Your Eyes Don't Lie

by Branton, Rachel

  One of the clerks eyed her coupon binder knowingly as they passed him in an aisle, but Makay ignored his disgusted sneer. She’d stopped feeling embarrassed about using coupons a long time ago. If product manufacturers and retail stores were dumb enough to put out coupons that allowed her to double up and even get items for free, well, that was their problem.

  Eighteen minutes later, they walked out with four full grocery sacks for twenty dollars. She had peanut butter, jam, pizza, breakfast cereal, milk, cheese, frozen vegetables, tuna, more chili, microwaveable meals, and toilet paper. Nate was dancing because his eight candy bars had actually earned him forty cents. Better yet, the clerk hadn’t asked them to make their purchases in two transactions, though the limit was clearly four of the same coupon per purchase. “I’m going to save one for Jonny, one for Tessa, and one for Lily,” he said, swinging his little sack. “And you, of course.”

  Makay didn’t have the heart to tell him not to eat one before dinner. “Why, thank you. You know how I love chocolate.”

  He grinned and skipped ahead toward the Sebring as she followed more slowly, the handles of the plastics sacks digging into her palms. They’d nearly reached the convertible when one of the bags gave out, spreading chili and tuna cans everywhere. One skidded in front of a passing car, which screeched to a stop.

  “Sorry,” she said to the man who peered at her through his open window.

  His grin was easy. “No problem. Happens to me all the time.” He opened the door and unfolded himself from the white sedan.

  “People throw cans at your car?” Makay asked, arching a brow. He was over six feet, which was tall compared to her five foot four inch frame, and his face beneath the dark blond hair was attractive and rugged looking with several days’ worth of beard growth. He wore jeans and a T-shirt like hers, though his were considerably newer. He couldn’t be older than late twenties, definitely not someone who would drive such a boring, sedate car.

  He laughed as he fished out a can from under the sedan. “No, the bag breaking.” He handed her the chili, meeting her gaze. He had startling blue eyes that seemed to peer into the depths of her soul.

  “Thank you.” She looked away, pretending to search for more cans. The problem was that she was so busy trying to survive that she didn’t get out much. She’d rather study for a test than have to figure out what to say to a gorgeous guy who was probably not flirting but just being kind.

  “No problem. Here, I’ll help you get the rest.” He waved a car that had come up behind him to go around and bent for another can. “You from around here?”

  “No. Or not Phoenix anyway. I live in Mesa. You?” She glanced around to check on Nate, who was coming back their way.

  “I’m from here originally—well, I grew up in Scottsdale—but more recently I’m from Los Angeles.”

  “So, you’re visiting.” Why did she feel so disappointed?

  His eyes again locked on hers. “Actually, I moved back here to Phoenix a few weeks ago to be closer to my family. My two sisters are married and having children, and I want to be here for all that.” He smiled again and it did something to Makay’s heart, something she wasn’t at all sure that she liked. “Besides, I kind of miss the desert. There’s such a thing, at least for me, as too much ocean.”

  Makay laughed. “I grew up in Tucson, and too much ocean sounds rather good.”

  “Well, you could always move to LA for a while.” He held up two cans. “Where are you going to put these? Any more room?” His eyes went to the sacks she’d placed on the ground.

  “I have room!” Nate ran up to them. “We can put them in my sack.”

  The stranger looked at Nate and then back to Makay. Was it her imagination, or was his smile a little less bright? “It might bust that one, too,” said the man. “It’s a little small. But I have something in the car that will work.” He opened his trunk, pulled out a reusable cloth grocery bag, and began placing the cans inside. “The bag’s not mine, but it won’t be missed. I’m borrowing this car because mine is getting new brakes. Where’s your car? I’ll carry it there.” He hefted two of the plastic sacks as well.

  “Your car is in the middle of the road,” Makay pointed out. “I can do it, but thanks for your help.”

  “It’s not a road, it’s a parking lot. Plenty of room for people to get around. Won’t take but a minute.”

  “Our car’s over there.” Nate pointed to the Sebring.

  “What?” The stranger’s smile was back in all its vibrancy. “The blue convertible? No way. It’s in great condition. I was noticing it when you started throwing cans at me.”

  He’d been noticing the Sebring? The thought of Blaine Cooper, the man at the park, came unbidden to Makay’s mind. Had he called someone to follow her? Who was this supposedly helpful stranger really? Maybe not the Good Samaritan she thought he was. Maybe he worked for Cooper. She stifled a shiver.

  “I have a Sebring, too,” the stranger continued. “A bit newer model and sort of a steel gray. I bought it the last year they made the cars, so the body’s somewhat different, but I’ve always loved the look of the older models.”

  Makay relaxed slightly. She also noticed other Sebrings, so maybe he wasn’t following her. “Guess you can’t live in LA and not have a convertible.” She bet his car cost him ten times what she’d paid for hers, but her Sebring was in its thirteenth year, ancient really in car terms. Still, it had low miles. She’d bought it while living at Lily’s House from a college student who was heading home. Three thousand bucks, a deal too good to pass up. Back then, she’d still been optimistic enough to believe there would come a time when they wouldn’t be struggling on a daily basis. Occasionally she considered selling it, but when she researched the current resale price, it wasn’t worth giving up the dependable ride.

  “It leaks a bit of oil,” she said, “but besides that, it’s very reliable.”

  “Good to hear. I plan to drive mine till it falls apart. So far it hasn’t given me a bit of trouble. Well, except for needing new brakes, but you have that with any car.”

  They arrived at the car and Makay set her sack inside the trunk before reaching for those he carried. Her hand brushed against his and a current of something passed between them. Instinctively, her gaze flicked upward. His grin was still on his face, but it looked different somehow. Was she imagining it?

  “There you go.” His eyes wandered slowly over her face—or was that also in her imagination? “It was nice meeting you. Love your car.” With that he was gone, striding away to once again fold himself into the white sedan before Makay could give him back his cloth bag. She sighed.

  “What’s wrong?” Nate asked through a mouthful of chocolate bar.

  “Nothing.” She slammed the trunk. “Let’s get home.”

  At their apartment in Mesa, Snoop met them with a waggle of his whole backside and several deep barks. He was a mix of so many dogs that his mottled fur looked like nothing else Makay had ever seen, and he weighed more than she did. He shoved his nose against the sack in Nate’s hand.

  “Stop snooping, Snoop!” Nate giggled. “Get out of the way, we want to come in.”

  Most people thought Snoop was short for Snoopy, though the animal bore no resemblance to the fictional cartoon dog. The real reason for his name was because not only did he sniff at everything, but he had an uncanny ability for finding anything edible that wasn’t in the fridge or too high for him to reach. Including food in cans or in boxes he couldn’t easily rip open.

  She put away the groceries while Nate wrestled with the dog. Exhaustion weighed so heavily that she had forgotten to be hungry. A pizza would have to do for dinner, with milk and carrot sticks as a concession to health. She eyed the couch longingly before forcing herself into the tiny kitchen space. It was supposed to be an upgraded apartment, but upgraded here meant cheap counters with deep knife gouges, no room for a table, and a tiny balcony that was so close to the ground Makay didn’t dare put anything out there for fear the item
wouldn’t be around in the morning.

  When both Nate and the dog were eating, she slumped to the couch cushion, forgetting to avoid the side that no longer had any working springs. She was too tired to even care.

  “Makay, don’t you want some?” Nate called from his stool at the counter, lifting a slice of pizza in her direction.

  At that moment he looked so much like their father that she froze. Or rather, their father before she was five when her mother was alive and he didn’t drink. The betrayal she still felt almost paralyzed her when she let herself think about it. Over the years she’d told herself it didn’t matter that he had abandoned her emotionally when her mother died. He wasn’t her “real” father so it was understandable. Yet her parents had adopted her at two days old, so if that wasn’t “real” what was? She’d thought her father would straighten out after he’d married Fern, but her stepmother was as addicted to drugs as he was to alcohol, and Makay’s life had gone from bad to unlivable.

  She pulled her jacket closer around her. Why was she so cold? Her stomach growled.

  “Makay?” Nate asked again.

  “Uh, coming.” As she struggled out of the broken couch, the doorbell rang. Making a detour, she looked into the peephole, wondering if it would be Janice from the first floor or Ted from next door. She hoped they’d want to buy some of the chili because it was what she had most of in her cupboards. She charged less than what the stores did, but more than her cost. On the free items she made a killing, which was why she bothered at all with items like denture cleaner, laxatives, and wrinkle cream.

  Instead of the old people, she peered into the rat face of Lenny Pagolino. She yanked the door open far enough to put her face out. “Why are you here?” she growled in a low whisper. “I told you never to come to my apartment.”

  The short man lifted his thin shoulders, his watery brown eyes unconcerned and his stance determined. “I came for the payoff. I want it now.”

  Chapter Two

  Harrison Matthews watched the blue Sebring leave the parking lot. It was a custom color, he was sure, because he’d never seen one quite so vibrant before. Nice, but not nearly as compelling as the woman driving it. She had the kind of dark eyes that were large enough to drown in and her brown hair fell in loose curls around her small shoulders in a decidedly feminine manner. Her smile, with the slightest gap between her two front teeth, had sent a spurt of emotion through him. Yet it was her bearing that attracted him most, the absolute confidence in the way she carried herself. Too bad she seemed to be taken—despite the lack of a wedding ring on her finger.

  He shook his head. Maybe his mother had been right about his wasted time in LA. He certainly didn’t have a relationship to show for it. It was hard, though, coming home with his stepfather’s iron will and unforgiving nature still ruling the family. Not only was Eli Matthews always right, but he took it as a personal offense if his children disagreed with him or didn’t do what he expected. Eli had adopted him, and Harrison had called him father since he was four years old, but he had never really felt like his son. Perhaps because Eli saw in him the face of his mother’s first love.

  He was glad his younger sisters didn’t have to deal with that, but being Eli’s biological children, they lived in fear of their father’s disapproval more than he did. Harrison believed that was why his sisters, now twenty and twenty-one, had both married at nineteen—to get away from their father.

  Harrison pulled into a parking place, realizing that he was being uncharitable. Eli had given his mother a good, comfortable life, if rather controlled. He had loved and cared for her and given her illegitimate child a respected name. She had standing in the community, was active in church, and she seemed content. If she hadn’t been, Harrison might have stood up to Eli, but as it was, he bowed to his mother’s wishes and kept the peace.

  Being home again, even though not living at his parents’ house, meant he’d have to justify his job, living conditions, habits, and even his lack of a wife, but maybe that was a small price to pay to see the joy in his sisters’ eyes and the way his nephew, Caulin, lit up when he was around. Some things you couldn’t put a price tag on.

  Harrison’s cell rang, reminding him of the reason he’d come to Albertsons in the first place. The caller ID read Sherry Matthews. “Hi, Mom,” he said.

  “Oh, Harrison, are you on your way? Because I’m thinking that maybe instead . . .” She stopped and for a moment all he heard was harsh breathing.

  “What is it, Mom?” His mother was a little high strung at times, but she wasn’t overly emotional and having her text him twenty minutes ago, begging him to meet her here, wasn’t exactly typical. “Are you okay? Are you having some kind of pain?” Could be a heart attack, though it wasn’t likely. She’d given birth to him at seventeen so that made her only forty-three, and these days that was young—prime of life.

  “I . . . I . . . Look, are you close to Albertsons yet?”

  “I just parked. Where are you?”

  “I’m at the end of the second row to the east.”

  “Hold still. I’ll be right there.”

  He climbed from the sedan his mother had lent him until his Sebring was repaired, his eyes searching for his mother’s brown metallic Volkswagen Beetle. He jogged past the row of cars and reached for the handle. It was locked. Inside, his mother stared up at him, her blue eyes wide. She relaxed when she recognized him and unlocked the door so he could slip inside.

  “Thanks for coming.” She wore a gray tailored suit that flattered the slim figure she earned each morning in the gym. She had blond hair, lighter than his, and blue eyes with thick lashes that were decidedly her best feature. Her oval face had gentle curves and not many wrinkles. In all, she was a beautiful woman. Today, however, the skin around her eyes was reddened and there were smudges of black on her cheeks.

  “What’s going on, Mom?” His feet had landed on several plastic sacks full of groceries. A part of his mind noted how strange that was, given that his mother never used plastic sacks and always put her groceries in the trunk.

  She didn’t answer until she’d scanned the parking lot. “I was trying to tell you on the phone. I think maybe it’s best to go to your place to talk instead.”

  This made no sense. First she called him as he was leaving work and asked him to meet her here, and now she wanted to leave?

  “We can do that, but it’s going to take fifteen minutes to get there.” His initial worry was fading as she apparently felt well enough to drive. “Wouldn’t you rather talk here?”

  Again her eyes wandered over the parking lot. “I thought I needed you to . . . no, it’s better to leave. I’ll follow you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Wait! Take these groceries. I bought them for you.” Her narrow face was flushed and her tone overly bright. “A welcome home gift. I meant to do it before now.” His mother had often brought him groceries before he’d moved to California, but a glance in the bags showed him an odd assortment of items. Three different brands of olives, bottled chestnuts, packages of what had to be every brand of taco shells in existence, and other items he didn’t even recognize. It almost looked as if she’d gone shopping with a blindfold on.

  “Thanks.” He took the three overstuffed sacks and started back to the white sedan. He found himself searching the parking lot as his mother had, but nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Why couldn’t she talk to him here in the parking lot? What had even brought her here to shop so far away from her house? Maybe she was losing it—developing a mental illness. Or maybe it was something to do with her husband.

  As Harrison tossed the plastic sacks into the trunk next to his mother’s reusable bags, a sudden thought came to him. Perhaps she wanted to talk about his biological father. He had actually been meaning to talk to her about him for years, but every time he’d approached her—usually after a falling-out with Eli—she’d given him excuses and changed the subject. Two months ago, he finally began his own online search. He hadn’t made
any progress, but he had been in contact with a man who claimed to have a great deal of success finding birth parents and contacting them to see if they would like to hear from their children. Though the guy usually dealt with adoption situations, he’d promised to look into the whereabouts of Harrison’s father. In all these weeks, he hadn’t found anything solid but claimed he was still tracing leads. As his fees were reasonable, Harrison saw no reason to pull him off the case.

  Why would his mother choose now to fill in the missing details of his life? No, it had to be something else. Something regarding Eli? Was their relationship not what Harrison believed? Or maybe this was about one of his sisters or their husbands. Or possibly she had cancer or some other devastating disease.

  Stop it, he told himself. You’re probably getting worked up over nothing.

  He drove to his apartment in north Phoenix as fast as possible without running red lights, his mind and stomach churning. When he arrived, his mother’s Beetle was nowhere in sight, so he grabbed his groceries and took the stairs to his third floor apartment two at a time. As he entered, one of the overstuffed bags split, spilling cans of olives and boxes of taco shells over his gray carpet. Fleetingly, he remembered the woman in the parking lot at Albertsons and smiled. Maybe if he ran into her again, he’d tell her what happened. People were creatures of habit, so it was possible she’d shop at that store again. Maybe he’d start going there himself in hopes of seeing her.

  Wait. She probably wouldn’t care. “You have gone too long without a date,” he said aloud. Four months ago, after a year of dating, his last girlfriend had cheated on him with one of his buddies, and that had soured him on the dating scene. It might have even factored into his move from LA.