Right, police today, interview tomorrow.
Those words keep circling my brain as I move forwards. Police today, interview tomorrow. Put the past me right now and start on my future tomorrow. It’s not a bad plan, but something about it keeps twisting around in my gut. It’s almost as if I’m scared of it, but I don’t know why. Sure, I can still feel the prickles on the back of my neck as I move, but I’ve come to the conclusion now that it’s all just my paranoia. I’m sure once I’ve unloaded this weight, all will be done. I can go back to normal and reclaim my life.
As my feet continue to go I try to plan what I’m going to say. I need to make it very clear to the cops that I’m not crazy so that they take me serious. I also need to find a way to ensure that my identity remains a secret, that part is vital. I’m sure the cops have some sort of policy where I can tell them things in secret. Right?
“Stephen?” I hear a female voice call out from behind me, and for some reason my instincts tell me that it’s Tia. Even though I’ve tried to push her to the back of my brain as just another one night stand I can’t. She keeps coming back, no matter what I do. My heart lifts in my chest, excitement courses through me. If Tia has found a way back into my life then that will be a sign that everything is going to be okay. “Is that you?”
But as I spin I realize that I’m wrong. It isn’t Tia at all, it’s the red head from the dive bar. I can’t remember her name, I don’t even think I know it. All I can remember, and the memory is admittedly very vague, is a quick shag in the stock room.
“Oh right.” I shake my head to try and rid it of disappointment. “Hey.”
“What’s going on?” she purrs, moving closer to me. “I haven’t seen you for a while. How was your trip?” I shrug, not trusting myself to speak. “I thought you were going to come and see me again afterwards.”
“Oh right, I… I’ve just been very busy.” I’m stammering, I can barely string a sentence together. The only thing I can really concentrate on is getting to the police station and sticking to my original plan. “Sorry about that. Maybe at the weekend…”
“Why don’t you come now?” She hooks her arm into mine and tugs me towards her. “I’m about to go and open up. We can have a good hour to ourselves if you like.”
The old me would have jumped at the chance, but that me died on the ferry along with the man who got shot and thrown off the edge. “Oh I can’t, I have to be somewhere I need to.”
“Where, baby?” she asks, leaning in close so her breath tickles my cheek. “Where you got to be that’s so important?”
I don’t answer her because there’s no way in hell I want to get into the story with someone I barely know. Instead I shake my head and keep my lips squeezed tightly together.
“Why don’t you come with me then?” She tugs on me harder, which suggests to me that she’s never going to let me go. “We don’t even have to do anything. We can just have a drink.”
“I don’t want a drink at this time of the morning…” My words trail off as I realize that actually I do want a drink. Just to steady my nerves. It isn’t the best idea in the world, but it feels good to think about. I even lick my lips in desperation.
“Come on.” The red head senses my weakness and she yanks me until I can’t help but follow her. I’m not really thinking much, I’m just going with the flow because I know it won’t really ruin my plan. Police today, interview tomorrow. That still stands. I’m just having a little moment first, some time to myself.
“So, we’ve had a few bands in since you place,” the red head talks non-stop as we move. “But none as good as you. We’ve really missed you a lot, you know. Or at least I have.”
“Hmm,” I comment idly, barely listening now. “Yeah.”
“Yeah, we had this one guy with bongo drums which was as bad as it sounds I can assure you…”
Soon we’re outside the bar again and I get that weird sense of déjà vu. The last time I was here I was just about to go onto the cruise that changed my life. For the worse, yes, but also for the best if tomorrow goes well. I don’t know how to feel about it, it’s a strange sense of anticipation that fills me.
The red head fiddles in her pockets, looking for the keys and she slides it into the door quickly. Once it’s unlocked, she pushes on the door before falling backwards and clapping her palm onto her forehead.
“Oh my God,” she gushes. “I almost forgot to pick up toilet paper. I can’t start the day without getting some or I’ll never get time. Then it’ll end up a real mess in there and I’ll get complaints all day long.” She gives me an odd look, as if she’s weighing me up. “Will you go in there and hold the fort for me for like five minutes? I won’t be long I promise, I just need to head to that shop around the corner. You can pour yourself a drink.”
I take this as a sign. “Actually, I think I need to get going…” I call after her, but it’s too late, she’s gone.
I huff and push the door open. I can’t leave the bar unlocked and unattended, it might get broken in to. I’ll just wait inside for a few minutes, get one drink, then go when she gets back, get to the police station and get started…
“Stephen Jones,” a deep male voice booms making me jump. “Well, well, well, we meet again.”
“Huh?” I’m confused. “What? I’m sorry, I thought…” I don’t even know her name. “I thought there was no one here. I was told to come to be here so no one broke in…”
“By Katie?” A shadowy figure comes into the light. It’s someone tall, with dark hair and a scarred face. I can’t pick out anymore features than that because it’s still quite bleak in here. “The red-haired beauty who works here? Yeah, I know. I told her to say that. You see, me and her have gotten very close recently.”
“Close?” Of-course I know what he means by close, how could I not know. Me and her have been close too. Whoever this man is shagged Katie to get to me, or so it seems, and I need to work out why. I think I might possibly know, but then again, I don’t want my paranoia to dictate me either. It’s already ruined enough of my time in America. “What the hell is going on here?”
“Me and you need to have a little chat don’t you think? About your time on the Princess Cruise.”
Right. Of course. Just what I thought it was going to be about. “I…” I stammer, staggering backwards. “I don’t…” Do I deny that I saw anything? Do I pretend I never intended to tell anyone? Do I grow some balls and front it out? “I don’t know…”
“There’s no point in trying to convince me of anything, Stephen Jones. I already know that it was you who saw a little incident on the boat and now we need to make it right.”