Remy squinted at the wad of cash Theo had tossed into her lap. Crisp, green, and radiating an unsettling aura of "definitely not earned legally." She still clutched the stale hot dog, but it felt less like a weapon now and more like a prop in the weirdest improv show of her life.
"Okay, so," she began, trying to sound authoritative but mostly sounding like she was still processing the last five minutes. "Just to be clear. You're a human, not some cryptozoological creature. You were in my car. And now you want me to… chauffeur you. Across the country?"
Theo, already looking less like a crumpled pile of expensive misery and more like a coiled viper, let out a low, frustrated growl.
"Are you deaf, donna? Yes. That is precisely what I said." His Italian accent was thick, rolling the 'r' in 'precisely' like he was chewing on gravel. "And put that… that thing down. It's disgusting."
Remy glanced at the hot dog, then at Theo, then back at the hot dog. "It's a hot dog. It's seen some things. Like, me nearly dying on five dollars a day. It's a symbol of resilience." She took a defiant bite. "And who are you, anyway? You look like you just escaped a very fancy Halloween party."
Theo pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly. He was already regretting this. "My name is Theo. And what I am, is not your concern. All you need to know is that I pay well, and I require… discretion." He gestured vaguely at her, at the car, at the entire concept of her existence.
"Discretion?" Remy snorted, gesturing to her own chaotic vehicle. "Have you seen me? We'll attract attention like a free unicorn petting zoo. Also, I talk to inanimate objects. Betsy here is my confidante." She patted the dashboard.
Theo looked at the dashboard, then back at Remy, a flicker of something unreadable – was it fear? bewilderment? – in his smoldering dark grey eyes. "Just drive. And find somewhere… clean. So I can assess these injuries."
Remy sighed dramatically. "Fine, Mr. Mysterious. But a few ground rules for you. One, no trying to mysteriously disappear. Two, no secret evil plots while I'm trying to appreciate a giant ball of twine. Three, if we pass a promising thrift store, we're stopping. My wardrobe is currently 90% hope and 10% actually fabric."
Theo just stared, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "Just drive."
The next few hours were a masterclass in contrasting driving styles. Remy, true to form, was a chaotic navigator. She sang along at the top of her lungs to a playlist that swung wildly from earnest country ballads to obscure 80s techno, occasionally swerving to point out what she swore was a cloud shaped exactly like a grumpy badger. Theo, meanwhile, sat stiff as a statue in the passenger seat, his right hand subtly pressed to his ribs, his left gripping the door handle like it was a lifeline. He looked like a man enduring a particularly barbaric form of water torture.
"So, Theo," Remy chirped, hitting a particularly high note. "What's your favorite roadside attraction? I'm thinking of doing the world's largest teapot next."
Theo didn't even look at her. "My favorite roadside attraction is a secure, soundproof room with no windows."
"Oh, you're one of those guys," Remy muttered. "No fun. Bet you don't even like sprinkles."
Suddenly, Theo stiffened. His eyes, which had been constantly scanning the rearview mirror and the passing landscape, narrowed. "Slow down," he muttered, his voice low, losing its earlier irritation and gaining a chilling edge.
Remy, caught up in the rhythm of the road, hummed. "Why? Are we making a pit stop for tiny hot dogs? Because if so, I'm in."
"Slow down, now," he snapped, his hand shooting out to grip her arm, his fingers surprisingly strong.
Startled, Remy slammed on the brakes. Betsy shuddered violently, protesting with a groan of metal. A dark, sleek SUV, which had been following them at a discreet distance for the last twenty minutes, swerved to avoid hitting them, then sped past.
Remy blinked, then shrugged. "Well, that guy was in a hurry. Maybe he really needed tiny hot dogs."
Theo, however, was already leaning forward, watching the SUV disappear over the horizon. His face was grim, a flicker of raw anger in his eyes. "Those bastards," he muttered, the curse almost swallowed by his accent. "They were tracking us."
Remy frowned. "Tracking us? Theo, nobody tracks us. Betsy and I are completely off the grid. Unless it was the alien overlords. Is that why you're here? Are you a deep-cover alien?"
Theo threw his head back against the seat, a low, frustrated growl escaping him. "Just drive, Remy. And for the love of God, no more braking like a maniac."
Later, as they pulled into a cheap motel in Bloomington, Indiana, Remy's phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen: "Unknown Number." She scoffed. "Oh, it's my personal stalkers again. Probably trying to sell me extended car warranties for a car that barely runs." She hit 'ignore' without a second thought. She had enough to deal with, like figuring out how to get a perpetually furious mafia boss to appreciate the simple joys of a heated swimming pool shaped like a kidney bean.
Theo, watching her, said nothing, but a fresh layer of suspicion settled in his smoldering dark grey eyes. He was already planning how to acquire a burner phone and get a read on Remy's actual hidden life. This impromptu kidnapping was proving far more... complicated than he'd anticipated.