BANGERZ 3: ON THE RUN (2017)

21. Distance

A lot can happen in a week, I told Jason in the bathroom that night.

At the time it was only a plea for him to understand how easily a bad habit can take root, but it resonates on a baser level. With us, a week is enough. Way back when, a week is all it took for me to become friends with the Bangerz crew. It's all it took for us to orchestrate the riot that tipped the scales of our street war. And it's all it took for Jason and I to recognize that it's our move in our high stakes game with Tony.

So imagine what could happen in more.

Two and a half weeks after the ambush on our car, Jason and I have fallen into a new rhythm. He seems to have taken my concerns over his behavior and the subsequent attack as motivation, rather than a lesson. What I mean is, he's taking desperate measures to respond to the desperate times - but there's a certain nobility and necessity in his actions that I find admirable. So maybe it's not so desperate; that implies dignity is no longer present. Jason is more resolute than ever.

Even though we came up with a plan, I don't think he liked that I called him paranoid. I was only trying to help him regain focus. He has in regards to Tony, using the crime business network to find a suitable candidate for our spy - something he didn't want to do. He told me he wasn't ready to take up his father's other legacy: the one that will destroy him if he isn't careful. This concern has driven him in another direction. He doesn't like feeling unprotected or being caught off guard, especially while he's opening up the mob, so now he's going out of his way to make sure that danger is no longer at our doorstep. In doing so, he's given cautious a whole new meaning.

First off, we've changed hotels three times since we left the Royston. Instead of keeping a low profile at an economy hotel, like the Marriott or Holiday Inn, Jason seems to have changed his tune. We've only checked into ritzy hotels that will honor our unusual, but necessary, requests. A car service escorts me back and forth when I step out if Vince is with Jason at the time. The surveillance feed on our floor is monitored at all times. We dodge regulations and use our own WiFi so our activity can't be tracked on the hotel's network. We make any room service calls from Vince's room, and he brings whatever we requested to us discretely. Jason asks for employees' background check paperwork. Vince recovers any documents that aren't handed over so easily. Any of our confidential documents are kept locked up in our safe, but Vince sweeps the room after housekeeping makes their rounds anyway, just in case. (I'm depressed that Jason wasn't able to get my grandma's ring from the Royston - all because of some stupid rule about making a stolen items claim within forty-eight hours of checkout. He had to stop me from strangling that maid the night we left - but at least I know it won't happen again.)

I'm amazed that all these hotels, restaurants, firms, and establishments have been so accommodating, but money talks. What I should be amazed by is how Jason keeps up with all of his. He's completely transparent with me about how much he spends and what he spends it on, and assures me that what is his is also mine. He trusts me to sign checks for him if necessary. He hates carrying cash and think it's unsafe (unless he's hitting up the hotel bar) so he switches cards constantly and added my name to some of his accounts. My permission and authority around the places we go has become so interchangeable with his that we might as well be husband and wife.

But there hasn't been much romance going on around here. Jason and I are so busy these days that we're exhausted by the end of them, and we barely see each other. And when we do, we're picking up the slack. He reminds me to eat and I find his pacifier when he wants a smoke; I keep the room orderly and organized and he makes sure I'm in the bed when I wake up, no matter where I fall asleep - our attempts to break the other's compulsions under stress. I stay up on his late nights only to make sure he makes it back home, but most nights I can't hang and feel his kiss on my cheek in the early hours of the morning. When I wake up, he is comatose beside me while I gather motivation to get out of bed. I'm always torn between wanting him to get his rest and wanting to wake him up so we might have a few extra minutes to lay in bed and talk. On the days when the hope of having breakfast or dinner or more than just a few minutes together lingers, something comes up and tears us away like a needy child.