Derringer came out of the steaming shower and looked at herself in the mirror. Her face was flushed, but the cleanest she had seen it in weeks. Wrapping a towel around her body, she exited the bathroom and sunk into the squeaky motel bed. Compared to the hard pleather seats she had become accustomed to, it felt heavenly.
There was a knock on the door.
"Derrin?"
"Yeah?"
"You decent?"
She pulled the towel tighter around her. "Barely."
The key moved nosily inside the lock and the door opened, Mark's face suppressing a grin.
"Aw man." he laughed, looking at her.
She rolled her eyes good naturedly.
"I got us some fresh clothes," he started, holding up a black bag. Derrin grabbed it excitedly and rummaged through the contents. There were fresh clothes yes, as well as scissors, hair dye and a pack of Newport's. The dye and scissors momentarily intrigued her, but not as much as the prospect of putting on clean clothes. She separated the desired contents from the rest, and scampered away to the bathroom to dress.
"You look much better, Der." Mark called after her. "I can't wait to
take a hot shower myself."
"I feel better. This life on the road isn't really my thing."
Mark chuckled. "I know it, princess."
She came out of the bathroom, hands on hips.
"Hey," she pouted. "I've made myself pretty handy, no?"
"I know, I know." he replied. "I meant that you're not meant for this
life. You're too..." he trailed off.
"Too?" she prompted.
"Nothing." He opened the pack of cigarettes, and Derringer sat next to
him. She took one for herself, and lit it.
"What's the hair dye for?" she asked after a drag.
"Me. The scissors are for you."
"What?" she exclaimed, running a hand through her dark long hair
subconsciously.
"We need to change up our look, Derrin. I don't like the scrutiny the guy downstairs gave us. Besides," he added, "It's less hassle. Besides, who knows how long until we'll get lucky like this again."
Derrin made a face.
"I couldn't just bleach it?"
"Both of us can't have the same color. And I don't have hair to cut."
"Fine." she said unhappily.
"It's only hair, Der. It'll grow back."
She sighed. "I know."
He squashed the butt of the cigarette in the ashtray.
"Good girl. I'll do it after I clean up."
She nodded and sighed again, reaching for the remote. The old television flickered to life, the picture jumping every time she changed the channel. Finally she had settled for the news. She watched it without really comprehending as her mind was elsewhere, reflecting back on the past week.
She had started out alone, nothing but a few belongings in a tattered drawstring bag, and a knife in the heel of her boot. She didn't know exactly why she hadn't just begged to stay with one of her friends, or had told the police about what was really going on with her foster parents. Maybe it was the drama and the shame that would surround it and Derringer wanted a clean break from her old life. With no clear destination in mind, she hitchhiked her way from New York, heading South. Things were going as smoothly as they could until one day, Derrin found herself stuck. She was sleeping on a bench in a park when two big, burly guys approached her and tried to take the little that she had. Derringer was never one to back down, and attempted to fight them off, but she was no match for their size.
"Help!" she cried out repeatedly.
"You little b*tch!" one said, pushing her back roughly on the bench,
and striking her across the face. "Do you think anyone is going to
help a little b*tch like you?"
"Leave her alone."
The calm voice surprised her as well as her two attackers. They turned around slowly. In the darkness Derringer could make out the outline of a man, tall and muscular, with the unmistakable glint of a pistol in his hand.
"Leave her alone or I will shoot you." he repeated.
"Damn man, we were just messin'. We'll go."
They left quickly, and he watched them go, before kneeling down in
front of her. He gently took her face in his hands, brushing his thumb
over her split lip.
"Who are you?" she asked, disbelieving.
He ignored her question. "Are you alright? Did those guys...you know..."
"No. I'm okay." she said steadily. "Thank you for that..."
He shrugged it off. "Don't mention it. But you really shouldn't be out
here alone."
"I know."
"You a runaway?"
She nodded.
"What's your name?"
She thought for a moment before for replying, "Derringer."
"Derringer? I like that." He stood up, brushing the dirt off his
knees. "And where are you heading, Miss Derringer?"
"Wherever the road takes me."
He shook his head. "That's no way for a young lady to live."
Derringer became suddenly irritated. "You don't know anything about me."
"This is true. But I do know that it's not good for girls to travel
alone, as you have seen for yourself."
She shrugged. "What's it to you?"
"Nothing. I was going to offer you somewhere safe to stay but..."
She got up. "I'll pass. Thank you for what you've done but I can take it from here."
He put his hands up in surrender. "Alright, Miss Derringer. I guess I'll catch you around, eh?"
"Yeah, you do that."
A squeaking sound brought her back from her reverie.
"What'cha watching?" he asked.
She shrugged, and he rolled his eyes. Picking up the scissors, he motioned her to come into the bathroom, and stand in front of the sink. She did, taking a good look at herself in the mirror.
"What were you thinking about?" he asked, trying to distract her.
"The day we first met."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. I'd have never figured we'd end up together after all."
He laughed. "I'm glad we did. Being on the run is no fun alone."
"Ain't that the truth."
"Mhmm. Did you give any more thought on where exactly you want to go? You're more than welcome to stay with me in LA."
"I know."
"It'd be a lot of fun."
"Sure."
"And think about it, Derrin. You know I know people who can give us both a fresh start."
She met his eyes in the mirror. "You're full of it."
He grinned. "Maybe I am. But it's an adventure all the same, and LA is the perfect place for a con."
She cast him a dark look. "I'm not a crook."
"That's right, babe, but you've been running with me, so you're an accomplice."
"But I don't wanna be."
He exhaled. "Alright, Derringer. I'm done."
She studied her new reflection, liking what she saw. Her hair didn't fall much past her cheek, and the scissors he'd used gave it a choppy, edgy look.
"It's nice." she said, begrudgingly.
"Nice?" he repeated, laughingly. "I think I deserve more than that."
"Whatever." she sighed, and walked away, flopping back on the bed. The television was still on. It was a one of those 20/20 specials, and despite Derrin's dislike for anything that required an attention span, something about it piqued her interest.
"Today we will be examining extraordinary transformations of those exiting the penal system."
"Derrin, get me the dye, will ya?"
She ignored him, turning the volume up.
"More often than not, a criminal record is a determent to employment. However, this is not always the case. Sometimes a convict's skill and knowledge is valuable enough to be considered an asset by law enforcement agencies. ACME, in particular, is known for hiring people with a less than perfect past..."
"What?" Derringer thought aloud.
"For those who can handle rigorous training, and resist temptation of returning to their old ways, this career seems to be a perfect fit..."
"Derringer!"
"Shut up!" she groaned, and threw the box in the direction of the bathroom.
He poked his head out. "What has gotten into you?"
She smiled at him. "I think I've figured out what I want to do when we make it to California."
