Part 10

Tawan put the transformed Ira Suwannathat—now Earn Phongphiphat—into the waiting SUV parked in the hotel garage. Three other SUVs followed them out before splitting off at major intersections. Tawan kept driving until she was confident they were not being followed.

They spent one uneventful night at a secure hotel, Tawan ensuring no one even glimpsed Ira. By the next morning, they boarded a private flight with staff trained to stay silent.

By the time they touched down, Ira Suwannathat had disappeared—on paper, at least.

In reality, Tawan watched her charge climb into the weathered Toyota Hilux waiting for them at a nondescript long-term parking lot near the airport. The vehicle was chosen deliberately to blend into the farming-heavy backdrop of Kalasin, Tawan's small hometown in northeastern Thailand.

Lin's transformation of Ira into Earn Phongphiphat had been thorough, but Tawan couldn't help but feel uneasy about the bold red hair. It was attention-grabbing in the worst way.

Kalasin wasn't a bustling metropolis like Bangkok. It was a quiet town where everyone knew each other. The arrival of anyone new—let alone someone with striking red hair and a distinct aura of city confidence—would draw attention.

"Is this truck pre-scented, or is that just part of the charm?" Ira muttered as she buckled her seatbelt. She wrinkled her nose and waved her hand in front of her face. "It smells like durian and fish sauce had a party in here."

Tawan started the engine, which growled to life. "It doesn't matter what it smells like as long as it runs."

"It matters a little." Ira shifted in her seat and glanced out the window at the unfamiliar landscape. "Are you going to tell me where we're going, or is this some secret mission where I find out at the last possible second?"

"We're going to Kalasin," Tawan said plainly as she pulled onto the main road. "My hometown."

Ira's brows rose. "Wait, you actually have one?"

Tawan glanced at her, unimpressed. "Of course I do. Everyone has a hometown."

She shook her head. "No, they don't. I don't."

Tawan pulled onto to the highway. She had a little over an hour to make sure Ira was ready to transition from celebrity to small-town girl. "Yes, you do. You're from Songkhla."

"Right." She huffed out a small sigh. "I'm not me anymore."

"Which means you're...?" Tawan prompted, glancing at Ira from the corner of her eye.

Ira rolled her eyes dramatically. "I'm Earn, your girlfriend." She leaned back in her seat with a sly grin. "You know, if it were anybody else but you, I'd think this was just an elaborate excuse to get into my pants."

Tawan's hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel, her tone flat. "It's not."

"I know." Ira's grin widened, playful and teasing.

Tawan glanced at her, her expression unamused. "That's not happening." Her voice was firm, with a sharp edge that hinted at old wounds. "Believe me, I'd rather chew off my own hand than be with someone that self-obsessed again."

"I know," Ira replied, but her tone was laced with mock innocence, leaving Tawan with the distinct feeling she meant the opposite.

"Trust me, Earn, the only agenda here is your safety," Tawan stated, her voice even but resolute.

"Trust me, Tawan, you've made that crystal clear," Ira said, staring out the window, her voice tinged with sarcasm. After a moment of silence, she turned back to Tawan, a mischievous gleam lighting up her face. "But that's what makes this so fun. You have to be nice to me and pretend you like me in public. You have to hold my hand and buy me dinner and call me sweet things like 'honey' and 'dear' and 'sweetheart.'"

"No, I don't." Tawan's response was curt.

"Angel?"

Tawan snorted. "No."

"Cookie?"

"Definitely not."

"Love of my life? Princess?" Ira suggested, her voice dripping with mock sweetness.

Tawan sped up slightly, eager to cut the trip short. "Hell no."

"If you hate the idea of dating me so much, why didn't you come up with some other cover story besides the cliché girlfriend-girlfriend thing?" Ira leaned forward, her tone playful and mock-serious. "I could be your distant cousin or something. Oh! Or a wealthy investor looking into your new business venture. That has intrigue written all over it." She brightened, as if struck by inspiration. "Actually, that makes sense. Through Tan, I practically am an investor!"

"You're not," Tawan said, her voice clipped. She bit back the more pointed words rising to her lips and forced her tone into something calmer. "And you can't be my cousin. People in Kalasin know my family too well."

Ira gave a dramatic sigh, settling back into her seat. "Fine. Girlfriend it is. I'll be the mysterious out-of-towner, here to sweep the local girl off her feet. Your mom is going to love me, isn't she?"

The words hit like a dull thud. Tawan's jaw tightened, her voice quiet. "Stepmother. My mother passed away."

"Oh." Ira's teasing evaporated. "I'm sorry."

Tawan shrugged, her expression unreadable. "It was a long time ago."

They drove in silence for a few moments, the sound of the tires on the road filling the space between them.

"Does your family know?" Ira asked softly, glancing at Tawan out of the corner of her eye.

"Know what?" Tawan glanced at Ira briefly before turning her attention back to the road.

He'd sent a quick text to her father earlier: I'm coming home. Bringing a friend.

The response had been as succinct as ever: Okay.

It was amazing how much meaning one word could carry. With two syllables, her father had managed to say, "She must be something special if you're bringing her home to meet us," and "You do realize how long it's been since you visited," and "The house is probably dusty, and there's nothing in the fridge—are you sure you want to stay here?" and, "There's something going on, Tawan, and I'll figure it out sooner or later."

Ira broke the silence, her voice hesitant. "Do they know about me?"

"No." Tawan shook her head emphatically, glancing at Ira for emphasis. "Nobody knows anything about who you really are or why you're really here. We're not telling them. That's crucial." Her tone turned firm, a no-nonsense cadence Ira was beginning to recognize as her default. "Don't think about, talk about, or even listen to anything related to Ira Suwannathat. As far as you're concerned, Ira Suwannathat doesn't exist. You never heard of her. Okay?"

Ira gaped at Tawan. "Was I living under a rock?"

"You know what I mean."

She waved her concern away. "I'm not me. I get it. Don't worry. I pretend to be other people all the time in videos. But don't you think it's going to be a little difficult to trick your family?" She flipped down the passenger-side visor, grimaced at her reflection in the mirror, and snapped it back up. "I mean, parents like to know everything about significant others. I know my dad would have grilled you like a steak if we'd tried to pull this on him."

"They won't do that." Tawan's voice carried a calm certainty. Her dad was a man of few words, and her stepmother would be curious but not invasive. She could manage that. The real challenge would be her younger brother. What were the odds that a music-obsessed teenager wouldn't recognize Ira Suwannathat, no matter how much she tried to blend in? Tawan shoved that worry to the back of her mind. "We need to go over the ground rules."

Ira opened the glove compartment and shifted through its contents. "Of course we do. I doubt you've ever lived a day without rules. I bet when you were born, you saluted the doctor and handed your mom a manual called Rules for Raising a Warden."

"I'm not..." Tawan took a deep, calming breath. "This entire operation is pointless if you don't take it seriously."

"I know how serious this is. I wouldn't be here if I didn't." Ira closed the glove compartment with a snap and looked around. "I'd be somewhere a hell of a lot more fun, with people who at least pretended to like me."

There was a bitter edge to her voice that Tawan couldn't entirely dismiss, but she let it slide. "Rule one. Don't talk about anything too personal with anyone. Keep it light. Shallow. You should be good at that."

"Ouch." She placed a hand over her heart in mock offense. "That hurts. You think I'm shallow?"

"Two." Tawan held up two fingers. "Don't go anywhere without me. Ever. Not even for a walk. If you need to go somewhere, we go together."

Ira smirked and started to sing. "We go together like—"

"Three." Tawan cut her off, her tone firm. "No. Singing."

Ira gestured to the mostly empty road ahead. "It's just us. Who's going to hear?"

"If you sing and someone recognizes your voice, your cover is blown. If your cover is blown, he finds you. He finds you, and it's game over. I can't stop someone determined to get to you if you hand him a road map. Understand?"

Ira shrank back into her seat, her playful demeanor evaporating. "I got it," she said quietly, her voice cracking.

Tawan hated the way her words seemed to cut Ira down, but it had to be done. "Earn Phongphiphat is tone deaf. Are we clear?"

Ira raised her hands in mock surrender. "No singing. Got it."

Tawan sped up to overtake a slower car. For a while, silence filled the truck as Ira stared out at the hazy sunset, her expression softening into something unreadable.

"Tell me about Kalasin," she said after a long moment. "What's it like?"

Tawan glanced at her, unsure how to answer. "It's a small town."

Ira rolled her eyes. "That doesn't mean anything. I've been to enough places to know that every town has something special. So what makes Kalasin different?"

Tawan thought of the quiet streets, the bustling morning markets, and the rice fields stretching endlessly into the horizon. The annual kite festival that filled the skies with vibrant colors. The warmth of neighbors who knew each other by name.

But then, Tawan thought of the suffocating small-town gossip, the expectations, and the tragedies that lingered like ghosts. Ira didn't need to know about any of that.

"Let's go over your backstory again," Tawan said, deflecting.

"Why? It's not like you'll let me talk to anybody. You'll probably lock me in a room and throw away the key."

Tawan raised an eyebrow at her. "Start with your name."

"Fine." She sighed dramatically. "My name is Earn Phongphiphat. You killed my father. Prepare to die."

"What?"

"Come on! You've never seen The Princess Bride?"

"No."

"What kind of childhood did you have?" Ira asked, giving Tawan a look filled with exaggerated judgment before relenting. "Hi. I'm Earn Phongphiphat, from Songkhla. I'm an aspiring actress with"—she glanced down at her plain outfit—"really rough fashion sense."

"Failed actress," Tawan corrected, her tone flat. "Your last audition went so badly, you decided to give it up and rethink your career."

"Why would anybody give up after one bad audition?" Ira sounded genuinely scandalized. "Earn wouldn't do that. Lucille Ball kept going no matter what crazy thing happened."

"This isn't a sitcom."

"You should have thought about that before getting my hair colour red."

"Why are you here in Kalasin, Earn?"

"Because my warden wants to protect me like a dragon protects a shiny diamond. You know, by burying it."

"We don't have time for games."

"Do you even know any games?" Ira tilted her head.

"Focus. Please."

"I mean it. This is the kind of thing a girlfriend would know, isn't it? What was your favorite game growing up? I bet it was something war-related."

"Earn."

"Tawan." Ira frowned and shook her head. "I can't call you that. If I'm supposed to be your girlfriend."

"Tawan," Ira repeated with a heavy dose of mock disapproval. "It's so stiff. Then again, I suppose that suits you, but wouldn't a girlfriend have a cute nickname for her partner?"

"No."

"Yes, she would. You know she would. Earn would definitely have a nickname for her partner. Something like snookums or honey bear."

"Hell no." Tawan's jaw tightened from all the clenching she'd done over the past few hours. "It's Tawan. Period."

"Tawnie?"

"Not even if you've been abducted by aliens." This drive felt like it would never end. "Can we continue with the backstory? Please?"

"Fine. But I'm not a failed actress. I'm just here to regroup. I haven't given up yet. I'm...centering myself. Actresses do that, right? My sister Ying does it all the time."

Tawan exhaled sharply. It wouldn't kill her to let Ira have her way on this. Anything to get her off the nickname topic. "Fine. When did we meet, and where?"

"We met in a café six months ago. Down on Sukhumvit Road, near a small independent theater where I had a bit part as an understudy."

"What play?"

"Birth of a Salesman."

"Death," Tawan corrected.

"Whatever. Anyway, we hit it off and started dating. We've been hot-and-heavy ever since." Ira patted Tawan's leg with mock affection. "I think you're stubborn, way too serious, and kinda stiff around the edges, but underneath you're a gooey mess."

Tawan blinked, both at the touch of her hand and the last thing she'd said. "I'm a what?"

"Gooey. Mess." Ira tapped Tawan's thigh on each word, leaving her hyper-aware of the touch. "I'm pretty sure that stoic act is just a coating to protect the soft, chewy center. It better be, anyway, if I'm supposed to be your girlfriend. I mean, who would put up with you if you were just...you?"

Tawan pressed her lips together and sped up a little more. She should have taken Ira somewhere so remote it would take a special forces team to extract her. Somewhere cold, so she could wear a parka and ski mask. Somewhere with only snow leopards for company.

Tibet, maybe.

She stared at the road ahead and pictured the stage diva stomping through the Himalayas in high-heeled boots.

The idea was entirely too satisfying.