It was around 3:30 pm, and I was on my way to see a guy named Juicebox in Newark. He was the guy that Quincy knew that would be able to set me up with a new identity. He had left a note on my windshield for to read whenever I came back to retrieve my car. It gave me the address I was to meet Juicebox, and that he was expecting me. I couldn't have been more grateful to Quincy; I now had the means and the ability to actually start fresh, I wouldn't have to live life on the run.

I was happy to be out of that red dress and tights. I've bought a bunch of new clothes, shoes, a handbag, and a suitcase to hold everything. I currently had on black skinny jeans, combat boots, a white funnel neck sweater, and a grey peacoat. I felt more confident now. I thought I looked almost unrecognizable.

I had arrived to where I was supposed to meet Juicebox. It was at a warehouse in the Newark Bay area. I had put $5,000 in my coat, got out of my car, and walked to the door of the warehouse. I had checked the address numbers to make sure I was at the right place. I banged on the metal door of the warehouse. There were trucks everywhere, I saw workers unloading a truck at the warehouse across the street. It reminded me of the docks my father had worked at in Tallinn.

The door opens, "The fuck you want white girl?".

"I'm here to see Juicebox," I reply.

"Oh, you are huh?" he said laughing. "Aye yo Juicebox, you got a little white bitch here to see you!"

"That's her, let her in! This is the one our boy Quincy said would be by!"

I was nodded in by the guy at the door. I walked inside and looked around. I saw rows of tables, some of them were packaging up what looks to be cocaine, others were counting huge sums of money. The guy who had let me in then started rubbing me.

"What are you …"

"Shut the fuck up!" he barked. I then realized he was patting me down for weapons. A tall black man, who looked to be in his late thirties approached us.

"You Leena?" he asks.

I nod my head.

"Right this way," he says as he hints at me to follow him.

We go up a flight of metal stairs into what seems to be his office.

"You're Juicebox I take it?"

"Yuh" he answers. "Before I forget, do you have the…"

I hand him $5,000 before he finishes. He counts it and nods.

"Well, Leena, Quincy already told me everything you needed. I have already prepared everything. What languages do you speak?"

"I can speak Estonian and English, obviously. I can speak Russian fluently. I am also strong in Ukrainian. I can speak a little bit of Polish, its passable but not great." I answer.

"Damn, how did you learn all of them" he asks.

"It's common in Eastern Europe to know multiple languages." I answer.

"Right, well that's good, because given your Eastern European accent, I didn't want to have your new Identity to have been born in the United States. Here is your birth certificate, you are Leena Volkov, you are from Belarus. Luckily Russian is one of the official languages of Belarus."

"Russian, Ukrainian, Belarussian, there is a degree of mutual intelligibility" I added.

"Right. Well Leena Volkov was born in the Soviet Union on April 20, 1976"

"That's my actual birthday," I said chuckling.

"Oh really? Well, that's one less thing you'll have to remember," Juicebox responds. "You were the only child of Ivan and Anya Volkov. They died when you were 10 in a car crash. You lived with your Uncle Igor until 1994, When he passed away. This was when you had moved to the United States. You settled here in New Jersey. You became a Citizen in 1998. You worked at a Courtyard Marriot from the time you move here till December of 2008, when the hotel closed. You started as a receptionist and worked your way up to management. In May of 2009, you relocated, now this is where you come in."

"How airtight is this backstory?" I ask.

"Very! Soviet records we're extremely unreliable, no government agency will question it. As for your time here in New Jersey, government databases and electronic records systems have been flooded with proof of your existence. I hacked into Marriot; they now have you on file as a former employee. The IRS and New Jersey Treasury's Taxation Division have your tax returns on file. You have paid your Social Security and Medicare taxes. In your 2008 returns, you received a generous severance check from Marriot, a check I have grossed up for taxes to account for the $40,000 Quincy gave you. This is so you would be able to deposit this money at a bank without a problem. I am going to give you this binder."

Juicebox hands me a binder full of paperwork. "These are all your records, all the records proving Leena Volkov is a real person. I've included details of your backstory in there as well, study it, learn it."

"Wow you really put in the legwork here." I commented.

"It was easy, the trick is to make sure the government has records of your existence. You can forge documents, but if these are documents that the federal and local governments have in their systems, nobody's going to question it. Now, next steps!"

"Right" I said.

"Your picture. This will be for your driver's license and passport. Please go stand on the X" as he points to an 'X' on the floor in the corner of his office.

I go stand on the 'X'. He pulls down a green screen. And holds up a camera.

"Smile"

I smile as he takes my picture.

"Give me one second, you can sit down while I finalize your license and passport."

"Sure thing" I respond as I sit back down.

He enters a bunch of information into his computer. Then a few machines in his office start making noises. They looked like printers.

"I am putting your picture on your passport and driver's license. The picture has already been injected into the State Department and New Jersey DMV databases."

The printers stop making noise. He gets up and gets a couple of things from the printers.

"Here is your Passport and Drivers License Mrs. Volkov. The driver's license is a New Jersey driver's license, however, get a replacement license with the address of wherever you decide to settle. Your passport will expire next year, you'll need to get a replacement if you're planning on leaving the United States. You visited Canada a few times on a Marriot business trip, you will see the stamps for those trips in your passport."

"Thank you so much" I tell Juicebox.

"Don't mention it, I'll show you out of here."

I get up and follow him out of his office. He leads me out the door I had come in.

"Take Care" Juicebox tells me.

"You too" I reply.

I get in my car and take off. I was so happy. I didn't think starting over was going to be this easy. It's really just a testament of luck if I'm being honest. I was lucky enough to have met Quincy and that guy at the Whitney Inn that sold me his car. I was going to settle down in Texas, start over, and work on righting all the wrong I have done.