Page 7 of The Runaway
“Yes, just for the full year.” Suspicion narrowed my pupils into slits and thinned my lips. “This seems really one-sided.”
“Because it is. I told you on the plane, Joci— Anatoly ruined your life because you dumped him. A series of events has led you to America, the one place he can’t reach you. This is your chance to put Russia and Makovich behind you permanently. I do feel bad, believe it or not. Anatoly is my brother, and his actions reflect on me. Keeping you alive five years ago was for this opportunity not only to absolve myself of that lingering guilt, but to fuck with him for being a juvenile piece of shit.” Sniffling a little at that, only the faintest of surprise sparkled behind my eyes. Of course, Aleksander would somehow find a way to twist this into a powerplay. Reaching to rub my face with both my hands, I inhaled deeply from between my palms. “As long as our stay, you’ll be here in this hotel and acting in my entourage, but you’ll have plenty of downtime to research and find a place. I’ve also got permission from Carlyle Santino to reside in New York City unimpeded— provided he meets you first to make sure I’m not trying to spy on him.”
“That’s fine… How am I going to stay here when you leave?” Picking up the envelope in his lap, Aleksander held it out for me like I was a dog in need of coaxing out from under a sewage grate. Anxiety tingled my fingertips as I slowly reached out. The envelope was smooth against my skin, sagging from the weight of what was inside. My heart started to race as I tore open the top, the sound grating my ears loudly. Exhaling a shaky breath through my nose, my lungs immediately began to burn.
There, sitting in the envelop according to size, were documents….Officialdocuments. I almost couldn’t bring myself to reach in for fear they’d turn to ash under my touch. An American ID card— an American birth certificate that showed the right date— an American social security card—
“… These are fake?” Foreboding gnawed at me as I turned to Aleksander to frown. He gave me nothing. “I’ll get deported back to Russia if anyone ever finds out.”
“They’re as close to real as I could get. It’s up to you to make sure no one ever does discover they’re fake, Joci.” Makovich practically ruled Russia, had access to the best forgeries in the world at the tip of his finger. He dealt a lot with China, I knew, which gave me some security.But what if someone looks too deep?“Do you want to reconsider?”
“No—” Answering immediately, I tightened my grip on my papers defensively. Aleksander cracked a knowing smirk, tapping his thighs with his palms before standing with a sigh. Rubbing the thick plastic of my American ID with my thumbs, I followed him with my eyes. “Thank you, Aleksander.”
“I do not feel pity for you, Joci… but I sincerely hope you do well in America after all you’ve been through.” My cheek twitched in what could’ve been a smile as Aleksander turned on his heel and strode out. Staring blankly at his back, I sunk back onto the bed to duck my head sharply. The pull of my spine wasn’t so bad, suddenly, and my lips trembled from my short, gasping breaths. Right in my hands was my American life— and it might’ve been fake, but who would really look closer?
There were plenty of illegals in this country doing just fine.
Sniffling a little, I rubbed my face with my thumbs and lamented through clouded eyes how it’d come to this. This moment, my heart was so full that it struggled to beat, swelling and crowding my lungs until I couldn’t breathe. Blinking back the tears that clung to my eyelashes, I reached a shaking hand to wipe them away roughly.
Just like that…I’m American.
“Wow—” Croaking hoarsely, a sob and a laugh rushed to escape my tight throat at the same time. Holding the documents to my chest, I gingerly laid back down on my side to cry tears heavy with joy.
7
Joci
“Joci? Hey…” Jerking awake with a gasp, I glanced up tiredly to find Ophelia nudging my shoulder. Her apologetic smile only made me groan grumpily, and I shook my head with a hard inhale. “We’re going out. Do you want to come?”
“Yeah, I guess…” Grumbling into my pillow, I heaved a sigh before pulling in my limbs to hold myself on my hands and knees. My eyes were heavy with I blinked, and my face felt raw. “Where?”
“Did you sleep in your clothesandyour makeup last night? It’s all over the place, Joci.” My field of vision was so fuzzy, and I blinked and stretched my face in an effort to clear it. “… You’re staying here? In America?”
My head whipped up, my eyes finding Ophelia as she gazed at the pile of American documents next to me. Instantly, guilt soured my tongue and stuck it to the roof of my mouth, and I sat on my heels to gulp harshly. Her rounded face twisted I surprise, brows rising, and my own furrowed when her bright, brown eyes met mine. Twinkling with happiness and excitement, her gaze showed no negativity, and she reached to grab my hand and squeeze.
“Is that why you look like you cried yourself to sleep? Is Aleksander forcing you to stay here if the negotiations go well?”Uh…I didn’t discourage Ophelia’s sympathy, only nodding before hastily gathering up the cards and papers. Stuffing them into the nightstand drawer, I threw my legs over the side of the bed as an ugly feeling roiled in my stomach. “I know he’s a controlling ass, Joci, but America won’t be that bad. At least you can have more freedom.”
“I really don’t want to talk about it, Ophelia— no offence… I’m still trying to process it all…” I hoped that would be enough to keep her from probing, but I knew Ophelia wouldn’t need to. She was scarily perceptive. Standing up, I ran my hands through my messed hair and took a stabilizing breath before turning to her. “Yeah— I need to take a shower, so it might be a while.”
“That’s fine. We’re not ready yet, either, and Reece said he’d need an hour or so before we do anything, too. Take your time. We’re trying to think of stuff to fill all day, so if you want to see anything specific, let me know.” Goosebumps washed down my back at the notion of filling the entire day with stupid,strenuoustourist crap. My body ached just thinking of it. “Text me when you’re ready, and I’ll text you when we’re ready to go.”
“Okay— yeah.” Ophelia walked out of my room as quietly as she’d entered, leaving me to stare at the empty space where’d she’d hung over me. Across the seemingly endless expanse of beige sheet, her phantom presence lingered to haunt me. Reaching sluggishly to hold my elbow, a scowl darkened my face.
This day was going tosuck. And worse— I didn’t want anyone to know about my staying in America,least of allOphelia. She’d think so far deep into it, but never ask me the questions brewing in her eyes.
“Shit.” Fishing in my pockets with my other hand, I shimmied out of my high-waisted pants to frown down at my legs. My fingers were cold when I touched the metal plate holding my tibia together. Clenching my jaw hard, my lips thinned as memories beat against the backs of my eyes. The long, dark scar was smooth against my palm, I inhaled deeply through flared nostrils and struggled not to blink.
‘Anatoly ruined your life because you dumped him’.Aleksander’s words from last night bubbled up through the thick fog in my head, and I held my breath. Shuffling to the bathroom, I stared at myself in the full-length mirror hanging on the back of the door. Gingerly pulling my shirt off, my forearms burned even from doing such a simple task before the thin fabric fluttered to the tiled floor.
I was stupid. I should’ve listened to my gut rot— to my friends’ wariness, who were more reckless than me— but that was exactly why I pursued Anatoly. He wasdangerous. He wassexy. He was a bad asshole that lived on the edge.
Of insanity.Dragging my palms down my abdomen, over the absolutely disgusting scar that stretched almost the entirety of my chest, my scowl morphed into a sneer. The dark line cut from the middle of my sternum all the way to my pelvis, and I wasdamned luckythat I could hide it. If I wore nice clothes that complimented my body, no one would be able to see that one of my hips was higher than the other. No one would see that one arm was slightly longer than the other. No one would see that my fingernails were fake.
All because I chose, despite my better judgment, to screw around with the Devil.
Reaching to unclasp the front of my bra, I covered my breasts and gulped down the sudden tightness in my throat. Goosebumps pockmarked my skin in blotches, and I hoovered up a shallow breath before lowering my hands.
My stomach roiled dangerously as I pushed my breasts together to stretch wide the angry, raised marks on their sides. Each, thin line sent tendrils of pin-needle pain through my breasts and down my side. I was so used to it, now, that it didn’t bother me as much as it had.How sad.