Pretty Sly (16 page)

And there was a little part of me—okay, maybe a medium-sized part—that was loving every minute. Here we were, the two of us cruising down the highway in a Land Rover. Which we’d stolen. And that was pretty badass. Wrong, but badass.

Aidan was busy pointing out the advantages to our new ride. “It has satellite radio, so you don’t have to listen to classic rock anymore. And here,” he said, reaching over and handing me an eyeglass case.

I opened it up and found a gorgeous pair of Barton Perreira sunglasses, square frames with metal trim and smoky lenses. “These cost like five hundred bucks,” I said. I remembered because Kellie had pointed them out to me at Neiman Marcus once.

“Only the best for your priceless face,” he said. He turned off a side street to drive through the center of town so we could get back on the highway. “Try them on.”

I shook my head, putting them on reluctantly, trying to ignore the surge of joy I got from him saying my face was pretty. That was what priceless meant, wasn’t it?

“They’re the perfect disguise,” he said. And when I looked in the sun-visor mirror, I saw that indeed they were. He was making this hard for me. Here he was again, distracting me with shiny things. Of course, Aidan was the prettiest, shiniest distraction of them all. He belonged on top of someone’s Christmas tree.

I snuck another look over at him. I could barely decide how I felt about Aidan Murphy from one minute to the next. Well, more accurately, what I couldn’t decide was what I
wanted
to feel.

There were already a number of factors making me nervous. Namely:

(A) That he was clearly getting off on breaking the law.

(B) That he was getting sexts from some hoochie mama.

(C) That I still had no idea why he was kicked out of school.

(D) That I was still obsessing over that moment in Sam Beasley’s house when we’d started making out in the bathroom.

(Not necessarily in that order.)

All the things that had seemed so appealing about Aidan back in Paradise Valley—the devil-may-care attitude, the flirtatious smiles, all the mystery surrounding him—now seemed like more of a liability than ever. Tre was right: My feelings were mucking everything up. I had to stay focused. I had to stay, well, professional.

“I can’t believe you did this,” I said. I took the glasses
off and put them away. No, I couldn’t wear them. I shouldn’t be enjoying this.

“What? Ripping off another spoiled rich person like my dad?”

So this was about his dad, then.

“He seemed so upset on the news. Didn’t that bother you at all?” I thought of how I’d feel if I were in his position. Right now there were no parents looking for me, and that was exactly why I was here in the first place.

He shrugged, and I glimpsed the Aidan I’d first met at Prep, the one who set off a fire alarm just to see if the school would have the guts to bust him even though his dad was a board member. “He’s on TV. What else is he going to say?”

“So you don’t think he means it?”

“Who is he concerned about, really? Me or his reputation?”

“I think you’re underestimating him. He seemed sincere.”

“Maybe. But you don’t know my old man. Anyway, I don’t really want to sit here and analyze him. The guy doesn’t deserve that much brain power.”

I took in a deep stream of a breath, trying to make my voice level. I needed to lay down the law. I needed to create some limits.

“Aidan, thank you for the glasses. But we can’t go around stealing for fun. It’s really only something we
can do for survival at this point. We can’t take any more chances.”

“I thought you’d be proud of me. I’m just getting into the Sly Fox spirit.”

He was certainly getting into it, all right. A little too much. And I was, too. We had to calm down.

“When I did it in Paradise Valley, it was to help other people—and get revenge on Kellie and Nikki.”

“Well, now we have a purpose, too. Finding and helping your mom. That’s even more important, isn’t it?”

It was. “But I’m not trying to get back at anyone.”

“So what am I supposed to do, steal from poor folks?”

He was getting me all mixed up again. “No, no. But we can’t, like, celebrate it. And I’m writing all of this down,” I said, looking through the glove compartment for a pen. “We’re going to leave a note in this car, just like we did in the house. I want there to be a record so we can pay it all back.”

I wrote down the glasses and the car in my Comp notebook, along with the other places we’d been and things we’d taken, and put it back in my bag. At least the notebook was serving some function, finally.

“You’ve gotta admit that this thing is pretty sweet, though,” he said. “The cupholders have cupholders.”

I smiled, and an easier mood settled between us.

“I’m not complaining,” I said, jamming my finger on the satellite radio console. “Though you do realize you have ceded control over our musical fate.”

“I can be open-minded. Sometimes.”

I hit a button and smooth jazz pealed out of the speakers, pseudosexy saxophones and hissy cymbals. I looked over at him, testing his reaction.

“Agh. You’re skating on thin ice,” he said.

“I thought you were open-minded.”

I scrolled on further and landed on a woman talking.

“What I don’t understand, Jack, is why this is becoming such a craze. I mean, you have these two kids who have everything. Privileged beyond belief. And they go and throw it away to run around, acting like lunatics— stealing, squatting. And for what? I don’t get it.”

A man’s voice responded. “Lisa, the point is that the media—people like you and me, I’d like to add—are only adding fuel to the fire. This story is on the cover of every tabloid this week, not to mention newspapers around the globe. Are we silently condoning this behavior by paying it so much attention? Perhaps. We have to admit our culpability here. And hey, who can blame kids out there for looking up to this Sly Fox and her accomplice, Mr. Murphy?”

Aidan and I looked at each other across the front seat, our eyes widened in amazement. I felt my face warm, almost as if I’d walked into a room and heard someone talk about me. Only this was
national radio.

“They’re good-looking kids. Smart. And let’s face it: They’re getting away with it.”

Aidan gave himself a little pat on the back. But I
couldn’t joke about this.

The woman interjected. “That’s not the point, Jack. We need to stop glorifying crime in this country because it starts with this kind of folk heroism but it’s a slippery slope. The next thing you know, the kids will be running around mugging one another. . . .”

“Oddly enough, that’s
exactly
what I was thinking of doing next,” Aidan said. “Mugging. In fact, I was just working on my fake gun.”

He reached around and poked two fingers into my shoulder. Startled, I drew back a little.

How could he be so calm? I ignored him, difficult as it was to pretend he
wasn’t touching me,
and reached up to change the station. I’d heard enough. It was plucking my already-frazzled nerves to worry about the media and what people thought about us. And they didn’t get it. They’d never get it. They only had one side. They didn’t know anything about my mom—though of course that was for the best, because they saw things only in black and white. A mother abandons her daughter. The daughter is a criminal. Yes, those things were true, but they were not the whole story.

The host answered a call. “Hello, this is Radio Issues. You’re on the air.”

“Yes, hi. My name’s Kaycee and I’m calling from Columbus, Ohio. I just wanted to say that Sly Fox and Aidan aren’t hurting anyone. They’re doing what a lot of people wish they could do, which is to stick it to the
man. I mean, it’s like an adventure story, and they’re the heroes—”

The woman’s voice broke in. “This is exactly what I’m talking about, Jack. This kind of talk has got to stop. There’s got to be accountability, responsibility for our young people. . . .”

That did it. I hit the button.

“Hey, why’d you change it? I wanted to hear what our fans have to say,” Aidan said. “That’s a good thing, right? That we have fans?”

“No, it’s not.” I wrapped my arms around me. “Not if everyone knows about us.”

“But that’s more people that can help us. Maybe we don’t have to go it alone.”

“We’re not alone. We’re both here, aren’t we? And we’ve done well enough so far.” I paused, letting the ridiculousness of my statement sink in. Well enough? We were on the road to hell. “I don’t want to bring anyone else into this.”

Before he could answer, Aidan’s phone rang. We both jumped a little in our seats. “Who is it?” he asked.

I looked at the screen. “It’s Corbin. Should I answer it?”

“No, let him leave us a message.”

A minute went by and then the words
1 new voice mail
appeared on the screen. I grabbed the phone and pressed play, putting it on speaker.

“Willa, Aidan. Corbin here. How’re things on the
road? Getting rough enough for you yet?”

Aidan and I looked at each other and I rolled my eyes. Corbin was like someone’s annoying uncle. The kind of guy who would shake your hand and squeeze it hard and pretend you were hurting him.

“Listen, I’m wondering if you want to meet up. No pressure—just talk. No police. Only little old me. C’mon. We can sort some things out. I just want to help you and your mom, okay? Call me.”

“C
all me.
Like he’s our buddy. This guy just won’t let up, will he?” Aidan said. He reached over to delete the message and I pushed his hand away.

“Don’t.” I bit down on my lip. A new idea was forming. “I’m thinking maybe we should do this. Maybe we can get some information out of him.”

Aidan looked at me like I was nuts. “We already know she’s in Tahoe. Why would we actually meet with him now and risk having him haul us in?”

“Well, we don’t know where she is exactly,” I reminded him. “I think he might, though. Besides, we wouldn’t actually meet with him. We’d just get him to be in a prearranged spot. . . .”

“Ballsy.” His eyes shone. “I like your thinking. But would it work?”

I shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”

“All right, Colorado. Call him back.”

I dialed Corbin’s number and he answered right away.

“This is Agent Corbin.”

“It’s Willa. We’ll meet you. In Tahoe. No police, right?”

“No police.”

“Text us the location,” I said, and I hung up.

“That was short and sweet,” Aidan said.

“Next time I’ll ask about his family.”

“Hey, everyone’s got one.”

“For better or worse,” I retorted.

An hour later, Aidan pulled off at an exit near Gilroy, and followed signs for a gas station. We needed to refuel the Land Rover and caffeinate for the next leg of the journey. I waited in the car while he went outside to pump. Another truck pulled in front of us. A man got out and cast a glance in my direction before unscrewing his gas cap.

Don’t look at me, buddy.

I drummed my hand against the door’s wood trim and watched Aidan walk into the office to pay.

I didn’t like being left alone—not with people on the hunt for us, not in this elevated car. I peered into the rearview mirror to see if we were being watched. The truck in front of me pulled away and the station seemed empty, but I slumped down a little lower just in case.

Aidan’s phone sat in the change compartment between the driver’s and passenger’s seats, where I’d left it. I looked up. Inside the store, Aidan had his back to me as he picked out sodas from the glass refrigerator case.

I reached over and quickly snatched the Droid. It was turned off, as we had both agreed it should be until further notice.

We could still be traced. Anyone from the police or the FBI could find us through satellite tracking.

I knew it was dangerous. I knew I should be doing everything I could to keep our cover. But—how can I explain this? Something much more powerful took over, an undeniable urge. The need to find out who Aidan was.

One way or another, I had to know. I didn’t want to keep kidding myself.

I snuck another look inside the store as I hit the power button. Then, grasping the phone in both hands, I thumbed through the screen, looking for his text messages. In the received column there were at least ten from Sheila.

Not a total surprise. That’s what I was looking for, wasn’t it? But I felt my body clench up nonetheless.

I selected one, dated from a week earlier.

Where are u baby?

Then another:

Miss u. Can’t wait to see u.

And another:

Hey sexy. When can we meet?

A sputtering swirl of rage and hurt boiled up inside me. Aidan was definitely fooling around with this girl, whoever she was. I counted the days backward on my hands. One of these messages was sent the day we kissed in my driveway.

Does she know about me? Do I even mean anything to him?

I couldn’t believe I’d ever thought of him as anything like a boyfriend. For a moment there, I’d thought he actually liked me.

So stupid.

He was a player. Everyone said so.

And then another, more unsettling question. How could I possibly stay with him? Clearly, I hardly knew this guy. And here I was, relying on him to help me find my mother, relying on him to help us stay out of trouble.

I watched as he emerged from the front entrance to the store, holding the door open for a little old lady. That was just like him, I thought, sickened. Trying to charm everyone when he was the ultimate in shady. He flicked his hair out of his face and came closer to the car. I quickly shut his phone off and tossed it back into the change compartment.

He got into the front seat and set a paper bag on my lap.

“What’s this?” I snapped, on edge.

“Um, snacks?” He switched on the car and, setting his arm around my headrest, turned back to reverse out
of the lot. “Your blood sugar drop or something?”

I looked inside the bag. There were cupcakes, pretzels, Swedish fish, and more turkey jerky, plus two Cokes. It was a junk-food bonanza. “Did you steal this stuff?” I demanded.