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I dress in my gym gear, then go to my home gym for two hours of hard, grueling exercise to quiet my thoughts. Once I have exhausted myself, I take a quick shower.
I get dressed in my crisp, black button down long-sleeve shirt, sleeves rolled up to my elbows, black slacks, and shiny, black shoes. Then I go to grab my phone from the nightstand. I look at the screen to see two texts from Stefano, Sofia's father. I'm not the only one she left; her mother has been drinking more every day to the point of passing out anywhere, then does it all over again when she wakes up to realize her daughter is gone. Stefano barely goes home now, spending more time with his mistress, whom he's building a life, and thinking of divorcing Victoria. He still loves her, he just can't deal with her or the pain she puts him through anymore. I think there's more to the situation. He needs to really look into it; he doesn't even like this new woman; she's just a distraction for him.
I open the text.
Stefano: No luck in England
Stefano: I just had another phone call while waiting for my flight to take off. Another girl was spotted in a small town in Texas. Marfa. She was the same height, slightly curvier than our Sofia, but it has been three years. She had long, dark hair down her waist with streaks of blue in it.
They were sent five minutes ago. I message them back.
Me: Ok, I doubt it is her in Texas. She never liked high heat or small towns.
I'm positive of it. He messages straight back, and I stand up straighter as I read the text.
Stefano: That's what I thought—until I read the report they sent me. She's 23, working behind a bar at night, taking classes for her nursing degree at the State of Texas College twice weekly over the past three years. When she started, she was already a year into it. Does her name, Sophie Rossi, sound familiar? There could be a good chance she went with something similar to keep us off her track.
My heart fucking stops. It sounds like her, but is it, though? Surely, she’s pick a new, untraceable name.
Me: Send me the details, and I will investigate this one myself!
My heart crashes in my chest. Is this her?
Then I think of the women I tried to fuck to punish her for leaving me, and I pale. I bolt to the bathroom before throwing up everything I've eaten as guilt beats at me, and a tear leaks from my eye.
eleven
Sofia – Age 23
Gosh, I am tired! I'm standing behind the bar I work at in a small town called Marfa. I've been working here since the second day I arrived. The bar owner of Gloria's is, well, Gloria, who I like to call Glory, much to her distaste. She's in her late 40s, only 5’3’, with brown shoulder-length hair, and curvy, but absolutely gorgeous. She’s divorced, and an absolute hoot to work for. I remember when I walked into this bar, thinking I was just passing through. She took one look at me and told me to sit my ass down. I’ve felt right at home since.
I look to my right and see my friend and co-worker Adam staring at me with sad green eyes, his red hair spiked up. I chuckle, which makes him scowl.
"Okay, what's with the long face?" I call out to him.
"You're leaving us; tonight's your last night. Who am I going to get on the bar top with now?" Adam murmurs solemnly, and I burst out in laughter. A boisterous, loud chuckle comes from my left, and I see Adam's partner, Bruce, walk in. Bruce is a large, handsome, bald man, covered in tattoos, and is three inches taller than Adam at 6-ft.
Very dramatically, I shout, "Bruce, quick, he's having another meltdown!"
The whole bar erupts in laughter, making Adam sulk. His pout makes everyone laugh louder. Bruce walks over to his man's side of the bar and leans over to him, smirking before rubbing his finger along his cheek and whispering sweet nothings, making all of us ladies and some men swoon. The people in this town are used to us like this by now; they've all been amazing to me since I arrived.
They all believe I'm Sophie from L.A. Only Glory and April, my next-door neighbor and close friend, know the truth, and have helped keep me hidden from my family and husband. Glory pays me off the books, and April, who I met two days after leaving the cheap motel parking lot I was sleeping in. She cleans the motel rooms, and has been doing it since she was 18. She's now 28.
When I met her, she was wearing jean shorts and a t-shirt, her bob-cut, black hair was pushed back with a headband, gray eyes looking at me with pity. I hated that look at the time, but then she proceeded to tell me about the two-bedroom apartment next door to her on Maple Street, and I jumped at the chance. It's on the second floor, and there's no elevator, but it's perfect and completely paid off the books.
Before meeting Glory, I had traveled for over twenty hours to get here—around 445 miles—only stopping twice—the first stop was in Nashville overnight. The second was to swap my car a day sooner. After April offered me the apartment, Glory offered me a waitressing job when I walked in and sat down, looking sad and pathetic. She pitied me, but I couldn't look a gift horse in the mouth and accepted the job, then worked my ass off. A year later, I was promoted to bartender, working with Adam. When I wasn’t working, I was studying.
"I'm going to work at the hospital downtown, not across the border. Stop being dramatic."
"I know, but I love working shifts with you, my bestie. No matter what April says, I found you first," Adam states proudly.
"Actually, Ad, I found her first, fuck you very much," Glory says from behind me, making me twirl around to her and start laughing at her outfit.
"Wha-what the hell are you-you wearing?" Bruce stutters, trying to hold his laughter in while the whole bar, including myself, pisses ourselves laughing, not being able to hold it in.
She's in her usual jeans, but her t-shirt, which is frilly around the sleeves, has a big ass picture of me with the words: “Sophie's best friend, not Adam's,” written beneath it.
Holy shit, I can't with this one; I'm near enough on the floor here!
