"Thanks. So, we good?" Dom asks.
"Yeah you’re all paid up."
Marcus finally turns around. He's older than I expected, I would say maybe fifty, with gray at his temples and a scar running down the left side of his face. He looks at Dom first, then at me. His expression doesn't change.
"You have trouble on your tail," he says.
"We're being careful, that’s why we need to vanish," Dom says.
Marcus nods slowly. "Just remember if you fuck this up…if you get caught and identified, if you lead anyone back to me..."
"You know me well enough by now to know that’s not gonna be an issue."
"Good." Marcus turns back around. "Then we're done here. I don’t need to remind you to destroy any evidence of us being in contact. Don't contact me again, Dom. This is the last time we speak."
"Understood," Dom says.
We get out of the sedan without another word. Marcus pulls away before we even reach the van.
Dom and I sit in the front seat with the documents spread across our laps. I hold the passport with my photograph and the name Roxy Brennan. It feels so surreal being a different person. Becoming a new character in our story.
"James and Roxy Brennan," I say quietly.
"You like that, baby?"
"We're married."
"I guess we are."
"We have a life."
"Yeah."
I look at him. "Are you happy?"
"Yes."
"Me too. I can’t believe this is happening."
"We need to ditch the van. My contact said he’ll collect it tomorrow," he says. "And we need to pick up the Honda we talked about. The seller said we can drop by anytime today."
"Okay."
"Then we drive to our new home.”
"Well, let’s do it."
Dom drives and pulls out of the parking lot. I watch Reno disappear in the side mirror, the casinos, the array of neon signs, the transient landscape where people come to hide and reinvent themselves. I guess we're doing the same thing, but more permanently.
Part 3: The Drive
The Honda is a 2008 Civic. Gray and forgettable and full of all of my belongings from the van, the shit that mattered. We bought it in cash from a private seller I found online on the other side of town in Bakersfield. The guy asks no questions, he just wants the cash. Dom drives it like he's owned it for years.
We left the van in long-term parking with the keys hidden for Dom’s contact, leaving everything wiped down. Dom’s contact said he has a buyer for it, most likely for parts. The van will become pieces, and hopefully untraceable.
It’s a little later in the day when the first test comes at a gas station outside Lemstow.
I'm nervous, because this part matters, like everything depends on the next five minutes.
