She kept waiting for the skin-curdling feel of Randall’s hand on her back. To Randall, her going off by herself was like wearing a sandwich board advertising her lack of class. Her youth was appreciated, but never her immaturity. She kept telling herself to get up and mingle, but her body overruled her brain. For the time being, Papa Rottzy was talking to Clark about something and was distracted from her antisocial behavior. She wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.
Feeling momentarily invisible, she looked out at the whitecaps, imagining flinging herself overboard and discreetly swimming to shore. Would she get sucked beneath the boat? Would everyone hear a big splash? Would they see her fall in and throw down a life preserver? Well, that would be embarrassing.
How else did people disappear? She spun the diamond bracelet on her wrist, thinking. She could burn to death, but then she would have to find some other body to stick in the rubble. She’d have to worry about all kinds of things, like dental records and making sure her body double was the right height. No way. It sounded horrifying. She certainly wasn’t going to kill some innocent person just to carry out a plan that might or might not work. If anyone should die it was Randall, not someone she didn’t even know.
Abby rubbed her temples, nauseous, resenting that these were the kinds of daydreams she had. She spun the bracelet around again. It was a bangle bracelet with a little hinge that opened and snapped shut. She thought it looked like something from the mall, but it had probably cost $15,000. She felt like chucking it in the water. This desire was built into everything Randall had ever given her.
He’d been in serious repair mode lately. Present after present. The cabin was gone and she actually thought she’d detected a moment of regret in his eyes when they’d sat at the closing table and passed the keys to its new owners. So little time had passed since they’d received them that they still had the previous realtor’s tag attached to them: 793 Wild Strawberry Lane. It had been hers just long enough for her to miss it now.
She twisted a little, scratching her shoulder and scanning to make sure Randall was still busy. It was easier to think when he wasn’t glaring at her. He and Clark were still engrossed in their conversation.
Charlie had said that disappearing was the easiest thing. Don’t do anything. Just – poof – disappear. The problem with that plan was that it only covered the actual disappearance. What she wanted was a whole new life.
“I wouldn’t mind a little cottage like that. Just for me. Once I’m gone,” she whispered.
“Are you talking to yourself, Sugartitties?” asked Randall.
“Hi,” she said flatly.
“Come back to the party,” he said, closing his hand around her upper arm and leading her back to the group.
“You’re just in time for Scramble,” said Danna-Dee. Abby had always found it ironic that she mispronounced a game about spelling.
“Is this the magnetic board you were telling me about?” asked old lady Bobbie.
“It sure is. It makes it so much easier playing on the boat.”
“What will they think of next?”
Clark topped off all their drinks – another good reason for Abby to not fling herself overboard was that she was never completely sober when she was on a boat – and they got started with their game.
“How was your spa vacation?” Danna-Dee asked her.
Randall gave Abby’s hip a sharp pinch. “She loved it,” he said. “Didn’t you?” he added, to Abby.
“It was amazing.”
“Ooh! Tell me more,” said Danna-Dee.
“It was the most relaxing, pampering vacation of my life,” said Abby. “I spent practically the whole week lying down, getting fanned and massaged and, oh, they played tinkly music that was really pretty and they chanted special healing spells for me, and burned herbs that cleansed my soul. It was insane. The best time of my life. I ate nothing but salad. I think I lost ten pounds.”
“You look great.”
“Yeah? I feel great.”
Another sharp pinch from Randall. This one telling her to shut up.
“What was the name of it?”
“Gosh. I can’t even think of the name of it. Do you remember, Randall?” asked Abby.
“I forgot,” he said.
“The Spinach Leaf Spa! Yes! That’s what it was called. The Spinach Leaf Spa,” Abby said.
“Really? That’s a funny name.”
“It is a funny name, isn’t it?” Abby smiled sweetly at Randall.
“Someone has had too much to drink,” he said, chuckling and setting her wineglass behind him.
The sun was setting in a brilliant display that had turned the water into shimmering streamers of pink and gold. No one cared. They had a game of Scramble to play. Bobby and Bobbie were dozing with their mouths open. Danna-Dee had her casino-style visor on to protect herself from even more sun damage. The Reeds were smiling, just glad to be included. Clark and Randall were talking about the stock market. Abby was twenty-eight years old. It was a typical Friday night.
Chapter 33
“I didn’t appreciate your little show tonight.”
“I was a little drunk.”
“That was obvious.”
“I’m sorry I embarrassed you.” She’d known she was going to pay for the whole spinach leaf thing. She’d had the giddy feeling of a little kid showing off, talking back, the whole time dreading the trouble she’d be in later. “But I realized I was being obnoxious and I turned it around. Didn’t I? I let Danna-Dee win at Scramble. That’s got to count for something, right?”
“Yeah, I guess so.” He looked old and tired. Too tired to fight.
“Scramble,” Abby said again, mocking Danna-Dee. “Scrambly scrambly Scramble.” Their little joke.
“What a ditz,” Randall agreed. They were friends again. No beatings tonight.
“Want something to eat? I’m going to the kitchen. Want some of your caramel corn?”
“Make me a sandwich. Bacon and egg with mayo.” He turned on the television.
“Fried or scrambly scrambled?”
“Fried.”
“You got it.” Abby went into the kitchen and got out a skillet, even though he was already snoring. She buttered both sides of four pieces of Randall’s favorite bread. She fried them in the lard their housekeeper brought from the Mexican grocery store and set them aside. Next she fried up the bacon and lined the slices of bread with it. Five pieces of bacon on each slice, ten per sandwich. Finally, she fried four eggs and set one on top of each slice of bread. She scooped up big globs of mayonnaise and put a tablespoon on top of each egg. She heated up some more lard and poured it over the top like gravy so it would be nice and hot. She then masterfully pressed both sides together, mayo-egg-lard slime oozing out the sides. She topped it off with a generous sprinkle of salt and garnished the plate with as many potato chips as could fit.
“Honey. Wakey wakey. Eggs and bakey.”
“Uhhh.” He awoke with a snort and sat up.
“I made you two sandwiches. One would have made you hungrier.”
He turned up the television, took the first sandwich, folded it as well as he could, given its massive height, into a greasy, drippy V, and shoved it into his tilted face. He wiped his chin with the back of his hand and licked it clean.
“You okay if I go to sleep?” she asked.
He nodded. “Get me a little glass of that cherry whiskey before you go to bed. Top ‘er off with maraschinos and 7up. You know how I like it. No ice.”
One Shirley Temple, coming right up. “Sure, Honey.” Abby went over to the bar, filled an oversized tumbler with a layer of maraschino cherries three inches tall. She poured a couple of inches of 7up on top and then filled it to the top with cherry whiskey. She loaded a tiny plastic sword with a row of four squished together cherries and set it on top of the glass. She carefully carried it out to Randall. He was starting on his second sandwich. He took the glass from her hand, his eyes glued to the television. It was some documentary
about mobsters. He was enthralled.
“Nighty night,” she said.
He ignored her.
She fell asleep, half expecting to be awakened by a fist to her head once his show ended and he thought a little more about her behavior on the boat. To her happy surprise, she awoke untouched the next morning, the sound of birds singing outside her window and Randall’s heavy snores coming from the living room couch.
Chapter 34
“Did you bring the rest of that money?”
“No. I left it at home.” Abby stretched, letting her hair fan out on the pillow.
“You seem pretty relaxed for a change,” said Charlie. They were lying naked on his bed.
“I am. Randall and his friend Clark are golfing with this guy named Ernie Blankenship. He’s pretty much Randall’s hero. He comes to town once or twice a year and when he’s around, Randall’s obsessed with him.”
“I didn’t think Randall was obsessed with anyone but himself and you.”
“Ernie invented some kind of software that Randall’s really impressed by. He’s got an amazing yacht and his wife Marcella’s from Sicily. She used to model, and Randall says she’s connected to the Sicilian Mafia or whatever it is they have there, which is the kind of thing he thinks is really cool. So yeah, for all those reasons, Ernie Blankenship is Randall’s superhero.”
“So for now, you’re free.”
“Yeah. Although my time’s almost up. I have to meet them for lunch in a little while. But for another twenty minutes, I’m all yours.”
“So come over here and let me have my way with you.”
“I can’t again,” she said.
“You’re a woman. There’s no limit to how many times you can do it.”
“Funny. Hey, I have to ask you something.”
“What’s that?” asked Charlie.
“The twelve hundred dollars. Can I see it?”
“Are you kidding me?”
“No.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
“Yeah, of course I trust you. I totally trust you, but excuse me if I’m being cautious. I hope you can understand where I’m coming from. I’m used to bad stuff happening to me. I have trust issues.” Abby tried to act a little like she was joking.
Charlie got up, went over to his dresser, opened a middle drawer and lifted up a folded pair of jeans. He took out a plain white envelope and set it on the bed. “It’s all inside,” he said.
Abby took a quick look inside. She didn’t insult him by counting it; it looked like plenty of money.
“Charlie, I’m sorry I asked. I can tell it’s all there.”
“It is all there.”
“Forgive me. Please?”
“Yeah, I forgive you,” he said very unconvincingly. He sat back down on the bed, hanging his head, refusing to lie down next to her.
She crawled behind him, wrapped her arm around his chest, and kissed his ear. “Turn around. Kiss me,” she said.
“Maybe you should go,” he said.
“Fine. Maybe I should.”
“Already?” He twisted to face her, giving her an exasperated look.
“You started it. Quit pouting.” She started getting dressed.
“Why are you putting your clothes on?”
“I feel like being dressed. So, do you want to tell me where this place is, or is it a surprise?”
“It’s not a surprise. It’s about forty-five minutes from here. Maybe an hour.”
“Okay.”
“It used to be a farm but the house burned down a few years back. What’s left of it is an old orange grove with a shed and a few small buildings and a pond. It’s almost all set up for you.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said.
“What do you mean you’ll think about it? It’s too late to think. This is the plan. There’s no thinking required.”
“Are there other houses nearby? What if someone sees me?”
“No one’s there anymore, so you’ll be all alone. There aren’t any neighbors for miles. You’ll be safe.”
“It sounds kind of creepy,” Abby said.
“It’s not. It’s a really nice place. I practically grew up there. Like I told you, I spent almost every summer there from the time I was ten or twelve until I graduated from high school.”
“But now it’s deserted?” Abby asked.
“Yeah. Totally deserted since the house burned down. But it’s still in my family and there are ‘no trespassing’ signs all around, so no one’s going to come sniffing around.”
“So, it’s not like repossessed or whatever they call it? Like, the government doesn’t technically own it or something, right?”
Charlie shrugged.
“And this uncle… Is he related to that cousin of yours from the flea market?”
“Yeah. That cousin you saw, this is his dad’s place.”
“Oh, really?”
“Don’t let that bother you.”
“I’ll try not to. Could you hand me my necklace?”
“Here. Is this real?”
“No. It’s some fake thing I got at the mall. Could you help me fasten it?”
“Sure. It looks real.”
“Your cousin doesn’t know anything about this plan for me to stay at his place, right?”
“Man, it’s hard to get this tiny clasp to open,” Charlie said.
Abby turned to look in his eyes. “He doesn’t know, right?”
“Right.”
“Because if he does, we’re going to need to come up with an entirely different plan. No one can be involved. No one.”
“I’m telling you, he doesn’t know. Have you told anyone about me?”
“I don’t have any friends to tell! Anyway, why would you care if I had?”
“I’m making a point that it’s not cool to be constantly accused of lying.”
“Sorry. …I really do want to do this, Charlie, but I’m not sure I’m tough enough to go through with something so crazy and scary.”
“You are. I know you are.”
“Did you find out anything about getting me a fake ID, and whatever else I need? Like a social security number?”
“I’m still looking into that.”
“Okay. I’m going to need all that stuff.”
“I’ll figure it out for you. Or you could. I mean, I figured out everything else. Why don’t you handle that?”
Abby sat down. “You said you would do that!”
“I’ve been busy. I have a fulltime job.”
“Charlie, I’m not ready for this. At all. There’s no part B to this plan? Don’t you think that’s a little crazy? Seriously! What’s my plan? How am I going to live? Who am I going to be? Let’s call the whole thing off for now.”
“What? No way. I’ll find you a new identity. Don’t worry about it.”
“Are you sure? That stuff is really important. I can’t start over without it.”
“I said I’ll figure it out.” Charlie gave Abby a kiss. “So are you still thinking one week from today?”
Abby nodded. “I guess if we’re going to do it there’s never going to be a better time. Randall will be golfing with his friends again. It’ll be Ernie’s last day in town. He won’t miss me for a couple of hours. It’s just… I feel a little like a rocket shooting out of control.”
Charlie laughed. “A rocket shooting out of control,” he said.
“Can you believe it’s really going to happen?” she asked him.
He nodded. “Don’t worry about a thing, Abby-girl.”
“Could you tell me the address?”
Charlie’s voice was muffled by the shirt he was pulling over his head. “I can’t think of it. I know it by driving there. It’s outside of an unincorporated little town called Grove.”
“Just plain Grove?”
“Yeah. Just plain Grove. Have you heard of it before?”
“No. Is it right outside?”
“A couple of miles, I guess. Why do you need to know?”<
br />
“I want to know what you’re getting me into.” She swatted him on the butt.
“Getting you out of, you mean.”
“Yeah, that’s what I meant.”
“You all set?” he asked. He was dressed now and ready to drive Abby back to the mall, back to her abandoned SUV.
She slid her sunglasses on and pulled the brim of her cap down over her face. “I am. Let’s get out of here.”
Chapter 35
“The mailman likes you.”
“Are you talking to me?”
“Who else would I be talking to?” Sharlene asked, looking around. She’d come back from lunch in time to see Charlie bringing Abby a latte from the coffee shop, along with the day’s mail. It was a sweet, but very dumb, move. Sharlene wasn’t going to let it go. “Does he buy you coffee all the time?”
“No! Never before.”
“Has he asked you out?”
“Of course not. I’m married,” Abby said. She pretended to be really absorbed in sorting through the mail he’d dropped off. “I think he’s just really friendly. I mean, he’s brought you coffee before, right?”
“Hell no. I wouldn’t want him to. He’s hot, but he’s got a dark side.”
“Why would you say that?”
“I’ve heard rumors.”
“Rumors?”
“There are things I could tell you. We should go out and get a drink. I’ll fill you in.”
“He seems nice enough to me.”
“That’s because he likes you.”
“I guess now that you mention it, I have noticed that he’s a little obsessed with me.”
“I told you so.”
“Look at this neat letter,” Abby said. “The envelope is shiny! Do we have anyone working here named Lewis Johnson?”
“How do you not know who works here by now? You’ve been here going on a year.”
“It hasn’t been that long.”
“No, there’s no one here by that name. See? He’s so into you that he can’t even sort the mail right.”
“Oh stop.”
“Did he drink out of it already, or is it all fresh like he got it just for you?”
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