Escape
The car sped along the roadway, putting more and more distance between themselves and Rome’s parents. Ella was paying little attention, though. She couldn’t keep her hands, or her mouth, off of Rome.
Her wig was on the floor, but with the dark tinting on the windows, she thought it would be fine, until they reached the hotel and she had to get out. Rome brushed his fingers through her hair and rubbed her cheek. “How did you fake your death?” he asked her.
“Bart gave me a vile of something, some sort of sleeping medicine,” Ella explained. “I swallowed it and was out for three days.”
“Ah!” Rome looked up at the ceiling, nodding in understanding. “The sedative we use on the set. We were just talking about that the other day at the… funeral.” She knew it pained him to say that word, and she felt the same way. Even with everything else going on, she hadn’t forgotten that Tim and Mark had died.
Bart hadn’t said much since he was driving in heavy traffic, and he didn’t seem to want to interrupt them, but now, he said, “I was really hoping you'd figure it out. I’m sorry Antonio didn’t get the message to you.”
“I’m not sure what he said, but the first part of it was something to the extent of you wanted me to know about Ella killing herself. Perhaps he followed that up with something more about it not being true, but he really should’ve led with that.”
“Antonio has never been the most intelligent person we know, but my options were limited,” Bart said apologetically.
“The important thing is, you’re fine, I’m fine, and we’re together again,” Ella reminded them all. She didn’t want to think about what Rome intended to do with that enormous knife he’d had in his hand, but she liked to think he was holding into it because he intended to try to overpower the guards at his door, and nothing else.
“That is the most important part,” Rome agreed, leaning in to kiss her again. After he pulled away, he asked Bart, “What’s the plan now?”
“I don’t have one,” he admitted. “I brought some things from your apartment, but you’re going to need clothes. Then, you’ll have to figure out where you’re going and what you're going to do. I have to head home soon. If I don’t, people will be suspicious.”
Ella had just assumed Bart would stay with them. She felt a tinge of disappointment as she thought about that. “What about you, Mary?”
“I can’t imagine why anyone would be looking for me,” she said with a shrug. “And I work for you now. So I’ll do whatever you want.”
“How do you have any money when you’re dead?” Rome asked her.
“Bart moved all of my money before I died. It looks like I gave it all to charities before I killed myself. All of your money is in a new account, too,” she added.
“Wait--I have money?” Rome asked.
Bart’s head bobbed up and down as he took the exit toward the hotel. “Yep. I transferred it around a few times so that it wouldn’t be easily traceable.”
“I have a new identity now, so I should be able to get credit cards. Right now we have traveler’s cheques and some cash,” Ella explained.
He raised an eyebrow. “What’s your new name?”
“Juliet Montague,” she said with a shrug. “Sounds sophisticated, doesn’t it?”
Rome laughed. “Bart, you have a strange sense of humor.”
The two exchanged glances in the mirror.
They pulled into valet parking at the hotel, and Ella put her wig back on before she got out. Bart handed Rome some dark glasses. She knew the people who worked at this hotel would likely recognize the star, but Bart had assured her he’d requested total privacy when he’d booked their rooms, so she tried not to worry.
Rome got out and took her hand, and they hurried in. Ella glanced around and didn’t see any photographers. For now, she felt safe, but she knew Rome’s father would be coming, and they’d have to be ready for anything.
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