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CHAPTER1
Angela
After adjustingmy glasses and checking my travel spreadsheet again, I determined I was a half hour behind schedule.
Virginia was a long way from Boston, and I’d planned four pee breaks of nine minutes each. But to stay alert, I’d downed two extra Red Bulls and three Pepsis. Those had taken a toll on my bladder.
No wonder that astronaut lady had worn diapers on her nine-hundred-mile trip to attack her love rival. She hadn’t arrived late.
Before restarting the car, I buckled in and tightened the seatbelt—a habit Kevin had derided as stupid. In his mind, using a seatbelt in a car or a helmet on a motorcycle showed weakness, and he was all about appearances.
Screw you, Kevin. I’m all about smarts.
I typed a message to my friends Laurie and Debbie. The plan had been to text them after arriving, but waiting wasn’t my strong suit today. With my heart pounding, the keystrokes themselves set me free.
ME: Escaped at last - on the way - more later
The disappointment of being behind schedule was nothing compared to the exhilaration of having finally taken this step.
I rejoined the freeway, pressed down on the gas, and soon the scenery rushed past in a green blur. My phone dinged with a text. I held it up to my face while negotiating the next curve. The sender’s name gave me a shiver. I knew this was coming, and I could already anticipate the series that would follow.
KEVIN: Where are you?
I’d hoped to reach my stepsister’s place before he missed me, but Kevin’s schedule wasn’t as predictable as his temper. I typed a response with one thumb and read the words out loud.
ME: Going on a road trip
Even this far away from him, the words seemed too confrontational, too sure to provoke him to anger. I deleted it. This was an aspect of my escape I should have planned better. I couldn’t yet say any of the things I’d kept bottled up—not until I was safe. Another message arrived.
KEVIN: I hope dinner isn’t going to be late.
What he meant was it had betternotbe late, or else. I should’ve told him to make it himself, but I wasn’t brave enough—not yet. I didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to deal with the fallout. Instead, I gave him some good news to chew on—something to delay the fireworks.
ME: I finished the Cleveland project and sent it off.
I’d actually sent it off yesterday. After hitting send, I looked up.
Shit.
A row of red lights ahead surprised me. Jamming on the brakes, I brought the car to a stop a few feet behind a semi. I calmed myself with a few deep breaths. The brakes had broughtmeto a halt, but not my racing heart.
That had been too close. No thanks to Kevin, I almost became one of those distracted-driving statistics.
“Fuck.” I pounded the steering wheel. There must be an accident ahead. When would the yahoos in this part of the country learn to drive like the rest of the world? Some hick probably guzzled a few beers too many before getting behind the wheel. “Learn to drive, will ya?”
My rant was cut off by another text.
KEVIN: Good work
It wasn’t good work; it was fuckingexcellentwork—or whatever word was better than that. At the first rest stop in New Jersey, I’d gotten online and checked. They’d sent the payment, and I had my getaway money. That was a relief. They’d promised prompt payment, but it had been the one variable I couldn’t control in this whole plan.
My phone rang. Dreading that it might be him, I let it ring.
When it rang again, I turned the phone over and was relieved to find my stepsister Grace’s name on the screen. The good news had stopped Kevin’s hassling for the moment.
“Hi,” I answered.
“You need to answer your phone.”
