Wanted

by Kym Brunner

  “Don’t,” I warn, looking away from the road a second to eye him sideways.

  He reaches up and strokes my thigh for a split-second. My heart skips a beat—his touch sending sparks flying through my body. “Whoops,” he says, grinning. “My hand did that all by itself. My apologies, Twinkle.”

  This time I throw him a look of bemused annoyance. “Not funny, Clyde.”

  “Okay, okay. But let me ask you this… if I could touch you without nothing bad happening, would you want me to? Or are you just pretending, hoping to bring Jack Daniel back at the deadline?” He gazes at me with such intensity it takes my breath away. That’s when I figure out what was wrong with the last mind movie. Clyde’s eyes were hollow, emotionless, even bored, when he declared his love for Bonnie. The opposite of what I see in his eyes now.

  My mind reels, wondering what to say to that. “Why are you asking me this?”

  “You know why. I’m dizzy over you, Twinkle. You’re pretty and smart, and hell, I even like how you’re as bossy and demanding as I am. When those gorgeous green eyes of yours look my way, I want to know that they’re all mine. Tell me you felt it when we kissed as much as I did. I need to know the truth. Do you like me too?”

  I breathe in sharply, not expecting such an honest response. My heart races, remembering our kiss—the way he looked at me, the things he whispered, how kind and loving his touch felt. But I can’t tell him that what he guessed is the truth—that when the time comes, I need it to be Jack at the end. I decide to talk about my feelings, but not about my plans. “The truth is, Clyde, I really—” Suddenly, I can’t breathe. A soft whimper escapes my lips.

  If you say you like him back, I’ll choke you. Make you swerve off the road and we’ll end it for us both right here and now. I’m letting go now, but I’m listening, so mind what you say.

  Her words shatter my thoughts as I breathe deeply, trying to bring air back into my lungs. The anger in her voice makes me believe she’ll go through with her threat. Not that I was going to tell him that his kiss sent tingles down my spine, made my knees weak. That he completely intrigues me in some crazy way that I can’t even explain to myself, even though in my heart, I know it’s true.

  “You really what?” he presses.

  “I really didn’t feel a thing before.” I bite the inside of my cheeks to keep from saying anything more. To tell him that Bonnie’s threatening to choke me if I tell him my feelings.

  “Is that so?”

  I hear him unbuckle his seat belt, making my anxiety soar. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m gonna see what happens when I come over and kiss that pretty heart birthmark of yours again. Then I’ll know for sure. Your pulse, your eyes, your whole body can’t lie.”

  I know exactly what’ll happen if he kisses my neck again. Either Bonnie will take my body over or she’ll kill us out of jealousy. “No don’t, Clyde! It’s not the right time.” I floor it, bringing the car up to ninety instantly. “You said yourself we only have a few minutes to spare.”

  “A few minutes is all I need to prove how I feel about you, Twinkle.” He gently slides one fingertip down my arm from wrist to elbow. An immense jolt of passion makes me jerk my arm away instinctively.

  “Clydehopper!” Bonnie manages to squeal in the few seconds his skin touches mine.

  If he touches me again, things are going to go south real fast. She’s either going to tell him my plan, close off my air supply, or pull this car over and prove her love for him by getting it on with him on the side of the road.

  Part of me—the impulsive, “you only live once!” part, considers letting her do exactly that. The rational part screams, “Think before you act for once in your life!”

  He chuckles. “Sounds like Bonnie’s raring to go. You sure you ain’t?” In one quick motion, he leans toward me, so close I can feel the warmth exuding from his chest.

  I force anger into my voice. “No, Clyde! Move back. You’re making me nervous.”

  “Nervous I’m going to find out what you really think of me?” Before I know what’s happening, he plants a soft kiss on the curve of my neck, his breath warm. I shiver.

  “Don’t,” I plead, my voice softer now.

  “Come on. Just one kiss. I’m so mixed up, I don’t know which girl to take with me.”

  He’s just toying with you to make you feel good. I know it’s me.

  His words and hers make me grip the wheel tighter. Fear pricks my heart, eats away at my throat. I keep forgetting that I’m not running the show here, Fate is. I swallow hard. “In the end, if you are the one who gets to choose who to keep, then who are you—” I shrug, not able to finish my sentence. Hell if I’ll ever become whiny like Bonnie, pleading for Clyde to choose me.

  “I want it to be you, Twinkle. The thought of never hearing your headstrong stories makes my heart hurt. But there ain’t no sense in taking you along with me if you don’t feel the same way about me.” The way he says it, so softly and with conviction, makes me want to believe that somehow, he knows how to control who stays and who goes. My heart races and palms sweat, making me dry them on my skirt.

  Take it back, Clyde! Take it all back right now or we’re through! Bonnie screams, her words coming in tearful spurts.

  I feel horrible for her but can’t help enjoying my slight victory. Seems like all I need to do is tell Clyde he’s the guy for me and he’ll choose me in the end. But telling Clyde I’m falling for him seems wrong, immoral to the core. I adjust my seat belt, waiting for a white SUV to pass me.

  I stare straight ahead, trying to concentrate on driving, but I can see my fingers faintly trembling on the steering wheel. “My heart tells me one thing, Clyde, but my head another.”

  “I ain’t thinking with my head right now, Twinkle. I’m going with how I feel. Maybe you should take my advice for once and do the same.” Before I can process what is happening, Clyde leans in and softly, sweetly kisses my neck. “See how nice that is?”

  While his lips linger a moment, Bonnie cries out, “I hate you, you two-timing bastard!”

  “I’m going to block her out for a few seconds, so bear with me.” Clyde smiles at me before making a slow circle with his fingertip on my thigh. An alarming warmth spreads through me like a wildfire, heating up sensitive regions of my body I didn’t even know existed. I shift in my seat, trying to keep the car on the road. He grins at me with half-lidded eyes, but he’s so close I can see the golden flecks reflecting off the dashboard lights. “You’re something special, Twinkle. There’s a bond between us and you feel it too.”

  The protective shield around my heart breaks into pieces, as if Clyde wields some sort of magic power. A few more seconds of this and I’ll be blurting out how much I like him. But I can’t—won’t—let myself be swept away by a guy who, if everything works out the way it should, will be gone come daylight. I gently push his hand off my thigh, but Bonnie clamps on and digs my nails into the soft skin on the back of his hand.

  Clyde squints at me. “What’re you doing, doll?”

  “I’m teaching you a lesson,” Bonnie wails, but this time, her voice sounds faint, quieter. Like she’s whispering. Only I can tell from her tone that she wasn’t.

  I pull my hand away without any effort, easily resuming control over my mouth. “Huh. That was weird. You-know-who’s still there, but she felt weak that time. Like barely there. Unless…” I shrug. “Unless maybe she’s too sad to fight back.”

  “Or she’s fading away because my feelings for her are fading,” Clyde says. “I don’t much care how she felt about the kiss, but I’m dying to know what you thought, Twinkle.”

  Taking a deep breath, I decide I need to test Bonnie’s strength before I say anything. Maybe she really is fading away and will perish at the deadline, like Jack’s been saying all along. Clyde too, and then it won’t matter what I say. But maybe she’s bluffing, hoping I’ll touch him so that she can clamp on and not let go until after the deadline passes.

  Time to f
ind out.

  I reach out a tentative hand and place it on top of Clyde’s. No reaction from Bonnie. I grin, excited to finally say whatever I want without Bonnie’s interference. “I might be stupid for telling you this, but I liked kissing you, Clyde. Something about you drives me crazy.”

  He picks up my hand and kisses it several times, his grin lighting up his entire face. “So you’re crazy about me, huh, Twinkle? I knew it!” He caresses my hand, softly massaging my fingers. “You ain’t gonna regret it neither. I’m gonna make you the happiest gal that ever—”

  He suddenly yanks my hand, pulling it hard before letting go. I glance over and see Clyde’s body jerk and contort involuntarily—the same way Jack’s did when Clyde took him over on the bus. My fear skyrockets in direct proportion to my heart plummeting.

  “What’s going on? What’s happening to you?” I glance at the road and then back at him in quick intervals.

  No, please not yet. It’s too soon.

  “Succumbing to my weakness,” he whispers, his eyes linking with mine.

  One final shudder later, my world crumbles as my biggest liability resurfaces.

  Jack.

  CHAPTER 26

  Monday, May 23rd // 5:18A.M.

  Clyde

  The second Twinkle pledged her feelings for me, I lost control of my mind and Jack Daniel took over. As mad as I am for not controlling myself, of letting my feelings show, I’m out-of-my-mind, over-the-top happy that the wildest, purdiest girl in the world is dizzy about me. Me—Clyde Champion Barrow—born nearly a century ago. Hell if that don’t prove I still has what it takes to make a girl swoon.

  I watch out of Jack’s eyes, my heart breaking as Twinkle turns as white as one of Mama’s freshly laundered bed sheets when she realizes Jack Daniel has shifted into my place. I see her pleading with him like crazy, her face all wrinkled up tight like the skin on a busted balloon. Wish I could hear what they’s talking about, but I can tell it ain’t puppies and roses, that’s for sure. Jack Daniel’s waving his arms like he’s a goddam baton twirler in a parade, but Twinkle’s giving it right back to him in spades, the anger in her face showing she don’t care what he thinks.

  My guess is that Big Crybaby prolly wants to drive himself right to the feds. With Twinkle behind the wheel though, the only way that’s happening is if he leaps into her lap and overtakes her. We all know that ain’t possible. Ole Chickenshit can’t even fight a little water on the road, much less a bearcat like Twinkle for control of the car. After what seems like eons, the fuming and shouting seem to give way to talking. Twinkle hands him the flask, but he don’t take it. What a teetotaler. She leaves it on the seat and shrugs, before concentrating on the road.

  Chickenshit huffs on the window, making a steam circle with his breath. He writes, “Fuck you, Clyde.” Next thing I know, he grabs the flask and starts drinking all my hooch. Staring and drinking. No more talking. When he finally closes his eyes, I figure I must have worn out his body and broke his heart when he watched me steal his woman right from under his nose.

  If that don’t make me the wiliest thief that ever lived, I don’t know what else I got to do.

  The way I figure it, we got less than four hours until Fate lets her intentions be known. Hope Jack Daniel don’t sleep too long cuz I need him to catch a fright. Then I’ll take over and he can sleep until the end of time, while Twinkle and I will go on to make history ourselves.

  Unless she’s the best actress that ever lived and she’s actually lying through her teeth. Then I’ll plug a hole in her head the size of a dime and send her down the riverbank.

  Even thinking that makes my blood boil. No, I ain’t getting my ire up about her intentions. My fine-tuned instincts tell me she’s giving it to me straight. I have faith that when the time comes, if I haven’t busted back on my own, Twinkle will find a way to fetch me.

  When the deadline’s all said and done, I’ll live up to my word, too. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe and by my side—’til death do us part.

  However long, or short, that parting comes.

  CHAPTER 27

  Monday, May 23rd // 6:18A.M.

  Monroe

  I breathe out a huge sigh of relief when Jack finally falls asleep. The strain between us was excruciating. Took me almost forty minutes of arguing to convince him to stick it out for a few more hours and stop fighting me on this. That he had nothing to lose by going to Gibsland but everything to lose if he didn’t. He finally drank himself into a coma and passed out. Makes me wonder if the two minds are blending into one—Clyde’s strong will to survive meshing with Jack’s desire to have a jail-free future. Could be the perfect combination.

  When I see the time, I jam the gas pedal to the floor. I have a long stretch of straight highway ahead of me, and I have to just hope that no cops are hiding out, waiting for a speeder. With slightly less than three-quarters of a tank left to burn, I pray this car can make it all the way to Bonnie and Clyde’s death memorial because there isn’t time to stop. I made sure I haven’t had much to eat or drink so I won’t have to use the bathroom. If Jack wakes up and has to pee, as gross as it sounds, he’ll have to use the coffee cup I saw in the back seat.

  With Jack passed out, I finally have time to mull things over—like how and why did Jack take over, right in the middle of Clyde and I talking about our feelings? As soon as I told him that I liked his kisses too, he mumbled, “succumbing to my weakness” and vanished. Was he trying to tell me that his weakness is being in love? Betraying Bonnie? Me?

  I wait for Bonnie to set me straight, to bitch about what a two-timing cow turd Clyde is, or to remind me how she’s going to take over my body at the end. Or to say that Clyde still loves her and he’s only saying these things to trick me. But to my shock and my delight, she stays quiet.

  Hello? Are you in there, Bonnie? What’s going on?

  When she doesn’t answer, a tiny flicker of hope surfaces that she’s gone. If Clyde wasn’t lying and he does have feelings for me, maybe she up and went back to limbo. If she had hoped to spend forever with him and he doesn’t want to, maybe she saw the futility in sticking around.

  Of course, it might just be that she’s depressed. Seeing the guy you love, the man who you thought was your soulmate—the guy you died for!—pledge his love to another girl right in front of your eyes is enough to shut anyone up for a good long time.

  Even that sentiment brings no response.

  While I do feel sorry for her, I can’t say I’m sorry to see her go. Buh-buh-bye, Bonnie! Have fun in Limbo! My mood brightens considerably at the thought that she could be gone for good, even though I know I still need to complete the journey for Jack’s sake. I quietly rotate through the limited number of radio stations, looking for any song from the last decade that I recognize. No luck. It seems every song that plays in these little rural towns is a country song about being in love, falling out of love, or pride in America.

  Soon I’m lulled by the sounds of the car’s tires on the highway. I’m making good time but the monotony of driving along a pitch-black road begins to wear on my alertness. Minutes later, I get a burst of energy when a song my mom loved comes on, “Don’t Forget to Remember Me.” Hearing it reminds me how she used to tune her little transistor next to the stove and sing along with all the hokey country songs while she made dinner. I quietly sing what few words I remember, when it hits me hard that the song is about an eighteen-year-old girl moving out and her mom telling her how proud she is of her, reminding her daughter not to forget her.

  A searing pain erupts deep in my chest. Tears lick at the edges of my eyes as I realize that, unlike the mom in the song, mine would definitely not be proud of how I turned out. She must be sad that I’m such a loser. I keep complaining about how rough things are for me, and how unlucky I am to have gotten busted three times, how much probation sucks. But this time around, it wasn’t Fate who was driving this train wreck, it was me. How could I have been so blind, so stupid, so completely immatur
e as to tempt Fate yet again?

  And like Jack so gruffly pointed out, maybe it’s time I did something about it.

  If I get out of this mess alive and in my own body, I am going to turn myself in to the police. I’m not going to keep running like Bonnie and Clyde did. No one’s going to rush in and rescue me this time. I’ll tell the cops that I alone stole the cars, and that I threatened Jack with a wrench to come with me. There’s nothing I can do about Clyde clubbing that woman, but hopefully her injuries aren’t too bad and he’ll get a lighter sentence since it was his first arrest.

  Turning myself in means the district attorneys will officially enter a felony conviction for vandalism in my name, along with new charges for auto and retail theft, aiding and abetting a fugitive, and driving a stolen vehicle across state lines.

  How did things get this bad?

  Goodbye to my scholarship, goodbye to NYU, goodbye to believing that bad things only happen to other people, that somehow I can fix whatever it is I ruined with my impulsivity. Tears start streaming down my face then, too fast for me to wipe them away. One small act triggered a whole lot of other illegal acts, and now I’m going to jail. Whoever said that things always turn out okay in the end was wrong. This time, things will not turn out okay, no matter how hard I wish they would. How could I have been so naive to think I was magically protected?

  Of course, if I’m still on Earth and in my own body in a few hours—with or without Bonnie inside of me—I suppose one could argue that things did turn out okay.

  Jack stirs, making me freeze. I hold back a sniffle, holding my breath, trying to stay perfectly still so as not to wake him. The longer he sleeps, the less time I have to worry about him sabotaging my plan. After a few seconds, he smacks his lips and resumes sleeping.