through his nose. There wasn’t a hint of defiance or anger at me telling him how it was, only a calm understanding of how stuck he was. The choices between following a stranger to Texas, facing jail time or another round of kidnapping must have been on a mental bullet pointed list. I saw him weighing each one during the deep breath, his eyes still very unsure as he gave me a nod.
“Yeah, I can do that.”
“Good boy.” I put my cigarette between my lips and left the hotel room.
SIMON
What the fuck was I going to say to the police?
I rested my head against the cold, fake tile of the small hotel shower. The water was just warm enough to almost be comfortable, and there was only a dribble of soap and shampoo in the tiny, complimentary bottles. Working such a small amount into a viable lather was an exercise in futility, but I did what I could. My mind was a tangle of nonsense and worry, which made my stomach a watery bubble of dread and indigestion.
What the fuck was I going to do?
Given the circumstances, I felt like taking a chance on Dalton not being a crazy murderer was the least insane option. But that itself was migraine inducing madness. I didn’t know this man, other than watching him beat some strangers with a bat. I knew he liked mountains of Beijing beef noodles, thought Sprite was disgusting, and apparently had an aversion to clothing while sleeping.
The last thing I needed to wake up to was a naked, tattooed man putting me in my place about how absolutely fucked I was in a rather messy situation. It had taken all of my concentration and will power to keep my eyes on his while he was talking to me. The tattoos that covered him were colorful and unique, painting his arms, chest, and I think his hips.
When he turned his back to me, I was able to scan over the only tattoos I got a good look at. Across his left asscheek was a tattoo of a pink lipstick kiss, which fit his personality very well. His back had the illusion of being a wall splattered with paint and graffiti, with bold blacks, splashes of pinks, reds, blues and greens. In strong, outlined, almost spray painted script across his shoulders was the word “Relic.”
I only saw it for a moment before he was in motion again. The man never sat still very long.
After emerging from the shower mildly clean and somewhat warm, I picked up my phone and shot David a text letting him know I was alright. He was relieved, but gave me endless shit for not texting him sooner. I felt terrible, but the growing dread of speaking to the officer clouded my already shitty situation.
I stared at the black phone screen for a long time. There was no way I could just avoid calling the police. That would brand me as guilty for sure. I knew I had to call them, but the thought scared the shit out of me.
I paced around the hotel, sat down, stood up, gave myself about twenty-seven pep-talks and walkthroughs about what exactly I was going to say, how I was going to say it and had successfully convinced myself it would be just fine.
I was innocent. I knew I was. I was doing nothing wrong. I hit the button before I could stop myself.
When I heard the phone ringing, I almost threw it in a fit of panic before a woman’s voice answered on the other line.
“Officer Schwartz.”
I froze.
My throat closed.
I just stared at the screen while the call timer kept going.
“...Professor Andrews?”
“Yes!” My voice sounded like a parrot being strangled, so I coughed and cleared my throat before trying again. “Yes. Sorry, I guess I’m getting sick. My voice went out a second.” I have a weak, pathetic little laugh.
Oh my god, I’m so fucked.
“I’m glad you’re returning my call. I’m assuming you know about what happened at the museum last night?”
“Yeah, I heard. That’s...crazy. Really crazy. Did um...did you catch who did it, or have suspects?”
Do I sound casual or terrified?
“No, not yet. That’s why we wanted you to come down to talk to us. You were the last one in the museum last night.” She sounded calm enough, but most cops do. At least, on the TV shows and movies I’ve been using as a basis for cop personalities my entire life, they usually seem so chill until they slap the table and demand a confession. Was she the good cop or the bad cop in this scenario?
“Well, I left the museum around nine fifteen or so last night. I didn’t see anyone coming or going.”
“You can tell us about it when you get here. Are you on your way?” She was definitely the bad cop, or at least the no-nonsense cop who didn’t have time for a floundering idiot on the other line.
“I can’t just tell you over the phone?” I asked hopefully.
“No, you need to come in to give an official statement.” There was the little trace of annoyance I was dreading. In all my hotel room pep-talks and scenarios, I had played out how I was going to handle that situation.
I remembered none of it.
“Well...I...I would love to but I can’t.” I winced.
“Can’t? Why?”
“I’m not really in town at the moment.” My free palm not holding my phone was rubbing against my jeans to the point of causing a small amount of burning on my skin. Fear was causing little pin pricks of ice to form along my spine and breathing was starting to get difficult.
“Professor, I don’t think you understand how bad that makes you look. The museum gets broken into and you just happen to be out of town today? Where are you really?” Officer Schwartz’s voice had gone from cool and calm to deadly serious in a blink.
“I-it’s...complicated?” I tried and pulled the phone away from my face so I could whisper curse to myself.
“Try me,” she added dryly.
“Listen, Officer, I don’t want to waste your time. I’d be more than happy to tell you my statement over the phone--”
“Andrews. Cut the bullshit. What’s going on?”
“I--...” I shut my eyes and tried to not let the swirling in my stomach make me throw up. There was a flash in my mind that maybe if I did throw up, she’d take pity on me and just let me go. But from the sound in her voice, I think she’d demand I clean the hotel before she dragged me off to jail.
“I’m losing my patience,” she growled.
“I’m driving down to Dallas with my long-distance boyfriend.”
WHAT THE FUCK.
“Excuse me?” she sounded like she was taken off guard, more by the speed in which I confessed my lie than what the lie was.
“He...he flew in last night. We’re going to take a road trip together so I can see his hometown and...maybe meet his family. We left early this morning and I’ve been...well...distracted so I didn’t see the voicemails and…” I swallowed a gulp of air and shut my eyes tight. “No one really knows about him. I’m not...out.”
I’m going to hell. I’m going to hell for lying to a cop and pretending to be struggling with a secret boyfriend and being out of the closet. It wasn’t my struggle to use as a get out of jail free card, even if I wasn’t authentically straight. Did it still count if you got fuzzy crushes on guy friends sometimes? If I made it through this and didn’t land in jail, I needed to do some internet searches.
“I see.” Officer Schwartz gave a long sigh. “You said you left at nine fifteen?”
“Yes.” I cleared my throat again. “It was right after I got off the phone with my friend David. I went home and met up with my boyfriend. I’m sure you can see it on the camera.”
“Cameras were damaged and the footage is missing.”
“Oh, shit.” I gave a long sigh of relief, but hope it sounded defeated. “That’s terrible.”
“Did you see anything weird? Anyone you didn’t know?”
“No, everything was normal.” I drummed my fingers on my knee as it bounced like a hyperactive rabbit on a pogo stick. “Just a...normal night playing with bones.”
“What you do in your spare time is your business.” She paused. “T
hat was a joke.”
“Oh, haha!” I buried my face in my hand from the stupid squawking laugh that came out.
“When are you coming back into New York?”
“Um...two weeks?” I had no clue, but I had to say something.
“I expect to see you here in two weeks. Clear?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said quickly. “Not a problem. Thank you.”
“Yep.” She disconnected the call and I fell backwards onto the bed.
It worked. I somehow didn’t screw it up.
I laughed out loud as my blood pressure started to lower, my heart still pounding in my chest. I dared to take a deep breath, and think for a moment that maybe, just maybe, things would be ok.
Then I ran to the bathroom and promptly threw up.
Chapter Four
Simon
“That’s it?” Dalton’s comment pulled me back to reality. I looked down at my food selection: a bag of honey roasted nuts, some jerky and a bottle of water.
“Yeah?” I asked with a shrug, glancing over at him while we waited in line at the gas station. Dalton eyed my snack choices like he was a disapproving father. In his arms was possibly an entire cow’s worth of jerky, some of which he was already eating, and about ten bags of Sour Patch Kids. Tucked under one arm were three energy drinks and a Dr. Pepper.
“You’re going to get sick,” I warned him.
“If you’re not shopping like an unsupervised toddler when getting your road trip snacks, then you’re doing it wrong,” he corrected with authority.
I placed my items on the counter. “I’ll stick with my normal amount of snacks, thanks.” I had to move out of the way as Dalton unloaded his feast of dehydrated salted meat and candy onto the counter.
“Whatever you say. But I’m not sharing my Sour Patch Kids when you get a sweet tooth.”
“Noted.” Surprisingly, Dalton paid for the food after adding a couple packs of gum to the pile. After putting gas in the older model Rodeo he “borrowed from a friend” -- which I had my suspicions about -- we made our way to the highway. The fossil remained in the case, tucked safely away in the back with our duffle bags. Since it wasn’t the best idea to go back to my apartment with De Leon’s men possibly looking for me, I had to restock on clothing and supplies at the grocery store.
Driving to Texas with a mohawked stranger wearing a Walmart hoodie was like a weird fever dream. Normally on a Sunday morning, I was reading paleontology papers, drinking coffee and thinking about what I’d do for dinner later.
What the hell was this life?
David had been texting me non-stop since my sudden field trip out of town. I felt like the biggest asshole on the planet for lying to him, explaining that I needed to get away for a while after the shock of the break in. My students had been concerned, my boss was understanding but confused and my mom dropped the biggest guilt trip bomb for missing our dinner date.
There was a hell of a shit storm waiting for me back home.
Whenever that was going to be.
Dalton had some loud rock playing which I turned down to a reasonable volume, much to his dismay. According to my phone’s navigation suggestion, we were driving out of New York into New Jersey to get to Pennsylvania, then passing through West Virginia, Kentucky, Tennessee, and Arkansas before finally making it to Texas.
“Jesus, this is going to be a long trip.” I rubbed at the bridge of my nose. If we do eight hours of driving each day, we will be there in three days.”
“Dino nerd and math whiz?” He whistled. “Sexy, sexy.”
“It’s basic math,” I defended. “I wasn’t showing off.”
“Still hot.” He ripped into another piece of jerky. I honestly couldn’t tell if he was being serious or teasing me, so I left it alone.
“You mentioned yesterday you have a team?” I asked. Dalton nodded, chewing his jerky with his wrist resting over the top of the steering wheel.
“Uh-huh.”
“Are you police or...government? Exclusively fossil hunters or what?” I opened my bag of nuts and popped a couple into my mouth.
“Not police, definitely not government. We’re more…” he tilted his head from side to side like he was trying to shake the term loose. “Delightful vigilantes.”
“So, not exactly legal then,” I supplied.
His answer was a wink.
“And the fossil hunting?” I prodded.
“That’s our job,” he adjusted in his seat so he could bounce his left knee. “We track down stolen fossils and get them back in the hands of people who can use them for the betterment of historical understanding.”
That was not the answer I expected.
“Wow. Really?” I turned in my seat to face him better. “How many fossils have you and your team rescued?”
“A lot. We’ve been doing this a while.”
“Who pays you? How do you get funding? Where do the fossils go?”
Dalton yawned and cracked open one of his energy drinks, steering the car with his knee. “I don’t know how we get money. Personally, I steal shit from the thieves because they’re usually loaded. These assholes have some nice stuff. But I think Royal, our IT guy, does some sneaky stuff to get us money.”
He swallowed half the can of energized sugar water before muting a burp with his lips. Then he continued. “The fossils go to museums, universities and shit like that. It depends on where the fossil was taken from, sometimes that’s here in the US, sometimes that’s elsewhere. Like our chick back there.” He motioned his head back towards the trunk. “That’s going home to Mongolia.”
“I wish I could finish working on it,” I lamented with a sigh. “I’ve been working on uncovering it for months.”
“Yeah, I know. You smelled like you’d been down there about that long.” The can bounced around with a couple of clinking noises as he tossed it into the backseat. “You ever get out and do things?”
“Yeah,” I lied with a terrible attempt at a casual shrug. “Of course.”
“You’re a shitty liar, sweetcheeks.”
“I swim,” I countered. “I swim daily. And I teach during the winter semesters.”
“I mean like go to a bar, a concert, or fuck someone.” He eyed me. “Fun shit. Not swimming and teaching.”
“Swimming and teaching is fun shit. Do I need to have a mohawk and be power eating jerky to be living my best life?”
“Fuck yeah you do,” he said immediately with a grin. “Life is short, Simon. Live loud, eat what you want and get a fucking mohawk.”
I sighed and relaxed back into my seat. “Oh, to be in my twenties again.”
Dalton gave a very amused snort, shaking his head. “Sure. Circling back on the fucking part...when’s the last time you had a date? I’m assuming a while based on the level of basement smell you had on you.”
“That’s none of your business,” I said around a cheek full of peanuts.
“Long time, got it.”
“I date.” I sounded like a scorned teenager and hated myself for it. How the hell Dalton was getting under my skin so easily was beyond me.
“Ok. When?” He cocked an eyebrow. “Was Game of Thrones still a good show?”
“You’re such a prick,” I scoffed. “I went on a date last week, actually.”
“Oh-ho, Romeo. How cute. Did she say you were really funny but it just wasn’t a good time in her life for a boyfriend right now?” Dalton’s sassy, vapid impersonation of my disappointed date was horribly incorrect in tone, but the words were pretty close.
It stung.
“It’s hard to find people who are interested in the same stuff.” That sounded super lame even to me, and I was the one saying it.
“Dude, there are tons of girl paleontologists,” Dalton corrected after a swig of Dr. Pepper. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I know there are, but they’re either married or gay. Trust me.” I sighed. “I have some amazing friends and peers I respect to no end, but they usually fall for
each other. It’s beautiful and annoying.”
He drummed on the steering wheel with a grin. “Hell yeah, “Lesbian Paleontologist” sounds like a badass band name.”
Not knowing where to go after that remark, I leaned my seat back and shut my eyes. “You’re an idiot.”
When we were about two hours into Pennsylvania, I fell asleep. It has been a long time since I had been on a road trip across multiple states. These days, flying beat out long trips and they were rarely for anything other than work. Occasionally, there would be conferences or conventions I would get to attend that were more like parties. My peers would present their newest findings and papers, vendors would be set up selling models, limited texts, punny dinosaur shirts and other goodies I’d gladly waste my money on.
Then, we’d all go to the local pub or bar, get tipsy and argue about whether or not the T. rex had lips, how sauropods mated, and probably bond over our love for modern video games and paleo art. That was the closest to a vacation that I got, but it was still technically “work.” Road trips were a long-lost relic of the past that I rarely got to revisit.
The rocking motion of the car as it cruised across the highway was soothing, the hum of the road a perfect white noise even with the low volume rock playing in the background. The seats weren’t like my dad’s truck, but in my sleepy haze they felt the same. I almost expected to wake up to him announcing we were there.
Instead, when I cracked open my eyes at the sensation of the Rodeo pulling into a parking space, I was met with a mohawked jerky fiend.
“We stopping for gas?” I asked, rubbing my eyes in confusion.
“Nah, you slept through that.” Dalton let his seat belt slither away from him as he pushed out of the car. Yawning, I unbuckled myself and stepped outside, blinking at the late afternoon sun. Once my eyes adjusted and I recalibrated my brain and body with a mighty stretch, I realized how much green I was surrounded by.
