Dodging Trains by Sunniva Dee Read Free Book Online Page A

makeup. If I don’t wear it, I can’t go in.” I’m not making my case, but no points, not even remotely valid points, occur to me. Even my voice sounds childish and petulant.
    “Sir,” Mack says in his grown-up pitch. “With all due respect, you should be able to see the difference between a young woman wanting to experience a wonderful party and a terrorist. Don’t ask her to ruin her perfect costume because you’re interpreting your rules in a square way.”
    Customs Guy puffs his chest out, rightfully offended. Thanks for helping, Mack . Yay. “Sir. I have my orders, and I’m here to make sure the mayor remains safe. Now, please, step out of the line until you have decided what you want to do. You have two choices: leave or get rid of the mask.”
    “It’s makeup . Touch her if you don’t believe me.” Mack enunciates clearly, raising his voice. We’re earning looks from people around us. I want less, not more attention than usual, and the last thing I need is for anyone to recognize me thinking that the town slut’s making a scene.
    It’s futile at this point, but I try again in a hushed tone, compensating for Mack’s vehemence. “Please, sir. I promise. All I want is to be a part of this, dance a little, maybe have a drink.”
    “What’s going on, Eric?” someone says. I’ve never heard that voice before, but when I glance up, the first thing I see is the mouth talking. His lips are plump, soft in the middle with a double arc at the top and a small scar at the right corner.
    There’s no air left in my lungs. For a few seconds, I struggle until I pull in a harsh breath.
    “Keyon,” Customs Guy replies, sounding servile. “Sorry about that. I was just instructing these guests, here, as to the policy on masks.”
    “I’m not wearing a mask,” I whisper. It’s the best I can do. Makes sense too, because Keyon, up front, center, in my face, is so much more than on TV. He used to be this little boy. Now, he’s a big, tall man with meaty shoulders and thick arms straining against a white dress shirt, and his eyes—
    His eyes, they turn to me, bore into me. He’s holding my gaze, honey-whiskey irises simmering and moving, and I can’t look away.
    He sees me. I know he’ll recognize me, and then the awkward dance will begin: him, wanting to polite-chat about our lives. Me, having nothing to tell him besides how I barely finished high school and now work in a mirror factory.
    That’s it. That’s it. And then, if he stays in Rigita for a few days, he’ll find out who I am to this town. He’ll learn of my notoriety, learn how everyone looks down on me. How they hate me or take me, or both.
    Shit. Shit. Shit.
    “I think this one will be fine,” Keyon murmurs. “It is makeup, and I think I can take her if she acts up,” he jokes. Keyon must be six-foot-four, at least, and I’m—a foot shorter. “But Eric, make sure she goes through the metal detector, all right? Gotta strip her of all the guns and knives.”
    “All right, sir. Makes sense,” Customs Eric says, not catching Keyon’s joke. He swings to me and changes his pitch into drill-sergeant mode. “Get movin’. Up the stairs and to the left until you hit the Old West station. They’ll tell you what to do next. I’ll be giving them a buzz, so don’t try anything stupid or there’ll be no partying tonight.”
    “Thanks, man,” Mack says to Keyon, who grabs his outstretched hand. “I’m Mack Sonnenhaus, by the way.”
    “Nice to meet you, Mack. Keyon Arias.”
    “Great fight the other day,” he fakes. Mack must have watched thirty seconds tops. Keyon grins back, eyes floating to me, ready for an introduction.
    “Oh yeah,” Mack begins, “this is my friend—”
    “Rubina,” I say. “Rubina Hood.” I wink to both of them.
    “Ah.” Keyon laughs softly, a sound that travels through my body. “Of course you are.”
    Disguises are amazing. In this moment, I can talk to Keyon, even flirt without my life tearing open