Young Lies (Young Series Book 1) (23 page)

I never wanted to relive the discussion with Matthew’s father from that day in the hospital. Though even I had to admit I knew deep down it would come up at some point, especially with what’s happened to Matthew. Maybe I just hoped it would wait until I was out of the line of fire. I know I promised Claire I would be here to help her through this situation, but I can’t stay here. Every eye in this house will have a glint of suspicion aimed directly at me and I can’t face that, not without Matthew here.

Swiping at my eyes, I quickly pack my things, carefully placing the gift Matthew left for me between my shirts for padding, make a quick phone call, then head down the hall to pack Tyler’s bag. To my relief, I don’t have to go searching for my son; he finds me as I’m returning to the guest room.

“What’s wrong, Mommy?” he asks quietly, his little brow furrowed.

I force a smile. “Nothing, baby,” I lie. “We’re going to go somewhere very soon. I’ve already got your bag. But we need to keep quiet, all right? This is a secret trip.”

He doesn’t understand, I know he doesn’t, but he trusts me and nods and I know he’ll go along with everything I ask him to do right now.

I hear the family all sitting down at the table and it will only be a matter of minutes before Claire comes looking for me and Tyler, if she hasn’t written me off altogether, and I have to take advantage of their distraction. As quietly as possible, Tyler and I slip out the door and head down the long driveway where I see the cab I called pulling up at the street.

One last glance at the house and I swear I see movement near the porch, but the moment I blink and try to readjust my eyesight to see through the dark, it’s gone and I know I’ve imagined it. With Tyler and me buckled up in the backseat, I give the cab driver my destination address and we’re off.

Eight Years Ago...

We’ve been driving for what feels like days and the only landscape changes I’ve noticed are the ones that go from cows to corn and back again. It’s a nice drive, relaxing, but I honestly cannot see how people could possibly live here their entire lives without dying of sheer boredom. To say we stick out like a sore thumb is like saying cars run on gas. Wherever we stop, whether it is for food, lodging, or fuel for the car, we’ve got people staring at us. I don’t think they know what an outsider even looks like let alone how to figure out why one would be in the middle of fucking nowhere.

Everyone we’ve met so far has been incredibly nice, though, and that’s a definite change. I spend my days dealing with stuck-up, arrogant bastards who think they’re dealing with a child and as such can dictate the way a deal is worked out. It usually doesn’t take me long to put them in their place, but it’s tiresome and I need a break from that. Hence the road trip. I don’t remember the last time I did something like this, probably never, and it only took the gentlest pushing from Leo to get me to agree. He took care of renting a car, found an Iowa state roadmap, refusing to do things with technology despite our involvement in a recent piece of GPS technology that far surpasses anything before it, and even bought a mountain of road snacks that are sitting in the backseat. I don’t know about him, but I feel like a teenager again, which shouldn’t be a surprise since it’s only been about six years since I
was
a teenager. It feels like so much longer than that to me, though, and it just goes to show how far I’ve thrown myself into my work since I left college.

Even Leo seems relaxed. This isn’t a side of him even I see much these days, not since he got back from the war. He’d only been gone a little over a year, but in that time he aged at least ten. I know him well enough to know that he hasn’t told me even half of the things he experienced and saw, and judging by the things he
has
told me, I don’t want to know. I’ve seen him having nightmares and that was all I needed to know. Right now, I’ve got back my best friend, the guy who’s been there for me since we were in diapers, no matter where we were transferred. He’s the only person who’s ever bothered to keep in contact with me for more than a few months. It was a no-brainer that when I started my company, Leo was the first person I hired. With his military experience, he has a different view than everyone else, even me who grew up surrounded by military influence. I suppose there’s a difference between actually serving and merely being a family member of one who serves.

“I don’t know about you,” Leo announces as we pass the first car we’ve seen in hours. Automatically, we both glance over at the beat up, ancient pickup truck and find a man wearing overalls and a weathered face glaring at us in disapproval. Apparently people don’t speed around here, nor do they pass slower cars when the lines on the road are double-solid. “But I’m ready for a fucking cheeseburger.”

I chuckle, nodding my agreement. “I could go for one about now.” Reaching over, I grab the Iowa map and it only takes a few moments to pinpoint approximately where our car is currently driving, followed by searching for the nearest small town that might possibly have a place to get some edible food. “Afton, Iowa,” I announce after a moment. “Few miles down the road...” I grab the brochure of tourist attractions we grabbed when we stopped at the Iowa state line welcome center. “
Chet’s Diner. World-famous roast beef dinner, winner of best in the state eight years running...
Not a fucking cheeseburger, but could be good.”

Leo nods thoughtfully. “Chet’s it is,” he says. We’ve come to discover that small towns tend to have better food than most metropolitan cities, despite the fancy preparation, famous chefs, and elaborate décor. Not to mention you actually get your money’s worth when your food is delivered rather than paying over $100 for a tiny cut of chicken and three pieces of asparagus.

We cross the town line and immediately spot Chet’s, a tiny building set in a dirt parking lot full of pickup trucks. I’ve grown surprisingly fond of pickup trucks on this trip and when I get home, I might even buy one. They’re simple, dependable, and far less flashy than the other cars in my garage. The moment we park we see that we’ve already attracted attention. Several people are craning their necks to get a glimpse of our car as though they’ve never seen anything like it. Which they probably haven’t if they’ve never ventured out of their little bubbles. Inside the diner it’s just like the others we’ve visited: it doesn’t look like they’ve updated the furnishings since the early eighties, all the waitresses wear the same polyester skirts and shirts, and the locals are dressed like truck drivers. I smirk at the sight and we head to the only open table and sit.

While Leo checks his phone messages, I look around until my eyes lock on a girl. Not unusual for me, since I seem to have a girl wherever I go and am always looking for more. What is unusual is that this girl has caught my attention. Unlike a lot of the girls I’ve dated, this one probably wouldn’t normally register on my radar. Long brown hair tied back in a loose ponytail, a few strands hanging down around her face that she blows away when they stray in front of her light brown eyes. She’s thin and her clothes hang off her as though she’s lost some weight after acquiring them. There’s something odd about her smile and it takes me a moment to realize it doesn’t meet her eyes. I wonder why she’s so sad, then I wonder why care.

She glances our way and I don’t bother to hide the fact that I’m watching her. I smirk at the blush that creeps up her neck as she averts her gaze from mine. To my surprise, she’s heading to our table with a look on her face that suggests she’d rather do anything else in the world than tend to us. Her fake smile is plastered to her face as she approaches and I cock my head at her, smiling as well.

“Welcome to Chet’s,” she says briskly, handing each of us a menu. Leo immediately peruses it, searching for whatever it is that he wants for lunch, while I’m unable to look away from her, not missing a detail. She’s got a gravy stain on her skirt, a tear in her right sleeve, and her sadness is much more apparent in close range. I wonder vaguely whether she sleeps. Shifting around on her feet, I know she’s uncomfortable with my ogling; unfortunately for her, I can’t look away, especially when her entire body blushes—or at least the parts of her body that I can see.

“I’ll let you have a look at the menu,” she tells us hurriedly as she backs away from the table in a way she probably believes to be subtle, “and bring you back some water.”

But I’m not yet ready for her to walk away. “Actually, I know what I want,” I tell her, leaning back in my chair and grinning in a way that makes most girls melt into puddles. I know she’s affected, but she doesn’t react like I expect her to, which only increases my curiosity about her.

She’s flustered. I know if I look to my right I’ll find Leo rolling his eyes and shaking his head at me. “Okay,” she says quietly, her voice wavering. “What can I get you?”

Well, isn’t that a loaded question...
My smile widens; I hear Leo snort a laugh. He knows the game. He fucking
invented
the game. “We heard this place was famous for its roast beef,” I say to her quietly, seriously, looking her directly in her big brown eyes. I don’t remember the last time I saw eyes like those... Despite the noise in the diner, I know she hears me. “Is that true? Is it the best in the state?”

I’m not sure if I’m disappointed to hear the breathiness in her voice that tells me despite appearances, she’s like a lot of girls I come across—easily affected by a pretty face. Another thing that tends to get tiresome. “That’s what they say. Is that what you want?”

“No, but it’ll do for now.” I smile at her until she makes her hasty retreat back towards the kitchen. She disappears behind the door and I turn to look at Leo, finding him raising an eyebrow at me. “What?” I ask, spreading my hands in question. “Is there something wrong with a little harmless flirting?”

“You don’t flirt harmlessly,” Leo responds bluntly. “You lure innocent girls into your web, use them for your dastardly purposes, and leave them in pieces.”

I snort a laugh. “Dastardly, Leo? Really? Bit of an exaggeration.”

Shaking his head, Leo pulls out his phone again. “Got an email from the congressman’s assistant about the meeting tomorrow. It’s looking pretty damn good right now. They’re all interested in the proposal...”

He goes on in this vein until our food arrives, but I’ve tuned him out completely, choosing instead to watch our waitress move around the diner refilling drinks, talking with the patrons, stealing glances at me. I can’t even begin to explain what it is about her that has me so fascinated. She’s pretty, but it’s obvious she doesn’t put much effort into her appearance. Whenever her eyes meet mine, I see something hidden deep: it’s the look of someone who had bigger plans for themselves, but due to circumstances beyond their control, never got the chance to reach their full potential. I know this because it was the look I had in my own eyes all throughout high school and college, and it wasn’t until I decided to start my company that I realized what it was that made me feel so lost and empty in my life. I’d found my calling, my passion, and I went for it and never looked back. Her, though... She wanted something more for herself than waitressing in a small town hole-in-the-wall diner and I would very much like to know what that something was.

Leo gets up to pay the bill and I linger beside the table. The girl—Samantha, I saw on her nametag—has taken refuge in the kitchen and I think she’s just waiting for me to walk out the door. Sighing, I reach into my wallet, grab a $100 bill, and tuck it beneath my plate. If Leo saw how much I’m leaving as a tip, he’d never let me live it down, but I really don’t care. Maybe she’ll use it to pamper herself a bit, get a new work uniform or something. She looks like she could do with some self-spoiling.

Reluctantly, I get into the passenger side of the car without another glance at Samantha, and spend the rest of the afternoon trying to get her out of my head.

-------------o-------------

That evening, we’re walking into a tiny small town motel room a couple hours south of Afton and the diner. Leo and I agreed before we set off on this trip that we weren’t going to go searching for four-star hotels, preferring instead to do what normal people do on road trips, which is sleep on lumpy mattresses beneath scratchy, cheap sheets, and thin blankets. We’ve stayed away from the places that look as though they’re infested with any number of vermin; we still have some standards.

Tonight, our room of choice is furnished with two full-size beds, an ancient television by non-small town standards, and an air conditioner that that rattles and squeaks every five minutes. Leo chooses the bed furthest from the door, a behavior I started noticing when he came back from overseas, and tosses his duffel bag onto it before announcing he’s hitting the head, then grabbing a shower. While he’s occupied, I grab my laptop and boot it up, not bothering to even check whether the motel offers free wifi—I realized quickly most of them don’t. I check emails, respond to a few, do a bit of research on the congressman I’ll be meeting with in tomorrow afternoon, and prepare my presentation. It’s not until I hear the shower shut off that I realize I haven’t gotten nearly as much work done as I thought I would. My mind is distracted, focused on the girl from the diner.

I don’t understand this fixation. There was nothing particularly special about her. I can open my phone contact list have a dozen girls who are more beautiful than she is, girls who are poised and polished and made for the high society in which I live. Those girls are only a distraction for me at best. Most of them are complete bitches who stick their noses up at anyone who doesn’t own an $800 purse or who dares to have a strand of hair out of place. There’s no substance to them, no real value to their personalities. In fact, I much prefer it when they don’t speak, since everything they say is as full of air as their heads. I’ve had my share of one night stands and pointless relationships. They’ve served my purposes for the most part, but there’s something in me that actually longs for someone with whom I can have an intelligent conversation, someone with whom I can laugh at the most ridiculous, inane subjects. Someone who isn’t interested in my money or my notoriety.

Someone like the girl from the diner.

“Fuck.” I shove my laptop onto my bed and stand up, looking around for my shoes and the car keys.

“Where are you going?”

I stop at the door and turn around to find Leo exiting the bathroom wearing a pair of boxers. I debate on my answer. “For a drive,” I tell him honestly. “Need to clear my head.”

His eyes narrow on me and I know he suspects what’s really going on. I also know he won’t call me on it. At least not tonight. “Drive safe,” is all he says.

With a tight smile, I head out the door towards the car, and drive north, hoping I’m not too late.

-------------o-------------

Only two cars are left in the parking lot at Chet’s—an old blue truck and a station wagon. I turn off the headlights, trying to see inside the diner windows, brief panic replaced with relief when I see her moving around inside. Glancing at the cars, I wonder which is hers; I don’t really see her as the station wagon type...

An hour passes and in that time, I nearly left half a dozen times. This is stalker-behavior and I am anything but a stalker. I don’t pursue girls. I don’t need to; they crowd around me themselves and I take my pick. It’s a pretty shit thing to say, but it’s true. I want to know this girl, to talk to her, to know what her life is like. I want to explore what this pull is she has on me and understand it. It’s nearly midnight before she begins to leave and I wait for her to approach her car—the blue truck—before getting out of mine. Our conversation is interesting to say the least and when I watch her speed out of the dirt lot, I realize it’s not going to be as simple as I believed to get her out of my head. If anything, I’m more interested than before. Not only did she turn down my offer for lunch, she tried to return the tip I left her. Despite her words and actions, I know she’s interested, she just doesn’t know how to handle it. This knowledge perplexes me as I drive back to the motel. I know she has to have a boyfriend here, so surely she knows how to deal with male attention.