Every Little Dream (Second Chances) (11 page)

I don’t bother looking at my watch. I don’t need to know that too much time has lapsed for someone to just be late. My excitement drains. The doubt in the back of my mind grows.

He’s not coming.
 

Just in case, I sit a little bit longer. I check my phone but there are no new messages. I send him a quick text, asking if everything’s all right. Then I wait, still grasping onto the hope that there’s a logical excuse for his dropping our date.

Justine sticks her head out the door.
 
“I’m watching a movie up in my room after clean up. Want to join?”
 

Her smile is sympathetic, and I see all the told-you-sos running through her mind that she’s not saying to me. That Chad isn’t my type. That he has a bad reputation. That he’s basically a jerk. Am I completely wrong about him?

I check my phone once more. He’s not coming. If he was late, he’d text that he’s on his way. He’s forgotten. Maybe so completely bored with me at this point that he just wants to fade away. How could I have been so wrong?

I stay until the last possible moment. The sun drops behind the horizon and a chill creeps into the air. I head inside and change into yoga pants and a sweatshirt. It’s time to delve into the secret stash of licorice that I always keep on hand in case of emotional emergencies, and this is one of those times. I grab it and head into Justine’s room.

She’s smiling, wrapped in her blanket, sitting on top of a bunch of pillows on her bed. I hold up the bag of candy. “I come bearing gifts.”
 

The remote is directed at the small television. “Take a seat. The movie’s ready to go.”

“What’re we watching?” I’m glad she didn’t interrogate me on my date, on Chad not showing up or texting.
 

“Just the most romantic, the best movie ever.”
 

“Sounds good.” I flop onto the bed and grab a piece of licorice. This is just what I need.” I sigh. “Perfection.”
 

Within seconds, I realize the best movie ever is Dirty Dancing. Memories flood of my night with Chad on the bandstand. How could I have misunderstood? He’s been caring. So attentive. So fun. Was it all an act? I check my phone for the fourth time.

The movie pauses just as Patrick Swayze walks into the room.

I wait for the questions.

“Listen,” she says, “you don’t have to tell me anything. But I’m not blind. You walk around the Inn, talking with people, but you’re in a trance. Your mind, your heart are somewhere else. You’re daydreaming. I recognize the look of love. So what’s going on?”

“Am I that obvious?”

“Yup.”
 

I smile shyly. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear about my boy problems.”

“I want to watch this movie but not if you’re upset. So tell me what’s wrong. I’ll give you my perspective, then we can chow down on licorice and soak in some eye candy and fantasize that’s us on the dance floor.”

I tuck a pillow under my arms and roll onto my back. “It’s complicated.”
 

“So. Love’s always complicated.”

“Love?” I don’t know about love.
 

“Yeah, love. What else is going on between you and lover boy?”

“I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure it’s not that.” It hurts to admit it. “He never showed for our date this afternoon.” I check my phone once more. “And he never texted.”

Justine sits up. “I might not have a ton experience with boys. I’ve dated here and there. But,” she nudges me, “I know you can’t jump to conclusions until you know the truth.”
 

“Aren’t you going to say I-told-you-so?”

“Nope. Because love just happens. We can’t always control with who or when, even if logic tells us it won’t work.” She pauses as if choosing her words carefully. “You might just be the best thing to happen to that boy.”

I laugh. “Right.” I put the phone away, determined not to look at it the rest of the night. “Alright, the eye candy awaits.”

“Are you sure?” Justine asks. “We can watch this any night.”

“Positive.” I grab another piece of licorice and face the small TV, ready to forget for a little bit.

Sunshine streams through the glass windows. I wrap my hands around my morning cup of coffee and take in the breathtaking scenery of the shoreline, the sky, the scattered clouds. Morning came went too fast. My alarm went off at 5 a.m. Enough time to shower and do the prep work before the doors open.
 

I still haven’t checked my phone. I can’t go there. My gut feelings return. I can’t help but think about the various times Chad’s had to apologize for being late or for cutting out early. Last night wasn’t the first time. I’ve had a feeling for a while that he’s not telling me everything. When he’s focused on me, it’s great. He gives me all of his attention, but that seems to flit about like a skittish butterfly, like he’s not quite sure what he wants to do with our relationship. Sometimes he acts like my friend, then he flirts, then he kisses me. Is he waiting for me? Is he letting the good girl take the lead? Go at my pace?

Only one way to find out.

Chad

I hate lying to Jimmy. He can see right through me, but this time I have to stick to my story.
 

“Where you going?” Jimmy guzzles straight from the orange juice container.

“Working for my dad like usual.” Not a complete lie.

“Man, that’s fucked up. Thought you hated the guy.” He crushes the empty carton and shoots for the trashcan.

I shrug. “I’ll be outta there soon enough. Doing the old man a favor.” Doing whatever it takes to get out of there and out from under his thumb is more like it.

Jimmy nods and heads back to the bedroom. “See ya later.”

I’m anxious. Ready to leave. Off to Raker’s Bluff to catch that asshole in action. Whatever Kingston is doing, I’m going to find out. Wrap this up for good and walk out of my dad’s office, hopefully for the last time. Instead of riding my bike or borrowing Jimmy’s car, I hire a taxi. The ride over is fast. My nerves get the better of me. Still can’t believe Dad goes to this means to win a case. If I get caught, the whole case will be thrown and his career would be tainted, possibly ruined. But that might get him off my ass.

I pay the driver to drop me off about a mile away. I’ll walk the rest, not wanting to take any chances. It’s early afternoon. The sun is hot and high in the sky. Nothing will go down this early, but I want to be in position. I have to be the ghost, invisible to anyone there, even if it’s just couples going at it. From what I remember Raker’s is a make-out spot for teens.

I chose tan and army green clothing. The plan is to blend in with the dry grass and bushes surrounding the lookout point and capture some footage if I’m lucky to be here the right time and the right day. Then meet Katie. It’s her turn to plan our date. Every day I spend with her makes the time working for my dad that much harder. She wouldn’t approve of his methods or this internship if she knew what was really going on.

Near the bluff, I notice a car parked toward the edge of the lot. An older man stands, his loose clothing moving with the wind. His face is glued to a camera, and he’s taking pictures of the ocean. Nothing too suspicious. He’s probably completely innocent but I’m not taking chances. When I circle back about twenty minutes later, he’s gone. The scraggly brush at the side of the lot is just thick enough to hide me but still risky. I forge my way through and settle down behind the thickest bush I find. I settle in for the wait.

I wait.

And wait.

And wait.

The hours pass. A couple cars pull in, fog up the windows, then leave. I sip my water until it’s slowly gone. Why didn’t I think to bring food? For some reason I thought I’d wait at the most a couple hours, not all afternoon and into evening. The sun inches across the sky, the color turning pinks and reds. Damn. Katie’s waiting for me but I don’t want to leave too early and miss something. I’ll wait until right after dusk.
 

An hour later, I’m ready to text Katie that I’m on my way and send what little info I have to my father and call the whole thing quits. I crumple my empty water bottle and toss it in my bag. I pull out my phone and call for a taxi. Can’t wait to see Katie, hear her laugh, soak in her smile—and forget about today.

“Yes, I’d like a taxi at—” Shit. A van roars in and completes a full spin sending a cloud of dust my way. I slam to the ground, hoping to God the driver didn’t see me. I close my phone and slip it into my pocket. My neck tenses, a warning something is up. This is it. All the time I spent sweating under the sun, bored out of my mind, is worth it. After a few deep breaths to control my heartbeat, I stay quieter than I have all day.

A guy gets out and leans against the front of his dirty white van. His shaggy black hair is tied back in a ponytail. A few strands break loose in the wind. He lights up a cigarette. As the sky grows darker, the red tip glows. The knot in my stomach in response to him is unusual. I don’t take crap from anyone and not many people scare me. This guy is different. Evil rolls off him like a summer thunderstorm.

I wait.

And wait.

And wait.

The guy looks at his watch and snuffs out his fourth cigarette. He shifts, possibly ready to leave.

I study the van. What could he be hiding in the back?

Finally, he walks around back, casual, confident. He opens the back. I don’t know what to expect, but I don’t expect the easel and canvas he pulls out. He sets it up at the edge of the bluff, just as the first stars twinkle.

He looks genuine as he paints. His hand moving up and down on the canvas. I question my sixth sense about this guy. Has this whole time been a waste? What did I miss? Maybe Ocean View Drive wasn’t a code at all. I’m about to sneak away with my tail between my legs, furious that I wasted another afternoon, when a Camaro pulls in, wheels spinning.

Kingston steps out. He walks over to the edge. The two act like they don’t know each other. Their faint voices carry with the wind but the noise of the rustling brush effectively hides their words.

I watch for the passing of money, an envelope, instructions, but for the longest time all they do is chat. The back of the van must carry a whole bunch of illegal drugs ready for Kingston to sell. That must be it. Kingston deals drugs. Does my father know any of this?

My throat is dry. I desperately need more water. I conjure up as much spit as I can and swallow. The combination of dust and dry air is tickling my throat. I panic. I can’t cough. I have no excuse. I don’t even have a good cover as in I’m a scientist studying the habits of a rare bird who nests here. I look like a spy. Dressed in dark clothing. This looks like a stakeout. Fuck. How could I be so stupid?

The guy and Kingston continue to stare out at sea, not looking at each other, but talking in low voices. As the breeze briefly dies down, I hear snippets.

“Fresh crop…”

“Money is waiting…”

“….tomorrow night…utmost caution…”

The wind picks up along with the urge to cough. I hold my breath. I can’t stop it. I let it out.

The guys freeze.
 

I bite down on my knuckles and swallow as much spit as I can. Kingston pulls a gun and heads in my direction. He kicks up more dust, sending it my way. The guy says something and Kingston hesitates. His eyes glance over my hiding place. I can’t miss the cold gleam as they pass over me. The expression of complete disconnection and lack of compassion. I feel for the guy. His life in some aspects probably mirrors mine.

I hear the familiar rumble and a sigh of relief escapes. A Chevy pulls in. I’m saved by a horny couple.

Kingston curses and conceals his weapon without even acknowledging the other guy, then climbs into his Camaro and drives away. The guy closes up his easel and then peals out.

I roll onto my back. Exhausted. Drained of any capable thought. All I want is a shower, food and my bed. I pull out my phone and text Jimmy to let him know I’m coming just in case he and Andrea have something going on. Then I text Katie with a simple message,
Sorry I missed tonight. Talk tomorrow
. I’m too tired for anymore. Too many thoughts race through my mind. What the hell have I gotten myself into?

Back at home, it’s close to 9 p.m., but it feels like the middle of the night. After a shower and a whole pizza, I flop down on my bed and fall asleep. It’s not until the next afternoon after sleeping most of the day that I read my texts from Katie and feel like an asshole. I should’ve realized the work for my dad might take longer. I should’ve kept my dates and my work on different days that would’ve prevented this mess. Instead of texting, I call her. Just to hear her voice.

“Hello?” she says.

“Hey there, beautiful.”

“Chad.” Her voice is cold and controlled.

“Sorry about yesterday.”

“What happened?” Her voice softens a bit with a hint of curiosity.
 

“I got caught up with work…” I have no idea what to say.

Silence.

“I’m sorry.”

“You could’ve texted me earlier. Let me know.”

“You’re right. I’m an asshole.”
 

“What’re you doing now?” she asks.

“I’m home. Doing nothing. Just lying on my bed. Jimmy’s out.”

“I can come over.” Her words are a question and a statement.

“I might not be very good company.”

“Okay, see you soon.” I can’t even say goodbye before she hangs up.
 

I don’t even know if I hang up. I should’ve told her not to come. I’ll be terrible company and everything I saw yesterday won’t let go of me. The fact that I could’ve been killed if I’d been caught. I just have a feeling this deal with Kingston is bigger than even my father realizes. He wouldn’t put his son in that kind of danger. I don’t think.

I close my eyes for a few minutes, waiting for Katie.

Seconds or maybe minutes or hours later, I hear movement in my room. I shoot up. Every instinct says they saw me out on the bluff and followed me back, waiting until the dark of evening to pay me a visit. Then I see the outline of Katie’s body and remember our phone call. It feels like a dream.