Ronnie’s neck hurt from constantly looking around. Every black car set her on edge. Every vehicle following her made her tense until her teeth ached.
Plus, she had never driven anything as big as Stan’s brown van. All the windows covered in curtains. The gas pedal feeling like it was just out of reach even though her seat was all the way forward.
Halfway into the trip to the Airbnb and her knuckles creaked. Forearms burning from holding the wheel so tight.
The stereo sounded amazing though.
In the back was everything she and Stan owned. She looked at it in the rearview mirror. It wasn’t much, but she couldn’t go back to her apartment. Key West was out of the question.
If they could just hole up in the new place for a while. Catch their breath. Maybe they could make a plan, one that included a few days of shopping.
As she neared her destination, the traffic thinned, making it easier to spot if anybody was following her. Also easier for somebody to run her off the road where the van would sink into the swampy weeds and nobody would ever find her.
The road was close on both sides with creeping vegetation. Parallel with the Atlantic, but a few miles inland. She saw a car in the distance ahead. Nothing behind since turning north. She relaxed into the plush seat and turned the radio up.
Some jazz cassette Stan liked to listen to, or maybe a different cassette. She wasn’t sure. Jazz wasn’t her thing. She didn't even think it was Stan’s thing.
It had probably been something Frank had listened to, and it was Stan’s way of being close to him. The same reason she was listening to it. To be close to Stan.
She had to appreciate it though. It was swinging, and she could dance to it. What more could anyone want from their music?
She checked her mirrors as the car passed by, and after she went around a gentle curve, it was as if she was the only driver on the road. The only person in the world.
The previous uncertainty of their situation hadn’t bothered her as much as it had Gen and Stan. Mo had been his usual self the whole time. Smooth and groovy, and willing to wait to see what happened.
That was how she had felt. There were so many things in sequence. This thing had to wait for that thing before they could plan. Just wait for those things and then go from there.
But now, she understood how they had felt. That helplessness. Like getting caught in a rip and clawing for the surface. Not knowing which way was up.
Like how she felt when the man with the nice smile had attacked her in her apartment. Unable to fight. Fear gripping her so hard all she could do was obey.
She pushed her hair back so she could see past it. Checked her mirrors again. A car coming around the curve behind her. How had it gotten there so fast? Did she miss it? Did it come out of a driveway?
Sun filtering down through the trees made the car look like a strobe light. Sparkling off the silver paint. Not black, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t following her. It just wasn’t the Charger she had been told to look out for.
It was a sports car though. Low-slung and mean-looking. Headlights that looked like slanted eyes.
Ronnie’s turn was coming up. The private drive that would take her to the beach house Stan had rented. She didn’t want to make the turn when there was somebody behind her that could be watching, so she slowed down.
Waited to see if the silver car would pass.
The windows were nearly black, and the roar as it tore past her vibrated up through her bones. It seemed like an obnoxious car to follow somebody with, but she still waited for it to disappear around the next curve before picking her pace back up. Waited almost a mile before finding a place to turn around.
When she got back to her driveway, there was nobody in either direction. Stan said the traffic would pick up around lunchtime. A power station let out on their road, an easy route to the highway, and for an hour or so, the traffic would be thick again. It would quiet down again until four o’clock or so and then be busy until dark.
As she rolled down the slight incline of the driveway nestled between encroaching vines and trees, she saw the flash of a car pass on the road behind her. A silver sports car. Was it the same?
She hit the gas to get down the driveway faster, and the van slid on the loose gravel covering the cracked asphalt. If it had been the same car, hopefully it hadn’t been able to see her. The van was like a giant dry booger. Maybe the shadows concealed it.
Or maybe she just hadn’t been careful enough.
She wouldn’t dare complain. After begging for something to do, she couldn’t tell Stan she was afraid of messing up the very first thing he gave her. She suspected he only asked her to do it because he was too busy doing something else. He had no choice but to ask her.
That wasn’t fair. There was still the woman from Key West. He said he talked to her and took care of it, but Ronnie could still swear she saw her behind them a time or two in the last few days.
Then there was Bradley. He had threatened Gen with a gun, but she had kicked his ass and sent him on his way with his tail between his legs. And they hadn’t told anyone. Gen had convinced her that they could handle him themselves.
Was he still looking for them too? The bad guys — whoever they were, the brown-haired woman — Stan called her Patti, but Ronnie didn’t think it was her real name, and now some angry ex-boyfriend of somebody she barely knew. How could she keep up with it all?
On top of the worry about her face. Not only was it very recognizable, but she still had appointments with her doctor to monitor the scarring. And her therapist was probably very concerned at her absence.
Every crack in the driveway was overgrown with brown weeds. Little purple flowers. The limbs of the trees hung out far enough to scratch against the windows. She wondered what kind of shithole she was about to see.
The trees opened into the property — cut grass but wild bushes and landscaping — and though her fears weren’t satisfied, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.
A double-wide trailer with a view of the ocean. An overgrown path wandering a few hundred yards down to a beach covered in jagged stones and driftwood.
Mint green siding with a white metal roof. Black metal steps and railings. A crooked cedar deck built around an above-ground pool. A concrete pad with a huge smoker sitting on it under a cedar pergola.
Not exactly paradise, but as she pulled in to where the asphalt became weedy gravel, she felt her tension bleed away. It was private, it was safe, and they could all be together.
She stepped out into the sun. Pulled her wide hat up to protect her face. Texted Stan that she had arrived safely. Ended it with a kissy face emoji.
It didn’t surprise her that there was still a bit of worry, but she was surprised at how easily she made it recede. Like a mental shrug.
She’d tell them about the silver car. It was probably nothing, but she didn’t want to keep anything from anybody anymore. And with a nod, she decided to tell them about Bradley too. It might make Gen angry, but their friendship would survive.
Besides, they were a little busy for Mo and Stan to get riled up and drive off like a posse going after a cattle rustler.
As she pulled the first bag out of the van, she wondered how long they would be here. Wondered what the plan was going to be. Realized with a smile that it didn’t matter. It was going to be all right.
She had to believe it.
She still looked back at the dark driveway every second breath though.