Two-Faced (7 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Out of LA, traffic on the freeway eased and Jess started to breathe more easily. She reminded herself that Ally had made this drive many times and nothing bad had ever happened to her.

Strip malls, factories and brown hills passed by in a soothing blur and she was soon able to think more clearly about the errand she was on. She concluded that, on the drive down, at least, she was safe.

There were no special instructions about crossing
into
Mexico, so she figured that whatever was hidden inside her hat, was probably okay. Money, no doubt. She was making some kind of exchange, so money had to be part of the equation.

The danger would come on the way back, when she was smuggling, God-knows-what b
ack into the country. But she wouldn't let herself think about it and get all worked up. It was too late for that. Turning on the radio, she decided she would take the day in segments. And for now, at least, she was fine.

Near the Mexican border, the four
lanes magically became eight and each car ahead of her stopped at the customs checkpoint, where they were given either the green light to continue or the red light indicating that they had to pull over for further inspection.

Jess
’s heart hammered in her chest as she pulled her car forward. Please let it be green, she prayed. She stopped her car and waited. To her relief she was waved through without a second glance.

She checked her watch and saw she was making good time.

In Mexico, she followed the signs to El Centro, passing cheap car repair shops on both sides of the road. The streets teemed with people, buses, trucks and cars––some of which looked new, some barely driveable. She had trouble making her way down the narrow crowded streets without hitting any of the pedestrians who crossed into traffic, oblivious of the cars coming their way.

Tijuana, a kaleidoscope of colors, smells and sounds threatened to overwhelm her. But she stuck to Ally's directions and made her way to La Revolucion then drove ar
ound, trying to find a place to park.

On Ally
’s advice, she ignored the child-beggars who ran alongside her car.

She found a parking spot on a small side street and got out of the car, struck by the smell. A mixture of cooking meat, car exhaust and sweet
tobacco. Tourists, college students, and locals crowded the streets giving the place the appearance of one huge, disorganized party.

”
Cafe Flores?" she asked a basket seller who answered her by pointing straight ahead. As she pushed her way through crowd, someone bumped into her, jostling her hat. She grabbed it to keep it in place and kept walking.

Just past the pharmacia, Jess spotted the café
, which was hard to miss. Its exterior was a large mural of boldly colored flowers in vibrant pinks, purples and greens. It stood out, even on this colorful street. Jess headed into the large outdoor patio and saw that most of the tables were filled, but she was able to grab a spot, just as a group of college kids in USC sweatshirts got up to leave.

Taking a seat,
she removed the cowboy hat from her head and placed it on the table. Then she sat back and waited.

"Senorita?" The waiter placed a menu on the table. "Something to drink before you order?" 

"Iced tea, please,” she said, and checked her watch. It was one minute to four and no one had come to make the exchange. She looked around, wishing Ally had given her a better description of the man she was supposed to meet. The only thing she’d knew was that he would be wearing a cowboy hat— which was no help since every fourth person seemed to be wearing one.

Jess noticed the same man who'd bumped into her earlier, standing across the street, looking in her direction. Probably a coincidence she told herself. She wasn
’t going to let her imagination carry her away––otherwise she’d swear he was an undercover policeman ready to arrest her once she'd made the switch. But then again, maybe everyone looked suspicious when you were feeling guilty.

Impatient and nervous, Jess checked her watch again. It was four twenty and th
e man still hadn't shown up. She didn’t know what to do. She had to get back across the border by six and had no idea how long that would take. Should she leave now? It wasn't her fault if the guy didn't show up. Fighting back her panic, she searched through Ally's purse for a cell phone. She'd call her sister and ask her what to do.

“
Sentarne aqui"
a man said, motioning to the empty chair across from her. Jess looked up and immediately saw his white hat. "
Puedo sentarne aqui?"
He repeated. Without waiting for an answer he pulled out the chair, swung his leg over, and sat down.

He was wiry, about twenty-five or thirty, with dark hair and tanned skin. He wore tight-fitting jeans and a red checked shirt. A small gold cross hung at his neck, a toothpick dangl
ed from his lips.

He took off his hat and placed it on the table next to Jess's. So this was it. Jess prayed that he
’d take her hat and leave. She waited, holding her breath.

Instead he leaned forward and placed his hand over hers and said something in S
panish which she didn't understand. She tensed, but didn't pull her hand away, thinking this was part of the plan––pretending to know one another. The man said something else in Spanish and when she didn’t respond, he shrugged, picked up her hat and placed it on his head. He took a sip of her tea, stood and turned to leave. Jess felt a surge of relief. "Adios," he said.

She watched him disappear into the crowd, her heart racing. She looked around to see if anyone was watching but as far as she could tell no
one was.

It was almost over! 

But this wasn’t the time to let her guard down. There was still the trip back. She looked at her watch, it was already 4:54. If she hurried she could still make it to the border checkpoint on time. She tossed her money down on the table and picked up the replacement hat, and fit it securely on her head. It felt similar in weight to the one she'd worn on the drive down and for the thousandth time she wondered what was inside it.

She took one final look around then headed bac
k into the street.

For a few terrifying moments she thought the Jag was missing, then she spotted it on the other side of the street. As she walked toward it, she saw him again. The same man. Standing not five feet from her car. Though she tried to avoid
looking at him, she felt his eyes on her.

She quickly unlocked the door, and climbed into the car. But when she turned the key in the ignition, she was met by a sputtering sound. She tried again but the damned car wouldn't start. "Damnit!" she pounded the
steering wheel.

In the rear view mirror, she saw that the man was approaching her. He appeared at her window a moment later and motioned for her to roll it down.

She shook her head and tried to start the car, she was only succeeding in flooding the engine. He tapped on her window. "Senorita need help? Your car, it won’t start? "

She shook her head again and turned the key.

“I have mechanic. We go for drink while we wait!”

She shook her head and tried again. This time the engine caught and she quickly p
ut the car in reverse and pulled out onto the street. She had less than an hour to make it back to the border.

Jess told herself to keep calm. Or at least to appear calm. She was five cars back and it was already ten to six. Her head felt sweaty under the heavy cowboy hat and her long hair was matted against her neck. She wondered if the customs agents would sense her fear. 

As she waited, she imagined how cool Ally would be in the same situation. Her sister couldn't have picked a worse accomplice if she
tried. There was a reason Jess never did anything dishonest. Besides her innate sense of morality, she was a terrible liar. Always had been. Even as kids, when she and Ally switched identities as a joke, Ally never had any problem imitating her, but Jess, for the life of her, could never master Ally's cool, don't-give-a-shit, attitude. She couldn't lie to save her life.

She nervously fiddled with the radio and Spanish music blared out at her. Unable to anything that would calm her nerves, she flipped it off
. It was now five minutes to six and there were at least three cars in front of her. Adding to her anxiety were the Mexican guards who were walking between the cars with their large dogs sniffing for contraband.

Jess took a few sips from her water bottle.
She checked her face in the rear view mirror and blotted the beads of sweat forming on her forehead. Two minutes to six. "Just keep calm," she told herself. "Relax."

As she pulled up another few feet, she spotted the female customs agent standing near th
e booth. Jess sighed in relief, thankful that she’d wound up in the correct lane.

The guard was just as Ally had described her
—tall, heavyset, her long black hair pulled into a ponytail. Jess's eyes locked onto her, willing the woman to stay in place until the Jag got up to her. Ally had promised that the guard would wave the car right through and she didn’t want to think about what would happen if she was late. 

The woman didn't once look in her direction.

At exactly six another official came out to relieve the female agent. Please don’t leave, Jess prayed. As if she'd read Jess's thoughts, the woman looked right at her. Then she walked away.

It was over. She
’d end up in prison and Lars would gain custody of her son. She swallowed with difficulty as she inched her car ahead. The male guard on duty motioned to her to pull her car forward. She nodded, pulled up next to him and rolled down her window.

“
Nice trip?" 

"Yes,”
she replied.

"ID please."

She reached for Ally's purse. Fumbling nervously through it, she found Ally's wallet and tried to pull the license from its plastic holder. But her hands were slick with sweat and she couldn’t get it out. Cursing herself for not being more prepared, she handed the wallet over to the agent who calmly took it out and looked at it. Then he looked at her.

"What were you doing in Mexico?"

"Shopping." She tried to smile, but couldn’t manage it. "You know, looking for bargains."

He glanced at her back seat.

"Didn't find any? No bargains?"

"Not this time.”

She sens
ed he was about to return her wallet and wave her through, when another agent, one of the K9 handlers, walked up to him and she found herself looking at a German Shepherd.

The dog
’s eyes stared unblinkingly at Jess.

If she could just get her wallet back,
she'd get out of there and be okay.

She looked at the guard, willing him to finish up with and let her go.

When he finally reached out to hand her back her wallet, her hand was trembling so hard, she dropped the wallet onto the pavement, its contents spilling out. Muttering a weak apology, she quickly opened the door, then reached down and gathered up Ally's change, receipts, and credit cards, stuffing them nervously back into the wallet under the watchful eyes of the custom agents.

She forced herself to
look directly into the agent’s eyes and smile. "I’m exhausted. It’s been a long day."

"You can go,”
he said waving her though. She nodded, and pulled her car onto the highway. Though her instinct was to speed away, she forced herself to stay under the speed limit.

She did it! She couldn't believe it.

A feeling of giddiness overtook her. She turned the radio on full blast, rolled down the window and breathed in the cool fresh air. She’d never felt so alive. Perhaps that was the appeal of doing something dangerous––the euphoria one felt afterwards. It was probably addictive to some people, but thankfully, not to her.

All she wanted now was a hot bath, a cool drink and to forget this ever happened. She
’d forget about Zach, the videotape, and this awful trip to Mexico. She’d be a better mother, work harder at her job and appreciate the things that were important to her. Like Danny.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Jess drove along, humming to the music on the radio, happy to be on her way home. She glimpsed a red light flashing in her rear view mirror and tensed for a moment, then told herself she was being silly--they couldn’t be after her. Still she took care to stay under the speed limit.

Stay calm she told herself as the police car pulled up alongs
ide her. She held her breath and waited for it pass but instead, the cop motioned to her to pull over.

Jess pulled her car onto the shoulder and cut the engine. Her mind raced as she reached up and touched her hat, trying to think of some way to get quic
kly get rid of it. But it was too late. The cop was at her window.

He was over six feet tall, with short blonde hair, and a square jaw
––a cop straight out of central casting. She smelled his aftershave as the wind whipped past him into her car. Had someone reported her after she left customs. Did they somehow know what she was up to?

“
Are you Allessandra Parks? Just passed through customs five minutes ago?”

“
Yes,” she replied in a shaky voice.

"Your license.”

Jess reached mechanically for Ally's Louis Vuitton purse and pulled out her sister’s wallet.  She tried to appear calm but her stomach was in knots as she searched through it for the license. "I...I...can't seem to find it."

"Thought so,”
he said and held out Ally’s license. "You left this back at customs. Probably dropped out of your wallet."

“
Oh…oh yes. Yes,  that must be what happened. Thank you.” She wanted to cry with relief as she took the license from him.

"No problem," he said, making no move to leave. "You
’re a little nervous, aren’t you?"

She could feel his eyes studying her, watching as she nervously tried to slip the license back into its case with shaky hands.

"Guess some people get that way when a cop comes roaring up behind ‘em. Sorry about that." He removed his dark sunglasses and leaned in closer, revealing a pair of ice blue eyes.

"Allessandra. That
’s a nice name.” He looked her over approvingly. "You know, Allessandra, if you ever want me to show you around Mexico, I'd be more than happy to." 

She could see he was waiting for a re
sponse but she was too shocked to speak––here she’d thought he was going to arrest her but instead he was asking her out on a date. She felt a crazy need to burst out laughing. It was all she could do to it keep control. She frowned and bit down hard on her lip. "Sure" she squeaked out.

He smiled and pulled out a pad of paper and wrote something down. "Here ya go.”

He handed her the slip of paper. “
Name’s Bob. Bob Smalley. Now you be sure to call me, Allessandra,” he said. Then he winked and walked back to his car.

Jess sat frozen in place and waited until he drove away. She glanced at the paper in her hand and saw that he'd written his name and number on it. Only then did she allow herself to lean back and let the tears roll down her cheeks. It had been
a hell of a day.

It was almost ten p.m. when Jess pulled up to her sister
’s house and she’d never felt so exhausted.

Ally opened the door before she even rang the bell. “
You did it!" Ally said, reaching out to give her a quick hug. Jess removed the cowboy hat, eager to be rid of it, and shoved it into her sister's hand. “I’m going home,” she said.

"Wait, don
’t go. Come in for a drink and tell me all about it. I know the first time can be tough. It was for me."

Jess hesitated. A part of her did want to tel
l her sister everything. It had been such an intense day and she'd never be able to talk about it with anyone else. Besides, all her belongs were inside.

Ally put a sympathetic arm around her shoulders and led her into the living room, then fixed them each
a drink. “Now tell me all about it.” She took a seat next to Jess on the couch. “Then you can forget the whole thing ever happened. We’re even now. You can relax.”