High School Hangover (11 page)

“Yeah, and to think I was supposed to spend the weekend helping my dad mow lawns,” Jack adds, but instead of laughing, he looks worried.

“Should you call your parents?” I ask, realizing that Jack made sure Mom’s feelings were taken into consideration but I hadn’t given his parents a second thought.

“They’re probably kind of freaking. I never stay out past eleven.”

His confession stuns me. Jack has always dangled on the highest rung of popularity at school and I always pictured him having a nonstop social life.

“We’ll find a phone after this, okay?” I volunteer, knowing that if he’s this worried about his parents, he won’t fight me when I manage to wrangle two airline tickets home.

“My dad really counts on me to help out,” he says, scrubbing on a stubborn stain. “Man, I totally blew it.”

Jack is always so confident and unapologetic that this side of him strikes a nerve in me. I guess I’m not the only one who doesn’t want to let my dad down.

“Everything will be fine,” I promise, even though I know I’m kind of full of crap right now.

“Our lives have kind of turned upside down since my dad lost his business.” He almost seems on automatic pilot washing and rinsing the dishes. I follow his lead and dry and stack them into neat piles.

“What happened?” I ask, figuring its okay to ask since he was the one who brought it up.

“He suspected that another local business was stealing from its customers,” Jack says, his neck turning red near the collar.

“Were they?” I ask, intrigued.

“He could never prove it.”

“I’m confused. How did that affect your dad’s business?”

“My dad went to the police with his suspicions but they told him he needed proof. The guy he was accusing found out and blackballed him around town,” Jack explains, a vein in his temple pulsing. “This guy started a rumor that
my
dad was a thief and within months his home security business was on the rocks.” Jack runs a soapy glove through his hair in frustration.

“That’s so unfair. I’m sorry, Jack.” I’m lucky that I’ve never had to worry about money because Dad has always taken such good care of me and Mom. I can’t imagine the burden that experience must have added to Jack’s life. I guess I never stopped to think about what he may have been going through at home.

“It is what it is,” Jack says cryptically.

“What business was this that your dad thought was stealing from its customers?” I will make sure Mom never patronizes them again.

Jack’s entire body tenses. A plate slips out of his hand and back into the sudsy water. I have the distinct feeling this was the wrong question to ask.

“Three Guys Moving Company,” he answers, not meeting my eyes.

Leo’s family’s moving company. So this is why he hates Leo so much. Goosebumps pop up on my arms but I try to act normal by drying more plates.

“Why did he think they were stealing?”

“My dad noticed moving company workers getting keys made at the hardware store next to his business.”

“Don’t they need keys to get in and move the customers stuff?”

“The customers give them keys. Why would they be getting duplicates made unless they were sneaking back in to steal something?”

“Did any of their customers ever report stolen items?” I ask, trying to find a way that Jack and Leo could both be right.

“No,” Jack says softly, hanging his head.

“This was just a hunch your dad had?”

“He senses things about people. Somehow he knows if someone is being dishonest. He knows things aren’t on the up and up with that company. We’re going to prove it someday,” he says, his green eyes burning into mine.

Suddenly I remember where we woke up. “We were in one of Leo’s moving vans, weren’t we? That’s why you didn’t want me to look back because you knew I’d recognize it.”

Jack doesn’t even have the decency to look guilty.

“Yeah, so?” he admits.

“You were trying to plant something in there to frame Leo’s dad, weren’t you?” I yell.

“Laney, that’s crazy. It’s a coincidence,” he assures me, but I’m not so sure. What do I really know about Jack, anyway? His dad might be a total loose cannon for all I know. Running around town accusing a decade-old business of stealing with no proof doesn’t sound like stable mental health to me. Maybe Jack is just as crazy. And if Leo finds out about this little road trip my chances of ever having anything with him will be over.

“So, what? You thought if you stole Leo’s girlfriend you’d be even?” Okay, so maybe classifying myself as Leo’s girlfriend is a little bit of a stretch, but Jack doesn’t know that.

“Do you really think hanging on Leo’s arm for one party makes you his girlfriend?”

Ouch. Jack just totally burnt me. He’s right. Hanging out with Leo for one night, especially when we obviously didn’t stay together the whole night doesn’t exactly make for an exclusive relationship. I also have a vague memory of Leo chatting up Amelia Brown last night. I just wish I could remember what the heck happened last night.

“Whatever,” I huff. “I need to take a walk.” I throw down the towel and grab my purse with absolutely no clue where I’m going. I know how stupid it is to split up, but I’ve just got to get away from Jack for a few minutes.

“Don’t go,” Jack pleads, but I’m bolting out of the kitchen before he can get his gloves off.

Chapter Six

I rush through the diner and out onto the sidewalk, glancing around at nearby businesses. I’m on a mission to find a phone, call my Dad, and get as far away from Jack as possible. He’s got some nerve accusing Leo’s family of stealing. I notice a pawn shop a few doors down and head that way. I thought about asking Dot if I could use the diner phone but I figured she would laugh at me. Besides, I don’t want Jack knowing I made this call.

I pull open the door and a loud bell chimes as I walk in. Glass cases full of jewelry, musical equipment and tools line the dusty shop. The employees are all wearing neon green shirts with black crowns on them that say Pawn King. Most of them are busy ringing up purchases or haggling with prospective buyers. I walk toward a younger guy in one of the green shirts with greasy black hair and two full sleeves of tattoos near the cash register. He is spinning around and around on a desk chair and looks close to puking.

“Excuse me, do you have a phone I can use?”

“What’re you gonna do for me?” he asks, halting his spinning and leering at me suggestively.

“Forget it,” I say disgustedly.

“Hold on, I was messing with you,” he says. “Hey, I’ll give you five hundred bucks for the bag.”

“What? No,” I say, clutching my purse to my shoulder for dear life. Although five hundred dollars might solve all my problems right now, I can’t part with a gift that Dad so thoughtfully picked out for me, unless it is my last resort.

“Okay, take it easy. It was just an offer,” he says, lifting up part of the counter so that I can get behind the glass cases.

“Are you a celebrity or something?” he asks, taking in my ridiculous ensemble while leading me back to an office area.

“Not hardly. I got stranded here with a friend,” I admit. I want to make this call quickly because even though I needed some time away from Jack, I don’t want us getting separated. At least not until we get back to Higginsville. Then I won’t be able to get away from him quick enough.

“Here it is,” he says, pointing to a black cordless phone sitting on an extremely messy desk. “Move this stuff over,” he says, shoving some papers to one side. “If my dad or grandpa ask what you’re doing back here, tell them you had to call the bank to see if you had enough money to buy something.”

I should probably tell him that I’m calling Paris but I’m afraid he won’t let me use the phone if I do. I’ll just take something with their address so I can send them some money when I get back home.

“Thank you so much,” I say, watching him disappear back out front before I dial Dad’s number. I tuck the phone between my ear and shoulder and sit down to rifle through some papers looking for a pad of paper and a pen. Dad will have to call me back with our flight information and I want to be ready. On the third ring, I finally find a notebook and a neon green pen both boasting Pawn King’s hours and location. I’m starting to get nervous that Dad isn’t going to take a call from an unidentified number. I start doodling on the notebook then realize it’s a list of some sort so I better quit writing on it. The list maker sure has some weird shorthand though. It’s made up of a bunch of initials, numbers and a few sketches of stick animals. Wow, and I thought I couldn’t draw.

I flip the list over to the next blank sheet of paper and listen to the fourth ring.

“Archer, here,” Dad’s familiar voice says professionally. My heart nearly leaps with joy.

“Daddy, it’s Laney,” I say, even though it is completely unnecessary to identify myself. I’m so relieved to hear his voice.

“Laney-bug, how was graduation?”

A sharp pain strikes inside my chest at the memory of Dad missing the ceremony yesterday but I push it aside. It’s not like he could help it. Besides, he already promised to come to my college graduation and that’s the one that really counts anyway. And in a few months, we’ll be together all the time.

“It was fine,” I answer, purposely not elaborating on how bad my speech bombed. “How’s Paris?” I ask, mentally picturing my dad pounding away at his laptop at a Parisian bistro in front of the Eiffel Tower.

“The French are so incompetent, Laney. It’s no wonder they’ve never won a war,” Dad spouts with disgust.

I have to clench my jaw to keep from correcting Dad’s statement. The French won several wars, but I’m not going to disrespect my dad by correcting him. “Listen, Dad, I kind of need your help,” I say nervously.

“Anything for you, Laney-bug,” he says and I can hear the smile in his voice.

I grip the side of the desk with superhuman strength willing myself to tell him. “I had kind of a crazy night and somehow ended up in Texas with a friend of mine,” I blurt out.

“Whoa, Laney-bug, cutting loose on graduation night. That’s my girl,” he says, practically whooping and hollering into the phone. I’m stunned at his reaction and hope for his sake that he isn’t in the middle of a business meeting or anything. Then I remember it’s night time in Paris.

“I need you to book us a couple of flights back to Missouri because we don’t have enough money to get them ourselves,” I babble, loosening my grip on the desk and the feeling returning to my limbs.

“Ooh, that’s gonna be a problem,” Dad says, making my blood pressure start to rise.

“Can’t you go online and book us a reservation? We’ll pay you back, I promise.”

“All I have are traveler’s checks with me over here, Laney-bug. I’m sure your mom will cover it,” he says confidently. I’ve never tattled on Mom for being a big spender, but Dad has to know that her salary isn’t as big as his. Besides, even if she had the money, there is no way I want her to know I somehow managed to wake up in another state and have no clue how I got here.

“Sure, Dad,” I agree, knowing that he is probably trying to teach me a life lesson. I hear a woman’s voice in the background then realize it is probably someone sitting close to him at the bistro. “Okay, I guess I better go. I’ll give you a call next week.” I rip off the piece of paper and stick it into my purse with the pen so that I remember to reimburse them for the phone call.

“You’re a smart girl, Laney-bug. You’ll find your way home. It’ll be an adventure.”

It surprises me that he doesn’t seem at all worried about me being so far away from home, but I guess he never really has worried about me. He seemed to know I would be okay without hovering over me like Mom does sometimes.

“Sure, an adventure,” I reply, imagining standing on the side of the road with Jack, our thumbs in the air. “Au revoir, Daddy.”

“Adios, Laney-bug,” Dad signs off. I shake my head, confused by his choice of language. I replace the phone and walk out of the office in a daze. I mumble something to the worker who let me use the phone and duck under the counter and out the door. A large shadow looms over the sidewalk and I look up to the Three Guys Moving Company truck parked right along the street.

I freeze on the sidewalk only moving my eyes. Are they looking for me? Do they know I’m the one who peed in the vase? My eyes search frantically for any sign of them. Could they have been in the pawn shop when I left? It’s possible because I did zigzag through several people but I wasn’t paying attention. At least I left some DNA in the vase in case I’m never seen or heard from again.

A blur flashes in front of me and before I can react I’m being dragged into an alley in between the diner and the pawn shop. I start to scream and a hand clamps down over my mouth. I try to kick my assailant, but this stupid dress is too tight and I can’t even raise my knees. Great, my evening gown is now an accomplice.

“Quiet, Dimples,” Jack says, spinning me around nearly burying my face in his chest.

I breathe a sigh of relief knowing I’m safe, but my heart rate is still going crazy. Jack leans over and peeks back to the sidewalk. I study his chin and the small mole near his lip that I never noticed before. Not thinking clearly, I rub my thumb across it. Shocked, Jack glances down at me questioningly.

“Sorry, you had some barbeque residue,” I lie. He backs away and even though it must be ninety degrees out already, I feel colder.

“I’m sorry about earlier, but we’ve got to stick together,” Jack says urgently. “I couldn’t stand it if something happened to you.”

The way he looks at me when he says that makes me feel like he really cares about me, but I won’t fall for that again. Besides, Leo is probably frantic wondering where I am. Jack is right about sticking together though. Since Dad didn’t come to our rescue, we are going to have to rely on each other to get home. Hopefully this trip works out better than our lab project did.

“I’m sorry I took off,” I apologize, realizing now how stupid it was. “Do you think they’re looking for us?”

“I don’t think so. They couldn’t have seen us get out, so it’s probably a coincidence,” Jack explains, but I feel like he’s holding something back, but I don’t want any more bad news, so I don’t press him.