He Took the Midnight Train, Goin’ A-NY-WHERE…

The lady at the counter told me there were no more empty sleeper cars. I offered to buy out a Bedroom Suite, all for myself, but she shook her head, telling me that even those were all taken up. Apparently, the prior Boston-Chicago Amtrak train got heavily delayed, forcing a bunch of new passengers onto mine.

I suppose I should count myself lucky that this train isn’t delayed.

I sit on the train car’s “sofa which can be converted into a bed,” staring out the large bay window at the incredible view, which currently consists of a brick wall featuring stripes alternating between brick-red and brick-eroded-red. There’s an upper bed that can fold down above me, a shared in-car “private” bathroom, an armchair, as well as a singular electrical outlet. All in all, a man could live here for about a day before going crazy. Good thing this train ride is only twenty-one hours long.

A person opens up the door, poking his head in. The Hispanic guy scrunches up his face, looking around for a second, and then he mutters to himself, “whoops, wrong room,” and he’s gone a second later.

Erin got back in safely last night, and though Vidocq’s agents appear to have been scrambling through the early morning, none of them are currently even within ten blocks of Back Bay Station. I shouldn’t drop my guard yet, though. Vidocq himself, since dropping off the grid with that swim he took, is still missing. It would be completely in-character for him to show up here.

My head snaps up as the door opens again. This time, it’s not a guy that enters, but a girl. And damn, what a girl she is.

She wears her fluffy white down jacket unzipped, revealing a tight-fitting black tank top with a plunging low neckline that instantly draws my eyes to her twin firm tits. Her skinny jeans, classily ripped, is paired with a cute turquoise backpack to complete her outfit. Her brunette tresses fall down in waves to her shoulders, slyly covering her blue eyes and cheeky smile as she pokes her head into the door at an angle.

“Whoa, hey!” she says, pulling in a travel-sized suitcase that looks like it’s on the brink of exploding. “I didn’t expect to have a roommate for the ride!”

“Neither did I,” I say, leaning back on the sofa and spreading my arms.

She plops down onto the armchair facing me and slips off her backpack, dropping it onto the ground. “That’s so cool, I thought I was going to have to ride alone! Are you looking forward to the ride?”

“It’s a long one,” I offer as a response.

“Yeah, it’s a whole day long! I was thinking of bringing my charades deck, but then I ran out of space when I was packing, and then realised there would be nobody to play it with… but I was wrong! You’re here!” She gets all excited when she speaks, her head bobbing up and down. I try to hide the smile I’m about to crack across my face; her cheer is infectious.

“That’s right, I am here,” I say, deadpan.

“And… oh… sounds like the train’s about to go,” she says, right as we hear the sound of the external doors sliding shut. I stand up, looking at the brickwork through the window. That window might be a problem once we pull out of the station.

“Mind if I draw the curtains?” I ask.

“Why?” she asks. “Too sunny in here?”

“Something like that,” I say.

“Oh wait, wait, before you do that—I’ve got to take a selfie! We’re heading off on a new adventure. Isn’t this so exciting?” she says, holding up her phone.

I realise with a start that she me in the photo frame too.

“Uh… do you mind if I’m not in the selfie?” I ask.

She shrugs and pouts a bit, but she turns around, smiling into the camera until a trademark click! sounds.

I draw the curtains, and she turns to look up at me.

“So, sunglasses-Celtics guy, what’s your name?” she asks me.

I pause for a second, looking at her. What answer to I give her?

“Claude,” I say, because what the heck, I might as well practice the role I’m going to be living now.

“Cool, I’m Ella Sue! Sometimes Ella, but never Sue.” There’s a moments pause that I wonder if I should fill, but then she does the job for me: “So, where are you headed?”

“Chicago,” I say, keeping the answer brief. No need to reveal anything more than is strictly necessary.

“Well duh, that’s why we’re on this train,” Ella Sue laughs. “But are you going anywhere after that? Like, I’m switching to a train for LA after Chicago!”

Interesting. If she’s headed to the same place as me, then lying about going anywhere else could be an issue.

“Yeah," I admit, “My final stop’s LA too.”

“Oh wow, cool! That must be why they put us in the same car!” Ella Sue says. I have more serious reservations about the competency of the Amtrak bureaucratic system, but I nod along. “I’ve never been. You ever been there before?”

Shit. Has Claude? The answer comes back to me, the notes in the file flashing through my head.

“A couple times, mostly for work,” I admit. “But it’s a great city. I think you’ll like its vibe.”

“Really?” she asks, and then she falls silent.

I realise with a start that she’s giving me space to elaborate. Huh.

“It’s got a great art scene, for starters,” I say, “and there’s lots of cuisines that you can’t find done well elsewhere here in the States. And of course, there’s the usual sights for tourists—Venice Beach, Hollywood, you know the deal…”

“Hey! That’s why I’m going to LA! For Hollywood, to chase my dreams,” Ella says, and I give her a look.

“I can tell you did something with your eyes,” Ella says, “because your eyebrows moved. But I have no idea what.”

Her pouty face makes me feel bad. After a moment, I throw caution to the wind and take off my sunglasses, giving her the look again.

“Oh no,” she says, feigning disappointment with a dramatic sigh. “Not that look.”

“You get it lots?”

“So, so much,” she groans. “You wouldn’t believe it. ‘Look, silly girl thinks she can strike it rich in Hollywood, become a famous actress, what a ditz!’” She does such a great impression of a catty middle-aged woman that I, for a second, wonder if a third person has entered the compartment.

“And you’re… not going to Hollywood to do that?” I ask, feeling both a little confused and guilty at having pinned her down for being exactly that girl.

“I mean, kind of, but I’m being realistic about it,” she says. “I’m giving myself one year to make it in the industry—you know, one year to make enough to sustain myself, purely through acting. And if not? Well, I saved up for this year by working for seven as an accountant. I know a couple names out west. Worst comes to worst, I switch back to my old job and run numbers for some boring firm for the rest of my life.”

“Huh,” I say, leaning back in my sofa. “That’s a better plan than the last three people I met who were trying to do the Hollywood thing.”

“See! That’s what I tell people, but none of them believe me. Well, except you, of course,” she says, giving me a warm smile. Then, a moment later: “Not even my parents do!”

“They’re not supportive?” I ask.

She shakes her head glumly. “It sucks.”

“Tell me about it,” I say, chuckling softly.

Did Claude have shitty parents?

Not exactly, but who cares. ‘Not supportive’ is a pretty broad statement. And besides, wasn’t Erin just telling me that I need to figure out how to love people or something… I stop my thoughts right there. Nope, I’ve literally just met this girl, and I cannot trust her, no matter what my instincts scream. Besides, do I even like her that much?

The lull in the conversation stretches out into a minute or two, Ella Sue content laying back in her armchair in silence. With her down jacket off now, I get a better look at her full figure, and fuck, yeah, she’s just as hot as I first thought she might be, beautiful tits and a real hot ass, a killer figure made for Hollywood. What kind of accountant looks like that? That’s when I realise I no longer have sunglasses on, and she’s giggling into her hand because I am ogling her.

“So um… got any favourite actors?” I ask hurriedly, looking back up at her face.

“Yeah, loads!” she answers immediately, perking up. Then she covers her face with a hand, embarrassed. “But my current all-time favourite is such a boring answer. I almost want to change it, but whatever, Tiffany Najbreit is totally my girl.”

“Hey, she’s pretty good,” I say, trying to keep my expression neutral. Of all the people…

“Admit it. You think she’s hot, don’t you,” Ella Sue says, leaning forwards and staring close into my face.

“Wha… what? What makes you think that?” I ask, shaking my head, playing the fool.

“Because your expression was screaming ‘I’m hiding something over here!’” she laughs. “Come oon, actress in training here!” She mimics my expression, and I have to admit, she looks like she’s pretty damn guilty of something, even though I have no idea what it is.

“Okay, you got me,” I say, raising my hands in defeat. “But she’s what, twenty now? So it’s not creepy!”

“She’s nineteen,” she says, correcting me sternly. “And how old are you, Mr. Claude?”

“Thirty… nine?” I admit, trying not to look too guilty.

She tsks at me, shaking her head.

“Men like you, always creeping on women so much younger than you,” she says. “The lowest you should be looking at is twenty-nine.”

“And how old are you?” I shoot back.

She holds a finger up to her lips and winks.