Page 62 of How May I Please You

I smile at the random woman standing at the exit as we disembark the ferry that brought us from Bellingham, Washington to Haines, Alaska, and I can barely believe what she just said. Alaska? We actually made it here? After everything we’ve been through, we’re not still running? We’re safe? Un-fucking-real.

It has taken us over a week to get here. Once we met with Journey’s old friend from high school in New York, we took the used car they loaned us and drove it across the country, stopping only to sleep and refuel. Three days went by with us on the road before we finally made it to Bellingham. We had to wait an additional three days there so that we could procure fake IDs, before boarding the ferry and taking the Alaska Marine Highway System, which took another three days on the water before we made it here in Haines. Through each and every day of our stressful trip, I could feel the tension floating off of Journey like steam. She was anxious the entire time, knowing that we’d burned our lives to the ground before leaving the east coast. I’m sure she feels guilty about her part in all of this, but the truth of it is that we bear equal blame. I should've moved the body I buried months ago, and maybe Journey should have caught on to the fact that Summers was a mole planted by Internal Affairs to bring us down, but neither of us is perfect. If we had all of the information that we have now, we would have made different moves. Everyone knows the saying about hindsight.

As wild as the ride was, we have to focus on what is in front of us now. Somehow we made it all the way to Haines, Alaska from Philadelphia, and now we have to rent a car and drive to our final stop; Seward, which is another sixteen hours on the road. I’m sure Haines is a nice place, but it’s too close to the edge of the state and a known stop for travelers using the ferry. We need to be somewhere small, a place that gives us culture shock because of how different it is from Philly. It’s going to suck for a while, but that is what’s required in order to evade the police that are surely on the hunt, hoping we pop up on their radar by being careless. I’ll be damned if we make it this far and get caught now. So, Seward it is.

As we make our way out of the port and into the bright sun, I see mountains for the first time in my life and I know I’ve made the right decision. There was a moment where I was nervous about what I was doing, anxious about the way Journey had been hoarding lies. I was afraid I would have to ditch her because she couldn't be trusted, but she has proven herself.

It’s more than just the E carved into her back. While that was a start for me, the way she shot her own captain sealed the deal, and watching her hotwire a car in a Walmart parking lot gave her extra points. She has shown her commitment, and I’m grateful for her. Now that it’s all said and done, I couldn't imagine coming here without her. I would rather die. You don't go through the ups and downs we have, barely making it out the other side, and then just throw it away because one of us may have stalked the other. As crazy as that sounds, I can’t deny that I followed Journey to her house and watched her through her window before we were together. She’s not the only one who has embraced stalker vibes. I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a hypocrite, so we won’t let that deter us. We will not be discarding what we’ve built. We will nurture it and make it grow from here.

Soon, my dark voice will return and I will be tempted to beat the shit out of someone, or maybe even cut someone open and hide the body. When that time comes, I will not give in. I can’t allow myself to let the beast take over here, and for more than just myself. I have to keep it at bay because Journey needs it. She needs me to be her example just as much as she needs me to be her Dom.

In Philly, I told her that I didn't really care about her burning down the diner, but I did care about the lies. How could I be upset about her setting fire to an unoccupied diner when I have murdered multiple people? However, I will tolerate no such thing here. In Alaska, we will not burn down buildings, or bury people, or cut out tongues, or strangle anyone and make it look like a suicide. Our violent days have to be behind us, no matter how hard or dark it gets. I will provide the example. I will show her the way, and she will follow, otherwise we’re as good as caught.

I hate that I had to leave Trey high and dry. By now, he has learned that I’ve murdered multiple cops and strangled a girl to death. I’m sure he has already lost his mind and had multiple conversations with the guys about me. I’m sure some of them have even alluded to the possibility of me killing Cain. It doesn't matter now. The last time we saw each other was the night I saved his life, and while he may not look back on our friendship as fondly as me, I’m glad he is still on this side of the ground. I won't get to attend his wedding, but at least he’ll get to have one.

As I look back at Journey as she sits in the small waiting area watching me rent our vehicle, I smile at her because I know we’re going to be fine. As long as we communicate the way we do when we’re in the bedroom in the moments that we’re not, we won't have any problems. We left a life behind that was riddled with bullet holes and fabrications, and we get to build a new one with all of our best parts and none of our worst. We get to live our dream here … as long as we don't kill anybody.

“Where you headed?” the very large man behind the counter says after I hand him my new ID with the name Justin Jenkins typed on it.

“Seward,” I say, leaning against the counter.

“Damn. That’s a sixteen-hour drive,” the man replies. “You sure you don't wanna fly?”

If I could fly without getting flagged for my warrant and arrested on the spot, I would've flown all the way there instead of taking the ferry, asshole.

I clear my throat and plaster on a fake smile.

“I'm sure,” I reply, pushing the beast away.

The man shrugs and clicks away on his computer. “Okay then. Let’s get you hooked up. You can return the vehicle at our branch in Seward. It’s going to be the white Toyota in the third row. Have a safe trip Mr. Jenkins.”

“Thank you,” I reply, taking the keys.

I smile at Journey and she smiles back as she gets up and helps me with our bags. We exit the store and quickly find the Toyota, and Journey assists me with loading the luggage into the trunk, avoiding further damage to my wounded upper chest. Once we’re all set, we climb in and close the doors. I don't waste time starting the engine and hitting the road, because this trip is already long enough. I turn the car onto the street and our new life rolls to a start as Journey and I reach across the center console and interlock our fingers together.

This is it, the beginning of our new life. No more bodies, no more lying, no more running, and no looking back. I don't even want to. I’d rather look at the mountains.

epilogue ii

~ journey ~

(Six Months Later)

I’m still not used to any of this, Sir. I know you said it would take some time, but six months should be enough, right? I guess not, but it’s fine. One of these days I’ll be used to my hair being this short. I’ll get used to wearing clothes that look like I was made to be a hunter, fucking earth tones draped all over me. I’ll get used to the old manager named Larry working in the office behind me. I’ll get used to hearing customers bicker back and forth as they stand in front of the fishing poles while I watch them silently behind the counter, wearing a name tag that reads Shawna. I’ll grow used to the fact that I went from being a detective to a cashier at Willie’s Bait & Tackle in Seward, Alaska. I’ll come to love it all one day, but it’s going to take a miracle for me to get used to the constant smell of fish in this building. For that, I ask for your patience.

Seward is a port town dropped on the edge of the most gorgeous piece of land the world has to offer. It’s stunning here, surrounded by water and lush green forest everywhere. The perfect place for two wanted criminals from the east coast to hide out for the rest of their lives. It has been six months now, but the night we arrived here feels like just yesterday—the night we killed two cops and evaded all the rest. They still want us in Philly. Desperately. You don't kill an Internal Affairs detective and a precinct captain without every officer in the area foaming at the mouth, wishing on every star that they could be the one to fill you with hot metal. They’ll have to keep wishing, because we are long gone. The smell of fish is worth it.

In the weeks following our submersion into this new life, I continued to check in on the happenings at home. To no one’s surprise, Detective Summers’ and Captain Saunders’ deaths were attributed to us before we even boarded the ferry in Washington. The following month, I found a report saying that the Andrea’s Diner fire still hadn't led to any charges and was basically going cold in a hurry. Chad Swanson was never charged, and they never learned that it was me. Captain Saunders’ wife and kids looked miserable at his funeral, but I’ve never been the one to be moved by sad faces. Even now, in my peaceful life up north, I’m unbothered by their tears. Saunders wasn’t a bad guy, but he got in our way … and he shot you. Some lines are never allowed to be crossed.

Over time, our names began to fade away. The Seventh Precinct went from press conferences about us, to articles on the front page, to seventh page stories in online-only magazines. I doubt that they’ve given up, but the truth that the public doesn't know is that people get away with murder all the time. Killers vanish into the night on a regular basis. We’ve simply added our names to the list of people who managed to get away with our crimes. Journey and Evan are no more, and will never return.

“I just don't know if I want the red one or not,” one of the two men says, arguing with his partner about which fishing pole to buy. The way the two of them try to keep their voices down makes me smirk.

“For the love of god, Kaspian. Just pick one,” the other man says.

“Fine. You’re lucky I love you, Quin,” the man replies, still looking between the two poles.

His partner rolls his eyes. “You pay and I’ll wait outside.”

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