Lunatic Revenge

by Sharon Sala

  Don’t borrow trouble. It will find you in its own time.

  “And that’s supposed to make me feel better,” Tara muttered.

  She finished off her burrito and drink and was gathering up her trash when her phone rang again. This time she checked Caller ID.

  It was Flynn. OMG all over again. What do you say to a guy who texted that he hearts you?

  Try hello. I find that works best.

  Tara frowned. “Hello.”

  “Hey you,” Flynn said. “Are you okay? I saw that piece on television this morning about you helping finding storm victims. That was beyond sick, Moon Girl. Way to go.”

  Tara sighed. “Thank you. But now the world knows I’m . . . that I can . . . oh, whatever. You know what I mean.”

  “That you’re psychic? Don’t worry about it so much. Most of the people who saw that won’t believe it, and the few who do probably won’t say anything to you about it for fear you can ‘read their minds’. You know how people are. Everyone has something to hide.”

  Tara grinned. “I didn’t think about it that way, but you’re right. Thanks. You just made me feel way better than I did five minutes ago.”

  “Hey, making my girl feel better is part of my job.”

  Tara’s smile widened. “Thank you. You’re the best.”

  “I do what I can. So I just called to check on you. I’ve gotta go. Dad’s funeral is this afternoon. We’ll be home sometime tomorrow. Don’t get in any trouble while I’m gone.”

  Tara laughed. “I’ll certainly do my best. Drive safe.”

  “We will. You, too.”

  Tara was still smiling as she backed out of the parking space and headed for the supermarket. She hoped Flynn was right about people not treating her weird. As she drove, she was so focused on the road in front of her that she didn’t notice the guy on the Harley a short distance behind her, and it was just as well. Knowing French Langdon was tailing her every move would have sent her right over the edge.

  Tara was in the cereal aisle at Walmart when the first person accosted her.

  “Hey. Aren’t you the psychic girl who found that baby up a tree?”

  Tara’s heart stopped. She turned around to see a short, heavy-set man staring at her and waiting for an answer.

  “Uh . . . no, I think you have me mixed up with someone else,” she muttered, grabbed her box of cereal and headed for the end of the aisle. To her dismay, the man followed.

  “You are her. I am good with faces. Look, I won’t tell anybody. Just listen to this deal. Since you’re psychic and all, they probably won’t let you play the Lottery. But if you pick the winning numbers in the 68 million dollar Hot Lotto jackpot and tell me, I’ll buy the ticket and split with you 50/50. What do you say?”

  “Leave me alone or I’m going to call the manager,” Tara muttered.

  “But—”

  At that point, a box of Crunchy Pops suddenly flew off a shelf and whacked him on the side of the head.

  “Hey!” he yelled, and then to his horror the entire top shelf of cereal boxes came down on top of him.

  Make a run for it.

  “I can’t. I don’t have everything on the list yet,” Tara muttered.

  Then do your thing. I’ve got your back.

  Tara glanced down at the list and headed for the dairy aisle, praying she wasn’t bugged here, as well. It would be a lot messier to clean up milk and eggs than it was the upended cereal boxes.

  She got the milk and a dozen eggs, and was heading for butter and cheese when a woman pushing a cart turned a corner and came toward her.

  “It is you,” she said. “I saw you a couple of aisles over and wanted to tell you how great it was that you found that baby up a tree.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tara said, and began grabbing eggs and looking for a wedge of the jalapeno cheese that Uncle Pat liked.

  “It’s okay. I understand you wanting to keep a low profile. I just wanted you to know that I think you’re a real heroine.”

  Tara refused to make eye contact, found the cheese, and then glanced down at her list.

  Green beans and hamburger meat.

  She backtracked to the meat department, sorted through the packages until she found what she was looking for, and then headed for the canned vegetable aisle.

  To her horror, the same lady was right behind her.

  “Hey, I want to ask you something,” the woman said, as Tara dumped a couple of cans of green beans into her cart. “My husband is up for a promotion. Could you tell me if he’s going to get it or not?”

  “Lady. Leave me alone.”

  The woman frowned. “Look. You owe it to people to use your—”

  The loaf of bread in the lady’s cart suddenly elevated. The twist tie fell into the cart below as the entire loaf was dumped onto her head. The scream that came out of her mouth could have peeled paint off the walls.

  Tara headed toward the checkout stand without looking back.

  “What’s going on back there?” the cashier said, as she began to scan Tara’s purchases.

  “I don’t have the faintest idea,” Tara said, quickly paid and headed for the parking lot.

  It wasn’t until she got into the car that she began to breathe easy.

  “Well, that was fun,” she muttered.

  Henry popped up on the hood of her car with a big grin on his face, waved, then morphed into the seat beside her as she backed out of her parking space.

  She glared. “I’m happy you were entertained,” she said, and drove away.

  French Langdon was on the far side of the parking lot waiting for her to emerge. As she headed for Hall of Fame Boulevard, he started the car and began following her at a safe distance when his phone rang.

  “What?”

  “Update me.”

  “She’s been shopping, but I think she’s heading home.”

  “If you see the need, snatch her. We’ll worry about the consequences later.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Look. After that piece came out on the morning news, you know where that’s going to lead. She’s Flynn O’Mara’s girlfriend. If she’s the real deal, we’re not the only ones who might figure out she could find the money.”

  “I hear you,” French said.

  “Keep me posted.”

  As French disconnected, he realized he’d momentarily lost sight of her car, but he wasn’t worried. He knew where she lived.

  Tara was home putting up groceries when she heard a knock at the door. Still leery after the chaos at the grocery store, she didn’t recognize the big Suburban in the drive, but her concern vanished when she opened the door. It was Nikki Scott and her entire family. When she saw Nikki’s mother, she knew where the pretty eyes and dark hair came from, but Nikki definitely had her father’s smile.

  “I know we should have called,” Nikki said.

  “I just got home. I’ve been grocery shopping at Walmart. Come in and have a seat.”

  Nikki was trying to be cool, but Tara could tell she was a little embarrassed, which set off an alert on Tara’s warning system. She kept eyeing Nikki’s parents, trying to get a read on what was going on, but she’d didn’t get any warnings. At least everyone was happy. It couldn’t be bad.

  “Tara, this is my dad, Rick, and my mom Ann. Guys, this is Tara Luna.”

  Tara smiled. “It’s really nice to meet the both of you. Nikki is the best.”

  Rick immediately shook Tara’s hand. “It’s our pleasure, believe me. Look, Nikki made sure we understood you like to downplay your . . . your abilities, and we get that. But it’s because of you that Rachelle is still alive and we can’t downplay that.”

  Ann started to shake hands, too, and then hugged her instead. “You are amazing and so brave. A simple thank you will never be enough for what you did for our family.”

  Tara immediately locked into her wave of love and felt bereft when Ann let her go.

  That’s what a mother’s love feel
s like.

  Tara blinked back tears.

  Rachelle got up and slid into the seat beside Tara, then gave her a hug.

  “Thank you for saving my life,” she said, and then started to cry.

  Tara hugged her back. “You’re welcome, honey. I wish I could take credit for being this amazing person, but the deal is that I came this way so I don’t know any other way to be.”

  Not to be outdone, Morgan got up and then dropped a package wrapped in shiny blue paper into Tara’s lap.

  “Here, this is from all of us, but I thought of it.”

  Tara grinned. “A present for me?”

  Nikki rolled her eyes. “You may not think it’s much of a present when you see what it is.”

  Tara tore off the paper then took a deep shaky breath as she read the words on the framed and, obviously handmade, certificate.

  From this day forth, Tara Luna will be known as an honorary daughter and forever member of the Rick and Ann Scott family.

  —Rick, Ann, Nikki, Rachelle, Morgan.

  “OMG. You guys. You have no idea what a big deal this is for me,” Tara said.

  “We know what a big deal it was for us to wake up this morning and know Rachelle was safe in her bed,” Rick said.

  “Thank you so much,” Tara said.

  Nikki sighed. “After all this, are you still willing to be my BFF?”

  Tara laughed through tears. “Yeah, I’ll still claim you, if you can handle my lunatic life.”

  Rick rolled his eyes. “It can’t be much worse than me living with five females.”

  Tara frowned. “Five?”

  Rick grinned. “Yeah, the dog is a girl, too.”

  Tara laughed out loud, which made all the Scott women groan. “Don’t encourage him,” Ann said. “He already thinks he’s a riot.”

  Tara laughed again.

  “Hey, Tara, do you have any plans for lunch?” Rick asked.

  “No.”

  “Then may we treat you? Not all the restaurants are back open for business, but Hideaway Pizza is. I checked.”

  Tara grinned. “I love Hideaway Pizza. Just let me get my purse and jacket.” Then she remembered her Walmart experience and hesitated. “Uh, you might not want to be seen with me.”

  “Why?” Ann asked.

  Tara sighed. “That thing about me that you saw on TV . . .”

  “What about it?” Nikki asked.

  “It’s causing problems. I couldn’t get through Walmart for the nuts wanting me to tell their futures and pick winning Lotto numbers.”

  “For the love of God,” Rick muttered. “Don’t worry about all that. If anyone bugs you while you’re with us, I’ll take care of it.”

  Morgan high-fived Rachelle. “Cool! Maybe we’ll get to see Dad thump someone’s head.”

  “Oh, I didn’t say anything about assaulting anyone. I just said I’d take care of it, and I will. I’ll sic your Mom on them.”

  All three Scott girls groaned. “No . . . not the wrath of Mom. Not that.”

  Ann pretended to be irked, but Tara could tell she thought it was funny.

  “Go get your stuff,” Nikki said. “I’m starving and we can talk about my slumber party Saturday night while we eat.”

  Within minutes Tara was out of the house and into the big Suburban with the rest of the Scotts. Her family consisted of her and Uncle Pat . . . and Millicent and Henry, of course, but they didn’t require seating space. Riding with this big noisy family was a joy. She rode all the way to Hideaway with a big smile on her face, listening to Rick and Ann talking to each other in the front seat, while Rachelle and Morgan argued with Nikki in the back. It was sort of like being in the hall at Stillwater High during class break. Everyone was talking at once but hardly anyone was listening.

  They got all the way through ordering and eating salads before a diner at a nearby table recognized Tara. She was caught up in the conversation and laughing at the disgust on Rachelle’s face as Morgan kept sneaking the croutons out of her salad, when Millicent’s voice suddenly appeared in Tara’s head.

  Incoming. Take cover.

  Tara turned, caught movement from the corner of her eye and saw the guy at a nearby table jump up and head their way.

  “Oh no,” she muttered.

  Rick heard her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Tara said, and then the guy was at their table.

  “Hey, aren’t you that girl who found the baby up in the tree?”

  “No, that wasn’t me,” she said.

  He frowned. “Are you—”

  Rick stood up. “Back off my daughter, mister. This has been happening all day and it’s getting old. Just because she’s the right age and has long dark hair, doesn’t mean she’s that girl.”

  The man blinked. “Uh . . . yeah, right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude and—”

  And just like that, Nikki’s mom entered the conversation without an invitation. “If you didn’t mean to intrude, then why did you ever leave your table,” Ann snapped.

  “I’m out of work. I just thought the girl might know of a place that was hiring.”

  Ann’s green eyes snapped. “Are you serious? The girl, as you called her, is not the local employment agency and you’re interrupting our meal. Are we going to have to call the manager?”

  “Uh, no, no, I’m sorry.”

  His eyes narrowed as he looked at Tara. She could tell he still didn’t believe them, but they’d backed him off.

  “Sorry kid,” he mumbled, and then slunk back to his table.

  Tara’s cheeks were burning and she was blinking back tears.

  “Embarrassing,” she mumbled.

  Nikki elbowed her. “No biggy,” she said, and then giggled. “But that’s what Dad meant by saying he’d sic Mom on them. She doesn’t mince words.”

  Tara glanced up. Ann’s indignation on Tara’s behalf was still evident, but Rick was grinning. He winked at Tara and then pointed at the end of the table. “Someone pass me the red pepper flakes. Here comes our pizza.”

  It was a simple request, but it shifted the conversation back to food, and just like that, the moment was over. It took Tara a few minutes to let it go, but that first bite of pepperoni pizza was seriously good medicine for what ailed her.

  By the time the meal was over, the man had already left the restaurant. If there were any others who’d had a similar notion of approaching her, Rick and Ann’s intercession had changed their minds.

  Chapter Six

  As soon as Tara got home, she turned on the television in the hope of catching that film clip everyone was talking about. She needed to see exactly what they had aired if she was going to be able to defend herself. Full of pizza, she curled up on the sofa with the remote in her hand and promptly fell asleep.

  Channing Tatum smiled as he helped Tara climb down from the tree.

  Tara smiled back.

  “I’m hungry, how about you?” he said.

  “Starving,” Tara said.

  “You look delicious. I’m thinking about that curve of your neck where it’s the most tender. Umm, I can’t wait to take a bite.”

  “Of me? No. Wait. I thought you meant—Help! Zombie hunk alert!”

  Tara woke abruptly with a pillow clutched to her neck and her feet tangled in the afghan.

  “OMG, pizza overload. What a nightmare.”

  She threw the pillow aside, kicked off the afghan and turned off the TV. They might show the clip again during the evening newscast, but she wasn’t in the mood to veg in front of the TV all day waiting to see it. The day was getting older and she needed to figure out what she was going to make for supper. A zombie version of Channing Tatum had nothing on Uncle Pat who was always hungry. She was on her way to the kitchen when there was yet another knock at the door.

  “Now what?” she muttered, as she peeked out the window. Then a big smile spread across her face and she stifled a squeal as she ran to the door.

  “You’re back.”<
br />
  Flynn grinned as he stepped over the threshold. “Fair warning. You’re about to get a really big hug.”

  As he wrapped his arms around her, Tara’s heart skipped a beat. This was turning into the seriously best day of her life.

  “I’m so glad you’re okay,” Flynn said, then pulled back just enough to meet Tara’s gaze.

  Incoming kiss.

  Shut up, Millicent. I’m not blind.

  “Watching that tornado heading straight for town and not knowing who would survive and who would not was scary. I kept thinking how empty my life would be without you, Moon Girl, and I didn’t like how that felt.”

  And then he kissed her. Not a quick hello/goodbye kiss, but a serious, I-heart-you kiss that made Tara’s pulse race. Even after they stopped, Flynn didn’t immediately turn her loose.

  “Are we good now? I mean, no more hard feelings between us about anything?”

  “We’re better than good,” she said softly.

  Flynn grinned. “Yeah, we are, aren’t we?”

  She blushed, but smiled back, and just like that, her world was on course again.

  “So, I heard there’s no school the rest of the week.”

  “Yep. The school wasn’t hit, but a lot of students’ homes were. Is your place okay?”

  “Yeah, except for some downed limbs and missing shingles. Mom called the landlord but he was already on it.”

  Tara tugged his hand. “Come sit and talk to me.”

  Flynn followed her to the sofa.

  “I’m really, really sad for you about your dad. Are you okay?”

  His smile shifted. “I will be. It’s a process, you know.”

  She watched the sadness come and go on his face. “The police still don’t know who killed Floy Nettles.”

  Flynn frowned. “I know. It doesn’t really make any sense, you know? Sam and Floy were close. I can’t wrap my head around Sam being responsible for killing his brother.”

  “I don’t know who did it, but I do know it wasn’t Sam,” Tara said. “And you know that means there’s someone still out there who wants that money your father hid.”