Cousin Amy 07

Chapter 7: The Disguise That Binds

Scott emerged from the attorney's office, each step on the tall, painful heels sending a jolt through his already frazzled nerves. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, a chaotic blend of relief and apprehension swirling within him. As he navigated the busy streets, his eyes darted around nervously, scrutinizing every passerby, half-expecting their gazes to pierce through his disguise.

Attempting to move quickly - though his platform pumps severely limited his pace - Scott found his way to the coffee shop where he had left Jessica. Entering with a level of nervousness that made him feel as if he were on display, he tried his best to blend in, to not let the overwhelming sense of exposure get the better of him.

Spotting Jessica scrolling through her phone in a corner, he made a beeline towards her, his heart racing. “It’s time to leave,” he announced, the urgency in his voice unmistakable.

“What happened?” Jessica inquired, her curiosity piqued by Scott's jittery demeanour.

“I’ll tell you in the car,” Scott replied, his voice shaky. “Let’s go! Please!”

Sensing the discomfort rolling off him in waves, Jessica quickly gathered her things and followed her cross-dressed boyfriend out the door. As they made the short walk to the parked car, the couple moved in silence, the tension palpable between them. Glancing to her left, Jessica cast a discerning eye over her boyfriend’s feminized appearance, searching for any sign that might have given him away. Yet, as she took in the sight of his shapely nylon-covered legs, the slim contour of his padded form, and the cascade of silky blonde hair dancing around his shoulders, she concluded that if Scott had indeed been discovered as an imposter, it wasn’t due to any shortcomings in her styling - he was the epitome of girlish elegance.

Reaching the car, Scott all but fell into the driver's seat, his movements a stark contrast to the gracefulness his appearance suggested. He was eager to find refuge within the Mini Cooper, a place he perceived as safe.

“So?” Jessica prompted, her voice filled with anticipation the moment the doors closed.

Scott inhaled deeply, shook his head, and then let out, “We’re screwed,” increasing the already heavy atmosphere. He then proceeded to explain what had happened in the meeting and the delay.

“So, there is money then?” Jessica asked, her focus narrowing.

Scott nodded, a snort escaping him as he revealed, “Five million,” chuckling through his disbelief.

Jessica’s mouth dropped open. “Five million,” she echoed, the number resonating in the confined space of the car. After a moment's pause, she whooped loudly, “Scott, we’re rich!” Her voice was a high-pitched shriek of joy.

Scott, less enthused, glanced over at Jessica. “Only if we don’t get caught first. A month is a long time, Jess” he replied, his voice tinged with worry as he glanced down at his nylon-clad legs protruding from the hem of his short dress.

“Okay, I get it,” Jessica conceded, dialling back her excitement. “There are still a few hurdles to get over. But five million, Scott! Think of the life we’re going to have.”

A small smile crept across Scott’s glossy pink lips. “I know, It’s crazy, right? I was so surprised when the guy told me, I almost shouted out in my normal voice.”

“But he believed you? That you were Amy?” Jessica inquired, her excitement momentarily replaced by concern.

“Yeah, he bought it,” Scott confirmed calmly. “Signed me on as a client and everything.”

Jessica couldn’t contain her excitement; she squealed again, leaning over to plant a kiss on Scott’s cheek. Then, noticing the red lipstick mark she’d left, she licked her thumb and wiped it away. “I know. Let’s stay calm. One step at a time,” she said, noting Scott's glare.

“Yeah,” Scott agreed, reaching into his handbag to retrieve the car keys. “Let’s go home. We need to think about what we do next carefully.”

So, gripping the steering wheel with his girly-looking hands, Scott thrust the key into the ignition, and the engine roared to life. With a determined press of his high-heeled foot onto the clutch, he shifted the car into reverse. Then, through a meticulous dance of heels between the clutch and accelerator, he managed to back out of the parking space without stalling the car - a feat that felt akin to juggling while wearing boxing gloves.

As they drove back from London, the car was enveloped in a calm silence, with neither Scott nor Jessica feeling the need for conversation. The tranquillity of their journey, however, was abruptly shattered by a ringing sound that sliced through the serenity - a harbinger of the chaos their actions had unleashed.

“What's that?” Scott asked, his voice laced with surprise, attempting to locate the source of the noise while keeping his darkly-lined eyes on the road.

Jessica, equally startled, rummaged through her handbag and pulled out a phone. She glanced at the screen to see 'Mum' flashing on the caller ID. “It’s Amy’s mum,” she responded, her tone reflecting her astonishment.

“Is that… Amy’s phone?” Scott exclaimed, a mix of shock and irritation in his voice as he glanced over.

“Urm… maybe,” Jessica sheepishly admitted.

“Well, don’t answer it!” Scott nearly shouted, his focus momentarily diverted from driving as the car swerved slightly.

“I wasn’t going to,” Jessica retorted, rolling her eyes in frustration.

A tense quietness enveloped them as they continued to drive, the phone's ringing eventually ceasing. When silence returned, Scott asked, “Why do you have Amy’s phone, and why on Earth is it on?”

Jessica wore a look of guilt. “Well… I kinda wanted to see some pictures of Amy. You know, to get a better idea of what kinda girl she is,” she explained, trying to justify her actions.

Scott’s gaze flicked between her and the road, disbelief evident with each glance. “Oh, look, her mum left a voicemail,” Jessica announced, attempting to diffuse the tension as she effortlessly unlocked the phone.

“How did you…?” Scott asked in utter shock, watching the screen light up.

“Well, her code’s 1234.,” Jessica replied with a nonchalant shrug. “Your cousin obviously isn’t very bright. I saw a reel on the most common passcodes, and guess what? That was at the top of the list.”

Scott shook his head, speechless at the absurdity unfolding before him. A shudder of fear coursed through him as he noticed Jessica beginning to dial a number on the phone. “What are you doing?” he shouted, panic lacing his voice. “Stop that! Are you stupid?”

Jessica paused, turning to face Scott with an expression as stormy as a brewing tempest - being called stupid was a surefire way to ignite her fury. “I was going to see what the voicemail said,” she started, her tone initially calm but quickly gathering intensity. “I mean, it’s not like she’ll find out we listened to it. Or do you think I'm just some dumb bimbo about to ring her up for a little chit-chat?” She added, raising her voice in a crescendo of fury directed at Scott.

(See image 13)

Realizing he had struck a nerve, Scott firmly gripped the steering wheel, his makeup-covered face, stoically facing forward as he allowed Jessica to vent her frustrations. When her tirade ebbed to silence, Scott offered a glance of apology. "I didn’t mean to call you stupid," he conceded. Under normal circumstances, he might have countered her anger with his own, but dressed as he was, diverting nearly all his focus to driving in his unusual attire, confrontation was the last thing he wanted. "I'm just a bit on edge here. This is… a lot," he admitted.

"So, are we listening to it or not?" Jessica snapped back, her arms crossed in defiance.

Scott pondered for a moment. He knew that whatever message awaited them was unlikely to be good news, but ignorance wasn't bliss in this situation. "Play it," he muttered, avoiding Jessica's gaze as he spoke.

Jessica dialled the voicemail service and switched the phone to speaker mode. The car was suddenly filled with a tense silence, only to be broken by the sound of Amy’s mother's hysterical voice resonating through the small space. “Amy… Are you back? If you are, why haven’t you called me? I’ve been trying to reach you all week. I’ve left a million messages. And now I hear that you’ve been to see Mr. Peterson at his office. I know you’re angry with me but call me, please! It’s important.”

As the message concluded, Scott looked over at Jessica, his eyes wide behind the fluttery false lashes. Jessica inhaled sharply, their eyes locking in mutual apprehension. No words were needed; both understood the gravity of their predicament.

The journey back to Epsford was oppressively silent, the tension ratcheting up to an almost unbearable level, only interrupted by the sound of Amy’s mother calling twice more. Upon entering Amy’s apartment, Scott immediately removed his wig, discarding it on a table with a mix of relief and resignation before heading to the sofa. He flopped down with a heavy sigh, eager to rid himself of the shoes that had been a source of discomfort all day. Once the buckles were undone and his toes finally had room to stretch, he brought his hands up to cover his face, overwhelmed by a surge of emotions. The urge to scream bubbled up within him; he felt like a complete fool, grappling with the reality of his actions.

Jessica made her way over to sit to her boyfriend's left, her presence a silent offer of support. Scott, feeling a tumult of emotions, slowly removed his hands from his face to look at her. “I have to call her,” he muttered, the weight of his own words surprising him.

Jessica stared back at him, her disbelief mirroring his own, her expression screaming, ‘Are you crazy?’ “Are you sure?” she asked, voice laced with concern.

“It’s the only way,” Scott replied, his breaths shaky, the reality of the situation sinking in. “I’ve signed those papers, and if she doesn’t hear from Amy, she’ll keep calling or, worse, come around here!”

With a solemn nod, Jessica delved into her handbag, fished out Amy’s pink phone, and handed it to Scott. He took it as though it were a venomous creature, his distaste for what he was about to do palpable. Typing in the simple passcode, 1234, he grimaced as a photo of his cousin Amy, clad in a pink bikini on some beach, filled the screen.

Gathering up every ounce of courage he possessed, Scott navigated to the contacts and located Amy’s mother. There he paused, his pink, glued-on fingernail hovering above the button, the gravity of what he was about to do making him feel sick. With his heart pounding as if trying to escape his chest, Scott took a deep breath, pressed the call button, and hesitantly brought the pink phone to his ear, bracing himself for what was to come.

(See image 14)

The phone rang only once before it was picked up, a worried woman's voice immediately filling the line. “Amy?” Amy’s mother asked, her voice laced with concern.

“I’m here, Mum,” Scott replied, his voice a timid whisper, betraying none of his current facade.

“Where have you been? Your father and I have been worried sick!” Amy’s mother pressed, her worry evident in her frantic tone.

“I told you I was going away. And that there would be no phone signal at the retreat,” Scott responded, mustering as much confidence as he could into his feigned version of Amy’s voice, silently praying that his cousin had indeed informed her mother of her plans.

There was a brief pause before her mother’s voice returned, now tinged with anger. “You did, but you didn’t say for how long. And what’s wrong with your voice? You sound different.”

“I have a sore throat,” Scott blurted out, the lie swift and convenient. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you when I’d be back. I didn’t know myself.”

Amy’s mother sighed, a sound of resigned frustration. “Thank you for apologizing,” she said. “I assume you’ve heard about Granny if you went to see Mr. Peterson. How did you find out?”

“There was a letter here when I got back,” Scott replied, anchoring his next words in truth for the first time during the call.

“And you didn’t call me? For heaven’s sake, Amy, I…” Her voice rose in anger once again, only to catch and halt mid-sentence. “Anyway, let’s talk about that another time. We were all worried you’d miss the funeral. But with the delay, it won’t be for a few weeks now. Perhaps we could meet and discuss some of the details of the day,” Amy’s mother suggested.

“No!” The word exploded from Scott with too much force, his expression twisting into a grimace. “I mean… I can’t right now. It still hurts too much to think about Granny and all. I need some time to, you know… process things.”

There was a pause, filled with a palpable sadness. “Okay, I’ll give you a week or two to ‘process things.’ But we need to talk at some point. I know you’re still angry with me, but we have things to organize. And don’t you think it’s time we talked things through? Cleared the air.”

“Uhm… we will. Soon.” Scott managed to say, his voice barely above a whisper. “Gotta go now. Bye Mum,” he added quickly, ending the call and letting out a long, pent-up breath.

In the stillness that followed, Scott lifted his gaze to meet Jessica, who looked back at him as if she were seeing a stranger. “You’re a pretty amazing actor,” she commented, her voice a mix of awe and shock.

Scott, still trying to catch his breath, managed a weak smile. “Do you think she believed it?”

Jessica nodded, conviction in her eyes. “I think so. But all you’ve done is bought us a few weeks. What do we do now?”

Scott shook his head, the weight of their situation pressing down on him. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice tinged with despair. “I just don’t know.”