I Think We're Alone Now

Ch. 2: Bumpy Landing

 Randy was...something. Marilyn had met him under unconventional circumstances and he was now inserting himself into her life. Really, like she needed looking after. He was a cop...and he'd caught her red handed. It wasn't a bad crime! Just underage drinking, but barely. She had, like, only six months to go.

Yes, she was lost in life and sure, she needed to find herself, but she didn't need Randy to do that. Marilyn was fully capable. That's why she thrifted herself a journal and a cute calligraphy pen. Her life was already falling into place. That's also the reason she'd pinned down a private jet.

"I'll take a glass of strawberry lemonade," Marilyn adds, "with extra ice."

"We don't do that," her response is simple.

Should she be traveling by aircraft, so soon? Maybe not, but this called for an exception. Remember, she had an audition.

"Mint, green tea, then," Marilyn requests.

"Also, no."

"Pretzels?"

They're not replying at this point. At least they don't think she'd a terrorist. It must have not gotten out yet. How could they ever blame her? Marilyn's innocent on that matter. She was hurt too! Really, she's got a nasty bruise and lost half of her possessions. Well, half of the one's she likes. Marilyn accumulated a lot of clutter, over this past bit. Actually, over the course of her whole life.

It was finally here. Her golden Hollywood opportunity. She'd go to her audition and nail the role. In a day's time, she'd be taken into custody. Marilyn's inscribing her plan onto the page right now. To make sure she's got it all covered. After her innocence is proven, she'll have had a ton of publicity, as the hot, new actress.

Marilyn squints, reading it over. Oh dear. It appears she doesn't have it all covered, not at all. What if she doesn't land the role? "Aspiring actress" isn't nearly as great of a title. And if they can't prove her innocence...she can't bear to think about that...it's too late. Marilyn can see herself, sitting in an orange jumpsuit, putting on a skit in the prison yard. It's a musical, about fairies in a forest...could that be a thing? No, it can't.

"Hey!" Marilyn hollers, "any chance you can drop me off here?"

A few moments later, the pilot drops back in, "as in, here?"

"Yes," Marilyn confirms.

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

"But," Marilyn's voice falters, "why not?"

"It's unsafe. Besides, there's nowhere to land. Now, if you'd-"

"A rope ladder! Surely, you've got one."

"For emergency use only. Please-"

"It'll do."

"I'm sorry, but I can't just land anywhere."

"Isn't that what you do? ...where can I land, then?"

"At the mapped destination?"

Marilyn buries her face in her hands. This is a state of absolute and utter despair. Her plan is completely flawed and this pilot won't comply with the new one.

Another voice, a male one, interjects, "will you sign a waiver?"

Marilyn considers this, "maybe."

"Sign a waiver, and you can land."

"Hand it over."

She takes a breath. No regrets. No turning back. Her hand shakes a bit, hovering over the paper. Is this for...skydivers?

"So, we normally give that to skydivers, but you're a special case."

Marilyn signs, briskly. That was that. She hands it to the front.

"We'll lower you down," the copilot informs her.

"What about my bags?" Marilyn asks.

She swears she hears a muffled laugh. C'mon, hasn't she lost enough luggage for one day? No sympathy.

*

It can't be just her. That child is staring at Marilyn. She's cute, but this is creepy. Do all children do this? Marilyn hadn't been around many. But this child had wanted to do a jigsaw puzzle. Marilyn accepted the invitation and while it was a bit embarrassing, Marilyn hadn't been able to figure out the puzzle. None of these pieces fit together! Plus, they all looked the same.

Marilyn waves goodnight and sets off to town. It's a small strip mall, really. Not much for show. Still, it's her last day as a free woman, she might as well get out a bit. Her future with the motel room was looking a bit dreary. To get there, she'd have to walk past the child. Staring at her, with those wide, watchful eyes...maybe she was just friendly. Julia, was her name. The daughter of a small town motel owner.

Out of place, isn't she? In the sorry excuse for a shopping center, Marilyn's holding a box of black hair dye. She places it in her basket and leisurely strolls through the shop. Ooo...

The cashier seems to know a thing or two about hair coloring. Her's is pink, and twisted into twin braids. She makes a face, looking down at Marilyn's haul.

"You know," she says, holding up the hair dye,"this'll turn your hair green."

Marilyn perks up, then frowns. "What color wouldn't?"

"A warm brown."

"I'll try that!"

"And these readers...do you need readers?"

"They're what?"

"Maybe, um..."

"I shouldn't get them?"

"Exactly," the cashier gives her an awkward smile, "er, this is open."

She's referring to the pack of Reese's peanut cups.

"I got hungry," Marilyn crosses her arms.

Honestly, she was just picking on her now.

"Okay, that's fine...do you need a few minutes to, well, try again?"

Marilyn hated to admit that she did. Who could blame her? She'd never shopped as a runaway before? One looking for a proper disguise.

Please don't look at me, Marilyn prays as she walks past the window. Julia's onto her. She just knows it. Well, whatever. She's armed with Indian food and nine different types of hair dye and although the cashier clued which one to try, she'd forgotten. Good thing she'd gotten her phone number.

Marilyn didn't do a half bad job! As the cashier suggested, she brushed it in, rather than going for complete coverage. It was a semi-sheer dye and...oh. She didn't look that differently, did she? Reruns of Law and Order would keep her company. She was channel surfing when they dropped her name. Her name.

Oh gosh. They'd done such a good job framing her. It was seamless. Smooth as the way her hair dye blended into her natural color. Marilyn must call up that cashier and thank her.