You Can't Catch Me(56)

I tap my foot nervously. It’s go time.

I take out my phone and text Jessie and JJ in the group thread we created earlier.

I think she might be here, I write.

For sure? Jessie types back.

Strong possibility. I’ll keep an eye out.

I should come in.

No. We agreed. Stay in the car so you can follow her when she leaves the terminal.

I put my phone in my pocket and leave cash for my check and go up to the information desk. A pretty young blonde woman is working there.

“Hi, um, I’ve lost my friend and this is ridiculous because, look at this place, it’s tiny, but I can’t find her. Do you mind paging her?”

The blonde tilts her head to the side. “Sure. It happens all the time.”

“Oh, thank you. I feel so silly.”

“What’s her name?”

“Jessica Williams.”

“Gotcha.”

She picks up her microphone. I can tell she’s relishing using it in this TV-like way. “Jessica Williams to the information podium. Jessica Williams to the information podium.”

“Thanks,” I say, then walk a few feet away to look out at the room full of crowded travelers. I watch Five. She stands, puts her backpack on the seat, and asks the woman next to her to watch it while she finds out what’s going on. This happens in hand gestures, but it’s easy enough to understand.

Five walks toward me. I’m wearing a dark wig I brought with me, but I take out the cheap glasses I bought in the pharmacy in town a few days ago and put them on. My clothes are a size too big, and I’m barely recognizable even to myself. I turn around and arrive at the kiosk at the same time as Five.

I wait for her to speak, then say with her, “I’m Jessica Williams.”

Five turns toward me with what must be a duplicate of the look I gave Jessica Two a few months ago. “What?” She turns back to the girl behind the counter. “What’s going on?”

The girl behind the counter gives me a funny look. “She was looking for you . . .”

“Me?” I say. “Was it my sister? We look alike.”

“Oh, maybe . . .”

“Excuse me?” Five says. “Were you looking for me?”

The girl’s confusion deepens. “Are you Jessica Williams?”

“I am.”

“Wait, whoa,” I say. “Me too.”

“You are?”

“Yeah.”

“So, which one of us was paged?”

I raise my shoulders. “Not sure. Maybe it was my sister looking for me? I’m not sure where she’s gotten to.”

I feign looking over my shoulder to try to find my imaginary sister.

“I could page her,” the girl says helpfully.

“Oh, don’t bother. She’s probably in the bar. Speaking of which.” I loop my arm through Jessica’s.

She pulls back. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t you think we should have a drink?”

“Um . . .”

“Come on, it’s not every day that you meet another Jessica Williams, is it?”

She hesitates, but my smile is so wide open, and this place is so trusting, that she caves.

“I guess not.”

“What time’s your flight?”

“Not till two.”

“Plenty of time, then.”

“Yeah, I should get some lunch, I guess.”

“Perfect. I even have a table.”

I can tell that Five is still hesitant, but she’s surrounded by a familiar environment, and she’s still giddy from winning the trip. What can a drink with a stranger with the same name as her do? Nothing, she thinks.

Ha.

The table I left earlier is still empty but for the twenty I secured under the salt and pepper shakers.

I catch the server’s eye, and he walks over looking resigned. He’s got a mustard stain on his black apron, which blots out the J in Jedediah’s.

“Back?” he says.

“Yep.”

“What can I get for you?”

I look at Jessica. “What do you like? They have that local IPA here, right?”

“Pako’s. Sure, that sounds good.”

“Two Pako’s.” The waiter writes it down.

“Two Pako’s. Two Jessicas,” I say.

Five looks nervous. “It’s weird.”

“Yep.”

She’s very pretty up close, this Jessica. Much prettier than the rest of us. Not that we’re unattractive, just that this girl could be a model. In fact, she was for a while, which is how she got into photography. Tall and willowy in a way that isn’t achieved through the gym but through genetics. Also, probably, not growing up in a cult doesn’t hurt.

The waiter brings our pint glasses.

I raise my glass to hers. “What should we toast to?”

Before Five can answer, a voice says, “There you are!”

It’s Jessie. She’s wearing a tight smile that’s meant to look friendly, but she’s clearly pissed. I’m off book, and she wants to know why.

“Who’s this?” Five asks.

“My sister,” I say before Jessie can speak. “The one who was looking for me. You paged me, right?”