~ 24 ~
PEYTON
Going into town felt like we were doing something illegal. Like we’d just broken out of prison, and were looking over our shoulder at every turn.
Still, it was wholly liberating, finally getting out of the villa and into the world again. The busy streets were a bit overwhelming, especially after not having been around anyone but the boys for all this time. The surging crowds did a good job of hiding us though, amongst a whole sea of colorfully-dressed people.
We passed a stall selling belts and bags, and I caught a glimpse of myself in its full-length mirror. Big, floppy straw hat. Oversized sunglasses. I’d braided my hair and tucked it in, and even covered my face with the kind of burn cream that only tourists who don’t realize the power of the sun might need.
Ripley came up behind me, and patted me on the ass.
“Donovan could walk right past you and not even know who you were,” he whistled.
“Keep moving,” Colson muttered, looking over his shoulder. “Less grabass. More situational awareness.”
“Relax, boss,” Ripley countered. “No one’s looking for a tomato with sandals.”
“A tomato?”
He shrugged. “Freshly boiled lobster, then?”
“You’re insufferable,” I poked him. “You know that?”
“And yet…” he bowed low, adding a smile. “Here you are.”
We continued walking, keeping our heads low as we weaved through the crowd. My thoughts drifted to Theo, staying behind. Somehow focused on keeping his head buried in the keyboard, while knowing his father’s time was running out. My heart went out to him. I’d lost my father so quickly, my mother and I didn’t have time to process it. I could only imagine mourning the loss of someone slowly, over time. Losing them piece by piece…
“There it is.”
Ripley jerked a thumb at some ramshackle, dockside bar. The place looked like it might collapse at any moment.
“Captain owes Theo a favor,” he murmured. “I’ll catch up with you.”
He tried to step away, but Colson already had him by the wrist.
“Don’t force anything.”
“Who, me?” Ripley grinned. “Relax. I’ll be subtle.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“That hurts,” he said, pulling away. He slipped one ofthe newly-purchased burner phones from his pocket and pointed to it. “Text me if you miss me.”
I giggled beneath the security of my hat, as Ripley melted into the crowd. Colson sighed and rolled his eyes.
“He’s gonna get us made,” he muttered under his breath.
I slid my arm around him, then adjusted my hat so I could put my head on his shoulder. Like a tired, sunburned tourist.
“Relax,” I told him, for the second time that minute. “Let’s get this done.”
A few blocks later we found the object of our search: a small pharmacy that was more store than stall. We ducked inside, where the smiling, white-haired woman behind the counter sold us butterfly closures, painkillers, and hospital-grade antiseptic. But I wasn’t satisfied.
“Pressure bandages?” I asked, pulling my silly glasses off.
The woman stared back at me questioningly for a moment, then nodded and disappeared through a curtain.
“Damn, Peyton.”
