Page 4

FOUR DAYS BEFORE

ROSA

I step off the elevator onto my hotel floor in Denver. My room door is cracked open and my heart stops. I scramble to scan the hallway, looking for someone from my father’s life. My lighter brown hair is twisted into two braids falling down my chest. No one could possibly recognize me. My stuff is in my room. I foolishly left my duffel with the extra cash among my clothes on the bed. I’ve got my backpack on my shoulder with two grand or so in cash and the papers I grabbed with the cash from my father’s safe. How can I hide and still watch? I glance to the row of doors in the hall as my mind searches for an idea. The maid comes out of a room and back to her housekeeping cart as I smile, rushing toward her. “Oh, Thank God. I dropped my key at the front desk, and I need a shower.” I point to the door down the hall from my room as I duck my head. “I um, you know, started.” Women have sympathy for other women when they have their period. She’ll pity me and let me into the room to shower. Though I’m just going to kill some time in there.

She opens the door. “I’ll come back in twenty minutes.”

I swing my backpack off my shoulder. “Thank you.”

She nods as I step inside the room as she closes the door. I run to the phone on the bedside stand.

“Hello?”

I lower my voice and speak in a heavy Hispanic accent. “Hi. I was on the fourth floor, and I saw men enter room four eighteen without a key. I’m just afraid they could hurt somebody.”

“Thank you.”

I run to the peephole. Whoever you are, can you stay in my room long enough for security to arrive? Three minutes later, two large men with guns run onto the floor and barge through my hotel room door across the hall. I crack the door to listen. A scuffle in the room and a gunshot.

“Shit.” I didn’t want that. A Latino man rushes by me, not noticing me standing inside behind the cracked door.

More men enter the hallway, and I pull the door open to step out. I want what’s in my room. Taking a big breath, I walk into my room as the man closest to me points his gun.

“Oh!”

“Sorry, ma’am. Is this your room?”

“Yes. What’s going on?” I glance at the dead man on the floor and scream. My duffel sits atop the bed, with my stuff haphazardly sticking out. “That’s my bag.” I point to the man. “Was he robbing me?”

The man with security on his shirt nods. “Yes. Someone called it in.”

“Oh, that’s so kind. I’ll have to thank them.”

Two men in dark suits enter my room and announce themselves as detectives. I move to the side of the room. The first detective with dark brown hair and a receding hairline nods to the men and then looks at me. “Is this your room?”

“Yes.” I lift up my takeout bag. “I was picking up takeout.” How the hell did they get here so fast? Questions swirl in my mind about how the cartel could have cops on their payroll.

He nods. “Can you scan the room and tell me if anything is missing?”

“Um.” I move to the bathroom and come back out. “The bathroom looks like I left it.” I glance across the room and settle my eyes on my duffel. “Can I look through the duffel?”

The second detective with a paunch belly nods. “Try not to touch too much.”

It’s my bag. My prints are all over my stuff. I feel two bundles of money in the bottom. Shit. How the hell am I going to explain the money? My mind searches for an explanation as I turn to face the officer. “The money I brought to buy my car once I get settled is still in the bottom of my bag. So, they either didn’t find it or that wasn’t what they wanted.”

He nods. “How much money?”

“There’s probably ten grand. My grandfather gave it to me to find an apartment and buy a car. I’m planning to start school in January at UC Boulder.”

He nods. “We’re going to need to take photos of everything.”

I nod. “Of course. I assume I can have the money back when you’re done.”

His nod isn’t very convincing, and my heart sinks. He points to the dead man on the ground. “Do you know him?”

I don’t recognize the man. He’s the typical cliché biker guy with a leather jacket. I steady my breathing and look confused at the detective. “No.”

He purses his lips as the first detective approaches and speaks. “Someone shot him.”

The burly hotel security guy clears his throat. “I shot him. He had a knife.”

I wait for one of them to mention the other guy who ran down the hall, but the three guys remain silent. The guy who admitted to shooting him puts his phone to his ear and answers, “okay.” He puts his phone back into his pocket. “Just so you know, my boss said the cameras weren’t working on this floor.”

“Well, shit.” The first detective nods at me. “You don’t know him?”

“No. I was out getting my food.” I raise my takeout bag. “I got to the floor after everything had happened.”

The security guys nod in agreement. I guess they aren’t going to mention that I was in another room on this floor before they got here. Huh. Maybe the cameras really aren’t working.

“Did anyone know you had the money in your bag?”

I shake my head and scrunch my forehead. “I didn’t tell anyone.”

“Well.” He blows out his breath and speaks to the burly security guy. “She’ll need a different room, because this one is a crime scene.”

His partner holds up a plastic bag with a handgun and another with a knife. “You guys need to come in and give a formal statement, but I don’t think the city attorney will want to press charges.” He casts his head around the room. “It would be nice if he’d left us a clue about why he was here.”

I shrug. “I’m just glad I wasn’t here.”

The first detective walks the men out of my room as his partner stands by the door. “I’m waiting for the manager to come and move you to a different room.”

“I’m glad. I wouldn’t want to stay here.” Shuddering, I think about where I’m going next. I won’t be staying here after I get myself and the stuff moved to the next room.

Five minutes later, a short, older Hispanic woman rushes into the hall. “I’m sorry. I’m Ms. Mankin. Let’s get you to a new room.” She moves her head to look into the room as the officer flicks his hand like he would for a fly. We head out the door with my stuff and trudge down the hall to the elevator. “I moved you to the first floor, closer to the front desk. This way, I’ll be able to keep a better eye on you. I can’t believe your family let you travel alone. How old are you, anyway?”

If she only knew the truth. “I’m old enough.”

Her smirk brings me to the realization that she probably does. “Who are you running from?”

I can’t help the tears slipping down my cheek. “No one.”

She stops and cocks her head. “I know what that looks like. I did it once myself. Brought me to my future.”

My eyes drop to the floor. I’m unwilling to give her more with my face full of emotion. “I’m fine. Really.” Who am I trying to convince?

We step off the elevator, and she opens the door, handing me the keycard. “Stop by the office after you get settled. I have a gift for you.” She winks. “I can help you if you let me.”

I lug my stuff into the room. The room looks just like the one I left, but the window looks out into the parking lot behind the motel. The wall art is a fabric montage of various shapes, each a slightly different shade of burgundy. Grabbing my bag, I carry it to the bathroom. Shower first, then figure out the rest.

The water cascades over my body, offering me a brief respite from my forced ordeal. A sob escapes as my hand covers my mouth. Where the hell am I supposed to go? What if the man was working with someone? Scenarios play through my brain like trailers at the theater, giving me glimpses of future torture and death. I grit my teeth as I step out of the shower and dry off.

Now out of the bathroom, I’m fully dressed to run again. The double bed beckons me like a gentle lover enticing me to rest. Taking a deep breath, I hoist my duffle on my back and my bag on my shoulder as I scan the hall through the peephole. The hall is empty, so I extend my head out to look both directions. The lobby sign glows to my left, and I pad to the reception desk looking for the lady.

“Well, hello.”

The woman stands at the edge of the counter with a large envelope in her hand. She motions for me to come to her. I glance around, waiting for the hairs on my neck to stand. She doesn’t seem like a threat. Moving to the end of the counter, she hands me the envelope.

“There’s a prepaid credit card in the envelope.”

My forehead furrows. “Why are you helping me?”

She whispers. “I told you. I ran and someone helped me. I’m paying it forward. You’ll do the same when you find your happily ever after.” A car door out in front of the motel startles me as her hand pats my arm. “That’s nothing.”

“Thank you for this.” I survey my surroundings, feeling very exposed. “I think I should go. That man could have others coming here.”

She nods. “I figured as much. When I saw you step out of your room, I placed a call. The taxi should pull up to the back door in five minutes. Remember, don’t trust anyone and always have a go bag and an exit strategy.”

I laugh with a sob. “That’s how I got here.”

Her smile deepens. “You’ll find your way.”

“Thank you.” Holding up the envelope, I move to station myself at the window by the back door. “Thank you for this, too.”

“You’re welcome. Find your happy future and your prince.”

The taxi angles to the back door. I push it open and search the area for threats. I’m out in the open where a man has already tried to kill me. Rushing for the back door, I fling my bags inside, huddling low as I pull the door.

A woman’s gruff voice asks. “Where to?”

A sigh slams out of me. “I don’t know.”

“Do you have a destination? Family to run to?”

Her question gives me pause. She knows I’m running. The manager must have told her. I lick my lips, remembering I didn’t get to eat my food. “Is there somewhere safe to eat?”

“Sure, princess. I know just where to go.”

Twenty minutes later, we pull into a cantina in Madrid, New Mexico. The driver parks the car under an awning and points to my bags. “We’ll put those in the trunk.”

My head pivots, looking for threats. “You can just park here?”

She beams. “Sure, my brother owns it. You’re perfectly safe here.”

I glance in the direction of the front door, and she shakes her head. “There’s a table we can use in the kitchen. Get you fed and figure out your next move.”

Air rushes out of my lungs as we walk. I’m overwhelmed by the kindness of the two women. “Thank you.”

She pats my arm. “We’ve been there.”

“That’s what the motel manager said.”

“Want to tell me why you’re running?”

Swinging my head back and forth, I chew on my lip. “No. I’m running from bad people, and they’re searching for me. I saw something…”

“Say no more, doll.” She pushes open the door as scents of well-spiced meats on the grill overpower my senses. A stew bubbles in a pot with spicy smells percolating into the air. My stomach growls on cue as the cook turns around. “Hi, Marcel. She’s starving.”

His eyes move up my body. “Too skinny. Gumbo, cheese sticks, chicken wings, and a milkshake.”

I smirk. Everyone thinks I’m younger than I am. I’ve been drinking alcohol since my first modeling job at twelve. As much as I would like to argue, a milkshake seems divine. The taxi driver motions for us to sit. She nods. “How long have you been running?”

I shrug. I appreciate her taking me away from Santa Fe, but I don’t want to answer any questions.

She gets up and walks to the drink nook and pours me a large glass of water. She drops a lemon wedge in the glass and walks it to the table. “His milkshakes are delicious, but you’ll want water.”

I pick up the glass and take a long drink. How did I get myself into this situation? I hope my father is burning in hell. My eyes flick about the area. It’s very clean and there’s a bulletin board full of fliers about positive thinking, helpful resources, and side jobs.

“My brother used to be a pastor. He still is, if you think about it. He helps people.” She smiles at the bartender who brings her an amber beverage in a short glass with ice. She raises it. “Only one.”

I nod. “Whiskey or scotch?”

“Whiskey on the rocks. My dad used to drink it.” I inadvertently cringe as she offers a knowing smile. “Is your dad the one chasing you?”

Shaking my head, I smile at the cook, who hands me the vanilla milkshake. “Your food will be here in two shakes of a bunny’s tail.”

My brow raises as the taxi driver beams. “He’s such a hoot. Always got one of those sayings to share.” She leans in. “Half the time I have no idea what they mean, but they’re funny coming out of that large man’s mouth.” She cackles. “A bunny’s tail.”

A few minutes later, I’m gorging myself on tasty food and drinking my milkshake. The taxi driver finishes her whiskey. Here it comes… “Where are you planning to go?”

I shrug. I really don’t know. Twisting my hands, I just want to get back to my mom in Mexico, but it’s not safe. I have grandparents in Texas, but my dad’s family will be watching. “Not sure. I don’t have anywhere to go that they won’t find me. So, I’m just running.” My stomach settles as I eat the food. Who knows when I’ll get to eat something this flavorful again? I turn my head to the kitchen. “He’s a really good cook.”

She nods. “Cajun. He went to some fancy cooking school, but dropped out and ended up here. Lots of people end up here.” She takes a bite from her burger. “I’m Julie.”

I stare at the woman. What the hell do I tell her my name is? “Umm.”

She smiles. “You look like a runaway princess, let’s call you ‘Amira’. It’s Arabic for princess.” The corners of her lips lift. “Fits you.”

I stand to take our dishes to the kitchen as the cook smiles. “I’ll get those.”

“Nah. You made the food, I’ll clean up.”

He cocks his head. “Want to waitress here?”

My hands stop as I’m setting the plates in the sink “What?”

“No one will think to look for you here.” His face softens. “You can make a little money and rest a little. I guess you’ve been running for a little while.”

I nod. “But the owner?”

“Ha. He’ll be fine with it. He’s the worst at bringing in strays. He’s got a room upstairs you can have while you’re here. And when you’re ready to go, Julie will come back and take you to your next destination.”

For the first time since my father died, I feel relief. I could stay. Julie’s head is bobbing in agreement as a very large bald man enters the kitchen. His brows lift as he scrutinizes me before he sees Julie. “Julie.” He walks to her and plucks her out of her seat, pulling her into his arms, and spins her around. “Why didn’t you say you were coming?” He sets her down and all eyes revert to me.

“I have a fare.”

He extends his hand to me, and I shake it. “Hi. I’m Jefferson, I own the tavern. And you are?”

I jerk my head to Julie who smiles. “This is Amira. Marcel just hired her.”

Jefferson pivots his head to his cook. “Oh?”

“Yeah. She needs a job and a place to stay for a while. I like her.”

He scoffs. “Well, okay.” His head cocks in my direction. “Come on, I’ll show you the room upstairs.”

Julie starts to walk out the door, calling over her shoulder. “I’ll get the princess her stuff.”

Great, just what I need, another person calling me princess. Jefferson is through the side door and halfway up the stairs before I get my feet moving to follow. The narrow stairs break onto a landing with three rooms. He points. “That’s my room. That’s Marcel’s room and…” He opens the door to the farthest room down the hall. Entering, throwing his arm out with a flourish. “This is yours.”

I step inside. The room is tastefully decorated in warm blues and grays. The honey oak furniture is antique, with general nicks and scars, but homey. A queen-size bed calls out to me.

Julie enters the room with all my bags, and he smiles at his sister. “There’s a bathroom with a tub and a shower. You look like you could use a bath.”

Julie sets the bags on the dresser. “I’m heading back to Santa Fe.” She kisses her brother’s cheek. “They’ll take good care of you.” She hands me a business card with her name and a number. “If you need anything, call.” I don’t get to answer, and she’s gone.

Jefferson moves to the door, following Julie. “Get settled. We’ll talk about what you can do here at the tavern in the early afternoon. Tomorrow is our late-opening day.”