* * *
Ayden was already on the bleachers when Marissa and I arrived. He smiled when we took our seats next to him on the third tier. “Hey, Riss,” he said. “Or should I say, Tiger Lily?”
“ 'Riss' will do for now, Peter,” she said, grinning.
Before he could respond, I cut in, “Ayden, I want to talk to you about those pictures you sent me on Friday.”
“Pictures?” Marissa asked curiously.
“Ayden sent me some pictures he took of some papers this guy he's living with –”
“Ron,” Ayden said. “Ron Merriweather. He helps my mom pay the bills, so we let him live with us. He treats both of us like crap, he drinks beer, and he smells like a dog kennel in August.”
“Ewww,” Marissa said, crinkling her nose. “Glad I don't live with the creep.”
“He's a total jackass,” Ayden said. “And now it looks like he's a criminal too. A couple of weeks ago, I heard him tell some guy that he was arranging to have a shipment of something sent to this storage place in Surprise.”
“Sounds pretty shady to me,” I said. “I took a good look at those receipts. There were six of them. Each one was a receipt for a monthly payment to the storage place. I went online and checked their prices, and the payment was for an extra-large storage room. And the name on the receipt wasn't Ron Merriweather, it was Marcellus Winnfield.” I smirked. “Cute. Real cute.”
“Who the hell is Marcellus Winnfield?” Marissa asked.
“It's taken from the names of two characters from the movie Pulp Fiction.”
Ayden nodded, clearly impressed. “You watch a lot of movies, don't you?”
“Yeah. But anyway, Ayden, it looks like you have a problem. And it could be dangerous for you if you're not careful.”
“What do you suggest?”
“I've been thinking about that. How do you feel about going to the cops?”
He spread his arms out, his hands held palms-up. “With what? A few pictures and the word of an eighth-grader? That won't amount to much.”
“True, but I still might be able to help you.”
“How? Do you know any cops?”
“No,” I replied, grinning. “But I know someone related to one.”
Chapter 21
~ Day 52 (Wed.) ~
AYDEN
I was halfway through rehearsals when Mom called to tell me she was going to be working a few hours of overtime tonight. I was a little relieved, to be honest. I had a play to practice for, and the less time I spent around Ron the better, especially now that I knew what a total dirtbag he was.
As Peter, I only had to learn two of the play's four songs. Today's rehearsal was the first one where the students actually practiced the songs as a group, and I was almost ashamed to admit that I didn't know a single word of them. We'd pawned our computer months ago, our CD player was busted, and my cell phone didn't have the ability to download music. Mr. Danbury and the music teacher, Mrs. Lynn, however, were more than patient with us as we tortured the lyrics in a way that would've made every dog in a three-block radius cover its ears. I was the worst of them all. The lyrics came out of my mouth as a raspy croak, which got a couple of laughs from other students.
I was pleasantly surprised to hear that Sophie and Marissa had pretty decent singing voices. They'd already spent hours practicing the songs in their rooms, and they were only too happy to help me through the ABCs of singing. Mr. Danbury and Mrs. Lynn taught me a few relaxation and breathing exercises, and within thirty minutes, my raspy croak had become … well, a slightly melodic, raspy whisper. Thank God my voice finished changing six months ago, or this'd be a nightmare.
I was determined not to get myself down about it, though. Plus, I figured out how to use my cell phone to record all the songs I needed to learn. It wasn't as good as a computer or a CD player, but the phone had a jack I could plug some borrowed earbuds into. I smiled at the irony that I was actually using earbuds for real this time.
The rehearsal officially ended for all the other students at five, but Mrs. Lynn graciously stayed behind for an additional forty-five minutes just for me. I was grateful for this, and by the time I climbed on my bike, I felt like I'd made real progress. I used the breathing techniques I learned as I pedaled home, even singing the songs a couple of times, eliciting some weird looks from people as I rode past them.
As I approached my house, my heart sank as I saw no other cars in the driveway but Ron's BMW. I braked to a halt just as I pulled up next to it, wondering once again if my comics were inside somewhere.
Grumbling, I pushed my bike through the gate that led to the backyard, padlocking it to a protruding pipe. Then I walked over to the back door, and saw that it was ajar. I looked down and found a pile of crushed cigarette butts next to the door. One of them was glowing faintly from an ember that hadn't gone out yet, and a thin wisp of smoke curled upward from its resting place on the patio. Ron didn't smoke, as far as I knew, but the remnants of lipstick around the other end of the spent cigarettes told me what was happening. Ron's girlfriend Bambi was paying another visit, and she was apparently too stupid to know how to close a door properly.
I stepped into the living room, immediately hearing voices coming from Ron's room. Thankful they were done doing … whatever freaky stuff they were doing, I immediately went into “Invisiboy” mode. I removed my sneakers and hid them behind the sofa before stealing around the corner, my sock-clad feet making no noise on the thick shag carpet that connected every bedroom in the house. Approaching Ron's room, I drew my cell out of my pocket and activated the Record function.
Ron's bedroom door was open just a sliver, enough for sound to filter through it. Straining to hear, I was just barely able to pick up their voices.
“… much longer do we have to do it in this dump, baby?” Bambi's nasal, high-pitched squeak was saying.
“Quit complaining, darlin',” Ron's voice came. “At least you don't have to live with this cow and her stupid brat kid.”
My teeth gritted in anger, and I squeezed the cell phone so hard I came close to breaking it. Just keep talking, a-hole. I took a deep breath, calming myself.
“Why d'ya live here in the first place?” Bambi asked.
“We used to date, a long time ago,” Ron said. “I felt sorry for her, and, big-hearted guy that I am, she let me move in if I helped her pay the bills. Plus, my ex had just kicked me out, and I had nowhere else to go. It's been only a year or so, but man, sometimes it feels like ten.”
“That's so sweet of you!” she teased, giggling, and my stomach turned as I listened to them making out for a couple of minutes.
“I got some good neeeeeewwwws,” he drawled after they came up for air.
“What is it?” she squealed.
“Your boyfriend's smart, baby. He's got something going on that's gonna make him a rich man. And then …” he paused dramatically, “… I'll be out of this dump and into a high-end apartment.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, baby, you'll love it. It's a gated community, close to that swanky mall in Scottsdale, where you can shop at them fancy boo-teeks you love so much. And,” he paused again, “I can finally get you that diamond ring you've had your eye on.”
“Aaaaooohhhh! The one-carat princess cut that I tried on last month?”
“That's the one.”
“I love you, Ronnie!” she said, and threw herself at him again.
“Love ya too, baby.”
“So what is this thing you got going on?”
“Don't you worry your pretty little head about that, angel. It's business, you wouldn't understand anyway.”
“I am a sales association,” she said, sounding miffed.
I rolled my eyes. Jeez, what a ditz.
“Only because your grand-uncle is the big boss,” Ron retorted. “But come New Year's, I'm gonna tell that old geezer to kiss my big fat caboose. Then I'm gonna give you a four-alarm French kiss right in front of him, right before we hop in my Beamer a
nd drive off. I can't wait to see the look on his face.”
And I can't wait to see the look on YOUR face when they cart you off to jail. I hope I'm standing right in front of you when you find out it was ME that made it happen.
“Me either,” she said. “What about this broad and her kid? What'cha gonna do about them?”
“Screw 'em. Colleen's a spineless doormat. I'll admit it's fun ordering her around and getting free dinner every night, but I got my best girl to think of now. It's time for her gravy train to leave the station. She and her stupid kid can rot for all I care.”
My hatred was seething inside me, but a part of me was rejoicing too. There's no way Mom can possibly defend him after this.
Shutting off the phone, I snuck back down the hall and into the living room. I went to the back door, opened it, and slammed it shut, hard. I made a show of dumping my backpack on the ground and flopping down on to the sofa, driving home the deception that I'd just gotten home. I grabbed the remote and turned the TV on, flipping to a Coyotes game on cable. I hated hockey, but this was all for show anyway.
After a few minutes, a fully-clothed Ron and Bambi came in. “Hayden,” Ron said gruffly, “where's your mom?”
“Working late,” I replied, not taking my eyes off the TV. I couldn't stand to look at him anymore. His secret was now my ammo. But I had to think about my next step. I wasn't sure how Mom would react if I played her the recording I just made. She might confront Ron directly, and that might have a bad ending. Ron had come close to hitting me on a couple of occasions, and I couldn't take the chance that he might hurt me or Mom if we crossed him. Sophie said she had a friend who was a cop's daughter, and she wanted to talk to her before we did anything else. I trusted Sophie's judgment, so I just had to wait until then to make my next move.
“Figures,” he said. He gently shoved Bambi toward the front door. “In that case, I'm goin' out for dinner. Come on, baby.”
“Where we goin'?” she asked.
God, her voice. It's like a munchkin on helium. How does he STAND it?
“Let's go to Tanker's,” he said. “They got two-dollar shots and fifty-cent wings tonight.”
“Good, I'm starved.” She headed for the door.
I heard the front door open, and Ron bellowed, “Don't even think about lighting up in my car!”
“Relax, sweetie,” came Bambi's voice. “The door's locked, remember?”
“Just wait outside, I'll be right there,” he said, and I heard the front door close behind her. To me, he said, “So, how was rehearsal?”
You gotta be freakin' kidding me. He's actually trying to make NICE now? Who does he think he's fooling? Calling upon all my newfound acting abilities, I plastered the most sincere fake-smile I could manage on my face and turned to him. “It was great, Ron.”
“Congrats on getting the lead.”
“Thank you,” I said, still smiling. Jeez, just leave already, before I throw up in my mouth.
“Well, I'm outta here. Tell your mom I'll be home late.” And then, without waiting for a reply, he followed his girlfriend out the door. A few seconds later, I heard a powerful car engine rev into life, a slight squeal of tires, and then another whirr as it faded into the distance.
* * *
It was just past nine when Mom got home. She looked wiped out. After changing out of her uniform and brewing a mug of tea, she took a seat next to me on the sofa. “Hey, sweetie. How'd rehearsal go?”
I gave an embarrassed smile. “Well, I found out today that I really, really suck at singing.”
“Oh, come on, it can't be that bad,” she said, tousling my hair.
“Yeah, it can. But Mr. Danbury and Mrs. Lynn gave me a lot of great pointers, like how to breathe and stuff, and I think it's working. I need a ton of practice, but by Thanksgiving I'll be good to go … I hope.”
“That's great. Do I get to hear you sing?” She looked at me expectantly.
“What, now?”
“Yes, now. If I have to work late, then you have to sing.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “Well, mom, I'm kinda tired, and I've been singing for like two hours straight. My voice is kinda shot.” I followed this up with a fake cough, hoping she'd buy it.
“Okay, okay, sweetie, you win. But I want to hear you sing before you take the stage. Deal?”
“Deal. Any pointers you want to give me?”
“Just this,” she said, putting her mug down on the end table. “Don't overthink it. That'll just make you nervous. Singing's really not that much harder than acting. You were so good at reciting your lines with the correct inflections, right?”
I nodded.
“Well, a song is just reciting lines in a different voice. Make sense?”
“Yeah,” I said, nodding again. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Anytime, kiddo.”
I picked up the remote and switched off the TV. I took a few deep breaths, gathering my thoughts and my courage. I'd already decided I wasn't going to reveal Ron's despicable behavior to Mom unless I had to, but there was something else I'd been meaning to ask her for a while, and now seemed as good a time as any. “Mom, can I ask you something?”
“Sure, sweetie, what is it?”
I sighed. “I was just wondering … if we didn't have Ron anymore, what would we do?”
“What do you mean?” She met my gaze, her eyebrows furrowing.
“I mean, he's been here for a year. What would happen if he just decided to move out?”
She picked up her mug again and took another sip, cradling it in her hands. “I guess we'd have to find someone else to help us.”
“And if we can't find someone else?”
She gave me a stern look. “Ayden, what's this about?”
“I … I don't like him, Mom. I mean, I know we need him, but … I just don't trust him, that's all.” I broke my gaze, staring at my reflection in the switched-off television screen.
She sidled up next to me, putting her arm around my shoulder, and I leaned my head on hers. A small part of me felt like such a mama's-boy, but the larger part of me loved it. “Things'll work out, Ayden. I promise.”
“You really believe that? After all that's happened?”
She smiled. “I have to, kiddo. As my mother used to tell me, 'Never let a stumble in the road be the end of the journey'.”
“Your mom said that?”
“Yup.”
I cocked my head at her. “That's like, the first time you've mentioned her in years.”
“I know.”
“I've asked you, like a hundred times about them, but …” I trailed off.
“It's a sad story, sweetie. And we've had enough of those around here lately.”
I nodded. “We're about due for a happy story, aren't we?”
She smiled again. “Peter Pan's a pretty happy story.”
“Yes it is,” I said with a smirk. “Unless the crowd starts throwing rotten tomatoes.”
“I'm … not sure crowds do that anymore,” she said, quirking an eyebrow.
“That's good to know.”
She gave me a mischievous look. “But I'll stand in front of the stage with a tennis racket if it makes you feel better.”
I love my mom.
Chapter 22
~ Day 55 (Sat.) ~
SOPHIE
It was for personal reasons that I hadn't told Ayden, or even Marissa, about the pill fragment I found in Kirsten's room. But mostly, it was because I had no idea how to proceed. Telling Mom and Dad would either get me or Kirsten in tons of trouble, and I didn't want to risk that until I was sure it was necessary.
Thankfully, I had a friend who not only had a “connection” to law enforcement but that I could trust to keep my secret. I texted Kelsey last night and told her I had a couple of very important things to discuss with her. She warned me she had a very busy day planned with her friends, but if I could make it to her house before ten, she could spare some time. Kelsey's dad was a detective, and she was the
most dependable person I knew.
I pulled up to her house on Rosewood Place at just past nine, stepping off my bike as I reached her driveway. There was only one car there, a somewhat dinged-up Camaro with a 'Centralia High School' sticker in the back window. Parking my bike up against the side of the house, I walked around to the front door and rang the bell. Kelsey's smiling face appeared within seconds. “Sophie!” she said, rushing forward and enveloping me in a huge bear-hug. “It's great to see you!”
One of the things I loved about Kelsey was her loyalty. If you were lucky enough to be someone she called “friend,” she'd go to the mat for you, regardless of how far apart you were in age or even if you hadn't spoken to each other in months. She was probably the only person besides Joshua to have had close, personal relationships with Eve, Kirsten, and myself.
“Great to see you too, Kelse,” I said after we ended our long embrace. “You look great!”
It was true. She looked now to be around 5'7”, her chestnut-colored hair flowing freely down her shoulders and back, perfectly framing her gorgeous, freckly face.
“Come on in!” she said cheerfully. “Can I get you something to drink?”
She led me into her living room, where I sat down on the sofa. “Just some water is fine.”
A quick trip to the kitchen later, she handed me a bottle of water and sat down next to me. Looking me over like a big sister would, she said, “Wow, Soph, you look so amazing! Did you get a makeover or something?”
“Yup,” I replied, grinning. “Got contacts too. Do you really like it?”
“Like it? I love it!” She ran her fingers gently through my hair. “Seriously, Soph, I'm impressed. How is everyone?”
“Eve's fine,” I replied, taking a sip of water. “So is Joshua. Eve's taking pre-law classes down at the U of A, and Joshua is majoring in English Literature.”
Kelsey chuckled. “Those two are totally getting married and having a hundred kids someday.”
“I think you're right.” I grinned. “And Kirsten just started at Centralia. Do you see each other around?”
Sophie's Different (James Madison Series Book 3) Page 17