I wonder how big that steak is.
“I’m bored,” I say to Bass.
This whole road trip thing isn’t as exciting as I thought it would be, and we’ve been on the flattest, most boring road ever. It’s hot outside, so we’ve had the air conditioner on full blast, and I’ve found out that Bass doesn’t like music. Any music. We’ve just been alone in our own silence.
“Well, there isn’t exactly anything to do out here,” Bass says, motioning in front of us with his hand. “Besides, I offered to stop at the Cadillac Ranch earlier.”
I stick my tongue out at him.
I was surprised to learn that there is, in fact, a Cadillac Ranch. Apparently people are allowed to spray paint these old cars with graffiti. But I don’t have one artistic bone in my body, so I vetoed that pretty quickly. He only offered because I had been complaining of boredom for the last few hours.
“How much farther?” I ask.
“A ways,” he answers. “A little less than ten hours now. We’re close to the Oklahoma state line.”
“Oklahoma?” I ask, sitting up a little straighter.
“Oklahoma is just as flat as Texas,” he says.
I frown, sitting back. “Ugh. These people should all live in Florida. It’s pretty there.”
“Not all of Texas is flat. Just the parts we’re going through,” Bass says.
“If we still have ten hours then Oklahoma is not our final place,” I say, tapping a finger on my face. “There are a few options, I suppose. Arkansas or Missouri. I doubt we’re going to Louisiana, because that’s the other way. I suppose we could be going to Mississippi, Tennessee or maybe even Illinois. Eh, probably not Mississippi. We’d be going south for that.”
“You know a lot about American geography,” he says.
“There’s not a lot to do when your family hates you and you spend most of your time locked in your bedroom,” I say. “I made straight A’s in school. I figured if I was ever going to get out of that house, college was going to be how.”
“Well, one of the states you said is correct.”
“Why won’t you just tell me?” I ask.
“Because this is so much more fun,” he says.
“I'll figure it out,” I say, confidently.
“I'm sure you will.”
“I'm hungry.”
“You're always hungry,” he says.
“Seriously,” I say, just as my stomach growls.
He sighs. “Fine. We’d better stop before your stomach literally eats you.”
“Thanks.”
We drive a few more miles and there is a huge billboard that says “Largest Steak in Texas.”
Bass grins and glances from the road to me. “I wonder just how big that steak is.”
“I've never had a steak before,” I say. “But I bet it's yummy.”
He turns on the blinker and gets off the exit.
“So, what is it with Texas and steak?” I ask.
“You’d have to be from Texas to understand,” he says, as we pull onto a busy street off the interstate.
“Well, this is my first time in Texas,” I say, reminding him that I’ve literally been nowhere in my short life.
“Where have you been?” Bass asks. “I mean, before the whole move to Switzerland.”
“Well, just Florida. I mean, that I know of. I’m sure before the whole kidnapping thing, I was at places that I can’t remember,” I answer. “But my memories only go back as far as Florida. We’ve always lived in the same city, but when I was fourteen, we moved from the north side of the city to the south side. I remember my stepbrother wasn’t happy about it, because he had to leave his friends behind, but I liked the new school better. The classes were more advanced.”
“What about family vacation?”
I shrug. “We didn’t do family vacations. Well, we did go to the zoo once. I got in trouble for something and didn’t get any ice cream. I was eight at the time, and had to watch my stepbrother eat his ice cream right in front of me. Other than that, they mostly left me with neighbors when they went on vacation.”
“That’s just sad.”
“Yeah,” I say. “But I think we’ve already established that my life before Switzerland was just a big bowl of suck.”
Sebastian laughs. “Wow. You sound just like Sander.”
“Did you and Sander get along growing up?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he answers. “I was always jealous of Sander because his parents were awesome. Not that my parents weren’t. They loved me, but they tried to control me.”
“I can see that you’re not the kind of guy who can be controlled,” I say.
“Nope,” he says.
Sebastian pulls the car into a steakhouse that has a half full parking lot. It’s two in the afternoon, so it’s pretty crowded considering the time.
The outside of the steakhouse doesn’t look like your average chain restaurant. It’s got wood siding, making it look rustic. There is a huge mannequin bull that is up on a tall pole. At the top, it spins around in a circle. It’s a nice touch.
We walk inside and up to a hostess desk. We tell the girl that there are two of us and she walks us to a booth. On the way there, I notice there are peanut shells on the wood floors. There are tables set up in the middle and booths at the side. She sits us down in the booth with some menus and tells us that the waitress will be right with us.
“This is cool,” I say, looking around the place. There are a few people sitting nearby, but nobody is close enough to hear our conversation.
Below my feet I can feel the crunch of the peanut shells. I’m glad for the moment that I’m not wearing flip flops, because my feet would feel so dirty on this floor. But I still like it. The tables are made of wood, like everything else in this place. Even the salt and pepper shakers are in the shape of a cowboy boot. I pick one up to look at it.
“You’re amazed by everything, aren’t you?” Sebastian asks.
“Sorry,” I say, putting it back.
“Don’t be sorry. I like it. I’ve done so much that sometimes I forget what it was like when I experienced them for the first time,” he says.
“I haven’t eaten out a lot,” I admit to him. I’m sure he can tell anyway. “Like, on this trip is the most I’ve ever eaten at places other than home. It’s kind of fun. You just get to sit here while other people cook you food, and other people have to clean it afterwards. It's nice.”
“You cook?” he asks.
I nod. “I was the cook for my family.”
And the maid.
And everything else.
A blonde girl walks up to us. She has her hair in a high pony tail on top of her head and it swings back and forth for a few seconds when she stops in front of the tables.
“What can I get y’all to drink?” she asks. Her southern accent is thick.
Sebastian looks at me.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say.
“You have to choose,” he says. “What’s your favorite thing to drink?”
“I don’t know,” I answer. “I’ve mostly had water. I had a Dr. Pepper a few times lately, but that’s it.”
“She wants one of everything,” Bass tells the waitress. “And I want Coke.”
“Okay,” the girl says, not thinking that Bass’s request is strange at all. She walks off, her hair swishing behind her.
“Bass, you can’t just order one of everything,” I say.
“I just did,” he says. “So, apparently I can.”
“Ugh,” I groan, putting my head down on the table. The guys at Spy School are so stubborn, and Bass might just be the most stubborn of all. “Maybe next time we can experiment when we're not at a restaurant. Everybody is going to look at me like I'm crazy.”
“Well, you are a little crazy,” he says.
And that is what every girl wants to hear about herself.
“Thanks,” I say, rolling my eyes at him.
Sebastian looks up at me. “Wow. So, you are a girl after a
ll.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Just that you don’t act like a normal girl,” he says.
“I’m not normal. Apparently my dad runs a super-secret government agency,” I say.
“I mean... even the girls at Spy School have normal girl reactions. You don’t. I swear, sometimes you like it when I’m mean to you,” he says. “But you reacted pretty normally just then. Rolling your eyes at me. It was cute.”
“At first, I did like the fact that you didn’t like me. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be allowed to socialize with people. I thought it was cool that I had found my first enemy. Well, I was your enemy. You weren’t mine.”
“Trust me, Serenity. We were never enemies.”
“But, I thought you didn’t like me.”
“I don’t particularly like anybody,” he says. “But you were okay.”
“I was okay?” I ask.
“Then,” he says. “I thought you were okay when I met you.” He pauses. “Okay, that’s a lie. When I met you in the classroom I assumed you were spoiled. But later, when I was training you, I changed my mind.”
“That class was when I decided that I definitely like you,” I tell him.
“And what do you think now that you’ve spent two days in the car with me?”
I tap my chin and pretend to think. “I think you’ve got a great sense of humor. You have a lead foot and you only drive with one hand, which seems a little scary, but you do it well. Actually, you do everything well. You can tell two seconds after meeting somebody what kind of person they are, which I envy. You’re not bad to look at either.”
Sebastian laughs. “Is that your way of telling me that you’re attracted to me?”
“What? No,” I say. “I mean, I guess I am. But that doesn’t mean I like you. I like you. As a friend. But that’s it. I’m just saying there are worse people I could be on a road trip with.”
“Better stay that way, Princess,” he says. “We can’t be anything more than friends.
“It will,” I say, but I’m not sure how truthful I’m being. I can’t possibly know how I’ll feel in the future about this boy. But I say it, because I know it’s what he needs to hear.
Get used to it.
An hour and a half later we are on the road again.
Oh, and I found out my favorite kind of soda is Dr. Pepper. At least, I think so.
We finally pass the Oklahoma state line and I find that it is indeed just as flat as Texas is. It’s been flat since somewhere in California, and I am ready to see some hills. At least there are trees and grass now. I definitely don’t think desert living is for me.
In Oklahoma, I start seeing signs for St. Louis, so I’m pretty sure that means we are going somewhere in Missouri. Or Illinois. I’ve never been to either state, so I am excited.
After another four hours in the car, we stop at a random truck stop to get gas and a drink. As we are walking inside, I notice a line of motorcycles sitting in the front. I carefully walk around those. I know enough about motorcycle gangs to know that I definitely shouldn’t touch their bike. Bass notices me doing it and he laughs at me.
“You’re not that clumsy. I doubt you’ll trip on a motorcycle,” he says.
Not that clumsy?
“I’m clumsy?” I ask.
“A little,” he answers. “Once I train you, you won’t be.”
“I’ve never rode on a motorcycle,” I tell Bass, as we get out of the car. “It seems like fun.”
“Lucky for you, Sander and I were really into motocross when we were younger,” Bass says. “I’ll find a way to make it happen.”
What is it with the guys from Spy School? They make it their mission in life to make sure I try everything, just once.
When we get to the front of the store, he opens the door for me and I walk in. He follows closely behind me. Always close. I swear he barely even lets me go pee by myself. I suppose it’s what he’s supposed to do—keep me safe at all costs. But it seems like overkill. I doubt Nolan knows we’re in the middle of Oklahoma.
After going to the bathroom and getting drinks, we start to head back to the car. I notice that half of the motorcycles now have a guy on them—all middle aged guys. Bass pulls me closer to him as we walk by and the whole time I’m hoping that I don’t trip into one of the bikes. Because, seriously. I’m so busy watching them that I don’t notice a guy with a gun walking up to us.
I hear the sound of a gun cocking and I look up.
There is a guy in a dark-colored hoodie. His hood is pulled up. He’s aiming the gun at Sebastian and me, but he’s not holding the gun the right way. After a couple of classes at Spy School, even I know that. He’s holding it to the side, like they do in movies.
“Give me your money,” the guy says.
The bikers have taken notice and start walking towards us. But we don’t need them, because Bass has the gun out of the guy’s hand in three seconds flat. He unloads the gun and then tosses it to one of the bikers. The guy starts to run, but Bass grabs him and puts him on the ground.
“Wow,” one of the bikers say.
I notice that one of them had a cell phone out, recording.
“Crap,” Bass says, obviously just noticing. He hits the back of the guy’s head on the ground, knocking him out. Then he walks over to the guy with a cell phone, grabs it, and does something. I guess he deletes the video. He then hands the phone back, grabs my hand, and pulls me to the car as fast as he can.
“You are awesome,” I tell Bass, once we are pulling out of the gas station.
He doesn’t worry about his speed as we pull out.
“That was bad. Really bad. We’ve got thirty minutes before I can switch cars,” he says. “We’ve got to get out of here before the cops can find us, and I have to torch this car.”
“Torch?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says, acting nonchalant—like he just torches cars for fun. But then again, this is Bass. He probably does.
“What happens if the cops find us?”
“Plan B,” he answers, watching the road. “And trust me, you don’t want plan B.”
I believe him.
“But don’t worry. I can outrun the cops,” Bass says.
“Good.”
“Your dad is going to be so mad if the cops find us,” he says. “If the cops find us, then Nolan will know right where we are.”
“Since when are you scared of my dad?” I ask. “You’re not scared of anything.”
“I'm not scared of your dad,” he says. “I just want him to like me. He's kind of my boss.”
“My dad let you take me on a road trip across the United States. Alone. I'd say he likes you and trusts you a lot,” I say.
“Your father didn't have a choice. I'm pretty sure me taking you was a last resort plan,” he says. “He had a lot of plans.”
My dad planned for me to come with Bass. I wonder what his other plans were and why he didn't discuss them with me. I am glad it worked out the way it did. I'd rather be with Bass than a stranger.
Still, I can't help but miss the guys. I wonder how Gage is doing and if Sander and the rest of them are any closer to finding Nolan.
“Will life ever be normal?” I ask him, breaking the moment of silence.
“Serenity, this is our normal. Buckle up and get used to it,” he says.
Get used to what?
Hiding from the cops?
Torching cars?
Running for my life?
That last one pretty much has become my normal. I'm just ready for my normal to be more... boring.
I can do boring. Going to class. Though, I doubt class at Spy School is boring. Learning to drive. Okay, I guess that one is exciting. Doing normal, non-spy things with my friends.
But no bowling. Definitely no bowling.
I think Bass is wrong. Someday, hopefully sooner than later, my life will get better. There will be no more running away or fighting off bad guys. I have to hope for th
at, because where am I without hope?
Saturday, August 26
Soon.
When we arrived at our destination late last night/early this morning, I was asleep and too tired to even ask where we were. All I know is that we are in some sort of apartment building in a suburb. I think we're in Missouri.
I wake up on a bed in a pretty large room. There is a bathroom attached, which I quickly find. There is also a walk in closet, which already has clothes in it. Clothes that are my size.
“Sweet,” I say.
“Talking to yourself?” Bass asks.
I turn around and look at him, putting my hand over my heart. “You shouldn't sneak up on me.”
“And what are you going to do about it?” he asks, stepping closer. Like he’s daring me.
“Pretty much nothing. Because you and I both know that I can’t do anything. At least not now,” I say, standing tall with my hands on my hips. “But after you teach me how to fight I might just give you a run for your money, then you won't look so smug.”
And then the strangest thing happens.
Bass.
Smiles.
I mean, like a full on, teeth and dimples showing, smile. I didn't even know he had dimples.
“If you're done being girly over your closet, breakfast is ready,” Bass says, turning to walk out of the room.
“I am a girl you know,” I yell after him. “I have every right to be excited about a huge closet full of pretty dresses!”
I hear him mumble something back, but I can't quite make it out. I have a feeling that whatever he said was probably pretty sarcastic.
My stomach growls, reminding me that he said something about food. I quickly leave the room and find the kitchen. It's a small apartment, but I like it. I notice there are two other bedrooms. One, I guess, is Sebastian's. The other looks like an office on steroids. There is a computer inside with three different large monitors. The desk is huge and takes up more than half the room.
The living area is all open—a living room with one love seat, a recliner, and a large, flat screen TV above the fireplace. There is a dining room with a medium sized table and matching dark wood chairs around it. Also, there’s a decent sized kitchen with matching, white appliances and light grey counters.
Keeping Me (Spy Chronicles Book 2) Page 4