Run before the Wind

copyright Leah Hanover 2012

The first step was the easiest.

I know how everyone says it is the hardest, but for me, it was the easiest. The preparation, on the other hand, that was a pain in the ass, literally and figuratively.

There are some people reading this who enjoy stories about rape and torture. Other than to mention that some things like those exist, I will not be adding to your titillation. I will be glossing over some of the more horrid details, and simply giving you the sterilized names for some of the things that happened.

It does not in any way lessen what happened to me, and neither is it an explanation for anything that happens later in the story.

When I was raped my first night in my cell it did not in any way make me feel like a woman. I just felt violated.

That night I kept repeating a mantra to myself: I will escape.

Over and over I repeated that phrase in my mind. It wasn’t, then or now, because I felt I didn’t deserve to be there. It was because I simply didn’t want to be subject to a punishment like this.

Being locked up when I was so used to doing what I wanted when I wanted was difficult enough.

I was an avid camper as a boy, first as a member of the boy scouts, and then later as something I realized that I just loved to do.

There were a couple of friends I had who went with me, usually, when I went camping. They were middle class, just like me, and like me, they liked the freedom of the outdoors.

It was on one of these trips that Sean came up with the idea. He thought it would be possible to actually get away with robbing a bank. You disguise yourself completely, from head to toe, wear lifts in your shoes, and in general let no one see your face, at all, while letting them think they saw your face.

At the time none of us knew anything about facial recognition software. Sean thought he really had a full proof plan, and he convinced the rest of us that it would be a great idea.

So, on the morning of my eighteenth birthday, we stole a car and drove to a bank a hundred and fifty miles from home. As the best driver in the group, I was tagged as the wheelman.

The ten minutes that I waited for them to get out of the bank were the longest of my life. When my two ‘friends’ came running out with their bags full, I was more than ready to leave.

I never heard the shots. Sure, the news media called me a liar over that one, but it’s the truth. I had my iPod plugged into my ears, and the sound up. The noise, distance, and heavy brick walls of the bank were enough to muffle the sound. I took off from the scene.

Unlike my friends expected, I broke the plan at this point. I drove normally and calmly away from the scene. Unlike the two of them, I wore gloves.

There was never anything that tied me to stealing the car or the robbery except for my friends.

We got home and hid the money. Everything seemed to be good. We’d switched back to our own car and gone home.

First mistake that Sean made: Driving a stolen car to a bank robbery.

They got the license plate number, and tied it to the town we lived in. From the cameras, they were able to get a couple of good shots of my ‘friends’ and had something to compare against DMV photos. The car gave them a narrowed search area, which they started from and worked outward.

It takes time for facial recognition to go through that much data, but the fewer photos they need to compare the faster it goes.

At the time I didn’t know any of this.

What I did know was that there was something wrong with Troy. Sean and he would go off for hours, and when they were anywhere around me they would begin talking in whispers.

Thinking that they were planning on cutting me out of the haul, all twenty million of it, I moved the money. It was probably the smartest thing that I did.

It was a week later that I caught a news broadcast about the bank heist. Instantly I knew what Troy’s problem was. Not only had they killed two security guards, but a mother of four.

I was sickened by what my two supposed friends had done. The argument, or should I say brawl, that we had at that point was huge. I told them I never wanted to see either of them ever again.

That, I thought, was the end of that. I went back to preparing to go to Yale and tried to forget ever having been a part of the entire mess. Yes, I felt guilty about the woman being murdered by my friends, but there was nothing I could do for her.

She was dead.

But the images that they showed on the screen of her family, that father holding his girls and crying, they began to get to me.

I got a shoebox and packed it as full as I could with twenties, about $150,000, and sent it to the family using a UPS store.

It made hardly a dent in the first of the huge bags that we had taken in our haul.

Ok, let me actually explain the bags here. They were five feet long, two feed deep, and two feet wide. That was the other reason I’d been asked to stay in the car. While Troy and Sean were big guys, both over 6’ tall and build like brick walls, I’d never been all that big. Sure, 5’9” isn’t insanely short, but it’s not all that tall either. In her three-inch heels my prom date had been taller than me by one inch.

At the time we thought it was funny.

So, my skinny white ass was stuck in the car while the ‘men’ went and got the money.

The box was still in the mail when the police raided my ‘friends’ houses. Troy was killed in a firefight. Sean surrendered quietly.

I’d never known that Sean was recording our planning sessions. The jerk even set them up to make it seem like I was the mastermind. I’d thought it strange that he was taking a back seat in all of the planning sessions, but now I knew why.

I’d even played into his hands by moving the haul so that I was the only one who was aware of where it was.

His testimony and the tapes were enough to get me convicted for three consecutive life sentences. As a juvenile he got a significantly reduced sentence; his eighteenth birthday was still nine months away at the time.

He’d been the one who brought a gun without telling the rest of us. Nowhere in the tapes did he mention it. On the stand he perjured himself and testified that I gave it to him as he exited the vehicle. Without Troy to counter the statement it was just his word against mine. Since everyone already assumed that I was the mastermind of the whole thing, who do you think the jury believed.

So, I ended up with three counts of first degree murder and he got unintentional manslaughter.

I think I laughed when I heard what his sentence would be. There was a decided hysterical tone to the laughter, but I was laughing none the less.

By this point, I had already begun to make my preparations. I started by making my appearance slovenly. I let my hair grow out, and made sure that it was a rat’s nest. Every time I caught myself in the mirror I’d smile to myself. I thought it looked a little like Einstein’s famous locks.

I stopped showering. That was the most difficult thing for me. I’d been the type who brought an empty five gallon jug with him on campouts so he could construct a field shower.

I hated the thought of going one day without showering, and this ended up being a full year.

The rapes stopped after about the fifth week, but the abuse took over from there. The made sure that nothing would be visible when I was dressed, but that was the only thing that stopped them.

For some unknown reason they never left any permanent marks: no scars or tattoos or anything else like that.

Even that changed as the stench of my being grew. My cell mate started investing in nose plugs.

Getting all of the materials together for a home-made electrolysis machine was a lot more difficult. It’s not as if the concept is all that difficult, but the main problem is converting the current from a standard 110v outlet into something controlled and usable.

The biggest difficulty wasn’t the assembling of all the parts, but rather figuring out all the math without a pencil or paper.

The actual electrolysis is what took the most of my time while planning my break out. Now, I never had all that much hair on my body, thankfully, but removing every last trace from my face, under-arms and legs in the dark with a home-made electrolysis machine was by far the most painful and time consuming project I’d ever done.

I used some of the hair to actually construct a false, matted, nasty beard that kept people from realizing that my face was becoming more and more hairless as time went on. No one was willing to get close enough to see how fake that beard really was.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, I got better at finding the sparse hairs that remained.

Then, one night, I realized I’d been moving my hand blindly over my legs for over an hour without feeling anything. My legs were absolutely smooth. I’d finished my face and under arms almost a month before, but it seemed as though my legs would give me the most trouble.

I was ready. I couldn’t have gone into the showers to shave my entire body, as someone would have noticed me doing that. I had to be able to shift completely from the nasty looking, and smelling guy that was in prison to a well groomed, and I hoped pretty, woman outside.

That was my plan: Get out of the prison and drop into a completely different identity.

I could possibly have shaved when I got outside, but I didn’t want to leave anything to chance. It was unlikely I’d be able to do more than quickly wash off in a bathroom somewhere, so I needed to be ready to leave that bathroom as a woman.

In the end my preparation was what allowed me to walk right out of that prison without even a backward glance.

Shortly before I decided that I was ready an outreach group decided that they would convert one of the older yards of the prison into a garden. Ostensibly it would be a place of beauty for the inmates to be allowed their yard time in. In actuality it was going to be the warden’s new personal domain.

As part of this, one of the showers was shut down once per week when the workers came to the prison. They were allowing the women who were a part of this to clean up before leaving. A guard stood watch at the external door the entire day.

Taking my life in my hands, I stole some personal items from one of the Black Panthers and stuffed them behind the urinal in one of the Aryan Brotherhood’s cells. The resulting brawl resulted in an in-place lockdown of everyone. I was in the disused wing at the time, waiting for the guard to leave his post to help calm everyone down.

As the external door to the showers was locked as well at this time, I was safe to go in and take a long, and much needed shower.

I felt something stir in me, a part of me I never knew was there upon seeing my legs for the first time. I’d left my chest alone, but to pull the next part off I would need to be bare, at least where the towel wouldn’t cover. I quickly shaved using a razor borrowed from one of the women who were working outside and removed the sparse hair from my chest.

It took me almost an hour to completely remove the rest of the accumulated filth on my body. It was exciting in a way I never thought I would experience. I was making myself over into a feminine version of myself, one that I hoped would fool the guard that would soon be posted outside.

When I was sure that I was clean and sweet-smelling, I’d used a body spray from one of the girl’s bags, I let out a scream.

I channeled all of the fear and pain that I’d been inflicted with over the past year to summon tears.

The guard rushed in, but stopped and blushed as soon as he saw me. I appeared to be a half-naked woman after all.

“Miss?”

“Someone has stolen my clothing. I thought that was you about an hour ago who came in here, and I was sort of embarrassed so said nothing.”

“Miss, it wasn’t me. We had a riot earlier…I thought it was okay…um…” the man was flaming red with embarrassment. “Miss, let me get my supervisor.”

It took another forty minutes, but in the end I was given a brand new corrections jumpsuit. They hadn’t stenciled it yet, so it was just a midnight blue jumpsuit. No division of corrections logo or anything. It mostly covered up my lack of curves, for which I was thankful.

I went out to help the volunteers at that point.

I was sure that someone was going to call fowl at this point, as I was sure that they would know that I wasn’t supposed to be a part of their group. No one did. A couple of the girls even commiserated with me about losing my clothing.

“That is so sad,” said one, a blonde who was a couple of inches taller than me. “I’m always worried about one coming in and spying on me, but to have an inmate steal your clothing. I’d feel so violated.”

I don’t know what made me say the following, but it was as if my mind was on autopilot. No, that’s not exactly right. I felt a connection to these girls, and almost felt as though they would understand.

“It was worse when I was raped. This violation seems so tiny in comparison.”

“You’re stronger than I am, girl. I still can’t talk about…what happened to me without flinching.”

There is no co-incidence in the world. I truly believe that. However, the fact that this was a rape survivors group was probably the best possible thing that could happen to me. Each of the girls hugged me. The tall blonde was last, and she got a thoughtful look on her face.

“I need to use the ladies. Would you join me?” She said looking me right in the eye.

I went with her wondering what was going on.

When we got into the bathroom she confronted me.

“You’re male, aren’t you?”

I was panicked and I’m sure it showed on my face. She knew I was an inmate, and she was about to rat me out. I’d be in even worse trouble than my first day inside and…

“It’s okay, girl. Relax. I’m not one to judge. That’s why the inmate just took your clothing, isn’t it? He probably took your falsies too?”

I looked at her dumbfounded.

“False breasts?”

“He took everything.” I said almost numbly. She wasn’t going to turn me in.

“I keep an extra pair in my bag.”

“An extra pair?”

She began to cry so I did the only thing I could, I wrapped my arms around her in a hug. She hugged me back. Not like any of my girlfriends in the past hugged me. She hugged me…like I was another girl.

“The bastard who raped me didn’t only take away my innocence. He cut off…”

“Shhhh. It’s ok. You don’t need to talk about it.”

“But I do. I need to tell someone. He took away a huge part of my self-image.”

I quietly sat there and listened as she talked about her fears and cried. I cried as well. I could hear some of my own pain in her story. We hugged and cried and I told her my story, heavily edited of course. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her I was an inmate trying to escape.

In the end, when we were cried out, the fixed things up for me.

“Strip.”

“What?”

“I want you to remove the jumpsuit. I’d a bit taller than you, but other than that we should be able to wear the same clothing.”

I striped, completely embarrassed that she would see me naked. I stood there, a bit self-conscious, as she examined me.

“You know I thought for a moment, when I found out you were a guy, that you might somehow be an inmate trying to escape. I doubt any of them would have shaved that much, however, just to escape prison.”

I blushed at that, knowing how close to the mark it actually was. She simply thought I was embarrassed at being naked and started tossing clothing at me. I quickly dressed in the skirt and mid-drift baring shirt she provided. I felt weird with the added weight on my chest at first.

It wasn’t long however before I was dressed and we went back outside.

“What’s your name, by the way?” The girl asked me.

“Um…”

“Your girl name, silly.”

“Leah.”

“Pretty name. I’m Katelyn, but all my friends call me Kat.”

We went back out into the yard, and the other girls met me again for the first time. They never took me as anything other than I seemed to be. None of them let me work, however, because they didn’t want me to mess up my outfit.

That was fine by me. I sat as demurely as possible on one of the benches and just watched how they interacted with one another. I’d have to be emulating it, after all, if I wanted to blend in once I really escaped.

The day was over before I knew it and we were being escorted by the guards on our way out. The guard who I’d first met tried to chat me up as we left, and he held the door for me at the exit to the prison.

The three busses explained how I could have been missed by people when I first appeared, and I followed Kat onto her bus.

We talked quietly during the rest of the trip to town. I enjoyed spending time with her. It was strange. As my previous self, I’d never really been able to interact with a girl in this way. I was always trying to hook up with them. This was different. For some reason we really connected. Not in a romantic sort of way, even if I did wonder that at the time, but more in a friends way.

She was a really friendly person, and I wanted to be friendly when I was around her.

Let me explain something here: As a teen, and especially one whom people assumed was male, I had been sexually active. I kissed a lot of girls, and I let them kiss me. I lost my virginity when I was sixteen to a girl I thought I would love for the rest of my life.

In essence I was a normal.

For the first time, however, I didn’t look at a woman and see a potential mate. I wondered what she would think of having sex with me, sure, but it was more of an off-hand thought, not a pressing need. In fact I’d dismissed the thought of having sex with her long before we reached our destination. Not because she wasn’t attractive, quite the opposite. No, I let it go because I just didn’t look at her in that way.

We got off the bus and I looked around a bit wondering where I would go next.

“Leah, this is my number. When you get your cell phone replace, give me a call.”

With that she was gone. It was only after she left that I swore. She was, apparently the leader of this group and she knew that I wasn’t what I’d said I was.

She’d never said a thing.

The looks I got in that knee length skirt were eye opening. I loved to be seen. The looks of admiration from the guys, and jealousy from the girls, were liberating. It was as if I were really alive for the first time.

Something about the way I was being treated just clicked with me.

I didn’t relish the idea of hiking into the woods in my prison slippers, but I really didn’t have any choice in the matter. I’d left the money we got in the woods, and I needed some money to set myself up.

I’d stumbled upon the bunker during one of my solo forays into the national forest that bordered on the town where I grew up. I didn’t know who originally made it, but it was air tight and therefore perfect for my needs.

The new combination lock I put on the outside just assured me that all was safe every time I returned.

I went inside this time and realized for the first time that I couldn’t keep coming out here to retrieve another packet or two of bills at a time. Sure, I could keep paying in cash for everything, but I wanted to be able to flash a debit card at people, especially one of those black visa ones…

I’d had a vision of myself with a manicured and painted hand when I thought of that. This thing was that every time in the past when I’d imagined my future out of prison, logically I knew I would be presenting as a female, emotionally I still thought in terms of simple male clothing. This time I thought of being out there and being seen. Not like a Kardashian or something, just…me only female.

The first problem that I had, was that I didn’t have a purse, or a car, or a phone…mostly, though, I didn’t have a purse.

I had no idea how much a purse cost, so I grabbed a packet of twenties and put half under each of my breasts…fake breasts. It was funny how they enhanced my cleavage. The twenties, not the breasts.

I locked up and left the bunker.

The girl in the shop was extremely helpful, even pointing out a good pair of shoes that would match my outfit, and be durable enough to do some light hiking.

I loved that purse. I don’t know what it was about it, but I really loved carrying it. It wasn’t that complex of a purse, just a couple of pockets, but it was mine.

I put the strap over my shoulder and I made the two hour hike back out to the bunker.

Next, I decided that I needed a car. Not just any car either. I didn’t mind hiking out to the bunker, but the thing was it had taken me a day and a half to drag the bags out there the first time.

I knew what I wanted, too. I wanted a Jeep. For the longest time, I’d wanted a Jeep wrangler. So I walked into our local Jeep dealership. As I was walking in, I saw a couple of deep red Wranglers. I was sure that I wanted a red jeep…until I saw her.

She had to be a female Jeep, because there is no way that a male jeep would be caught dead in that color. It was a beautiful plumb color. When I saw it, I knew that I needed that Jeep.

I walked up to the salesman, and pointed at the Jeep that I wanted.

“What do I need to bring you to purchase that Jeep?’

“huh?”

“The purple one. How do I purchase a car?” At that time I didn’t know what color it really was. It just looked a sort of pinkish-purple to me.

“Oh, that one. Never thought I would sell it, actually. Guys seem to be the only ones in here recently to purchase these, and none of them want a car in that ghastly color.”

“Ghastly to you, maybe, I think it’s perfect.”

“Well, miss, you need a proof of address, your driver’s license and forty-thousand.”

He must have properly interpreted my disappointment, if not the reason for it because of his next statement, “It’s because of the custom work on that one. It was custom built, but then the purchase fell through.”

“No, the price isn’t the problem. I recently moved here and my license was lost in my move, so I don’t have a proof of address or even a license.”

“Wait, you’ve got cash for the car?”

“Yes. Is that a problem? I brought sixty thinking that they might cost that much. I’ve never purchased a car before.”

Here was the first time that I realized that everyone can be bought. Ok, so maybe not everyone, but there is a lot that people will do for money, especially if it is enough money.

The salesman walked over to another person on the lot and talked to him quietly for a moment. The other guy leered at me as the first salesman came back.”

“I told him I was taking a break to close a deal, he jumped to the wrong conclusion as I expected him to.”

“You told him…”

“Relax, I’m gay. I work here to pick up cute guys. Just don’t let my co-workers know that.”

“That doesn’t even put me at ease, since I’m in drag….shit.” I’ll never know what made me say that, but it was awesome watching his eyes bug out.

“You’re a guy….”

“At least physically.”

“I have never been attracted to a woman before. Knowing that…”

“Look, you’re cute, I’ll grant you that, but I’m not into dick at the moment.”

“At the moment? Well, after we’re done with this, I’ll give you my card. If you’re ever interested…while you’re still physically male, give me a call.”

I blushed. I have no idea why I blushed, but I blushed. He helped me into his personal car and drove me to the other side of town. We got out and walked into a run down building. I was a bit nervous about the surroundings, so I moved in closer to the salesman. He put his arm around me and I sort of leaned into him. It was nice, even if he were a guy.

The room we entered was nothing like the exterior of the building. It looked like a penthouse apartment. There were three plasma TVs in the first room alone.

“Brad, my man, who’s this?”

“Leah, this is Hamilton. Ham, this is Leah. Leah is in need…of your expertise.”

“I can see that…”

“Leah’s ID does not match her appearance. She told me originally that it got lost in the move, but most people would just go get it replaced. After she told me her secret, I understood that she couldn’t use a male ID to make a purchase like that as a female.”

“What?”

Ham’s eyes went even wider than Brad’s had earlier.

“She’s a dude?”

I glared at him. I didn’t know why at the time, but it pissed me off that he was calling me a guy while dressed like this. Wasn’t it obvious that I was a girl?

“Sorry, I’ll take your word for it. I take it that these papers have to pas muster?”

“Yes, we want the deluxe package. Driver’s License, Passport, Social Security Card, and Birth Certificate. And, make sure they are all properly registered with all the agencies.”

“That takes time, bro. And money.”

“Our friend here wants ten, Leah.”

I looked blankly at Brad for a moment before it clicked. I reached into my purse and grabbed five bundles of twenties. I took the paper bands off and handed the money over to him.”

“What did you do, rob a bank?”

“That’s not a problem for you, is it?” I asked looking around at the apartment.

He laughed and took my money.

“I like her,” Ham said. It was probably the best compliment I’d heard all day. He used the female pronoun on me.

“You have an address you want associated with your driver’s license?”

I pulled the card that Kat gave me and rattled off her address. It would work at least for the short term.

He took a picture with me in my everyday attire, and then went into the back room. A couple of minutes later he came back with a woman’s business top. He adjusted my hair into a butterfly clip and took another picture.

Ten minutes later, Leah Hanover had a driver’s license.

“Don’t get pulled over with this for at least two days, as it will take me that long to get everything taken care of with all the proper agencies. Think of it as a really good fake until then. I’ll send the rest of your ID’s to the address you gave me in five to ten days.”

“That long?”

“Strangely enough the license is the easiest of the documents to fake. The other’s take more work.”

We thanked him, and went back out to Brad’s car. We drove back to the lot and I paid for my brand new Jeep.

When we finished up the paperwork, I looked at him a little strangely.

“What?” he asked.

“I thought you’d ask for more money or something. You know, a little extra.”

“Don’t think it didn’t cross my mind, but I’m fine with my commission on this vehicle.”

I laughed and drove off the lot.

Priorities are important. I figured the best thing to do next was to find myself a place to stay, and that ended up being a motel. I couldn’t get into the better hotels without a credit card, I tried, and many of the motels were the same way. I ended up paying in cash for a little motel just off the freeway.

I stripped naked so that I could clean the clothing. I wanted to be somewhat presentable the next day after all. I picked up some sundries at the local drug stor4e, including some detergent for my clothing. My chest was itching, so I applied a liberal layer of moisturizer.

I’d gotten some in the same sent as the body spar I’d put on earlier. It was vanilla. Somehow, over the course of the day, I’d grown to love that fragrance, so I’d picked up a French vanilla lotion.

The smell of it was calming, and I lay there and allowed the scent to overpower me.

I woke up in the middle of the night in a panic. I didn’t know where I was, and someone with smooth legs was in the bed with me. The more I struggled, the more the unknown assailant struggled with me. I ended up curled into a tight ball in the corner of the room.

I must have fallen asleep there as the next thing I remembered was the sun peeking in through the windows.

I carefully got dressed and looked at myself in the mirror.

The only thing I saw in the mirror was a scared teen. The person looking back was someone I recognized as a boy. How anyone could take me for a girl, I had no idea. I wanted to scream and cry and rip my hair out.

This wasn’t going to work. Eventually someone would realize I was a guy, and not only that but I was a fugitive from the law.

I rubbed my chest down again with the moisturizer and then went out to the rest of my day.

Maslow’s hierarchy asserted itself at that point. My stomach was rumbling a bit, so I figured that now would be a good time to see to that.

Eating breakfast in a diner was notable for two reasons: the first being that once again I was being treated as a woman. The second was that I saw a news article about my escape. They were showing pictures of what I’d looked like, or at least what they assumed I looked like, only days before the breakout.

I could see now why the guards had never connected this clean faced mannish woman I now was with the dirty inmate I had been. Dirt was caked into the cavity around the eyes. The beard was a matted mess, and even I couldn’t tell that it was fake.

Seeing how dirty I’d been only a day before made my skin crawl.

“I don’t think he’ll be bothering you, sweetie,” the woman behind the counter said.

“What?” I asked.

“That escaped felon. They figure he’s long gone from here, as no one’s seen him since yesterday.”

“How long have they been running this story?”

“Since about ten last night. Apparently they only realized he was gone at lights out.”

The next couple of days I spent time in my room, going shopping, and collecting more of the money from the bunker in the woods. I’d missed the first anniversary of the news article about the woman, so I decided that today would be my new day to send her money.

I packed another shoebox full of cash and sent it off.

I had almost a million in twenties hidden around the inside of my car when I went to Kat’s office.

“Hello, do you have an appointment?”

“No, but Kat told me to call when I got a cell phone. I still haven’t gotten a cell phone, but I wanted to know if I could talk to her.”

“I’m not sure…”

The door to the office opened and two women walked out. Kat gave the brunette with her a motherly hug and the brunette walked out.

“I received a package for you, Leah. I hope you don’t make a habit of this.” She looked me over with a critical eye.

“Well, I see that you’re not hopeless in the fashion department. I thought this was just something you did as a one off.”

“No, it was my plan all along.”

Kat ushered me into her office so we could have a chat. It was over an hour and we covered everything.. At least everything I could actually remember. It was the unvarnished truth and even covered the robbery.

I told her what Sean had done to me. I told her about the first night in the prison. Mostly I talked about the first night in prison. At the time it seemed as though it lasted for an eternity, but it was likely that it was less than an hour.

We talked about how I was dressed and about my feeling on the issue of dressing up.

We scheduled a time for me to meet with her next week, she gave me my illegal documents, and I left. I didn’t tell her that she’d taken receipt of counterfeit goods.

The rest of the day was spent in getting a new bank account and depositing fifty-thousand. I planned on dropping off another ten thousand in cash each month. Hopefully the fact that it was all in twenties would be accepted as some sort of cash business. I couldn’t be a striper as, as their tips were all in ones, and there was no way I would want someone to think I was a striper. It just wasn’t something I wanted people to think of me.

There must be something where I would get mostly twenties, and they’d have to supply it. Let them believe what they would. I’d just have to keep depositing my twenties every month.

I gave them Kat’s office, again, as my mailing address, since that’s what was on my ID.

I found an apartment over the course of the next week and moved the rest of the money in there. Life wasn’t perfect, but I hoped that I could at least make it as close to perfection as humanely possible.