“No one’s here. It’s quiet.”
“Too quiet,” I add. We pull to a stop and I get out of the car, slamming my door.
Tatum winds my window down. “Madi! Fuck’s sake, can you not be a badass today, please? I don’t want to die right now. Or ever.”
I roll my eyes. “Miss Winters gave us this dude’s number. She wouldn’t fuck us over.”
“You put an awful lot of confidence in Miss Winters,” a voice says, a figure walking toward me out of the shadows. I spin around and see an older man making his way to me. He’s wearing a hoodie and ripped dark jeans, and he must be in his midforties.
“Well, it’s all I’ve got.”
He nods in understanding. At first glance, no warning bells go off. “I’ve been in touch with Tinker. I have all your documents ready to go.”
“That was quick.”
“We have them at my beck and call. It’s why I charge so much.”
I shrug, not needing the details. “Let me see.” He hands me two manila folders. One says Amira and the other says Atalia. Both last names. “We’re sisters?” I look up at Benny. “Amira and Atalia Maddox? Could you not go with something simple?”
Benny looks at me deadpan. “Hand the money over.”
I pull out the thick envelope and pass it to him. He takes out the cash and flicks through it. “I take it it’s all here?”
“Of course. You know we’re good for it.”
He pauses, watching us for a split second before appearing satisfied with my answer. “This didn’t happen. Have a nice life, Amira.”
I’m Amira? Of course I am. Stupid fancy name, it doesn’t suit me at all.
I walk back to the car, swinging the door open, and hand Tatum the folder that says her new name on it. “Here you go, Atalia.”
She scoffs, and then her smile drops. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Well damn. Let’s get this started.” She puts the car in first gear and we drive to the closest airport.
Not long after, we’re parking the car in the garage. We both get out and walk toward the building, me with my duffle bag and her with her own small bag.
“Where are we going?” Tatum asks, looking at me.
I squint my eyes at all the flights. Smiling, I nudge her with my elbow. “How long does it take to get a visa?”
THE VISAS WERE RATHER EASY to obtain. There’s a kiosk counter set up toward the back of the airport, and since the country we’re flying to has a direct agreement with the United States, all it took was a quick questionnaire online and done; we were accepted directly through the visa waiver system.
“I can’t believe this,” Tatum whispers. “We’re going to New Zealand? Couldn’t you choose a different country, like, I don’t know… Dubai?”
I turn to face her. “And where do you think they’ll look first, Tate?”
She sighs. “I guess so.”
“And besides,” I add, “I haven’t even heard of New Zealand. I doubt Bishop has. And also…” I look toward her ungrateful ass, “it was either this or some small town in Indonesia or Thailand.”
“Could have got cheap new tits in Thailand.”
Rolling my eyes, the voice overhead calls our flight name, and I look to Tatum, my heart beating in my chest. “Are you ready?”
She looks back at me and takes my hand. “Yeah… yeah, I am.”
Two Months Later
“I don’t know, Ta—Atalia.”
Tatum grins at me, walking around the back of the bar in her skimpy shorts and lace push-up bra that hangs out of her ripped crop top. “Well, you know you can work here.” She nods toward the stripper pole. We’ve been here for a couple of months now, and plan to stay for a couple more hopefully, but I need to find a job to keep my mind busy.
I turn back around and grin. “You know, I may not care anymore, but I won’t be sucking on any poles.” I take a sip of my drink and lean back in my chair, scanning the paper in front of me and flinging my pencil through my fingers. It’s 12:00 p.m. here, which means it’s around 8:00 p.m. the previous day back home.
Since coming here, Tatum and I have been staying in a little apartment right on the beach. We landed in Auckland thirteen hours after we boarded the plane and immediately purchased a little booklet of the country. We both agreed we wanted to be near the beach, grasping something that resembles home and keeping it close to us. So we found this small town in the middle of the north island called Mount Maunganui. I can’t pronounce it and have noticed a lot of the locals just call it The Mount.
It’s beautiful here. Sandy beaches, big waves, little shops lining the main beach where houses and coastal homes are set up opposite. The entire strip of the shoreline goes on for around ten minutes by car and eventually takes you to another small suburb called Papamoa. New Zealanders are friendly—sometimes a little too friendly—the food is fresh, and the air is like walking into a sauna for the first time. It’s lovely. But I haven’t been able to find a job since we got here. The flat we live in is a small studio apartment—nothing over the top—but it costs a fortune. It turns out this town isn’t exactly cheap to live in. Of course, trust Tatum and me to choose one of the more expensive towns in the whole of New Zealand. She found a job right away, working for cash in hand as a bartender-slash-stripper—I shit you not. I love Tatum, but I can see her slowly losing herself.
Is it happening to me too?
Whenever I try to dig inside, in search of my true feelings, I come up blank. I have none. I’ve thought once or twice about taking Tatum up
