”Honey, you need a new ID.”
“For what?” I thought we got past that stage already. After we left Blackwater. We changed identities. That was ten years ago. Lot has happened after that. Anna moving out and getting married was maybe the biggest event.
“Have you looked in a mirror lately?” I do it every morning when I put on make-up. Are you implying that I’m getting old?
“Yes. I have. Something wrong with the way I look?”
“No. No other than that you look younger than Anna. There’s no way in hell the next cop that pulls you over will believe that you’re nearly sixty years old. Maybe thirty. If it happens to be a cross-eyed cop…” Oh… We have been touching every now and then. Just small cuts and bruises, and once a broken arm when I fell from the roof when I was cleaning the rain pipes from leaves and moss. Some of his healing has lingered, and kept me from aging. Forever young.
“A new ID with different year of birth, and you don’t have to put on so heavy make-up anymore…” Umm… What?
“I don’t know if you have noticed it, but you’re trying to hide your face. And those clothes of yours, they just have got to go! I don’t fucking care if you’re twelve or hundred, but I’m kind of getting sick and tired of those granny-outfits. Tomorrow we’re going shopping.” They say honesty hasn’t killed anybody. They haven’t met Logan. They never will. Not after I bury his carcass in to that flowerbed I made on the back yard yesterday.

“Now, that’s better…”
“Logan! You can’t come in here!”
“I can’t?” No. Not the eyebrow. Not in here.
“Logan…”
“What?” Stop. Don’t touch there. Don’t… Oh, God. I have been meaning to come in to this boutique for ages. To shop. I don’t want to get thrown out of here because we can’t keep our hands to ourselves.
“Get out. Now.”
“I thought you needed my help… Those pants look awful tight. Maybe I should help you to get out of those…” No. Nonono…
“Let me get those buttons for you…”
“Lo-gan! I still have some shirts I have to try on…”
“Then you won’t be needing your bra either. I noticed quite a few sleeveless numbers on that pile you collected…” Oh fuck… He’s too good at this.

“This is just great! I can never go back in there!”
“Why the hell not? I thought you liked those clothes. I liked them on you.”
“Are you sure? You seemed to like me much more when you got me undressed. Did you see how the cashier looked at us?”
“Come on! What can you expect when you prance around in leather and silk?”
“For you to have decency and restraint enough not to fuck me in that stall?”
“Decency and restraint? Honey… Forgot who you are married to?”
“Oh, God. I think one of those girls in the next stall was Anna’s co-worker…”
“She was. And the chick that showed you around was her friend from the university. Anna brought her over us few times when they were studying.” Shit. There are things I would rather not know.

“So… Now that you’re officially retired thirty year old, what would you like to do?” Retired?
“I didn’t retire. I quit before they started asking questions. I have noticed Sarah and Betsy staring at me when they think I don’t see them.”
“Okay. Now that we’re both unemployed, what would you like to do?” What?
“Logan…” He has been a bouncer nearly nine years. A small pub.
“New owner, new tricks. Turned that place to a nightclub. Told me he wanted some new blood to the door. Said that I was scaring off customers. Little prick. Like I don’t know how to behave… I was hanging coats and throwing out drunks when he was still in his fucking diapers…”
“We could always hit the road.”
“You think so? What about Anna?”
“I think Bobby might have some objections if we just waltzed in to their place and took away with his wife…”
“Marie… You know that’s not what I meant.” I knew that. But it’s so freaking easy to rile him up.
“I’m sure she can manage. She has Bobby. She has her friends. And we can always visit. It’s not like we’re taking a trip to the Mars. We can always come back. But I think it could be nice. Just the two of us. Truck. Open road… Come on! Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t miss it.” Logan’s become surprisingly domesticated, but lately I have seen signs. Small twitches. Nervous way he keeps twirling a box of matchsticks. Longing glances he throws towards the road that leads out of here. His feet are itching. And truth to be told, so are mine.

Bike roars past me. Cocky bastard. We have been driving towards north, and it’s only couple of hours before we reach Laughlin city. The place where this all started. Weather is absolutely horrible. Water, ice and snow are practically pouring from the sky. I can barely see through windshield, but does it slow him down? Nope. He insisted to take the bike, and he looks like he’s having the time of his life. I’m beginning to think that some kind of middle-age crisis has hit him. The eternal badass. Shit. I have to pull over soon.
“Logan? I’m going to stop for a while.” Radio crackles. Shitty reception, but I can hear his voice. His only acknowledgement for the weather. He’s wearing his helmet. It has a built-in radio. Makes communication much easier.
“Are you going to be alright?” Translation: Is it okay if I abandon you in the middle of nowhere because my knuckles and beer-tooth are itching?
“I’ll be just fine, honey. Go ahead. I’ll catch up with you later.”
“I’ll come and get you if you don’t show up in few hours, okay?”
“Okay. See you later.”

Jesus. Is it even possible to look that good? I remember when I saw him for the first time. I was so fucking scared and insecure. Freaked out. I noticed back then already the potential in him, but right now… That bare chest and rippling muscles… Small smirk tugging the corner of his mouth when he leans against the wired fence of the cage arms propped above his head. Small trickles of sweat rolling over his skin…
“Hi, gorgeous… What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” He takes a slow drag from his cigar, eyes studying my face.
“Came looking for a man.”
“Found him yet?”
“I think I’ll go home with the winner tonight…” I have to turn my back before my knees turn to Jell-O. It should be illegal to look that edible after five-hour drive through freezing hell. I need a drink.
“Kid?” Jesus. He hasn’t called me that in years!
“Yeah?”
“Catch.” A set of keys?
“I got us a room. Across the road.”
“Okay…” Now I really need that drink. If not for anything else, to fend off impending dehydration. My mouth is suddenly awfully dry, but other parts of me are getting soaked…