by Mariah Dietz
“Hey, guys!” Isabelle calls.
King’s gaze moves up from where he’s following Parker into the house. A myriad of emotions passes over his face, ones that I focus on with the selfish hope of finding confusion, uncertainty, or disgust. There’s definitely a shade of confusion, but joy is brighter.
They each greet one another with friendly hugs, further proof that they’re all close.
“How is Seattle treating you?” Summer asks, standing taller as she faces Isabelle, making me wonder if Isabelle is an ex of Kash.
“It’s good. Lots of cool bands, food, rain—it feels quite a bit like home,” Isabelle says, raking a hand through her light brown hair streaked with blonde.
“Like home?” Parker scoffs. “You’re forgetting to consider the awesome people here. No one is friendlier than an Oregonian.”
“Or stranger.” Isabelle’s comment is met with laughter. Even my own lips are pulled into a smile before I press them into a firm line and scoot my chair back, drawing everyone’s attention.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t see you,” Isabelle says, her blue eyes focusing on me.
“This is Lo. She’s a friend of Kash and King’s, and watches Mercedes.” Summer’s introduction has me turning slightly to regard her. She rarely even acknowledges me. “Lo, this is Isabelle. She’s been a long-time family friend.”
“That’s great.” Isabelle’s tone is friendly and sincere.
“It’s nice to meet you.” I still don’t feel relaxed. Whether it’s from fearing for Summer or myself, I’m not sure, but I try my best to make my tone sound welcoming, and for my legs to move closer to the assembled group.
“I have to get going, but let’s get this on real quick.” Mercedes doesn’t hesitate. Her eyes are down, trying to see my drawing before her feet propel her forward.
“How did you do that?” Her eyes slowly drag away from the image and up to me. They’re wide with shock and a happiness that makes the embarrassment from the attention she’s drawing toward me quickly diminish.
“We’ll do a new one tomorrow after we change the bandage. You can pick the design. My professors will love you.”
“Why will they love me?” she asks, tilting her chin to expose the wound already covered with medicine and gauze.
“Because I draw people.” I tear off the strip of tape and carefully apply it to hold the dressing in place. “Plus this is only an inch wide and textured. You’re making me work for it.”
“Show me.” King takes a step forward, craning his neck around to see the bandage. He stares at it for several seconds without blinking. Then Parker moves up beside him, slapping a hand on his shoulder before he stops. Their reactions are what encourage me to believe I can do this. I can survive in this world doing something that I love so deeply.
Parker’s head shakes ever so slightly. “You have a gift.” He swallows and then looks over to me. His lips are set in a serious expression, his eyes bright with a validation that has more value than a paycheck. The girls step closer as well to inspect the hawk with wings spread wide.
“She needed something nearly as beautiful as her while she recovers.” I brush my thumb along the edge to make sure it’s secure and then slides my hand across her back. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Sorry for the sucky ending,” Mercedes says quietly, her eyes falling.
I shake my head, waiting until she looks at me. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
She gives me a sheepish grin that tells me she’s considering my words, and I turn to the others before announcing a final goodbye.
“Hey, Lo, do you have anything going on tomorrow?”
I look to Summer with curiosity churning in my stomach.
“I’d like to meet up with you about the logo. You mentioned that Mexican restaurant downtown. Does that work for you?”
“Yeah, what time?”
“How about seven?”
“I’ll see you then.”
“YOU LOOK nervous.”
I turn to face Mia and smile. “I was going to come back and see you!”
“Yeah, well, it’s been over a week since you’ve been by to work on the mural, so I was worried you were here to dine and dash.”
“I know. Don’t worry though; I’ll be here all morning Thursday.”
“I’ll make you chimichangas.”
“With extra guacamole?”
“Don’t get greedy on me, Crosby.”
I laugh, leaning into my seat. “I’ll be around to the back in a few. I’m just meeting someone about a possible work thing.”
“I’ll send up a prayer.” Mia turns and heads to the kitchen, her long red skirt flowing behind her.
I work to settle the comparison of meeting Summer to feeling like I’m about to meet an enemy. We aren’t rivals. I need to find a way to ensure her of that so she understands I’m not going to be an issue, without revealing that I spend more time and attention on Kash simply because he isn’t King.
“Sorry I’m late.”
Summer’s words startle me. Having the person I’m thinking about appear, even when expected, always catches me a little off guard. Her attention is focused to my side, nullifying the sincerity of her apology. She lays a large file on the table and then carefully removes her jacket and purse, and gingerly sets them inside the booth before scooting in beside them.
“I saw your new work today. That fish was pretty cool.” I smile, thinking of the salmon I drew with colored Sharpies for Mercedes’ new bandage shortly before I came here. “I heard you’re also pretty good at drawing in the dirt.”
“I’m better with paper.”
Her focus moves to mine and I see that I’ve caught her off guard. Obviously my lack of confidence and discomfort was as clear to her as it was to me when Kash originally proposed this venture. “Can we clear the air really quick? You know that I don’t like Kash, right? We’re just friends.”
Summer’s eyes narrow with apprehension, and her shoulders square, her spine straightening. It serves to make her appear even more intimidating as I’m sure she intends for it to. “I mean Kash is great and all. I just don’t have feelings for him like that, and I sometimes get the impression that you think I do.” I stare at her for a moment as she listens intently. “He’s just easy to talk to. We get along well.”
“But King isn’t?”
My eyes shift over the same table that I’ve cleared hundreds of times while being on the opposite end of this dining experience. “King’s … I don’t know. He’s just…”
“Hey, Lo!” Relief fills me as I turn to Estella and see her smiling face. She stops in front of our table and her eyebrows furrow as she turns her attention to Summer. “Did you guys want anything?”
“Yeah, um…” I look over at Summer to see her menu is still closed and her eyes are wide, staring at me. “Can we have a few minutes?”
She smiles warmly, nodding her head ever so slightly before turning to another table.
“Oh my God. You’re Lo.” Summer’s voice is a strained whisper.
My eyes tighten, attempting to understand why hers are wide. “What do you mean?”
“You’re Lo,” she repeats quietly, her eyebrows arched.
My heart lurches. There’s no conceivable way … Is there? “I don’t understand.”
“Sorry.” She clears her throat and diverts her attention to the menu. “So what’s good here?”
“What just happened?”
Summer shakes her head as her attention remains focused on reading over the same meals I memorized three years ago. “Nothing. Sorry, I was just … It’s nothing.”
“Who do you think I am?” I insist.
Summer slowly lifts her gaze to mine, searching my face with patience, not slow like an artist does to catch unseen details, more like she’s looking at me for the first time. She clears her throat again and moves a hand to her forehead for support. Her throat moves with a swallow, feeling my stare. “King told me about that party in September,
when he met Lo. You’re her. You’re Lo.”
Everything seems to come to a halt as I focus on what she’s just told me. About the fact that she knows about me. That King told someone.
“You don’t … I mean, we don’t have to talk about it. I just didn’t realize … I didn’t know you were her.” Summer’s eyes have gone back to being sharp like her tone, which catches me off guard. If anything, it seems this secret should bring her some relief.
My mouth feels too dry as I swallow and turn my attention to the mural I’ve been working on near the back of the restaurant. A distracted part of my mind that doesn’t ever know how to rest starts questioning the colors I’ve been considering, while the rest of my thoughts go around in a tailspin. “I’m not like that.”
Summer raises her eyebrows, imploring me to continue. “I don’t sleep around, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Why would I think that?”
“I don’t know. Why do you?”
She releases a sigh through her nose, her eyes moving down to the table, avoiding me. “Look. You seem like you genuinely care about Mercedes. I’ve never seen her connect with anyone the same way she has with you. And the fact that you have somehow managed to get the Knight house clean, and stay clean, is a miracle in and of itself. But King is like my brother. The fact that you screwed with him is not something I will be able to easily forgive.”
“Screwed with him?” I lean forward as the words fly from my mouth. “He screwed with me.”
“You didn’t call him.”
“He told me his name was Bentley,” I cry. “I looked like a fool asking way too many times to way too many people if they knew a Bentley because when I woke up the next day, his number was rubbed off. He had my number. This wasn’t me playing games and disappearing.”
I watch each of my admissions run through a silent mental checklist. What have I just confessed?
“So you like King?” Her voice is quiet, trying to restrain what I believe to be hope, which confuses me even further.
I shake my head swiftly. “King and I…”
Summer leans forward, her neck stretching. “Yes…”
“We’re, I don’t know … friends … I guess. Part of the time I think he hates me. Others I think he likes having me around to torment. Occasionally he seems to just be cool with things.”
“Friends?” Summer spits the word.
“I’m not getting involved in anything with King. We got along well when we met that night. Now we’re starting to finally find some even ground, but there’s no way in hell I’m going to hang out with him when he’s spending time with someone that has feelings for him.” I shake my head with more conviction. “No way.”
Her whole face squishes with confusion. “What are you talking about? Isabelle?”
“Yes, Isabelle.”
“They aren’t dating. They’ve never dated.”
“She obviously has feelings for him.” Her words are slowly absorbing through my defenses, relieving me far more than I wish to admit.
“Yes, yes she does. Isabelle has known King forever. They grew up together. I told you this when I introduced you guys.” Summer’s neck retracts and her shoulders fall ever so slightly. “That was intentional. You shouldn’t feel obligated to be a bench warmer because she likes him. King doesn’t have feelings for her—not like that, anyway. And she knows it. They’re friends and have only ever been friends.”
I break her stare and look down at the table. Her encouragement is unsettling. This was the last thing I was expecting to hear, especially from her.
“Lo, King has feelings for you. But if you’re going to date other guys and keep dangling that in his face…” I glance up and her lips are pursed, her chin tilted. “Sometimes I really like you, and then other times…”
“You hate me,” I finish.
This time her eyes hold mine. “Sometimes, but not for the reasons you probably think I do. Kash never lets anyone get very close to him, yet he seems to really like you. I thought you guys were … Well, you already know what I thought. And now that I know you’re her”—Summer’s eyes travel downward again, but I can tell by the stretched skin by her temples that they’re widened—“my mind is a crazy mess of thoughts. Did you take this job because of him?”
“No! I didn’t even know King lived there!” My objection is so loud a couple across the restaurant looks our way, making me duck my head.
“Are things with your boyfriend serious?”
“Boyfriend?”
“Charlie.”
A laugh escapes my lips, followed by a giggle that makes me close my eyes and look out the window in time to see a full-sized SUV rear-end Summer’s truck.
“Shit!” Summer shoots up from her seat, her jaw dropped and attention diverted outside. “Son of a bitch.” Summer exhales the words. She swings her purse over her shoulder and then looks to me. “Write down his plates,” she demands, and then she’s gone.
I find a piece of charcoal in my bag and quickly pull my things out of the booth, following her out into the rain. I fish my arm back through my bag, searching for a pen, knowing the charcoal won’t last long on my skin with this weather. I rip the cap off with my teeth and write the series of numbers and letters on the inside of my wrist before walking over to where Summer is talking with a raised voice to a wiry man with red hair who has his arms spread wide in disbelief or irritation. As I get closer I realize it’s both.
I start to text Mia to ask her to call the police when my phone rings, Kash’s name filling the screen. I consider ignoring it before accepting the call and pressing the phone to my ear. “Hey, Kash. Sorry, do you mind if I call you right back? There’s kind of a situation.”
“A situation? What, with you and Summer?”
“Someone just rear-ended her.” At my words, the man flips around, his arms rising higher.
“She’s parked over the line! This was her fault!” he bellows.
“Yeah, a situation,” I repeat before turning my phone off and stepping up closer to the man, tilting my chin with disbelief.
“Did you guys exchange insurance information?” I ask the question, already knowing the answer is no.
“This is bullshit! I’m going to explain to them that you parked like a fucking idiot with half of your truck sticking out in traffic!”
I glance in the direction of her truck, noticing she is in fact slightly over the line, but not enough to impede another vehicle.
“Good thing they hire people to research accidents and facts,” Summer says.
His face turns a startling shade of red, his eyes bulging with anger. “I want your name, your address, I’m going to destroy you!”
“It’s just a car,” I say, forcing his attention to return to me. “If this is how you handle all of your mistakes, let me give you a quick life lesson: you need to dial the asshole meter down.” My words are spoken firmly, my eye contact never wavering from his.
His eyes grow rounder with shock. “Who in the hell do you think you are? I’m not talking to you! Unless it was both of you morons that parked!” His voice is alarmingly loud, and his comments make my blood heat and heart race, but I calmly blink to feign how unaffected I am.
Summer’s head rears back with a retort, forcing my response to come faster than I wish. I want him to have to wait for my words. “Nice to meet you, asshole. I’m Lauren, the witness that is happy to complete my civic duty by reporting to anyone that wants to hear how you hit her truck. Now, I think you need to grab your license and insurance information because this moron already called the cops.” I force my jaw to relax and my lips to loosen so I can continue the façade of being calm and unaltered by his behavior.
I notice Summer take a step away, and I want to see where she’s going but refuse to break eye contact with this guy. It’s a small gesture, but I will not be the one to back down.
“Good! I hope you did call the police!” His voice has turned vile, belligerent. His face has reddened even more,
blanketing his freckles and kicking my heart rate up a few more notches. I steel myself, relaxing my mouth again to ensure I’m not expressing any emotion. His eyes narrow, noting my impartialness, and he takes a long step, bringing him close enough that I can smell his cologne. “You’re such a—”
“Finish that sentence,” King’s voice demands in an explosion. He appears beside me, his shoulder moving in front of mine, nearly pressing his chest against the man. “Finish your sentence!”
Kash and Parker seem to materialize as I’m jostled back a few steps, both of them moving just as close as King.
“If you want to act like a Neanderthal—” Kash looks to King and Parker before shrugging “—we’re game. But you don’t act like that to either of them, or any other woman.”
The guys’ eyes narrow, but I catch him slink back slightly. “I’m not dealing with a bunch of street thugs,” he quips.
“You want to raise your voice and get in someone’s face like that, you should expect to deal with something a whole hell of a lot scarier than a street thug. I can guarantee if you do it to them again, that will be me.” King’s not much taller than the driver, but his head is tilted to look down at him.
Summer’s shoulder brushes against mine, making me realize how stiff my muscles are, and I’m fairly certain they’re also shaking slightly, vibrating with anger and adrenaline.
“Get your shit out of your car,” Kash orders.
The stranger turns with a huff and retreats to his car, where Kash shadows him. King’s eyes follow them, and Parker takes a couple of steps closer to the cars as if anticipating the opportunity to throw a punch.
“I should get my stuff too,” Summer says, retreating to her car. King moves a few steps forward so that he’s closer to her.
“What’s going on?” Julio—one of the masterminds to the delicious food of Sonar—is breathless, his eyes alert as he scans the sidewalk.
“Nothing. That guy was just being a dick.”
“Who are the other guys?”
“My boss and his brother, and their friend,” I reply, wiping a wet piece of hair out of my face.