One Hundred Different Lives

There were many good things about Visa gift cards. For instance, they were lightweight and could be used to jimmy a lock. They weren't as suspicious as large sums of cash, and, best of all, they didn't leave a paper trail. In fact, the reason we'd escaped detection for this long was probably because we didn't have any kind of credit cards. 

***

      "This exit?" I asked mom. We were on the highway, but I was getting off to switch places so she could drive and I could sleep.

      "No, the next one." We were now heading eastbound on I-50. For the first time since we left France when I was eight, I would see the Atlantic Ocean. It was weird getting closer to that side of the country, after being on the west coast and the Midwest for all these years. 
The drive took us about two days, not counting gas stations, restrooms, and food breaks. I-50 took us all the way to Maryland and I woke up eagerly to see the ocean. We weren't at the coast, though. And we were heading . . . north. 

      "New York?" I asked when I saw the signs. "I thought we agreed to go south."

      "We're getting rid of the car, Sky. It's too conspicuous. We'll sell it in New York and get a different one." Her voice sounded like she was still unsure of her words, like she had just made the decision. 

      "Are you sure?" We had had this car for years. When all our homes changed, the Jag didn't. It was one of the few constants in my life, and though I knew it was just a car, the thought of losing it made my stomach rebel. 

      My question must've strengthened my mom's resolve, though, because she said in a firmer voice, "You know I love this car as much as you do. But people will be looking for it now more than ever. It's amazing we've had it for as long as we have, but we have to get rid of it. If I had been anywhere close to my right mind, I would have gotten rid of it when we passed through Kansas, especially since Rudie was there. But we needed to leave fast and I don't regret that."

      "So what exactly is the plan?" I asked, confused about where the Big Apple came into the picture.

"We're going to New York to sell the car. I talked to Rudie and he has a contact there who can give us a good price. Actually, we'll probably end up trading it in, seeing as how we'll be needing a car. If the cops find the car, they'll expect us to stay in the city, where there's more game."

      "Okay," I said slowly, thinking I understood. "We're still heading south, then?"

      "Yes, I think we'll end up in Virginia by tomorrow."

      Virginia, I thought to myself. What the hell was in Virginia? I was hoping North Carolina with the Outer Banks, or maybe Georgia. But Virginia?
***
      "Pleasure doing business with you," Jim said. He was Rudie's east coast man and so far, he seemed trustworthy enough. His price for the Jag was a little low, but considering our circumstances, it was fair. With some of the money, we bought the most inconspicuous car he had - a bronzy colored Ford Taurus. After the Jag, it looked like the most hideous thing on four wheels. I tried to put my feelings of it into a look that I shot at my mom when she was scoping it out, but she pointedly ignored me and got it anyway, along with some additional cash, because there was no way that piece of shit was worth as much as our old car.   

      "Oh, and Rudie mentioned you were in need of some papers." Papers? I wondered. 

      "Yes," my mom confirmed. "High school transcripts and a resume."

      I could barely control my surprise at her words, but managed to keep a straight face while she was negotiating with Jim. 

      "Two?" she asked incredulously. "Don't you think that's a little high for a couple of low level papers?" Maybe, I thought, but we needed them right now. I didn't know if Jim noticed it, but my mom had subtly straightened her back, accentuating her chest, and widened her eyes a little, making her look innocent and inviting. You couldn't be ugly to be in this business. 

      Jim noticed, surprisingly, and gave my mom a stern look, as if this had happened to him before. Of course, if he was Rudie's friend, it had happened to him before. And just like that, he gained my respect. There were very few men who didn't succumb to my mom. 

      "I'll make it one and a half, but only because Rudie likes you. And if you need backup, with a job reference or a call to an old counselor, call him, not me." My mom smiled, and soon the information we requested was put into his pre-made documents. 

"Tell Rudie Annette said hi next time you talk to him!" my mom called from the window after we drove off in the piece of crap. 

      As we headed south and my mom was still on her driving shift, I read the papers, committing the information to memory. The first was my mom's resume. Her name was Anne Whitcomb and she was thirty-nine. Apparently she had only ever had three jobs: one in retail, managing a clothing store, one as a secretary at a high-end law firm, and the last one working as hostess at a restaurant. All were people-person jobs, and all were  supposedly unverifiable, unless you counted Rudie as a reliable source. As far as any company was concerned, these jobs existed and my mom was beast at them. 

      After I had finished with her resume, I turned to my school transcripts, papers that were always exciting and a little scary. My name was Lucy Whitcomb and I was seventeen. I had been to three high schools already, one in Maryland and two in Virginia. I had A-B grades and had been involved in school activities like soccer and theater in the past. I had no disciplinary problems, starting with a clean record. I always found that part ironic. In real life, I was technically a felon, and if I was caught, I could be tried as an adult. But I never got sent to the principal's office. In the notes section at the bottom, one of my supposed guidance counselors wrote that I was "shy and quiet, but a sweet girl. Always respectful." 

      "Ha! Always respectful?" I asked out loud. 

      "I thought you'd like that part," my mom said, smiling, but kept her eyes glued to the road. Then her face got serious and morphed into an expression that told me she wanted to talk, and I probably wouldn't like what she had to say.

      "Uh oh," I groaned. "What is it?"

      "How do you know it's going to be something bad?" she asked, like that was even a possibility. I rolled my eyes, but didn't say anything.

      "Nevermind," she continued. "You probably won't like it. You know how I said you'll get a different cover this next time if you did well?"

      "Well, yeah," I replied, set on edge by the tone of her voice. "But we didn't finish the last job. And anyway, we got transcripts for me, so obviously I'm not going to have the same cover."
I could tell my mom wanted to say something by the way she hesitated with her lips parted and a breath in her lungs. 

"I'm doing this job alone, Sky. That transcript is going to be your real one. For now, at least."

      I waited for her to finish up with a "Just kidding, we'll be pulling a Red Fox this time," but she stayed quiet. 

      "Mom?"

"Yes?" Her voice almost seemed sad at the anger she expected from me. 

      "You're kidding, right?" The emotion in my voice was barely contained, and if she wasn't driving, I would have screamed at her. With my words, her sadness melted and was replaced with an anger that mirrored mine.

      "Of course I'm not fucking kidding! You of all people know when I'm lying. Hasn't this whole thing scared the living daylights out of you? For the first time, we almost got caught, Sky! We almost WENT TO JAIL!" Her anger-soaked voice was deep now, like it always got when she was mad from the core of her being. 

      "But mom, you know I can do this! You know we're in this together. This is who I am now!"

      "THAT'S NOT WHAT I WANT YOU TO BE!" She screamed. The car went quiet. Never had she said anything against her - our - profession. Never had she said she didn't want me to follow her. But never had she seemed so afraid of what could happen if we were caught. 

      I sat in the passenger seat, speechless. Every word that wasn't coming out of my mouth was flying around threefold in my brain. For once, I didn't know what to do. 

      "I just want you to try a normal life, just for a little while I pull one big job by myself. Then we can move somewhere nice. Maybe I'll retire and send you to college. Go do something normal without having to live on the edge everyday."

      She spoke a bit after that, but I was silent for the rest of the ride, with only one thought overpowering all the others in my mind: she doesn't like the con. My mom's afraid of it.