I looked at the notebook. Sure enough, there it was in big bold letters. She'd classified it as a partnership loan.
I looked up, giving her a long, hard look. I didn't know what else to say. She chewed on her bottom lip and glanced around the store, looking anywhere but at me.
Just then, the bell on the front door jingled. The delivery person pushed his way through, wheeling the cart in front of him. Up close, the box looked even bigger. "I hope you got room for this thing!" he called out.
Crystal gave me a nervous glance.
I tugged off my apron and hurled it onto a nearby table. "I'm going for a walk," I said.
"You can't go now," she said. "We're still open."
Silently, I turned and headed toward the side door.
"Aw c'mon, don't huff off!" Crystal called across the coffee shop. "I'll pay you interest, alright?"
Ignoring her efforts, I plunged out the door and onto the sidewalk. Where I was going, I had no idea.
It was a warm June day with just the hint of cloud cover. On auto-pilot, I stalked down the sidewalk, my thoughts churning with every step. So the guy on the motorcycle hadn't been lying?
The night we met, he'd done me a favor. And what had I done in return? I'd reported him to the police.
Block after block, I kept reminding myself that the missing money wasn't the only issue. He'd stolen Russell's car. He'd kicked Russell's ass.
True, a little voice said, but he'd also carried me across the parking lot and listened to me whine. He'd made me feel safe. He'd made me smile. He'd loaned me his jacket, along with his only helmet, when he should've kept both for himself.
Walking along the city sidewalk, I was so preoccupied that it took me a while to realize something. As if my feet had a mind of their own, they were carrying me toward Paige's house.
That was fine by me. A talk with Paige was long overdue. There were too many things I didn't know about that night, and it was time to start filling in the gaps.
Chapter 22
Walking down Center Avenue, I spotted Paige's house in the distance. The wide street was lined with massive antebellum homes, built by lumber barons in the 1800s.
Back then, Riverside had been integral to the state's thriving logging industry, which cleared the way for farming in the fertile valley and manufacturing throughout the tri-city area. The lumber barons were long-gone, but their homes remained.
Some of the massive structures remained single-family homes that housed doctors, lawyers or successful entrepreneurs. Most of the mansions, however, had been converted to quaint little apartments that housed bartenders, waitresses and store clerks.
But Paige's place was no apartment. Her mom had come from old money, and her dad owned the biggest Chevy dealership in the tri-city area. Their home, an elaborate three-story Victorian, had been in the family for generations.
Holding my breath, I rang the doorbell, praying it wouldn't be Paige's dad who answered.
When my prayers were answered, I wasn't nearly as happy as I'd anticipated. It wasn't her Dad. It was Russell, who looked distinctly unhappy to see me. His pale hair was in its usual disarray, and he wore tight black shorts and an even tighter tank top that showed off the bulging muscles of his chest and arms.
On his face, I saw a mostly healed cut just above his eye and fading bruises along his jawline. But overall, he didn't look so bad. Then again, it had been at least a week since the carjacking. Who knows what he looked like before.
He glared down at me. "What are you doing here?"
"I came to see Paige."
"Yeah, good luck with that."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means she's gone for the summer."
"She is?" I said. "Where to?"
"Out East. To visit our Grandparents."
"But she never mentioned it."
"Yeah. Because she's done with you. Period."
I squinted up at him. "What?"
"Yeah. My dad gave her a choice – you, or a new car." He smirked. "Guess which one she chose?"
I shook my head, trying to make sense of the whole thing.
"Apparently," Russell said, "you're a bad influence."
"Me?" I was a straight-A student. I barely drank, and had never cut class. Sure, my home-life hadn't been quite stable lately, and the rest of my family was a little wild, but that wasn't exactly my fault.
"You're not serious?" I said.
"Well, you can't blame the guy," Russell said. "I mean, who does want their daughter hanging out with some druggie."
My jaw dropped. "I'm not a druggie," I said.
"You're not?" He placed a finger to his lips. "Oops."
"You jerk!"
"By the way," Russell said, "Dad just loved that stunt you pulled at the police station."
"What stunt?" And then it hit me. "Reporting the car-jacking? That wasn't a stunt," I told him. "It was the right thing to do."
Or at least, it had seemed like the right thing to do. Now, I didn't know what to think.
"Yeah, well dad doesn't need that kind of publicity." Russell leaned in closer. "And you're damn lucky too, or else those brothers of yours would be in big trouble."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Three words. Grand theft auto."
"Oh c'mon," I said. "They brought the Camaro back, didn't they?"
"So what?" he said.
"And besides," I said, "we had an agreement."
"Yeah? Go tell it to the police. You seem to be good at that."
I felt color rise to my face, but not because of Russell. When I'd marched down to the police station the other day, I'd felt so sanctimonious. Now I felt like a giant dumbass. And Russell wasn't helping.
"Why are you being like this?" I said.
He lowered his voice. "You wanna know why?" he said. "Because you sicced your crazy-ass boyfriend on me, that's why."
I stared up at him. "I don't have a boyfriend."
"Sure you don't."
"I don’t."
"Whatever," Russell said. "And if he gets all pissed-off that you're here, he can be pissed-off at you. Not me."
I shook my head. "Huh?"
"Yeah," Russell said. "You tell that crazy fucker I'm done with you, so he doesn't need to worry anymore."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"Except–" Russell looked around. "Don't say I called him crazy." His gaze darted around his yard. "Or a fucker. In fact, just tell him I wasn't here, alright?"
"I'm not gonna tell him anything," I said.
"And just so you know," Russell said, "We sold the Camaro. So if he tries to steal it again, he'll be stealing it from someone else."
"So you got it back?" I said. "How?"
"That boyfriend of yours–"
"He's not my boyfriend."
"Sure he isn't," Russell said. "Anyway, he's so fucking sure of himself, that he leaves it parked down by the river, maybe a half mile from here."
"How do you know?"
"Easy," Russell said, "Chad spotted it. So the next day, me and my buddies go down there, and we steal it right back." Russell puffed out his chest. "The guy's just lucky he wasn't in it, or we'd have kicked his ass but good."
I pointed off to my right. "Hey, is that him?"
Russell gave a jump, and then turned beet-red when it became obvious I was joking. "You know what?" he said. "You deserve each other. You're both fuckin' crazy."
Behind Russell, another face appeared in the doorway. It was Russell's dad, a tall, thick man with receding hair. He glared down at me. "What are you doing here?" he said.
"I stopped by to see Paige."
"Yeah," he said, "good luck with that."
Smirking, Russell turned to his Dad. "That's what I told her."
But Mister Vernon wasn't smiling. He turned his cold gaze on me. "Haven't you caused enough trouble for our family?" he said.
"Me?" I said. "I didn't do anything."
He stepped forward and crossed his
arms. "I think it's time for you to go."
I shouldn't have been surprised. The guy had never liked me. More to the point, he had never liked my family, especially lately. In a way, I couldn’t quite blame him.
He'd never been able to prove it, but a few months earlier, my brothers just might've taken his brand new Cadillac for a little spin. But they'd returned it, hadn't they? I bit my lip. Well, most of it anyway.
Wordlessly, I turned and trudged down their long walkway, my thoughts churning along with my stomach. About the carjacker, I didn't know what to think.
So he wasn't a liar. And he wasn't a thief. But he was dangerous, and not only to Russell, but to my sanity if nothing else.
And damn it, I owed him an apology, maybe. But first, I'd need to find him.
Chapter 23
The morning after my frozen, drunken encounter with Bishop, I dragged myself out of bed before dawn and spent the next five hours finishing some lingering writing assignments for my other job.
After that, I turned my attention to my appearance. Within the past couple of weeks, Bishop had seen me costumed, plastic-bagged, frozen, disheveled, and drunk.
No matter who I saw today, I would not be looking like a loser. Damn it.
I dressed in my favorite jeans and a turtleneck, touched up my makeup, and ran a brush through my long, dark hair until it fell over my shoulders just the way Bishop liked it.
But when I walked into the coffee area, the only guy I saw was Conrad Harrison, dressed in a conservative suit and tie. He had a stylish, cool overcoat draped over his arm, and was standing at the coffee bar, talking with Crystal.
At the sound of my footsteps, they both turned to look.
"There you are!" Crystal called, waving me over. "So you finally crawled out of bed, huh?"
"Actually, I was working."
"Sure you were." Reaching across the counter, she poked Conrad in the shoulder. "She's not a morning person." She lowered her voice. "But at least she's sober today, so that's good."
Well, so much for not looking like a loser.
Shaking off the embarrassment, I turned to Conrad and held out my hand. "Nice to see you again."
He faked a block with his forearm. "I come in peace," he said. "Don't hit me."
"Oh stop it," I said. "I'm embarrassed enough as it is."
"Don't be. It was pretty cool." He chuckled. "People clapped, remember?"
"Actually," I said, "it's all kind of a blur."
"And the way all those index cards went flying," Crystal said, "it was super-festive."
"So, uh, anyway," I told Conrad, "thanks for returning my cards. I've been meaning to call, but…" I shrugged. "Yesterday was kind of crazy."
"Hey, you don't need to tell me," he said. "I know firsthand, it's tough to fight City Hall."
It's even tougher to walk twelve blocks when you can't feel your face.
Stupid rum.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"Oh. Nothing," I said. "So, you're fighting City Hall too? You mean in Detroit?"
"No. Here, actually."
"In Riverside?"
He nodded. "You haven't heard about it?"
From behind the coffee counter, Crystal chimed in. "It happened last month, when you were in Alabama."
"What happened?" I asked.
"Zoning problem," he said. "Long story. Not half as exciting as yours." He grinned. "For one thing, I was never arrested."
"Oh." I gave a shaky laugh. "Yeah. I keep trying to forget about that."
"Don't feel bad," he said. "It'll make a great story someday."
I mustered up a smile. "For the grandkids?"
"Why not?" In a mock newscaster voice, he said, "Two local fortune tellers take on City Hall. Film at eleven."
I laughed. "You should talk."
"Because of my zoning issue?" He shook his head. "Sorry. That’s as boring as they come. If I don’t watch it, you’ll be stealing my thunder."
"Nah, your thunder’s safe," I told him. "We’re just a small business."
Crystal was tapping him on the shoulder again. "You should discuss it over dinner," she said.
I felt myself flush. "That's not necessary," I told him.
"Yes it is," Crystal told me. "You think he's cute. I can tell."
"Mom!" I shot her an exasperated look. "I'm sure he's busy."
Conrad was grinning. "Never too busy for dinner." He turned toward me. "How about Saturday?"
I pushed a hand through my hair, desperate to slink back upstairs. Was I so pathetic that I needed my mom to rustle me up a dinner date?
I let him off the hook. "Thanks. I appreciate the offer, but I'm heading back to Alabama this weekend."
"No you're not," Crystal said.
"Yes," I told her through clenched teeth, "I am. But I'll be back in a few days, so don't worry. Alright?"
"I'm not worried." She turned to Conrad. "Did I sound worried to you?"
He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
"You don't have to answer that," I told him.
Conrad's gaze was darting from me to Crystal. If he were smart, he'd run while he had the chance.
I waited.
He didn't run.
Poor, misguided fool.
I turned to Crystal. "Would you mind giving us a minute?"
She gave me a wicked grin. "So, you want him all to yourself?"
"Something like that."
She scurried off toward the book room and disappeared around the corner, calling out, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"
My face was burning. I turned to Conrad. "I'm really sorry about that."
"Aw, don't be," he said. "She's fun."
I glanced around. "So, what are you doing here, anyway?"
He glanced around the coffee shop. "Well, I was in the neighborhood, so…"
"I mean here in River City."
His expression cleared. "Oh. You know the old Landmark Hotel?"
I nodded. In the city's glory days, it had been a magnificent structure. Today, it was crumbling monstrosity – a real shame too, since it took up at least four acres of prime riverfront property.
"My investment group bought it last year."
"Really?" I said. "You're re-opening it?"
"Nah. We're converting it to high-end condos."
"Wow," I said, "I can't even imagine." The place had been an eyesore for as long as I could remember. "But you said you're having zoning problems?"
"Nothing we can't work out." He smiled. "In fact, that's why I’m living here for a few months, to make sure it does."
"Where are you staying?" I asked.
"You know the Brownstones off River Street?"
I nodded. I'd heard they cost a fortune, at least by local standards.
"I bought one a few months ago."
Wow, I couldn't even imagine having that kind of money. Still, our situations were oddly similar. We both couldn’t leave the city until things worked out. "I think we're in the same boat," I said. "You know our councilman, Edgar Kreezak?"
Conrad stiffened. "I've met him."
From the look on his face, he wasn't impressed.
"I know he's a character," I said, "but maybe you should give him a call. He's actually been a huge help to us."
"Yeah. Well, I wouldn’t get too comfortable with that."
I felt my brow wrinkle. "What do you mean?"
"Alright," he said in a low voice, "I don't want to worry you, but from my own experience, the guy's a little…" He shook his head as if he didn't know where to begin.
"Eccentric? Yeah, I know."
Conrad shook his head. "I was going to say inconsistent."
I frowned. "You think he'll change his mind? About supporting us, I mean?"
"Let's just say you might want to have a backup plan."
"Oh crap," I said.
As if shaking of the gloom, he gave me a warm smile. "Hey, if you want to compare notes, we could hit Luciano's tonight, maybe strategize over dinner."
>
From somewhere in the book room, Crystal called out, "She gets off at six!"
In unison, we turned to look.
I wanted to crawl into a hole. Instead, I cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled out, "Will you stop that!"
Turning to Conrad, I gripped his arm and said, "Run while you still can."
He didn't run. Instead, he laughed and said, "It was a bonafide offer."
"I told you!" Crystal called.
In the end, I declined his charity and practically shoved him out the door. Still, his visit haunted me all day, and not only because of Crystal's match-making. Mostly, it was his parting comments about Edgar.
Would he really turn on us? Without his support, we were dead in the water.
Early tomorrow, I’d need to pay him another visit.
Chapter 24
I couldn’t stop thinking about the guy on the motorcycle. The way it looked, I'd never see him again. But I needed to see him again. If nothing else, I owed him an apology.
I searched for him all over the internet, scoured a few local yearbooks, and even spent one embarrassing afternoon hanging near the local biker bar, pretending to be shopping for sex toys in the Pain & Pleasure Emporium across the street.
After browsing near the store window for nearly an hour, I felt compelled to buy something, anything, to avoid looking like just another random voyeur. So I bought the cheapest thing they had. Edible undies. Strawberry. With matching bra.
And just for the record, they tasted like crap.
The whole biker bar idea had been stupid from the get-go. Sure, the guy might ride a motorcycle, but he looked nothing like the bikers in that place.
When my younger sister stopped by the coffee shop the next Wednesday afternoon, I was still trying to push Bishop out of my mind. The store was mostly empty, with just a couple of coffee drinkers and someone browsing in the book room.
As for Crystal, she was tucked away in one of our two private rooms, giving someone an astrology reading. Ever since our espresso-machine argument, things had been more strained between us than usual. But short of moving out, there wasn't much I could do.
Besides, I didn't want to move out. What I wanted was to see Bishop again. If I moved out of the coffee shop or stopped working at the store entirely, the odds of that happening dropped to nearly zero.
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