Vegas Pete - A Mafia Romance (Completed)

Macau Tay - Chapter 7: Part 1

I barely got any sleep in the six hours it took the plane to reach Amsterdam. Worry for Pete had taken the place of worrying about getting caught. He was sure Vegas wouldn't see his actions as betrayal, but what if he was wrong? God, what had I done? I shouldn't have involved him, shouldn't even have told him about my intention to run away. When I finally got off the plane and had successfully passed through immigration, I slipped into the first restroom I found and locked myself into one of the small stalls. At the bottom of my bag was the wig Pete had given me. It was blond. Nobody would be fooled by it close up, but it would only have to do until I dyed my hair later today. Fear clogged my throat when I headed into the waiting area, half expecting someone from Bangkok or the Outfit to wait for me, but that was impossible. For now I was safe. I quickly left the airport with my suitcase, overwhelmed by the sound of people speaking in languages I didn't understand. I knew a few words in Dutch but hadn't bothered learning the language. I hailed a taxi and let it take me to a non-descript middle-class hotel in the city where I booked their cheapest room. Despite feeling tired from jet lag and the flight, I only deposited my suitcase in the room before venturing out again to buy a few items I needed.

Two hours later I was back in my small hotel room with light brown hair dye, scissors, a couple of new outfits that helped me fit in better than my super expensive designer clothes, as well as a pre-paid cell phone and a small laptop. After I'd connected my laptop with the wireless internet of the hotel and set up the blog Pete and I had talked about, I wrote a short post, saying that a new journey had begun and that I'd safely arrived at my destination. It was all a bit cryptic and nobody would probably read my blog except for Pete. I resisted the urge to write something more personal, or worse use my new phone to call him. I wanted to hear his voice, wanted to know if he was okay, but I couldn't risk it. Even this blog was already risky. Instead I slipped into the bathroom and changed my hair. Two hours later I stared at my new reflection. My hair was caramel brown. Of course that wouldn't stop people from recognizing me from close-up but unless I paid a surgeon tore-do my face, which I had no intention of doing. I'd just have to move from city to city until I was sure that Macau had moved on to another target and I was safe. That would probably take a while. Macau had told me numerous times that he wouldn't give me up and I had a feeling he'd meant it. I wouldn't give him a chance to catch me. Tomorrow, I'd leave Amsterdam and head for Paris, and who knew where I'd be the day after that? This was a new beginning with endless options. 

*** 

I stared up at the white ceiling of my hostel room. I'd been living in twenty different places in the last three months, never staying anywhere for more than a week at a time. Sometimes when I woke in the morning I wasn't sure where I was, sometimes I even thought I was back in Chiang Mai, and sometimes I found myself longing for it. Not for my father and the rules of our world, but for Fabi and Lily and Pete, and sometimes even for Mother. I sat up, groaning, and went through my usual morning habit of reminding myself of my current pseudonym and everything that encompassed her before I got out of bed. It was almost noon. I still hadn't figured out any kind of routine. Most days I spent exploring the city where I stayed while always checking my surroundings. This fear of being followed, of being hunted, would that ever stop? I doubted it. Whenever I saw men in dark suites, panic filled me. I'd lost count of the times I'd imagined I'd seen Macau from the corner of my eyes. I hadn't made any real friends yet, which wasn't all that surprising; I never stayed anywhere long enough to build a connection. Which was better anyway. I couldn't risk getting close to anyone yet, maybe never. That didn't mean I was alone. I always stayed in youth hostels wherever I went, and met people from all over the world. Of course I couldn't tell them anything about me, not even my name. 

Currently I was calling myself Chai, and was spending my year before college abroad road-tripping through Europe. That was pretty much my cover story wherever I went, only my name changed. Lying to everyone 24/7 made any kind of friendship hard. I opened my laptop and checked my blog, which I still updated almost every day, even though I hadn't gotten a comment from Pete in weeks. In thirty-one days to be exact. My eyes darted to my cellphone on the nightstand. As so often recently I felt the almost irresistible urge to call him and find out what was keeping him from visiting my blog. I had a feeling it was for my safety. In his last comment he'd warned me 'not to waste time in one spot because there was too much to explore in Europe'. I'd taken that as a hint that Macau might be after me and had jumped from city to city in the last few weeks, never staying anywhere more than one or two days, but I was growing tired of running constantly. I'd lost weight, and most of my clothes hung off me like they belonged to someone else. I wanted to belong again, to find a place to call mine. I got dressed and stuffed my clothes into my backpack. I'd gotten rid of my suitcase four weeks into my journey. It wasn't practical lugging a heavy suitcase wherever I went. I didn't need most of my old belongings anyway. That life was over. I stared down at my shabby back pack, at my cheap sneakers and jeans, and for a moment longing for something I'd thought I'd never miss came up in me. 

When I'd decided to run away from the mob, I'd known I'd miss my siblings horribly, and so far not a single day had gone by that I hadn't considered returning to Chiang Mai just to see them again, to talk to Pete again, to have a steady home again, but so far I'd managed not to miss the luxuries my former life had afforded me, at least not this insistently. So why was I suddenly missing the things I'd despised? Everything I'd ever owned had been paid with blood money, and even my flight up till this point had been financed that way. But I was scarily low on cash and would have to find a job in the next place I stayed, though that would mean staying longer than just a couple of days unless I tried my hand at pickpocketing, which wouldn't really be a big improvement over mob money, except that nobody got killed for it. I swung my backpack over my shoulder and exited my small room. Fifteen minutes later, I'd checked out and left my alter ego 'Chai' behind. I'd become someone new for my next destination. It was August but heavy clouds draped over Vienna as I headed toward the train station. I'd loved the regal buildings but it was time to move on from Austria. I'd been living in the same country for almost two weeks and was getting antsy.

After I'd boarded my train to Berlin, I checked my cell-phone, a stupid habit I still hadn't dropped. I never got a message from anyone. The date caught my eyes. August, 15th. The day I was supposed to marry Macau. Unwantedly the kiss we'd shared flashed in my mind and a small shiver ran down my back. I'd kissed three guys in the time since I'd arrived in Europe, all of them cute foreigners who weren't interested in anything lasting, just like me, but none of those kisses had come even close to what I'd felt while kissing Macau. Maybe it was because he'd had more practice than any other guy. Macau was a gigolo, there was no doubt about it. But what worried me most was that I found myself comparing every guy I met to Macau, and they always fell short. They weren't as good looking, as interesting, they didn't have a six-pack, and most importantly being in their proximity didn't give me a thrill. It annoyed the hell out of me that despite being (hopefully) thousands of miles away from Macau, he still held some power over me. I wished I'd never let him kiss me, then I wouldn't have that problem. I'd just have to find a nice guy who could make me forget Macau and his annoyingly sexy and arrogant smile. Maybe my next destination, Berlin, would help with that.