Missing at 17

by Christine Conradt

  Candace was different. There was a depth to her that he didn’t often find in other people. Candace was a lost soul searching for something meaningful. He’d been searching for the same thing. He just didn’t know where he’d find it. Ironic that it would end up being at a scuzzy gas station half a mile from his house.

  But maybe he’d seen her for the last time. There was a hefty chance that her parents had caught her as she tried to sneak in and pack some clothes and talked her out of returning. Or maybe she’d looked hard at her mother’s bougie house and realized that there was a lot more to be said for creature comforts than she’d thought. Or maybe she’d returned all the calls of her friend—Avery, was it?—who had convinced her that running away wasn’t a good idea. There were lots of variables, and although he hoped that she’d walk through the door any minute, he wouldn’t put money on it.

  If she didn’t, he’d be disappointed for sure. But Toby also knew from experience that people come in and out of your life and most never stay. There was a solid chance that once Candace learned a little more about him and his past, she’d bolt as fast as her feet could carry her. She already knew a little about his childhood, but he’d given her the PG-rated version. There were a lot of things he’d witnessed that no one, let alone a child, ever should. By the time he was eight, he’d seen a dead body—a homeless man he was familiar with who had OD’d behind the Dumpster in the apartment where he was living. His grandmother had asked him to take out the trash and that’s when he stumbled across the guy, huddled in a ball, a needle still sticking straight up out of his pale arm. He’d watched his oldest cousin Trey, Keenan’s brother, slash a guy with a broken bottle because he thought he had stolen his phone. Although he was only cut in arm, Toby was sure that guy ended up in the hospital with stitches. And, man, there was so much blood.

  But those were all things out of his control. They might freak Candace out, but more than likely, she’d understand. She’d probably feel sorry for him. It was the other stuff—the bad stuff he’d done—that would make her ask herself what the hell she was doing with him.

  He’d lost count of how many times he’d shoplifted. For a while, when he was sixteen or seventeen, he was stealing things almost every day. Candy bars, cigarettes, and booze were usually the easiest to slip into his pocket and walk out with, but occasionally he’d snag something more expensive like a leather wallet from a department store or a pair of expensive shoes. And then, during one particularly angry summer as a preteen, he’d smashed the headlights and side mirrors out of thirteen cars parked along Hoover between Jefferson and Thirty-Second Street down by USC. He remembered how much rage he’d felt that night, how much jealousy toward all the rich kids whose parents buy their cars and pay for their education. It had felt cathartic to hear the glass shatter and watch the mirrors pop, then droop listlessly against the car doors. With every swing of the tire iron, he’d felt more and more giddy, more and more equal. If he couldn’t have a car, or an education, or parents who wanted to help him, no one should. The following day, when he walked back down the cracked sidewalk along Hoover and saw the shards of glass in the parking spaces and the damaged cars that were still there, their owners blissfully unaware that they’d been targeted, he actually felt bad. And he’d never done anything quite that destructive again. After the car incident, he stuck to shoplifting, petty theft, and of course, boosting things like the motorcycle Keenan had been helping him with. The owner probably had insurance, so he’d be okay.

  That brought Toby to a different thought: Keenan. Keenan was the only one who had stayed in his life. And that’s why he was so loyal to him. All he and his cousin had were each other.

  Candace? Well, there were certainly girls that wouldn’t bat an eye at Toby’s tarnished past, and some would even get off on it. But Candace wasn’t that type and he knew it. Candace was a good girl. She’d grown up in a world where parents hand their kids twenty bucks so they can go shopping with their friends. She’d dated boys that played sports and studied for midterms, not the type that trawl parking lots looking for unlocked cars. Bottom line, it was a crapshoot whether she’d come back and if she did, how long she’d stay. If she did, though, he vowed to do whatever it took not to scare her away.

  “What do you mean you’re okay doing the other stuff?” Keenan laughed dismissively. “Stolen bikes and catalytic converters? Come on. You only make, like, a grand a pop. It’s not even worth the time.”

  Offended, Toby stood up. “I’ll think about it, all right?” He knew if he continued to sit there that Keenan would keep grinding on him until he gave in.

  “Think hard, cuz. Thirty grand is a lot of money,” Keenan said under his breath. Without another word, Toby crushed his beer can and tossed it into the trash on his way back into the house.

  Candace dropped her duffel bag on Toby’s bed and darted into his bathroom. As she shut the door and turned on the shower full blast, she couldn’t help but replay in her head the look on his face when he opened the door and saw her standing there. There was relief in his eyes. Then he slipped his thumbs through the belt loops of her jeans and pulled her hips to his.

  “That took waaaaay too long,” he’d said, and then kissed her.

  Candace stripped off her clothes and felt to see if the water was warm yet. It wasn’t, so she stood in the middle of the small bathroom staring down at Toby’s toiletries on the counter. Spotting his cologne, she twisted the cap off the bottle and lifted it to her nose. As she inhaled deeply, she closed her eyes. I love how he smells, she thought. It’s woodsy and fresh and spicy all at once. Putting the bottle back where she found it, she picked up his shaving cream and squeezed a dollop onto her finger. Then she rubbed it onto her skin. She wasn’t sure why but she felt intrigued by everything he owned, as if examining every single item he used each day somehow brought her closer to him. Realizing the mirror had completely steamed over now, she set the shaving cream back and stepped into the shower.

  As she let the water cascade down her back, she felt relaxed for the first time in a long time. There was no pressure here. No mother crying on the curb, no little brother sneaking into her room to play a joke on her, no father she could reach only by email. No one had any expectations of her here. Toby didn’t judge. He liked her for who she was, and it didn’t matter where she came from.

  When she opened the door to the bathroom, she saw Toby perched on the edge of his bed, talking on the phone. “I can’t go less than two Gs,” she heard him say in a tense voice as he looked up at her. Candace could tell the sight of her wrapped in a towel, the long strands of her wet hair clinging to her shoulders, had made him lose his concentration.

  “What?” he asked, turning away to finish the call. Candy grinned to herself, liking the power she had over him. She pulled her brush from her bag and started to untangle her hair as she kept an eye on him in the foggy mirror.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Okay. See you then.” Toby ended the call and tossed his phone onto the bed. Their eyes met through her reflection and he gave her a look of approval.

  “I never said you could use one of my towels,” he teased. “Drop it. Now.”

  She pretended to laugh. “Ha, ha, ha, ha.” She winked and unzipped her duffel bag. Searching for her little pink bottle of body spray, she tossed a few items aside. Black lace and bows caught Toby’s attention.

  “Hey! What’s that?” he asked, and quickly snatched the bag away. He playfully turned it upside down and poured the contents of her bag onto his bed. Seeing the black lace bra and panties, he plucked them from the pile. Laughing, she tried to grab for them but he lifted them out of her reach.

  “Hey, dick!” She made another futile attempt at grabbing them without losing her towel. Candace couldn’t help but laugh as he teased her. She knew there was no way she could reach them if he continued to hold them high above his head, but she was having fun trying. Staring up at them, Toby examined the skimpy lingerie.

  “Nice. Did you wear these for that
douchebag ex of yours?” She could detect a slight tinge of jealousy in his voice.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” she responded without missing a beat.

  “I’m more interested in if you’re going to wear ’em for me,” he said with a cocky grin as he gave them back to her.

  “That depends,” she joked. “My fee is a grand a night.”

  “I’d consider that a bargain.” He lay back on his bed, folding his arms behind his head. “Go put ’em on.”

  Taking the bra and panties with her, she slowly walked back into the bathroom and shut the door.

  Eight

  Decisions and Dead Ends

  Candace lay next to Toby in bed, her finger tracing the outline of the tattoo on his chest. Her frilly little bra and panties were crumpled on the floor next to the bed. She liked how she felt with his arm around her; he had a way of making her feel safe. I just slept with a guy I met less than twenty-four hours ago, she thought. If people at school found out, they’d probably think she was slutty. What a load of BS. No one’s giving Ian a hard time for hopping from one girl to the next. Besides, Candace thought, it didn’t matter what anyone at school thought about her anymore. She was never going to see any of them again—except Avery, of course.

  Those people, like her parents, were all part of her past. Up until her mom admitted she’d been adopted, her entire life had been a lie. No wonder she’d always felt so confused.

  But not anymore. There was nothing confusing about Toby. He was the first person she met after discovering herself and there was some kismet in that, she thought. I was meant to find out the truth about myself so that I could meet him as the real Candace. Not the puppet Candace who was tied to her parents’ lies. Then another thought came to her. Oh my god, what if my name isn’t really Candace? What if she’d been named something else at birth and her parents changed it? What if she had come into this world as a Lindsay, or a Megan, or a Sierra? The more she thought about it, the more her parents’ lies infuriated her. She hated them so much!

  Candy felt her blood start to boil, but she decided to let her anger go and think about positive things—like her future. The future actually seemed pretty good at the moment. In addition to possibly having met the man of her dreams, she was finally going to be able to learn who she was. To do that, she’d have to find her biological parents—or at least one of them. She could do that. She’d seen more than a few TV shows where people were reunited with biological family members they’d never met. It usually worked out well. Sometimes on those shows the person even discovered that his parents had also been searching for him.

  She wondered what her real mother and father were like and imagined the multitude of possibilities. It was actually fun to come up with theories. I’ll bet they’re divorced. Or never married. Maybe that’s why her mother gave her up, because it was too hard to be a single mom. Maybe they were married, though. And her mother was some famous actress or model and because of her career, she traveled too much to be able to raise a kid. People had always praised Candace’s acting ability. When she was twelve, she was the lead in the school play. Maybe she’d inherited her talent. Perhaps her father was famous too. Maybe they were a power couple of sorts. We live in Los Angeles, after all, she thought. There are hundreds of celebrities who live here. It’s not completely unrealistic. And how cool would that be? To suddenly be invited to Hollywood parties and red carpets and award shows? Pretty damn cool.

  But even as she was imagining the amazing A-list lifestyle she could lead, Candace couldn’t help but think about how her mother had given birth to her brother, Andrew. Her father had been holding her mother’s hand, breathing with her, telling her to push. She always imagined that the same was true for her. That her mom had been the first to hold her, been there to comfort her the first time she cried, but she wasn’t. They let Candace believe that she was, but she wasn’t. And that hurt.

  Toby was lost in thought as he stroked Candace’s hair. The plan that Keenan had pitched to him a few hours earlier was weighing on his mind. Pedro and Keenan were going to want an answer soon and he didn’t have one to give them. He kept going back to the risk involved in pulling a stunt like that. Keenan made it sound easy, like a sure bet, but Toby knew there was no such thing. The higher the score, the higher the risk. It was a truth he lived by and he’d seen it play out time and again. That’s why he preferred to stick with quick and easy scams, down and dirty crimes of opportunity. No premeditation. He just made sure he was always ready when a situation presented itself. Just like with Candace. He could’ve passed her sad ass up when he saw her standing outside the gas station last night. He could’ve simply lit her cigarette and went on his way. But he didn’t. He saw an opportunity and he seized it. He wasn’t out looking for a girl to hang with and he certainly wasn’t seeking a romantic relationship. The best things in life come unexpectedly, he thought. They’re not planned, they’re not premeditated.

  Candace, Candace, Candace. She certainly made an impression. He had trouble getting her out of his head. He’d never felt that before but wasn’t sure he wanted to fight it. One thing concerned him, though. He was pretty sure she was a helluva lot younger than the other girls he’d dated. He was hoping she was eighteen but knew there was a solid chance she wasn’t.

  Even so, how could this ever work out? The good news was that she hated her mother. He felt like an ass for being happy about that, but in truth, he was. He was convinced her mother would never go for Candace dating someone like him. From the way Candace described her mom and dad, he was sure they would want her to end up with some douchebag college boy. There was no point in trying to explain to them that he would do anything he could to make her happy. And she was happy with him, he thought. She seemed to be. He could tell by the way she rested her head up against his shoulder the past two nights. Candace wanted freedom. She was a smart girl who didn’t need her parents hovering over her every second of the day. Being away from them, with him, in a place where she felt loved and safe and free to explore who she really was, was better for her. And he wanted her to be the happiest person in the world. For the first time ever, the idea of someone relying on him didn’t freak him out. He actually liked taking care of her.

  The more Candace’s mother doesn’t want her to do something, he thought, the more she’ll want to do it. And her dad, well, from what Candace said, it seemed like he was pretty much out of the picture, so he wasn’t too stressed about that.

  So what about Keenan’s plan? What if they got arrested? Then there’d certainly be no future with Candace; he’d probably never even see her again. And rumor had it that Dawson had killed someone before—a guy that took an overly eager interest in Dawson’s girlfriend. He up and left one day, completely disappeared and no one heard from him again. Toby figured the poor idiot was at the bottom of the Santa Monica Bay with a cinder block tied to his wrists. If this job was going to wind up getting them killed, it obviously wasn’t worth it.

  Then again, thirty thousand dollars would help him take care of Candace for a long, long time. He could take her to cool places. Maybe even on a vacation or—

  “I wanna find my mom,” Candace declared as she rolled onto her side and propped her head on her hand. “My real one.”

  Just the idea sent a surge of excitement through Candace.

  “Why?” he asked. Candace was surprised.

  “Why wouldn’t I? I’m probably a lot like her.” All the questions Candace had about herself might finally be answered.

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Huh? Because of genetics.”

  He shrugged. “I’m nothing like my mother,” Toby stated. Candace studied him. She could see the resentment buried deep in his eyes, under layers of pain.

  She paused and touched his hand. “Look, it all makes sense now. The reason I don’t get along with my mom was because I’m nothing like her. I have a feeling that if I meet my real mother, everything is going to click in ways it hasn’t before.” T
oby’s mouth twisted up for a moment as if he didn’t agree. “What?”

  “Maybe you’re right. Who am I to say?” Was he trying to shake her confidence? If so, it was working.

  “You think it’s a bad idea for me to try to find her?”

  “Never said that. She could be great. Or she might not be. Or she might be dead. There’s more than one possibility, is all.

  “I’m just curious. It’s not like meeting her is going to solve the mysteries of the universe or something.” She could minimize her expectations to Toby, but Candace couldn’t help but hold on to the idea that this woman was somehow the key she needed to fix all the things wrong in her life.

  “So find her,” Toby said.

  “How would do I that?” Candace asked, truly unsure where to start. She didn’t know her biological mother’s name and neither did her parents. That is, if her mother was actually telling her the truth. Maybe she did know and just didn’t want to share that information with Candace. She coiled her arm around Toby’s bicep and snuggled closer, inhaling the faint scent of the cologne she’d sniffed in the bathroom. In the midst of all this uncertainty and turmoil, it made her feel at ease.

  “Well, I guess you’d start with the adoption agency and see if they’d tell you.” Toby gave a shrug as he suggested it and put his arm around her, so she could rest her head on his chest. “That’s where I would start, at least.”

  A half hour later, as Toby paced around, working another deal on his phone, Candace sat at the kitchen table searching adoption agencies on his tablet. She had no idea which one her parents had used, and she wasn’t about to call them to find out. For all she knew, she could have been born in another state, or even another country. That’s an interesting possibility, she thought. What if I was born in Canada or something? Or France? Or Italy? For every question that popped into her head, Candace could feel her mind spinning with more. What if my real mom doesn’t even speak English? What if she speaks French or Italian or German? What if she lives so far away that I never get the chance to meet her? Frustrated, she sat back and waited for Toby to finish his call.