Chapter 6
I can tell she's sorry about lying to me, telling me that really bullshit story about those movies and her dad. I don't care how sorry she is, it was fucked up. It is fucked up. Selling drugs was only the tip of the iceberg, but being involved with the cartel has made her so much worse. I came into this not quite knowing what a cartel was, but after a quick trip on Google and a YouTube documentary, I can't even look at Elizabeth anymore. How many people has she killed? What if she kills me? She seemed so sweet, that possibility never occurred to me.
I glance at her now, hurrying to make fake identification. She has a blank projector screen rolled down and snaps pictures of herself in front of it before wildly typing on a nearby laptop. She had already made a passport for herself and it looked exactly like the real thing. I was absent minded during our last few conversations, but I'd heard it was supposed to have a working barcode too. I sit in the corner of her living room, opposite from her, relaxing on the windowsill when I hear her printer go off. She's finished a driver's license, or so it looks like from here. I don't go to see it; I'm still too pissed off at her. Unfortunately, it seems that I'm stuck with her and my bitter attitude until this all blows over.
"Babe," she calls. I don't look at her. "I need your picture." I still don't pay attention to her either. Instead, my gaze is kept out the window, looking at the quiet, seemingly deserted Vegas neighbourhood. It's gorgeous in this area, during this time of day, and Elizabeth's house provided the perfect view, perched just on top of a hill at the near edge of the city. The sky was painted different colours and the sun was beginning to play its daily round of hide and seek, setting on the opposite end of the city behind one of the large, famous Nevada hills. The twinkling lights of the buildings on the strip were beginning to show, making the heavens look beneath us. "I get that you're mad at me," Elizabeth says, interrupting my thoughts. "But you don't have to fall for this petty shit. You need fake ID, they'll card you."
I force myself to get up and trudge toward the camera and the blank screen. When I get there, she hands me a blonde wig. It kind of reminds me of something an early 2000s pop star might wear; it was very... Christina Aguilera. "What is this?" I ask.
"Wear it," she says. "It's your disguise. I think it will look good on you."
I put it on over my head and suddenly my jet-black hair becomes a Cinderella blonde. I must have put it on wrong because Elizabeth laughs and walks over to me to fix it. She combs it with her fingers and styles it to her liking. She steps back and looks at me from afar before nodding her head in approval.
"Holy shit," she says. "I didn't know how well this look would suit you."
"Let me see."
"Wait," she walks back over to me with lipstick and liquid eyeliner. She applies it accordingly and when she does, her hands delicately touch my chin, tilting my face up to the ceiling. No matter how mad I am at her, she still has the same affect on me as she did when we first met. I always get that electric feeling when we touch. I think she feels the same thing because after she's finished, she leans into me and says, "I'm sorry."
I look away from her, down at my hands and she backs away again, picking up the camera this time. She tells me how to pose and I follow her instructions to speed things up. When Elizabeth goes back to her laptop, she uploads the pictures from her camera and I follow her, eager to see what I'm going to look like for the next month.
I stare at the blonde girl in the pictures, dissatisfied. "I look like a porn star," I say and it makes her laugh. "I'm serious."
"There's nothing wrong with that," she giggles. "Let's give you a porn star name...how about Ashley."
