Coalescence ➳ H.S.

Four: The Escort

There were a few things to note, but I'd worry about them later. I slipped it underneath the rest of the folders and went upstairs to pack. I scanned the pieces hanging on the racks in my closet and tossed what I needed into the luggage. I assumed that we wouldn't be there for more than a week anyway, which was good because my sister and father were coming over and I had to be back before then. I made sure the toothbrushes and combs were in place, hunted down an extra pair of shoes, and made my way downstairs forty-five minutes later to see Harry drinking a cup of coffee and attempting to cover up his tattoos with the small tube of makeup I had used earlier. His head perked up when he heard me coming down and he quickly rushed over to carry the luggage filled with our things to the door.

"The other one's for you," he said, referring to the cup sitting next to his on the counter. "Decaf."

"Oh. Thanks."

"You've got everything, yeah?"

I nodded, wondering why he was so eager to leave. I pulled the car keys from my coat pocket and tossed them at him. As he headed out into the garage, I poured the coffee he made for me down the sink—my father always told me to pour my own beverages.

My mind suddenly cracked—I came to a sudden realization that I'd be spending the next day trapped in a car with America's most successful con man; he'd be working alongside me and I had no choice but to let him.

Most people would be excited about going for a road trip with a dashing individual; I, however, was anything but.

***

"Turn that shit off," Harry snapped, reaching over to the radio and shutting the music off, "God, you're butchering my ears."

"This is my car," I retorted, turning it back on.

"Yeah, but I'm the one driving," he replied as turned it off again. I didn't see how anybody could drive without having music on, but apparently he could.

We had been on the road for six hours at that point and I couldn't get a single second of sleep. I didn't know it was possible, but I think our hatred for each other escalated. Everything that came out of his mouth was specifically said to piss me off.

"You know what should be a crime? Driving this damn Prius."

"Typical. I bet you packed your whole closet."

"You didn't put our toothbrushes in the same bag, did you?"

"I really hope you went to the bathroom before this."

He was horrid. He was literally a three year old trapped in a twenty-five year old man's body. The ride was filled with nothing but crude remarks for the most part, and I wondered how anybody that knew him personally could have found him the slightest bit attractive.

"So what did you find out about Bria?"

"I cross-referenced the names you gave me with all the people staying in any hotel or motel—"

"Hotel. Bria would never stay in a motel."

"Hotel," I corrected, "in the city and sure enough, one Lacee Stevens is checked in at the Bellagio. Presidential Suite."

"She always had good taste," Harry remarked with a smirk. "So we're staying there, right?"

"What?"

"We're staying at the Bellagio, aren't we?"

"I don't have the money for that—"

"No worries, I brought my card—"

"No, no, no, no, no," I interrupted, "absolutely not. I'm not letting you use the money that you conned from people to pay for our expenses. We're staying in a motel."