One million dollars -- a dream come true for struggling college student Ashlynn Morgan. All she has to do is sign on the dotted line and agree to become surrogate mother for CEO multi billionaire Felix Dunnerson and his wife Deborah.
Yet, during th...
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The mall is packed with early Saturday shoppers and I easily blend in. As I pass the Dunkin' Donuts, my stomach growls. For now, I ignore my urge to just indulge in a big meal. Cradling my arms around my son who is strapped to my chest, I scan the faces of the people passing me. I'm on the lookout for anyone loitering around the food court with something stuck in their ear that could give them away as a cop.
Would my aunt really sell me out?
Even though I doubt it, given that she actually hates the police with a passion, a little caution can't hurt. I stroll around the different eateries, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. My gaze flits from patron to patron huddled around the tables. My son is lively and coos, kicking his legs excitedly as he takes in all the new smells and sounds. The pink hat covering his fuzzy hair is too hot for him and I take it off.
Someone clears their throat behind me and I spin around. The guy gives me a crooked smile.
"Are you in line?"
I shake my head and step back from the counter. Giving him a good once over, I notice an AirPod stuck in his left ear, but it looks authentic and not like something used in a sting operation. I let out a shaky breath—this paranoia that everyone could be a threat is getting to me.
I settle with a plain cup of coffee at a table by the window. As I try to shift him into a more comfortable position, Quentin kicks me a few times in the ribs. Now I wish I had his baby carrier, or that he were old enough to use one of the high chairs. He squirms in the harness and his lips are twisted in this fussy way that warns he is about to have a tantrum.
I stroke him over the head. "We won't stay long and then I'll change your diaper."
But then what? Take another bus and hope to make it into Canada? Or switch directions? I'm almost out of cash and this running is having a huge toll on the both of us. How long will I be able to keep this up?
My hands tremble as I sip from the cup. My gaze flicks around. Vanessa should be arriving shortly and so far, everything looks in order. Yet my gut is twisted and a fat lump of worry sits in my throat. I wish I had my phone or something else to distract me, but all I can do is stare at faces that seem to eye me with critical frowns. As if they knew I'm a fugitive from justice who is about to get busted.
Out of the corners of my eyes, I watch my aunt step into the food court. She sits down at the other end close to the Popeyes, exactly in the spot where I told her to. Gazing around, she presses her lips together into a thin line and twitches in her chair. Since I saw her last, she seems to have aged quite a bit. Her hair is now almost a solid white and deep wrinkles cut around her eyes. Worry and unease are edged in her features.
Seconds dwindle in slow motion as I wait to ascertain that she is alone. No new patrons have claimed any tables in close proximity to hers. The family with their two kids that walk up seems harmless, and the only people appearing a little out of place is a couple that has conquered the space closest to the bathrooms. Their loud quibble over who gets to read the editorial section of their newspaper first entertains half the food court; they draw too much attention to themselves to be law enforcement. It's now or never.
