Having gotten the door open, Noah jumps down the two porch steps.
“I’ve just been standing for too long,” I say, telling her what the doctor told me because he couldn’t be sure what had caused my pressure to drop so low.
All the tests he ran during the two days he kept me in the hospital came back normal. I’m still thanking my lucky stars for that.
“Exactly.” Jazz lets me go. “You’ve been on your feet all day, slinging a lot more boxes than me. Don’t tell me your muscles aren’t aching and your feet don’t hurt.”
Throwing an arm around her shoulder, I rest my head against hers. “You’re the best.”
“I know.” She wraps an arm around my waist. “That’s why I’m your bestie.”
Although that’s not how she means it, those words carry so much weight. Once upon a time, in our former life, she took enormous risks when I needed her, and here she is, taking them again.
Her unconditional friendship still makes me feel so damn guilty, but I suppress the dark thoughts that come with that notion. I may regret what happened for the rest of my life, but I can never change the damage I’ve done.
Perhaps this is a good moment to broach the subject that’s been on my mind for the last few days. “We need to talk about when you’re going back.” And more importantly, how to do it without anyone catching on to where she’s been.
She pulls away and comes to stand in front of me. “I told you. I’m staying for as long as you need me, and you sure as hell do.” I open my mouth to argue, but she silences me with a finger she holds up in front of my face. “I don’t want to hear another word about it. No one knows where I am, and no one will be looking. I told everyone I was going MIA to have plastic surgery.”
My jaw drops. “Plastic surgery? You’re the last person on Earth who needs to change your face or body. Have you looked in the mirror?” I glance through the open door to where Noah is running around the backyard, making sure I keep him in my sight. “You look like the love child of a model and a movie star. No one will believe that excuse.”
She dismisses my argument with a wave of her hand. “Darling, everyone in my circles has plastic surgery.”
“If they have the money.” And Jazz doesn’t. She spent the little savings from her gigs on a plane ticket to come and rescue me.
“Chill, Tiana. I could’ve met a sugar daddy or won big at the casino. Nobody really cares.”
I hope she’s right.
She hooks her arm through mine and marches me to the door. “I’m not going anywhere, not until I’m a hundred percent certain you’ll be all right, so you may as well get used to having me around for a while.”
Apprehension wins hands down over gratitude when it comes to my only friend’s safety. “You should head back. Once I get paid, I can buy a bus ticket.”
“Shush.” She hangs on my arm, giggling like a crazy woman when I knock into her. “Not another word. Just enjoy my wonderful company.”
It’s impossible not to enjoy Jazz’s presence. She’s the sister I never had. We haven’t seen each other in five years, yet we picked up right where we left off. For once, it’s nice not to be so lonely. I’ve been hungry for adult company, but I’ll never forgive myself if my selfishness gets her hurt.
“I’ll be okay,” she says, her tone insistent as we walk arm in arm to the recycling bins at the back of the house.
Keeping my worry to myself, I take my car key from my tote bag. The key is always zipped in a side pocket where I can easily access it. There’s no time to dig around a bag for a key when you have to run, and you never know when running will be necessary.
I unlock the car and put my bag on the backseat where I can quickly grab it if needed. It’s happened before that Noah and I had to abandon my car in a traffic jam and run from the man who’d been chasing us. I didn’t dare return to the motel room I’d been renting, which left us with nothing but the contents of my bag and the clothes on our backs. I always keep our IDs, my burner phone, a charger, whatever emergency money I can spare, and a change of underwear in my bag. For the same reason, I pack a water bottle that I keep full in Noah’s backpack, and I never go anywhere without extra snacks.
Jazz drops Noah’s backpack next to my bag. “What’s for dinner?” She laughs. “Except for chicken nuggets.”
My reply is distracted. “I’m still thinking about it.”
Which is a lie. My mind is on something entirely different, such as how to evade a triple homicide if the handyman turns out to be a sniper.
While we load the bins with the recyclables into the trunk of my car, I go over my escape plan in my head. I’ve made the plan in case we have to get away from this house fast. I’ve mapped out the entire city long before moving to Denver.
There’s a shopping mall with underground parking not far from here. I can leave the car there and get lost in the mall. The food court area is always busy. I’ve studied the exits. One at the back leads to a double-lane street. From there, it’s a short walk to a bus station. A twenty minute-ride will take us to the train station. It doesn’t matter that I can’t afford the tickets. I know how to dodge conductors. We can be in a different state before anyone is any the wiser.
Jazz is probably right. The owner of the red truck is more likely a handyman than an assassin. Maybe I’ll knock on the neighbor’s door, pretending I have a loose floorboard, and ask for a referral just to check out his story.
Yeah, no.
I want to keep a low profile and not draw attention to myself. I definitely don’t want to go around flaunting my face to my client’s neighbors.
