Page 2 of No Escape
But…
The face looking back at me from her picture didn’t look like that of a drug smuggler. Or an addict.
But hell, what did I know? My job wasn’t to determine guilt or innocence, I just needed to get her ass to jail so she could stand trial and I’d get paid. End of story. I just hoped that she didn’t have a substantial horde of cash with her and connections to people who could make her disappear, or it may be hard to find her. If not impossible. The richer they were, the easier it was for them to hide if they had access to their money and were smart enough not to leave a trail.
“Hey Sarah, can you come in here a moment?” I yelled from my office then stared at the open doorway waiting for my assistant to pop her head in.
She was quicker to respond than usual, appearing in the open doorway within seconds with a smile on her face. “What can I do for you Dayton?”
“I need you to start making some calls and book me a flight.”
“Yes, Sir.” She started to leave, then turned back to face me. “When you catch her could you get me an autograph? I loved her in Animalistic Instincts.”
1
ELLE
So this was my life now…
At one point everything the world had to offer was at my fingertips, but now… Now, I wasn’t sure if I’d even have a place to lay my head tomorrow. Maybe another rent-by-the-hour motel. It was only a matter of time before they caught up with me.
It was just a question of which “them” would be the first to find me.
If it wasn’t for the fact that I’d cried what felt like a gallon of tears over the past few days then I’d be breaking down into a sobbing mess as I opened the door to the dingy motel room I’d paid cash for. This wasn’t the type of place that gave a shit about ID. It was more the place where every unsavory character in the city came to rest—among other things.
A moldy smell assaulted my nostrils, making me gag a little as I stepped inside. The carpets were so old you could see the wear of feet from the doorway, around the bed, and moving toward the bathroom.
Oh, how the mighty had fallen. My arrest seemed to take my career from successful to a degree of infamy no success could ever garner. It had my face plastered here—plastered worldwide. Oh, how Hollywood and the paparazzi loved a scandal. Just months ago I was at a photoshoot, adorned with expensive jewels, and being told how stunning and lucky I was while waiting for the shooting of my latest movie. The sky was the limit.
And today.
Today, I was on the run after not showing up for my trial.
It had been a stupid and impulsive thing. Partially fueled by fear of being convicted and being hauled off to jail, but also fueled by the fact that my defense revolved around exposing people that no one in their right mind would expose.
I was in a lose-lose situation.
So I ran. At least on the run I had a fighting chance.
Perhaps even a chance to figure out a way to achieve my freedom. Although going back to my old life, even if I could get out of this mess seemed like an impossibility.
I scanned the tiny room. There was a little double bed with a faded floral blanket that looked like it was something straight out of the 80s. Probably has bed bugs, among other things. Closing the door, I slipped the heavy duffel bag off my shoulder and then shrugged my backpack off my back, placing them both on the bed. There was no bounce as the bags fell onto the bed, just a soft thud sound. No more luxurious cloud-soft mattresses or Egyptian cotton sheets.
But I was still alive and not in prison. That had to count for something—didn’t it?
Pulling back the blanket, I breathed a sigh of relief. The white sheets looked clean and just out of the wash crisp. Clean sheets and another day of freedom. I’d take it.
After showering in the surprisingly clean shower, I pulled on a hoodie and leggings, pulling the hood of the hoodie up and over my head. I hadn’t worn make-up since I made a run for it. Lucky for me, the images of me on the billboards and on television were an illusion of who I was. Without the magic of make-up artists, I could almost pass as an entirely different person.
Opening the duffel bag, I grabbed a fistful of bills equaling a few hundred dollars and stuffed them into my purse. Food. I’d get something quick to eat at the diner down the road and back to my room. After a good night’s sleep, I’d figure out my next move.
ELLE
Lifting my fist and knocking on the burgundy-colored door of the bungalow, in the middle of buttfuck nowhere Maine, was the last thing I wanted to do, but I had no other choice. She was my last resort and I knew I had a fifty/fifty shot that she’d slam the door in my face and call the police. I could only hope that she was a better person than I would be if the roles were reversed.
A dog barked inside the tiny home and I gripped the handle of my leather duffel bag a little tighter. I had money. A lot of it. Life changing for most. If she wouldn’t do it for me then maybe she’d see the financial benefit was good enough to house a bail jumper.
You should have just turned yourself in. A voice nagged me at the back of my mind.
