Crossing the Line

by Lauren Landish

  Unfortunately for our desires, regardless of how long we wanted to stay there, I had to go home eventually. As it was, we stayed until the sun started to go down, then had a casual dinner at a little country barbecue place. "I never realized just how voracious an appetite you have," I said as he came back from the buffet with his third plate. "Have you been starving yourself or something?"

  Dane grinned and shook his head. "No, but I did work up quite an appetite this afternoon. And it’s a bit of an old habit that I've not quite worked past yet."

  "What's that?" I asked, enjoying the rich pork myself.

  "Until recently, I mostly just ate to live," Dane said simply as he used his plastic fork to split a biscuit in half. He took forkfuls of the spicy barbecue and put it on the halves, making an open-faced sandwich that he started consuming in efficient, neat bites. Despite it being his third plate, and the barbecue being soaked in nearly an obscene amount of sauce, his shirt was spotless, a far cry from my own.

  "Luxury for my family was getting eighty-twenty ground beef to go into our mac & cheese casserole. The Army was the same way, and Leavenworth . . . well, you can guess what that was like. In any case, during all that time, I ate enough to not be hungry, but I hated a lot of what I had to put in my mouth. On the rare occasions that I was able to have delicious food, I ate as quickly and as much as I could. I never knew when I'd get another chance to indulge in it again."

  "Well, now that you won't have that issue, it’s a habit I suggest you look at breaking unless you want to end up the size of a small elephant," I teased.

  Dane immediately set his fork down and pushed his plate away. “Well, I’m still going to have some Key Lime Pie.”

  I couldn't help it. I laughed. "Dane, I'm not saying don't enjoy tonight. It's actually kind of cute to watch. You act like a man, a real man. I've spent too many meals surrounded by frat boys who worry about their six-packs and their haircuts. So enjoy. I guess what I was trying to say, not too successfully, is that your life isn't that way anymore, and you don't have to worry about it."

  Dane thought about it, teasing the pile of barbecue with his fork. "Abs, we seem to have something going here, but I don't want to be a kept man. I never have been and never will be.”

  I blushed and looked down, twisting my napkin until it started to tear. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that either. I'm just trying to say, money isn't important to me. And I’m not going to live off of my father for the rest of my life—something I should have started already. I’ll admit, I'm self-centered, I'm greedy, and I'm spoiled rotten. In other words, I'm your normal girl."

  Dane laughed and pulled his plate closer. "You are far from normal. In fact, you're pretty exceptional."

  When I got home, Dad and Brittany were enjoying a movie together in the family room, looking comfortable together. I hadn't seen them like that often before, and I had to admit that it was nice to see. They looked like a normal couple. "I'm back."

  "Did you have fun, sweetie?" Brittany asked.

  "I did. The water was nice," I lied. "How about you guys?"

  "We had a good afternoon," Dad said. "You want to join us? Blazing Saddles is coming on in a few minutes."

  I shook my head, tired after the warmth and the day's exertions. "No thanks. I'm pretty worn out. I think I'll get a bath and go to sleep, if y'all don't mind."

  I rarely let a y'all slip out. Brittany usually corrected me on it, but this time she was content, and I think our conversation a few days earlier helped. She waved from the couch, not even looking up from her position nestled next to Dad to worry about it. "All right, Abby. See you in the morning."

  Up in my room, I noticed that my phone was blinking, meaning I had some messages or missed calls. I'd ignored it all day, in fact leaving it in my bag in the car while Dane and I spent the afternoon together. I turned it on, surprised to see over a dozen missed calls.

  Checking my call log, I was a little worried to see that ten of the missed calls were from Chris, with two from Shawnie. Also, there were three messages from Chris to my phone.

  Party's just getting started, I hope you get here soon!

  Hey, where are you? Your friend got here, hope you can join us!

  At least give me a call, or tell me what's going on.

  It was the tone of the last message that concerned me. I just got a sense that Chris seemed to expect something, and I thought about giving him a call to clear things up. I hope he didn’t get the idea that I wanted to see him again. It was nearly nine, though, and I decided to give Shawnie a call instead. She picked up almost any time of the day or night.

  Shawnie's phone rang over and over, and I grew concerned. She usually turned her phone off if she couldn’t answer. This time, though, her phone just kept ringing, until finally it kicked over to her voice mail. "Hey, Shawnie, it's me. Just wanted to see how you were doing. I saw you tried to call. I'm a bit concerned—you normally have your phone set differently. Gimme a call if you can and tell me how the party went. Talk to you later, bye."

  I repeated the message in a text and put my phone on its charger. Yawning, I realized I really was tired, and I changed out of my clothes into some sleep shorts and a pajama top and climbed into bed. Dreams of Dane and me making love on the side of the river warmed me throughout the night, and I woke up feeling better than I had in a long time. I knew that my dream had to have good meaning for the day ahead, and I planned again how I was going to approach my father about everything involving Dane.

  Taking my phone from the charger, concern swept back over me when I saw that Shawnie hadn't messaged me back. It was already nearly ten in the morning, and she had always been a notoriously early riser—to the point of annoying me more than once with her seven in the morning perkiness. I enjoyed sleeping in when I didn't have to be up, and after the physical exertion of the night before, I was more than ready to crash for a whole day.

  I quickly showered and changed clothes, pulling on some jeans and a t-shirt. Going into the kitchen, I saw Dad drinking his morning green tea as he read a spy novel, a habit he had picked up at my urging. Considering the time, it was probably his second cup of the day before he enjoyed his Saturday morning. "How did you sleep, sweetheart?"

  "I'm fine, but I need to go run an errand," I said, grabbing my car keys. “I hope it won't take too long.”

  "What is it, honey?" he asked, setting his tea and book down to look at me. "

  "My friend, Shawnie. She didn't answer her phone or the text message I sent her last night. I'm just a bit worried about her, and I want to make sure she's okay."

  I had expected him to protest, but he waved it off. Instead, he picked up his paperback and took another sip of his tea. "I was a bit too harsh on her, I think. You two have been friends for a long time, and I shouldn’t have taken out my concerns on her. Besides, from what you said the other night, you won't be seeing much of each other soon, and I don't want to stop you from having some good memories."

  "Thanks," I said, going over and giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you in a bit.”

  Jumping in my car, I thought about calling Dane, but I decided I was being silly. Instead, I sent him a text message. I didn't have a chance to talk to Dad yet. But I will.

  He replied quickly, and I snuck a look while waiting at a red light. It's okay. I know it needs to be done, but I’m not looking forward to that one anyway. I'm going to go out apartment hunting. Talk to you in a while.

  His reply made me smile, and I turned left toward Shawnie's neighborhood. Being on a scholarship and not exactly coming from means, Shawnie's apartment wasn’t in the best part of Atlanta.

  Pulling up in front of Shawnie's place, I didn't see her car at all. Not answering her phone was one thing if she were home, but Shawnie was as much a smartphone junkie as I was—she never left without it. Still, I parked my car in her space and went up to her apartment, knocking on the door. "Hello?"

  A young woman, about Shawnie's age, opened the door. "May I help you?"

/>   "Hi," I said, a bit confused. I hadn't met the girl before, and I felt a bit taken aback. Then again, Shawnie frequently changed roommates, letting anyone who wasn't doing drugs, and had the money, crash to share the rent. "My name's Abby. I'm a friend of Shawnie's. Is she home right now?"

  The thick accent of the girl was something that I'd heard a lot of, and told me that while she was staying in Shawnie's apartment for now, she probably wouldn't be for long. "Naw, Shawnie ain't been back since yesterday. Said she had some lake party or somethin' she was goin' to."

  "Oh, okay. I guess I'll try her phone again," I said. "It was just something to do with classes. Thanks."

  The girl nodded and closed the door quietly, leaving me standing on the walkway in front, still confused. I pulled out my phone and tried Shawnie again, but hung up when she didn't pick up after the fifth ring. Going back to my car, I thought about what may have happened. "Maybe Shawnie followed my lead and found a cute guy," I said to myself while the air conditioning blasted. "I mean, she's single, cute, and likes men. No reason she can't have a little summer lovin' before heading out west."

  Still, it didn't jive with me. Shawnie having a hook-up, I could understand. After all, I'd basically done the same thing. But Shawnie having a hook-up and not sending me a message or replying to what I sent her? That I didn't see happening.

  "I should check in with Chris," I said to myself again. "He may be pissed that I ditched his party, but maybe I can find out who was there, and if Shawnie hooked up with someone."

  Nodding at my logic, I stopped to send another little text to Dane asking about the apartment search. He replied almost immediately. I've got one more to check out, then I'm going back to the apartment.

  His words let me calm my nerves enough to call Chris, who picked up on the third ring. "Hello?"

  "Chris? Hi, it's Abby Rawlings. I am so sorry about yesterday."

  There was tension in Chris's voice, but I figured he was just still a bit miffed about yesterday. Part of me understood. I mean, Dad did have business connections that he could have used. If anything, his construction teams needed at least one or two new trucks on almost a yearly basis, and if he made a good connection with me, he'd have an easy hundred thousand a year in fleet sales ready to go for Lake Automotive, never mind the actual construction itself with Chris's real estate investments. "Abby, it's good to hear from you. I was worried when you didn't show up yesterday. What can I do you for?"

  I hated that turn of phrase, but I never let it show as I put my phone into the hands-free dock and started up my car. "Well, first off, I really wanted to apologize about yesterday. I was getting ready to go when things kinda happened.”

  Chris's voice sounded relieved, and there was a chuckle in his reply. "Still a daddy's girl, I take it?"

  "Forever and ever," I answered with a laugh. "Anyway, Chris, I was calling because of my friend, Shawnie. I saw in your texts that she made it to the party. I hope that wasn't a problem?"

  "No, Shawnie was great,” Chris answered. "I had a good time talking with her—she's quite a firecracker. Of course, it would have been nicer to have both of you beautiful ladies here at the same time, but I guess that'll happen another time."

  "Maybe," I demurred, still not liking the weird undertone to his voice, "but I got a bit worried about her. She never came home last night, and she's not answering her phone. Do you know anything?"

  "Hmmm, let me think," Chris said. "You know, she was hanging out with a few of the people at the party . . . you know, I can't remember their names. Let me check my—"

  "What?" I asked, a tinge of panic creeping in.

  "I was going to check my digital camera. I took a bunch of photos for the party, and I knew there were a few with your friend in them," Chris said. "But I think I left the camera at the lake house. If I had it, I’d remember who she was hanging out with."

  "Chris, I know this is asking a lot, but do you think there's a way we could get that camera and take a look at the photos? Shawnie's not the sort of girl to go on a wild night without telling at least one person. I'd really appreciate it."

  Chris hummed, and I thought he was about to say no, when the hum changed. "Okay. I'm a bit busy today, though, Abby. Do you mind if we just meet up at the lake house? I'm out that direction right now, and I can be there in a few minutes. And you could help me search for the camera. I think it’s in the kitchen, but I’m not sure, and I don’t have time to go around looking for it.

  "Sure," I said. "That's more than fair."

  "Okay. You know, Abby, I can pretty much figure out from your skipping out on the party that you're not really interested in seeing me again, at least not the way we used to be," Chris said. "But I'd like to think that we can at least be friends. We had some good times together."

  "Yeah, we did,” I answered, relieved. Maybe Chris had just sounded weird because he still carried a bit of a flame for me and didn't know how to say it. That could make anyone sound a little weird. "Thanks, Chris. I'll see you at the lake house. Can you send me a text with the address? That way I can put it into my GPS."

  "Sure, I'll send it right away. It won't be hard to find, though. You shouldn't have a problem. See you in a bit."

  Chris hung up, and my phone beeped a minute later as a new text message came in. I pulled over and read the text, copying the information over to my GPS system. A second later, I had my route, and I thought Chris was overestimating things a little bit. While the house wasn't exactly in the backwoods, the development was a decent distance from the other housing developments near the reservoir, and I wondered how long it would take for him to build all the infrastructure needed in order to get a good return on his company's investment. Even if he only put in a two-lane drive, it was nearly a half-mile from the nearest blacktop.

  Pulling back out into traffic, it took me about a half-hour to make my way to the house. The last mile or so was over a washboard dirt road, and I was somewhat worried about the suspension in my car as I drove. The Chevy Camaro is meant for city streets, not dirt paths. I slowed down, taking my time and ensuring I'd make it out to Chris's lake house.

  Pulling up, I saw that the house was a boxy two-story affair, like it had been prepared by someone to use as a quick vacation getaway on the lake and not as a permanent or long-term sort of domicile. I saw a Jeep parked in front of the house, which I figured was Chris's, although the house did have a garage. "Probably where the old owners kept their boat," I said, looking at the way the driveway sloped all the way down to the lake. "That's where I'd keep it when I wasn't on the water, at least."

  I parked next to Chris's Jeep, honked my horn and got out, waving when Chris appeared in the window. There was something about the way he looked, like he'd been surprised at my appearance. His face was a bit flushed, and a light sheen of sweat was visible on his forehead. "Hey, Abby!"

  "Chris, thank you for meeting me," I said, walking toward the back porch. Chris came out, his face pink with an excited but naughty gleam in his eye. I swear it looked like I'd just walked in on him reading a porn mag and enjoying himself to it. "Are you okay?"

  "A bit of a hangover, and I was looking around when you pulled up," he said, wiping his face before scrubbing his right hand on his shorts, blinking then letting out a big breath. "I didn't realize just how much of a big ol' mess we left yesterday."

  Chris offered his hand and we shook hands. Chris moved like he wanted to give me a hug, but stopped about halfway, backing away a bit awkwardly. "Sorry."

  "It's all right," I said, half apologetically. Even though he'd been the one to break it off with me, there were obviously lingering feelings. "So did you find the camera?"

  "It's not in the kitchen, I can guarantee you that," he said, shrugging. "That was half the reason I was looking in the dining room. Unfortunately for me, there is a lot of junk there. Mind giving me a hand?"

  "I guess not," I said, heading inside with him. I saw what he meant immediately, as the clear aftereffects of a good party were li
ttered all around the place. "Sheesh, how many people did you have here yesterday?"

  "Only about a dozen or so," Chris replied. "Not as big as some of the parties I threw back in my college days, but I'll admit I was pretty well buzzed by the end of the night. That's probably why I can't remember where I put my damn camera. Heck, part of me is a bit worried about what you'll find once we do find it."

  "Sure it's not in the lake?" I teased, and Chris laughed.

  "No, nobody brought any swimming gear, despite what I'd told you,” Chris replied.

  “Well, I'm just worried about my friend,” I said, sighing. “I hope she's okay. There's just something that doesn't feel right.”

  Chris nodded and reached up, rubbing his temples. “I understand. I’m sure she’s fine though. Hey, you mind if I grab a drink?”

  “I thought you were busy?” I asked, crossing my arms.

  Chris waved me off with a relaxed laugh. “I am. I didn’t mean alcohol. I just meant some fruit juice. There's still some orange juice in the fridge from last night. Would you like some?”

  “Sure,” I replied, trying to be polite. Besides, the day was warm, and I hadn't really had anything to eat or drink except for a mouthful of water when I'd quickly brushed my teeth. I could use it, and my grumbling stomach could use the calories. “If you have a big glass, that would be great.”

  “I'm sure I do,” Chris said, heading into the kitchen area. He rooted around in the fridge for a moment, then came out with a glass pitcher of juice. “Here we are. I had to double-check that this wasn't one of the ones that are spiked.”

  Chris poured a large glass of orange juice, emptying the pitcher. “Oh. Well, there's some other stuff in there, and I think the carton of milk is calling my name right now. Here, go ahead.”

  I brought the glass to my lips, taking a deep drink. Chris watched me, smiling. His grin creeped me out, and I set the glass down. “What?”

  “Nothing,” Chris said, turning back to the fridge. He opened it up and took out a half-gallon jug of milk, breaking the seal. “Nothing at all.”