Chapter 15

15

L IZ

Colorado

Wednesday Evening

It's been a long day.

My feet hurt, and my backpack feels so damn heavy.

I swing my eyes to my left before exiting campus and scurrying away.

The street is almost empty.

Good.

That works for me.

I found a solution to my problem.

Now that I have money to fix my car, I don't have the time to do it. Sure, I could hire someone, but that might blow my cover.

I came with a ton of cash from New York.

Yeah, the man wasn't joking.

He put me on a charter plane with an extra suitcase. I brought back my pink dress, the new clothes he had bought for me, the jewelry box, and a brick of cash.

For real.

Soon, I'll need a top–of–the–line safe box in the house, a security system, and maybe a bodyguard.

I try not to fret too much about it.

He said I shouldn't.Money is replaceable. People aren't.

Easy for him to say, but I'm getting fond of all the cash sitting in the box of books tucked under my bed next to the handkerchief I got from him.

He told me to be cautious and make sure no one had followed me.

That would be a bummer.To get my house trashed and myself targeted because of all that money.

But nothing in my behavior suggests I'm getting paid to spend time with a hunk.What a great job that is.

Mmm.

Speaking of jobs, this would be the moment to quit my real job since I've already made more since I met him than the entire year working for Maggie.

But that would raise suspicion.

With that being said, I decided to use my new car. I can't not use it. I love driving this car. And I found of way to do that.

I park my ride a few blocks away in a large parking lot next to a shopping center, slightly to the side, so no one can see me when I get there or I leave.

And if I happen to run into someone that I know, I pretend I'm doing some shopping.

It's worked great so far.

And I'm doing the same thing when I'm going to work.

The only time I can't do that is when I visit Terry.

She finally stopped nagging me about my old car.

That doesn't mean I don't need to do something about it.

Just not now.

Too many things are happening, and I can't focus on that.

Rushing, I make a beeline for the black ride tucked in the most remote corner of the parking lot when a driver flashes their lights at me.

I jump to the side and wait for them to roll past me when the car pulls to a stop, and the window goes down.

"Liz?"

My mother peers at me through the open window.

Oh, fuck.

Her eyes go down.

I can't be more inconspicuous than I am now.

I wear black combat boots, matching cargo pants, and an oversized hoodie over a long–sleeved thermal top.

My hair is pulled back into a bun hidden inside my hoodie. No trace of makeup on my face.

"What are you doing here?" Terry asks.

"I finished classes and wanted to buy some food."

I gesture over my shoulder, mistakenly pointing toward my new car that is hard to see from where I stand instead of the grocery store.

She looks at the parking lot, disoriented.

"No. In that direction," I say, smiling, pointing to the store this time.

"Are you on foot again?"

"No."

Her eyes come to me.

"I mean, yes. Yes, I am. I wanted to buy some peanut butter and a loaf of bread and then catch the bus."

She sighs.

I'm sure that is a frustrated sigh.

"Get in the car," she says.

"No, no," I protest. "I don't need to. I'll be in and out."

"Get in the car, Elizabeth."

Oh, shit.

This is the last thing I need right now.

I'm tired, and my mother picks me up, so I'll have to come back and collect my car.Not to say that I'm expecting a phone call from David tonight.

Sexting doesn't quite work for us, but we pretend it does. And it doesn't pay that much––according to him.

Regardless, I said yes to his request for phone sex.

I have nothing against it.

I love hearing his voice and seeing him.

We've done this twice since I returned, and it's okay. I love to see him more than anything else.

Maybe I love it too much.

But there's a problem with that.

It's unexpected visits and changes in my schedule like this that can create a problem.

If I am to go with my mother, I should be quick.

"All right," I say, sliding the car door open, dropping my backpack in the back seat, and claiming the spot next to her in the front.

"What else would you like to eat?" she asks, and I go quiet for a few moments.

"Liz?"

"Nothing. We'll see," I say laconically while she sets her car in motion and moves us closer to the store.

Minutes later, we walk in.

I so wish I didn't have to rush, but I know her. Once we hit the aisles she'll want to shop for herself as well.

She still shops like I live with her, buying food whenever the opportunity arises.

With some begging on my part, we exit the store a few minutes later and return to her car.

I have packed a peanut butter jar, a fresh loaf of bread, a box of strawberries and blueberries, yogurt, cheese and a few apples in a grocery bag.

We slip into our seats and close the doors.

"Are you sure it's enough?" Terry asks, running her gaze down while waiting for my answer.

"I'm sure. Let's go."

"What's the hurry?" she asks, luckily swerving the car away.

Saddened, I glance at my new car as we roll past it.

"I have a lot of stuff to do."

"Do you need help?"

"No," I say too quickly not to make her study me with inquisitive eyes.

"You're too stressed out," she says.

My laughter barely conceals my nerves.

"How could I not be? I have to go to school and work the entire week."

I stop at the last moment.

It used to be… I have to go to school and work and hardly have any money.

My mother lifts an eyebrow at me.

"I'm cold and tired," I say, looking out the window as we roll through an intersection.

"You can come to my place."

I stifle my reaction, which is mostly panic.

"No. I'll be fine," I say softly. "I'm getting the hang of it."

"How are things going? How was your weekend?"

A kernel of angst spins in my chest. Weekend, weekend…. What did I say to her?

Oh, the weekend.

"The weekend was fine. We had fun," I say in a boring voice. "It's hard to come back to this crazy schedule," I say, and my mother's focus moves away from me.

It doesn't take long, and we enter my neighborhood.

She drops me off, and as soon as I have my bag of groceries at the door and wave her goodbye, she pulls away while I clutch my phone.

"Oh, fuck," I mutter, checking the time.

It's so late.

I take my groceries inside before locking the door, calling a cab, and moving impatiently to the nearest block so that the driver can pick me up sooner rather than later.

Anything to speed up the process.

Hopefully, my mom won't return because she forgot something. She does that sometimes.

Ignoring that risk, I slide into the cab and tell the driver to move as quickly as possible.