Page 75 of So Thirsty

“Are you okay?”

She laughs. “Fuck no. Are you?”

I press the button down. The window whirs. I dig one of the rings out of my pocket and toss it out the window. A symbolic gesture, not of freedom or release, but of solidarity.

“Nope,” I say.

I look out at the side-view mirror as if I might be able to see where my ring landed, its resting place until someone else happens upon it, or it sinks so deep into the earth that it’s lost forever.

I don’t see the ring, but I do see the shady van. It’s behind us.

“There’s that van again.”

“What van?”

“It was behind us earlier. I think it’s following us.”

Her eyes flick up to the rearview. “I don’t think it’s the same van.”

“It’s definitely the same van.” It’s black, and there’s a distinctive dent in the side.

We pull up to an intersection. Red light. The van breaks about a car length away from us, so we can’t see who’s driving.

“Might be a guy,” Naomi says, squinting. “What do you think? Slam on the gas?”

“Easy, Steve McQueen. Just take a right.”

“Who would be trailing us? That’s not Ilie’s car. Do cops drive unmarked vans? Also, I didn’t see anything in the news.”

“You checked the news?”

“Yeah, I checked,” she says. “Nothing at the Waterfront, which tracks. I was thinking about it, and do you really think they’d let it get out that one of their employees was attacked while getting high in the woods? His story would be too ridiculous. And they have to protect their reputation. Imagine the pearl clutching.”

“The light’s green.”

She puts her signal on and makes a quick turn.

“What about…” I can’t finish the sentence.

“Nothing about a missing man in the Finger Lakes.”

“I wish that made me feel better,” I say as I look out the back window for the van. It goes straight.

“See? Not being followed,” she says.

“I wish that made me feel better,” I repeat.

“We should stop at an ATM. Get cash out.”

“If we’re not suspected of being criminals, should we maybe stop acting like criminals?” I ask. “Won’t it look suspicious if we withdraw a bunch of cash?”

“Not a bunch,” she says, pulling up to a Chase. “Enough for gas. I mean, what else do we need?”

Nothing money can buy.

24

T he van reappears on our way back to the motel. “Maybe it’s just driving around?” Naomi says, pulling into the parking lot. The van goes past, and we hold our breath until it’s out of sight.