Outnumbered

“I thought that’s why you liked her.” The driver laughs as the other man glares at him. “Anywhere else you want to check out here?”

“Let’s try the gas station first.”

As he walks around the car to get in the passenger side, he looks up and makes eye contact with me. I look away quickly, but I know he saw me looking at them.

“Shit,” I mutter as I get into the Jeep.

I sit for a few minutes, pretending to look through the bag Amanda gave me. When I see the men drive off, I follow slowly. With so few vehicles on the streets, it’s not difficult to keep track of them, and I realize that means they can keep track of me, even if I’m behind them. I turn off down a side street and park for a moment.

“He’ll find us. He always finds us.”

I have no idea who those guys are, but I don’t like the thought of anyone looking for Iris, and therefore also for Seri. The whole encounter has left me unnerved, and I have no doubt that these guys are dangerous, but who are they? How do they know Iris? Do they even know about Seri at all?

Seri said she and Iris looked a lot alike. Is it possible that these guys don’t know Iris is dead, and they are looking for the wrong woman? The picture I saw was definitely Seri—I am sure of that—but if she and Iris did look alike, they could be tracking the wrong person.

A tap on my window nearly causes me to jump out of my skin.

“Bishop! I knew that was you!”

I roll the window down with a sigh and look into a very familiar round face framed with wisps of straight black hair. I try to offer Margot a reasonably genuine-looking smile.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hey, yourself. I wasn’t expecting to see you around.”

“Unexpected trip.”

“Did you actually run out of something you couldn’t live without,” she asks, “or are you finally going to admit that it’s a little lonely out there?”

“No, I, ah…” Shit. I’m a horrible liar. I can’t come up with stories on the fly, and Margot knows me too well to be fooled by anything I say. “I had to go to the clinic.”

“Bishop?” She sounds genuinely concerned as she leans against the window and points at the bag on the passenger’s seat. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

“No.”

She tilts her head to one side. She has that look on her face that says she isn’t going to let this go. I’m familiar with how long she can drag out a conversation when she wants to, and I realize I need someone to talk to about this, as strange as that is for me.

“Can you get in the car for a minute?”

“Sure.” She eyes me for a second before heading around the Jeep. She moves the bag with Seri’s medicine to the dashboard and sits in the passenger seat. “Bishop, what’s going on? You have me worried.”

“I might need some help.”

“You are asking for help?” Margot leans back in the seat and folds her arms.

“Don’t be shitty. I’m feeling a little desperate.”

“Sorry,” she says. “You caught me off guard. You never want help.”

“I didn’t say I wanted it,” I mumble.

“Bishop, seriously”—she reaches over and places her hand on my arm—“you know you can count on me, no matter what. If you’ve run out of supplies, you can always move back in with me for a while. I wouldn’t turn you away.”

“It’s not that.” I shake my head. “Really, I’m not sure what it is.”

“I think you have a story to tell,” Margot says as she continues to look at me.

I stare out the windshield as I gather my thoughts. I’m unfamiliar with the protocol for discussing the woman I’m currently sleeping with to a former girlfriend, and I’m not sure how much I want to divulge to my ex in any case. But I need help, and I need an ally. Margot is the only person in my life who even comes close to fitting that description.