The Perfect Cover

by Charlotte Byrd

  She reaches over to try to pull me inside, but again I stop her.

  I pull away and lay her down on her stomach, letting her settle in for whatever is about to come.

  My tongue makes its way from her inner thigh and up to her nonexistent panty line.

  I’m teasing her and she knows that.

  Finally, I lick her and then push my fingers inside of her. She arches her back and grabs onto the sheets with both hands.

  With each movement, I feel her body relax. I play her like a violin.

  Whenever I feel her getting closer, I slow down and pull away.

  “You're teasing me,” she says.

  “Of course.”

  “I'm going to lose it at any moment now,” she says, probably only half joking.

  “I want to make tonight all about you.”

  “What if I don't want it to be about me?” she asks, laughing, while I go deep inside of her again.

  She stares at the ceiling with her eyes open wide.

  “Okay. Are you ready?” I ask.

  She shakes her head no, and then nods yes. I wink at her.

  Burying my head between her thighs, I send her body into convulsions. She shakes from the inside out.

  The tremors run through every vein and artery within her, originating at her core and spreading out.

  Her fingers and toes tense up and she arches her back higher. She tries to take a breath, but no air comes in.

  One wave follows another and another, as I continue to reach further and further inside of her. My mouth is soft and my fingers are hard as I fill up every part of her.

  She whispers my name as loud as she can while being unable to take a breath. After I’m done with her, I lie next to her, licking my fingers.

  “I love you, Isabelle. I love the taste of you and I love every part of you. Don't you ever forget that.”

  In the morning, just as the dew forms on the railing outside, when the sun starts to illuminate the earth but doesn’t quite reach the horizon, I step outside to go for a run.

  All of that time inside a cell and then all of that time in the car makes me feel like my muscles are atrophying.

  Of course, going on a run is the liberal interpretation of what I’m going to actually do. In truth, it wouldn’t even be called a jog, or a very slow walk, but the exercise is going to be quite a change for me.

  That’s what I want.

  The stairs are particularly difficult because of the pressure they put on my foot, but I manage to get down and then force myself to put one foot in front of the other in some sort of repetitive motion.

  I barely get to the edge of the building before I realize that I have been too ambitious about my prospects, but I insist on at least going around the building. The cool desert air feels nice against my skin and it’s pleasant to be outside without worrying about someone recognizing me.

  When I get back to the landing leading up to our room, I see Mac outside smoking.

  “You’re back,” I say, smiling.

  “I got back a few hours ago,” he says. “Maggie and I got a room a few doors down.”

  “Did you have a good time?” I ask, trying not to appear disapproving.

  I’m supposed to be his friend, not his parent, and yet he’s endangering both of us with his recklessness.

  “Listen, you don’t have to worry about her. She’s great.”

  “Really?” I ask, completely unconvinced.

  “Yeah, but you should be worried about Isabelle.”

  “Listen, she told me what you did. It was really shitty.”

  “Did she also tell you that she owes a debt to someone and that’s why she’s running away? Actually, rather her mom owes this debt, but now they’re after Isabelle. The mother is already missing as is.”

  “Her mom? Wait, what are you talking about?”

  “This is exactly what I’m talking about. You don’t know the first thing about that girl.

  “She’s keeping secrets from you. She’s not here because she’s your long-lost love. She’s running away. Also, whoever’s after her is scaring her more than the fucking FBI. That scares the shit out of me.”

  My mind starts to scramble as I try to process everything that he has just said to me. I knew about the debt, somewhat, but not about a missing mother or about an inherited debt.

  “You need to watch your back,” Mac continues before I get a chance to respond.

  “I’ll meet you by the car at seven,” he says, putting out a cigarette and tossing it in the trash.

  I watch him disappear into his room, wondering what kind of secrets Isabelle is harboring and what they’re going to cost me to find out.

  18

  Isabelle

  A surprise...

  The following morning, I wake up surrounded by a glow of happiness. I open my eyes and see Tyler, with his arms wrapped around me.

  He’s already dressed, so he must’ve gotten up, maybe even gone outside, but he climbed back into bed, and now it is me who is awake first.

  The sun has already risen.

  I don’t want to know what time it is because then I won’t be able to justify staying here in his arms.

  I watch him sleep.

  He takes short shallow breaths and his eyebrows move slightly, along with his eyes. He’s somewhere deep in his sleep, lost in another world, and I am here watching him from this one.

  I feel like an intruder, an interloper, but I can’t stop. These precious moments don’t last long but, for now, they are enough.

  I glance over at the other bed. It is untouched. Mac hasn’t slept in it all night.

  A light knock on the door startles me.

  Before I can ask who it is, the knob turns and Mac walks in.

  “It’s after seven,” he announces and I nudge Tyler who mumbles something in his sleep.

  I expect Mac to be hungover and tired, but he’s neither of these things. In fact, there’s an alertness to him that I haven’t seen since the first day that I met him.

  It takes me a few nudges to wake Tyler up for good and then another fifteen minutes to get ready and leave the room.

  I need some coffee and what I’m really craving is Starbucks drive-thru. Unfortunately, there isn’t a Starbucks in sight.

  We already got gas but I hope that the guys are willing to stop by and get some coffee at the next gas station.

  When I come downstairs, carrying my purse and a plastic bag of all the snacks and other knickknacks that somehow didn’t make it into the suitcase, I see her.

  She is standing next to my car, kissing Mac.

  “Shit,” I say to myself.

  Her hair is a beautiful mocha color, lustrous and full of volume. Her dress sways in the wind even though this is hardly dress weather.

  She’s wearing a light jacket over the top and leggings underneath. Her feet are adorned with black combat boots that remind me of the ones that were popular in the 90s.

  I glance over at Tyler who looks just as dumbfounded and surprised as I do.

  “What do we do?” I whisper under my breath as we continue to take steps closer and closer to them.

  “I’m not sure,” he says.

  “Hey, guys.” Mac waves. “This is Maggie. She’s coming with us.”

  I blink once, then a second time and a third.

  No, he can’t be serious.

  Again, I look over at Tyler who looks as surprised as I feel. He extends his hand, nevertheless.

  “I know that this is super last minute, but Mac invited me and, actually, he insisted,” Maggie rattles off in her bubbly sort of way.

  There’s an easy-going feeling to her that reminds me of Mac. I can see why the two of them got together.

  It’s almost as if neither of them have a worry in the world.

  “I don’t think this is a great idea,” Tyler says after a long pause.

  I’m relieved that he’s the one to say it and not me.

  It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t want
to be the one who is always saying no.

  The smile immediately vanishes off of Maggie’s face.

  “Yes, of course, I totally understand,” she says, throwing her hands up.

  Mac narrows his eyes and pulls Tyler sternly to the side. As Maggie and I wait, I give her a slight smile and nod but don’t introduce myself.

  My hope is that Tyler can talk some sense into him and we can get on our way. My other hope is that she doesn’t recognize their faces as the most wanted men in America.

  “Okay, Maggie, why don’t you get in the back with me?” Mac says, opening the door.

  My mouth drops open as I glare at Tyler.

  He shrugs his shoulders and rolls his eyes.

  “What’s going on?” I ask while we are both outside the car, after Mac climbs in the back with Maggie.

  “I’ll tell you about it later,” Tyler says.

  I get into the car disenchanted. Instead of getting rid of Mac, we now have another traveler with us.

  I don’t know her and she knows less than nothing about me. I don’t know how much she knows about Mac and Tyler, but she’s bound to find out.

  Then what?

  Mac and Maggie laugh and giggle in the back seat. She sounds fun, outgoing, and bouncy.

  I try to give them some privacy, but it’s a small car and as the hours get long, I continue to listen in.

  At first, Maggie doesn’t go too much into it, just mentioning that she had some issues with her boyfriend and he left her in Oklahoma.

  I overhear this fact when she relays it to Mac while they talk about something else. I want to ask what happened, yet I also don’t want to get too friendly however, after spending hours in the car together, it starts to feel almost rude not being more welcoming.

  Besides, I’m curious.

  I ask her about herself. She tells me that she grew up in Nebraska and left home when she was twenty-two. She graduated from the University of Nebraska, left her dorm, and never went back.

  She mentions that she does not have any relationship with her parents but when I ask her more about that, she just waves her hand and says that she’ll need some drinks in her before she can talk about it.

  “I know what you mean,” I say, giving her a knowing nod. “Maybe we can talk some more tonight,” I propose.

  She says that she would love that.

  Afterward, Tyler and I exchange looks.

  He tilts his head a little bit, as if to ask why I’m being so friendly.

  I shrug my shoulders and give him a little smile.

  I figure that I might as well know something about her if we’re going be spending all this time together.

  We stop for gas a few hours later around two in the afternoon and get some lunch as well. Afterward, Maggie and I sit together in the back and the boys take the front.

  “So, why are you going to California?” I ask.

  “Isn’t that where everyone goes when you want to run away and start a new life?”

  “Yeah, I guess. Some people go to Hawaii.” I laugh.

  “Hey, there’s an idea!”

  I ask her again about why she’s going to California, but again she makes a small joke and doesn’t delve into it.

  I appreciate the honesty.

  Actually, it comes as somewhat of a relief to me because now I feel like I don’t have to tell her too much about who I am and she won’t take it personally.

  Instead of talking about us, our conversations tend to be something a lot more meaningful and relaxing.

  She asks me about my hair and skin products and I ask her about how she keeps her curls so pristine despite being on the road.

  Some people would say that what we talk about is shallow, but it kind of connects us in a way. She finds out a little bit about who I am. I find out a little bit about who she is. We don’t disclose anything we don’t want to and yet we each get a glimpse of who we are.

  I can’t remember the last time I talked about clothes and makeup, music and movies with a girl before. The women I worked with, work with currently, I have to remember that I’m only here on vacation, I never talked to them much about things like that.

  I probably should have.

  I probably could have.

  For some reason, I couldn’t relax with them the same way I can with Maggie.

  I wonder if it has something to do with the fact that I don’t expect to see her for a long time.

  She’s kind of like my single-serving friend.

  There’s something relaxing about being with someone like that because there isn’t this pressure that you’re going to see them day in and day out.

  Plus, what happens if you find out something about them that you don’t like?

  With Maggie, I am actually surprised that we have so much in common.

  “Are you okay?” Maggie asks when I get a little bit quiet and look out at the desert flickering by me.

  “Yeah, I just spaced out a little bit."

  “That happens to me, too, sometimes,” she says in that fun bouncy way and I find it hard to believe.

  “So, tell me about this ex that you mentioned,” she says. “You guys went to Hawaii together?”

  I can’t remember exactly when I brought him up and I’m taken aback by the fact that she remembers.

  “Actually, he surprised me with a trip to Hawaii. He bought the tickets and booked the resort and everything, but I kind of freaked out and couldn’t go.”

  “Oh, no, what happened?”

  I haven’t talked about this much at all except with India, but somehow the words just come tumbling out.

  “I had a panic attack. That morning, when we were supposed to go to the airport, I just couldn’t do it. I could barely convince myself to pack a suitcase. If I had managed to get on the plane and get there, I probably would’ve discovered that I didn’t bring anything that I needed.”

  “I’m really sorry,” she says, placing her hand on my arm.

  I shake my head and give a little shrug.

  “I thought that he would understand. That was probably the hardest thing to deal with.”

  “He didn’t?”

  I shake my head and she waits for me to explain.

  I look ahead and see Tyler’s ears perk up, also listening. I can’t remember if I ever told him the story.

  “He got really mad,” I say. “Angry, pissed off, whatever you want to call it. He broke some furniture, nearly broke my face.”

  She gasps and then suddenly I see a different expression on her face.

  It’s almost as if she is someone who knows what that’s like; to be with someone like that.

  I can talk about it nonchalantly now even though I’m not really talking about it, I’m making jokes and making light of it.

  I’m not being honest about it either, not about how I felt that night or about how scared I was that I would never make it out of there alive.

  “Anyway, it all worked out for the best. He ended up going on the trip himself and he met his future wife there.”

  “He did?” Maggie asks, elongating the last word as if I’m giving her the juiciest piece of gossip.

  I sit back and laugh, while saying, “Well, good riddance, I guess.”

  “Yes, of course,” she says, taking my hand into hers and raising it up high. “You don’t deserve that. No woman does.”

  I like that she’s celebrating me, that she’s thinking of me as some sort of symbol of women empowerment. The only problem is that I’m not.

  I put up with it for way too long.

  I was scared.

  I was hurt.

  I wasn’t sure if I could get out of it. In fact, I was lucky that he got so angry that he took off on his own and ended up meeting someone else.

  I don’t tell her this. I have never told this to anyone out loud, but I have often wondered exactly how his wife is doing. I hope that they have a peaceful relationship. I hope that he treats her the way that she deserves to be treated.

  Given
what India says about men who abuse women, it is unlikely that he has improved his behavior.

  But a person can have hope, right?

  “I’m really sorry that you had to go through that, but I’m glad that you’re with someone so much better now.”

  I give her a slight nod and a forced smile.

  I don’t want to think about the fact that if Maggie were to be interviewed by the FBI or the police, they would immediately find out that I am not being held hostage in this car.

  “Of course, I’m not mad about it anymore,” I say as casually as possible. “We were never really right for each other. He was here and I was there and our relationship was to a large degree just a convenience. We got along just well enough to keep going until it became too hard. After we broke up, I promised myself to never be with someone out of convenience again.”

  19

  Tyler

  When the lights flash...

  When I hear the two of them in the back seat laughing and joking around, I forget that we are actually on the run.

  For a moment, I actually feel like we are just two couples, four friends, taking the trip of a lifetime across America.

  I try to stay in this headspace for as long as possible but old thoughts creep in.

  I don’t know much about Maggie and she doesn’t offer much while she rides with us. She must have told Mac some sort of story and even though I doubt that it’s the truth, I hope that she has enough riding on whatever it is that she’s running away from to keep our secret.

  I don’t know how much longer I want to travel with Mac now that Maggie is here.

  I still owe him a favor, a big one, but even though I haven’t taken him far, I feel like I have paid him handsomely.

  Having Maggie here is a danger to both me and Isabelle. Having Mac here is bad enough, but she’s a bystander, an outsider.

  Once she finds out about the reward, there will be nothing stopping her from turning on us and collecting the money. While I try to formulate a solid plan, an exit strategy, I keep my friendliness level up.

  I don’t want to be rude or a bad host. I don’t want to draw attention to anything about us.