Runaways by Nicole Dykes
We’ve been here for over two months now. We’ve found odd jobs here and there, and we’re staying at the same hotel, paying two fifty a week. We haven’t had any contact with Nash or anyone from back home, but we know we’ve been reported missing.
I saw a poster looking for both of us about two weeks after we got here.
I guess Colin and my mother couldn’t keep it quiet any longer with school starting back up. Although our missing-from date was altered to the night before school started.
Thankfully, there are no leads. It was reported that we ran away together, and that Lawson should be considered dangerous.
It made me sick to my stomach, but Lawson just buried it. We barely talk. It’s been hell. I’ve tried to convince him to go back without me, to no avail. We’re in this together, no matter what.
But I see the pressure he feels. For some reason, he thinks it’s his job to take care of me, and honestly, that fact makes me want to scream.
Everything’s changed, and nothing can go back to normal.
“I gotta go.” I look up from the book I packed and have read at least a hundred times by now.
“Where are you going?” It’s early but we wake up early now, trying to get a jump on a gig-type job.
He pulls on a t-shirt over his head and smooths it down. “I got a job for the day. It’s only for today, but it’s ten dollars an hour for ten hours.”
“What is it?” He didn’t tell me last night.
“It’s nasty. But it’s fine. And they pay cash.”
I sit up on my knees as he sits on the edge of the bed and tugs on his shoes. “How nasty?”
“Clean up.” He shrugs. “But it’s a hundred bucks. And we need it.”
Our savings have dwindled. We’re paid up at the hotel for the week, but so far only have fifty toward next week, and that doesn’t include food. “Do they have anything for me?”
He finishes tying his shoes and looks at me over his shoulder. With his hair cut so short now, he looks so different. Still painfully beautiful, but maybe . . . harsher? More defined lines. His jaw is profound, and his eyes are striking without hair to frame his face whatsoever. “No.”
“No?” I stand when he does.
“No, Rae. They don’t.” He pulls a hoodie on, leaving the hood over his head.
I place a hand on my hip. “You asked?”
“I asked. No women.”
“They can’t say that.” My voice is annoying even to me, but what the hell? “That’s discrimination.”
“Their discrimination, not mine. Okay? Don’t get mad at me.”
I fight angry tears and take a deep breath. “I’m not mad, but I need a job too. You treat me like I’m going to shatter. I’m not glass, Lawson.”
He takes a step closer to me, his frame towering over mine, but I’m still not afraid of him. I know he won’t hurt me, no matter how angry he is. And he’s definitely angry these days. We’ve both lost weight, though, and he’s lankier than ever, clinging on to the mass of muscle he had before. “I know you’re not fucking glass, Rae. I know. But goddamn it, you need to chill. I’m doing everything I can to keep you safe.”
“It’s not your job to keep me safe.” I gesture wildly, months of pent-up anger and frustration bursting from me. He won’t yell at me, but he does it with his eyes. He doesn’t want to upset me, but he does with his silence.
He looks hurt, his eyes flashing with the pain. “What are you talking about? Of course, it is.”
“No. It’s not. I’m not a fragile being that needs you to guard her. I can take care of myself.”
He scoffs, and rage boils up through me.
“I can.”
“I know you can, Rae.” He moves even closer, his shoes touching my toes. “I just . . .”
“What?”
I can see so many things he wants to say in his expression, but instead, he only sighs. “I have to go. We need the money. Lock the door behind me, and don’t go anywhere.”
“We need to talk.” He’s already on his way to the door. “Lawson.”
He turns to look at me, sadness and frustration on his beautiful face. “Later.”
I give a quick nod, catching the sob in my throat. “Okay.”
He leaves, and I go over and lock the door. I feel hopeless, and I’m sick of that feeling. I take a shower and get dressed, thinking that we need to go to the laundromat again soon. But considering we don’t even have enough money for the motel or food, that’s going to have to wait.
I decide to take a chance and leave the room, cautiously looking around before I walk to the office. There’s only one other car parked here, and I doubt they will recognize me. Still, I pull my hood over my head and walk quickly to the front desk.
The man grunts a hello, and I try my best to plaster a smile on my face. He has to be the owner because he’s the only one who is ever here. He’s the same man who was here the first day we came in. “Um . . . Hi.”
“What can I do for you? I can’t do anything about the fucking pipes. The water heats up eventually.”
No. It really doesn’t. “That’s not why I’m here.”
“Then why?” He glares daggers at me, and I decide to just go for it.
“I was wondering if you had any work for me around here. Maybe like cleaning or something?”
“Cleaning?” He raises one eyebrow, and yeah, I can guess why he’s looking at me like that. The place is anything but clean, and Law and I are about the only guests most of the time.
“I see you have a guest. Maybe their room needs to be cleaned?”
Please.
He chuckles, leaning back in his chair. His shirt has come untucked from his pants, revealing a sliver of his hairy belly hanging over them. “This is really not a motel that cares about cleanliness.”
“Still . . .” I have to try. “You have to clean some. And I haven’t seen anyone who does.”
“My wife does.” He seems to be thinking it over as I stand there with my back straight and hoping for a lifeline. He scratches his chin. “But I could probably find a little something for you to do.”
“Really?” My heart races at the thought of finding my own job to help.
He pats his thigh with his hand, his eyes shifting straight to predatory. “Yeah. I mean, you’re a pretty little thing, I suppose.”
My hope fades away just like that, and I take a step back. “N-no.”
He shrugs, dropping his hand from his lap. “You’re going to have to learn the harsh truth of the world someday, girl.”
I won’t cry. “And what’s that?”
“You really only have a couple of uses in this world. And they involve that pretty mouth and what’s between your legs.” My jaw drops, my mouth agape as he just chuckles. “Get out of here.”
I don’t waste any time doing just that. Backing out of the door and running back to the room, locking it behind me.
I sit on the bed and clutch my stomach, sickened by him and by Colin. Refusing to believe that every man will hurt a woman, reminding myself that Law and Nash are good men. That they wouldn’t ever hurt a woman like I’ve been hurt.
But I’m slowly losing my faith in humanity.
