Page 67 of Alonzo

CHAPTER SIXTEEN - TARA

His words hang in the air between us. And it hits me then. We are both butt-ass naked. I’m standing in a house that I didn’t even know existed less than an hour ago. With a man who has been lying about who he is for two years. With a past trying its best to catch up with me.

And I do not feel shy or ashamed of this nakedness. I do not even feel uncomfortable.

“OK, listen, Alonzo.”

“You can still call me Lonnie, Tare. I’m still him. Just because I’m not wearing a button-down shirt and glasses doesn’t mean I’m not still the same guy.”

“I know. I get it, OK? Because you were right. I was lying to you. To everyone. Even Belinda. Err… Rosalie. Whoever. God, how did three people with so much to hide end up exposing themselves to each other by accident?”

He smiles at me. But offers up no answers.

And how could he? He has no idea why I’m here. If Diablo hadn’t shown up in Fort Collins I’d still be there. Lonnie and I might still be together, or not, since he did start revealing his lies before that knock on the door and my sudden escape via the fire escape with Vann. But the main take-home point here is… I caused this. Not Lonnie. It was me and my dirty secrets in my crazy past that brought us to this moment.

“I’m on the run, Alonzo.”

“Lonnie. Call me Lonnie. Alonzo sounds weird. Please, don’t give up on what we made. Not yet, Tara.”

“I’m not giving up, OK? I’m just trying to live in the real world for once. My name isn’t even Tara. It’s Phoebe. Phoebe Covington. I’m in the witness protection program, just like Belinda.”

Alonzo’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh.”

“Yeah. So you were right. The only reason you didn’t find my lie is because the FBI gave me a real fake background. They matched my new name with my fingerprints and my face, they gave me a freaking master’s degree in library science, for fuck’s sake. My lie is as real as they come. So before we get clean”—I nod my head towards his cool shower—“I’d like to come clean.”

Alonzo stares at me for a moment. And even though I didn’t feel the heat of his stare on my naked body a few seconds ago, I feel it now.

I want to put clothes on. I want to cover myself. I want to hide.

He turns to the shower and twists the handle. Water falls down from the ceiling and steam begins to billow up and press against the glass walls. He takes a step inside the shower, then extends his hand, palm up. Inviting me in with him.

I take it and go inside with him. The steam is better than clothes as far as covers go. And when he sits down on the marble bench and I join him, straddling his legs and settling in his lap, our faces just inches apart, I realize my whole body is achy with the stress of a three-day escape road trip and this feels pretty damn good as far as small, finer things go.

“Tara?”

“Yeah?”

“I want you to know one thing, OK?”

“OK.”

“I’m on your side.”

I open my mouth to say something back. Something like… You know, ya better figure out what that side is before you commit to it. But before those words can escape, he places a finger on my lips.

“Just listen. Love is weird, ya know? Because if you look for it, it’s always slipping around a corner just a block away. And you run and chase after it, but you can’t ever catch up. But if you leave it alone, let it do its thing, then…it comes back. That’s the thing about love, ya know? It comes back when it’s true.”

I think about that for a few moments, letting all his pretty words float around in my head. “You know, you’re pretty poetic for a fisherman.”

“Please. Fishermen were the original poets. All that time on the sea does things to you. Gives you time to think about shit you’d normally never have time to bother with. But here’s my point. I wasn’t looking for love when we hooked up online. I was looking for a distraction. And as far those go, you’re pretty fucking spectacular. And you were just that for a pretty long time. Just a fun, sexy little distraction. But I forgot about love and looking for it. So it came back when I wasn’t paying attention. I don’t need to know your past to know your story. OK? I can read between the lines as well as anyone. But before you say anything else, let me say this again. I’m on your side. No matter what. And I come with a whole bunch of powerful people at my back. My brother Tony, my dad. My best friend Quint. And fuck it, if shit ever goes off the rails, I can make one phone call and get a whole band of Boston brothers on my side. So whatever you did or didn’t do in the past, whatever it is you’re running from”—he reaches up and cups my face with his hands—“I got you. I just need you to know that. I got you.”

So many thoughts are swirling through my head in this moment, but they are soft and hazy thoughts. Like steam surrounding us. So I take a deep breath and fill myself up with his hazy promise, and on the exhale I begin to talk.

“I was in LA, OK? That’s where I’m from. And I wasn’t a librarian or even into books back then. I was a private investigator. And I stumbled into this crazy smuggling ring, Alonzo. People. They were smuggling people into the US. Women and kids. Oh, God. It makes me so sick to think about that night at Long Beach Harbor. I saw more than I should and this guy—Diablo is his name—he caught me snooping and came after me. So I ran. Right to the fucking FBI and they said they’d keep me safe if I testified against him. And I did. But… he got off, OK? He didn’t go to prison like they promised. This whole thing is so much bigger than I thought. He’s free. And somehow he found out where I was and he came for me that day we were on the phone. When I said someone was at my door, it was him. And then Vann, he had already figured out my secret. So…”

I spill out the rest of the story, filling in details about the trip down here. And how Belinda surprised us when we finally made it into the Keys. And what happened at her family motel.

Alonzo is quiet through all of it, his hands on my hips, sometimes gripping me tighter when I reveal certain things. When I’m done he’s still silent.