Creeping with the Enemy (13 page)

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Authors: Kimberly Reid

BOOK: Creeping with the Enemy
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Chapter 17
W
ith new information that the perp might be in the Denver area, Lana cut our trip a day short and got us on the last flight out. We didn't get in from the airport until after midnight, so I'm in deep sleep when my phone rings the next morning and I have to run around the house trying to figure out where I left it. I find my bag in the living room and dig out the phone on the last ring, hopefully before Lana heard it. When I see Bethanie's number on caller ID, I'm ticked. Not only was I asleep, but she didn't call me when she was supposed to, didn't answer her phone when I tried to call her, and has me more than a little worried.
“Where've you been?” I ask without a hello.
“Excuse me?” It's not the voice I expected.
“I'm sorry, Mrs. Larsen. I didn't check caller ID and thought you'd be a friend calling.”
“I know your mama taught you better than to answer a phone like that.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Now then, I need to speak to Bethanie.”
“Right now?”
“That would be why I called
right now
. She said she was gonna let me know whether she's staying over there another night. If she is, Mr. Larsen and I were thinking of spending another night in Black Hawk.”
If Bethanie is going to use me as her alibi, she could at least let me in on the story I'm supposed to be telling.
“Um, yes, Mrs. Larsen, I do believe she's planning to stay over another night.”
“Do you mind if I just ask her myself?”
“Of course not, but she's in the shower right now.”
“Y'all must have one nice shower over there—the girl lives in that shower.”
I forgot that was the excuse I used last time she called. “Yes, ma'am. I'll have her call you when she's out.”
It's bad enough I have to lie to Mrs. Larsen, but at least I can handle her. Now I hear Lana in the kitchen, and lying to her is a whole other thing. Have you ever tried lying to the person who knows you best in the world when she makes a living catching people in their lies? I'm very good at it, but that doesn't mean it's an easy thing to do. When I walk into the kitchen, she's got one hand on her hip, using the other to lean against the counter. She looks like she was very much asleep until three minutes ago. I don't like my mother when she's sleep deprived. No one does.
“Who the hell is calling here at eight o'clock on a Sunday morning?” She grabs my phone from my hand and holds it up in my face for emphasis, or evidence, I'm not sure.
“Eight is not
that
early.”
“I pay the bills around here, and if I say eight is early, it's early.” Lana is always surly when you wake her before she planned on waking, but it's okay because she's also a little slow on the draw and a lot easier to fool.
“It was Marco wanting to talk,” I say, wishing that was true.
“I thought he was ...” Lana says, trying to find a delicate way to say
out of the picture,
which is tough when she's still half asleep and not in a delicate mood at all.
“We're trying to work things out.”
“Well, I'm glad ya'll made up, but can't he call you at a decent hour?”
“I'll tell him not to call before ten from now on.”
“All right,” she says, planting a kiss on my forehead, which I don't remember her doing in forever. “If you need to talk later, we can.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“I'm going back to bed. Put this on vibrate,” she says, handing me my phone.
Once I know Lana is in bed and probably asleep, I throw on some clothes and leave the house as quietly as possible. No sense in waking her again when I call Bethanie to curse her out, so I'll do a walk-and-talk up the block. If I wasn't awake before, the cold morning has slapped any leftover sleep right out of me. I should have worn a hat and scarf because my ears are freezing. Another reason to curse Bethanie.
“I am so through with you,” I say when Bethanie answers.
“Did my mom call?”
“Of course she called, asking to talk to you, and I had no idea what you told her about how long you'd be staying with me.”
“I know, I know. I forgot to tell you the whole plan.”
“Why didn't you answer last night?”
“You're worse than my father. You don't have to check up on me, Chanti. Cole is not some criminal. I thought you trusted him by now.”
“I do,” I lie. Even if he isn't the missing informant, he's still shady. “But I'm starting to feel weird lying to your parents, especially when I keep having to tell your mom you're in the shower.”
“Don't be mad at me, Chanti. I'm so, so happy today. I want you to be happy for me.”
“Why so happy today? Did he finally come around to ... you know?”
“This is love. I'm in love. I promise, this is the last time you have to cover for me. Monday at school I'll be able to tell you everything, and tell my parents everything.”
“Everything about what?”
“It's a surprise for now.”
“Okay, but you'd better tell me
everything
. And be at school early because I won't be able to wait until lunch.”
“That's the least I owe you.”
“Damn skippy,” I say, feeling apprehensive about whatever Bethanie's mystery is but also glad I'll be seeing her tomorrow and this whole stupid charade will be over. “Where
are
you anyway? What's all that noise this early in the morning? Sounds like you're at an amusement park.”
“Something like that,” she says again. “I have to go now.”
“What about your mom? She wants to know if you're sleeping over again because she wants to stay another night in Black Hawk.”
“Black Hawk? So my dad's trying to go it alone.”
“He isn't alone. He's with your mother.”
“Never mind. I'll call my mom after I hang up with you.”
“What if she asks why you're calling from your cell instead of from my house?”
“Uh, you're confusing my mother with yours. Mine will never even notice that.”
“So can you at least give me a hint about your surprise?”
“Seriously, Chanti, I have to go. I promise, Monday.”
And then she's gone.
 
A few hours have passed since I spoke to her and I still don't feel right about Bethanie's surprise. It could be that she and Cole finally got busy, which would explain all the
I'm in love
talk. I don't know about it personally, but I remember when Michelle gave it up to her sorry ex-boyfriend Donnell, everything out of her mouth about him was love this and love that. I know Bethanie has been on a mission to defy her parents, but I'm pretty sure that isn't something she'd be excited to share with them unless she's even weirder than I thought.
Since I do my best thinking over something good to eat, I'm sitting in my favorite booth at Tastee Treets when I see Marco walk in with some girl. I immediately ascertain she's a skank, though anyone else without my keen sense of observation might think she's a nice girl since on the brief walk between the door and the counter, she manages to hold the door open for an old man, give napkins to a little kid who can't reach them, and help clean up the same kid's spilled soda. She's totally overcompensating for knowing that in truth, she's a skank.
Marco doesn't notice me, but I have a clear view of them at the counter. I can't hear what they're saying but I can tell from his gestures that they have a history, and not a he's-just-a-friend history. They're standing too close together, everything she says is funny to him, and in a very simple transaction of burger ordering, they each find about three reasons to touch one another—on the shoulders, back, arm—everywhere considered decent to touch in public. I'm pretty sure Marco and this girl never had the problems Bethanie was having with Cole. She must be Angelique, Marco's ex. Well, not his ex because clearly that status now belongs to me.
When they turn from the counter in search of a table, Marco sees me. At first he looks completely shocked and slightly embarrassed, but quickly regains his usual take-everything-in-stride attitude and whispers something to Angelique, who looks at me and smiles. Someone else might think it was the kind of smile you give to someone you genuinely feel sorry for, like a friend who just told you she didn't make the drama club when all she's dreamt about since birth was acting. I see it for the evil smirk that it really is. Marco hands her the tray, which she carries to a table on the other side of the restaurant, and he walks toward me.
“Hey, Chanti. I didn't expect to see you here.”
“Yeah, I only live a block away, used to work here, and told you a couple of times that I'm pretty much always here.”
I surprise myself by how much I sound like a jilted girl on an MTV reality show. I know girls who do that whole swiveling-head, finger-in-his-face boyfriend drama thing, but I never knew I was one of them.
“Well, I live twelve blocks from here and they have the absolute best chocolate shakes. A friend told me about them,” he says, then smiles like he's really here on a date with me, not that ... girl.
“I thought I was more than a friend.”
“Like I thought I was more important than your crazy obsession with playing detective. Not just crazy, but dangerous.”
“But that's what I do. It's part of who Chanti is. Why can't you accept me the way I am?”
Did I just say that? Seriously,
I'm
not quite sure who I am at this very moment, because I've gone from an MTV reality show chick to a Hollywood movie queen who refers to herself in the third person.
“I'd never try to change you because a lot of that is why I think you're so great. It's just that maybe you aren't great for me.”
“But I guess we can still be friends, right?” I say this in a tone that clearly implies we will not be friends.
“There's the whole thing with my parents. They have a legit concern that hanging with you is a little dangerous, but you just keep right on doing stuff that will probably get you in trouble, even though you know it'll make it tough for us to be together.”
“One time. It only happened one time.”
“Well, when you're just a few seconds from being killed, one time is enough. Besides, we both know that won't be the only time. Before I walked up, you were probably trying to figure out if Bethanie's boyfriend is a bad guy, right?”
No, I was thinking how if I had any kind of nerve I'd go up to you and that ... girl and go swivel-headed drama chick on y'all. Before
that
I was trying to figure out if Bethanie's boyfriend is a bad guy. See how much you know? Of course, I don't say any of this because the passive-aggressive Chanti I know and love is back (except for the referring to myself in third person part) and now all I can do is pout and say nothing.
“Chanti, I need a girl who really wants to be with me, not just when she can fit me in between cases, especially when she's not actually a cop and there isn't actually a case.”
“You mean a girl like Angelique.”
“I should get back to her now,” he says, looking at me in a way that confuses me because I can swear his eyes are saying something different—that he'd rather stay here with me.
“Yeah, you should,” I say, because as long as he walked in here with some other girl, there's really no reason for me to be confused.
“But we'll still see each other at school, right?”
“Oh, would that be the school Angelique said she wanted you to drop out of because going there instead of North High was like saying you thought you were better than she was? Wasn't that the reason y'all broke up?”
“She sees things differently now. She doesn't want to change me anymore.”
“Ironic.”
“Like I said, Chanti, I don't want to change you. It's just we aren't right for each other.”
“Whatever. Go.”
As he walks away, I noisily draw the last of my melted shake through the straw for reasons unknown to me except I really have no idea how to break up with a boyfriend, though I'm sure slurping isn't the lasting impression you want your ex to have of you. I'm grateful to be sitting near the back door so I won't have to see Angelique and her evil smirk/pity smile when I leave. And I'm sad not only because I've been officially dumped but also because the Tastee Treets is now off-limits. I really do love these shakes, especially at a time like this.

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