Better than my damn trip. I’m sitting next to an old lady who had five strong drinks and then went to sleep and snored the whole damn way. It annoys me that I depend on him so much. For a month now, it has just been him and me. We haven’t had anyone with us, no family network. I think that’s why it feels so intense. Our life together isn’t reality… although it is for me, I’ve always been kind of alone. I just hope that when we get out of this mess we work out, I can’t see how it won’t. We are crazy about each other. I wait for the lights to go on and I immediately take my phone off airplane mode. I text.
Nice flight?
A text bounces back.
Yes, you?
I smile.
Dull.
The plane slowly travels down the runway to our destination and with it my nerves begin to rise, they could be here waiting for us in the airport. A text comes through.
You know the plan?
I text back.
Yes.
I love you
A text immediately pings.
Tell me the plan.
Fuck’s sake.
The plan is I’m going to kill you if you don’t stop making me repeat the plans
A ping sounds as the woman next to me struggles around in the overhead.
Don’t make me come up there.
Tell me what the fucking plan is!
I blow out a breath and shake my head. This man is infuriating, I’m not a child and I’m bloody nervous, too.
I walk out and go straight into the ladies’ restroom and wait for your okay
“Do you want me to get your bag?” The lady asks me.
“No, I got it, thanks.” Why is everyone treating me like a damn baby?
Good girl
Wait for my instruction.
The plane comes to a slow halt and I shuffle through the line to exit the plane. Funnily enough, the walk up the makeshift corridor into the airport is the longest walk I think I have ever done. My mind is racing. What if they out there waiting? What if they just shoot me on sight in front of everyone? No, that won’t happen. What if the police are here and arrest Stace? Does anyone even know we are here? I could be worrying for nothing. I try to calm myself down knowing this is not helping me act casual. Don’t be stupid, they won’t shoot us, of course they won’t. Stace said I’m safe in the airport. Hell, maybe I should just live here forever? My stomach is churning, I’m starving and tired, and I don’t bloody need this shit. We just have to get through customs now and hopefully everything will be fine. Stace has the money strapped around his body and if he does happen to get searched we are totally screwed. It was the only way to get it into the country, and seeing I am carrying millions of dollars in stolen diamonds in my handbag, it was unfortunately left up to him. Thank God sniffer dogs don’t pick up cash. Our eyes meet as we wait in line to get through customs and he looks away. He’s nervous.
I’m nervous.
He’s in the line in front of me and I stand and flick through my phone as if I haven’t a care in the world. Oh, how I wish that was true.
Stace gets his passport stamped and then goes through the walk through scanner machine. I stuff my hands in my pockets to hide how much they are shaking.
Please wave him through. Please, please, please.
The guard calls him over to the side and my heart starts to hammer.
Shit.
Stace stands with his arms lifted as they run the scanner up and down his body, and then he turns and they go down the back of him. He must be so nervous because I am nearly beside myself here. A little girl in the line in front of us suddenly projectile vomits and chaos erupts. The guard looks over and with a roll of his eyes, he waves Stace through the gates. The next man is ushered through quickly as the staff scramble to get a mop and bucket, and then it is my turn.
The woman ushers me over and I walk through the scanner unnoticed. In a fleeting moment, I glance up to see Stace picking up his bag. His eyes meet mine before he looks away. Right, I need to get to the bathroom and quick.
I walk to the bathroom as I see Stace drop into a seat at the back of the lounge area. He is going to sit and check that nobody is here to find us, and from that position, he will be able to see everything around us once the crowd dies down. I walk into the bathroom stall and drop the lid, nearly falling onto it with relief. I’m sweating profusely. This is no good for my heart. I send him a text.
Are you okay?
An answer bounces back.
Yeah, babe, you?
I puff air into my cheeks as I type.
Can you see anyone?
He answers.
The coast seems clear. Wait for a ten minutes and then walk straight out and get into a cab to the Venetian.
I will be right behind you in another cab.
I smile because maybe we can get away unnoticed. I text back.
If something happens…
Don’t come after me
I take out my hairbrush and re-comb this stupid, itchy wig as my heart bangs heavily in my chest. God, I hate this shit. He answers.
I will see you at the hotel in the foyer. We can have a hot bath and order room service tonight.
I smile broadly. He always knows exactly what to say. I reply.
Bring it on.
xoxoxo
“It’s just up here.” Stace smiles proudly.
After a good night’s sleep in the beautiful Venetian hotel in Vegas, we are on our way to the passport guy in a car we have hired. Things seem to be going to plan and last night was uneventful. We checked into a room and had a big deep bath together and got that beautiful room service dinner he promised me. For a short time, we were in Heaven. Hopefully, this time tomorrow we will be on our way out of here. I don’t know if Stace slept all night. It seemed that every time I woke up, and that was a lot, he was awake, staring at the ceiling deep in thought.
We pull into a printing shop parking lot. “What are you doing?” I ask.
“This is it.”
I frown. “This is a printing shop.”
“Oh, because being a fake passport dealer is such a reputable business.”
“R-right,” I stammer. “I suppose so.”
I follow him in through the front doors and the receptionist smiles. “I’m here to see Vernon,” Stace announces.
“He’s in the back office.”
Stace nods and grabs my hand as we walk through a dingy hallway until we get to a closed door.
“This is sketchy,” I whisper.
“You think,” he whispers back as he knocks three times.
“Come in,” the voice calls.
Stace opens the door and we are greeted by the sight of a huge, overweight man sitting behind a large, black desk. His hair is long and in a ponytail, and he has a whole biker gone wrong vibe going on.
He sits back and shakes his head as he smiles smugly. “Well, well, well… if it isn’t the dead man walking? I was wondering when you would show up.”
Stace glares at him. “I need two passports.”
“Not a chance in Hell, man.”
Stace glares at him.
“Vikinos himself came to visit me and said if I made you and her…” His eyes flick to me. “A passport, I’m dead, too.”
“Nobody will know.” Stace growls.
“I need to be alive for my kids,” he fires back. “Death isn’t on my to do list this week.”
“When was he here?”
“A couple of days ago. He has a lot of men with him.”
Stace glares at him as he processes his words.
My eyes flicker nervously between the two men. Please let this work out.
Stace leans over him on the desk. “Maybe you didn’t understand me.”
Vernon’s eyes narrow.
“I said… I want two fucking passports and you are going to make them for me. Now!” Stace sneers.
“The answer is no.” His eyes hold Stace’s for an extended time, and eventually he fakes a smile. “I estimate you have about six hours to live.”
Stace dives over the desk and grabs Vernon around the throat. “Make the fucking passports or I will kill you myself.”
My eyes widen in horror. God, he’s losing his shit.
Vernon chokes and coughs. “Let me go. Let me go,” he cries.
Stace holds him, one hand around the throat and squeezes. “I want the fucking passports.”
“I can’t.” He coughs.
Stace bangs his head down on the desk. “Don’t make me fucking kill you.” He growls.