Lies I Told (9 page)

As soon as we got home, my dad pointed to the staircase. “Upstairs,” he ordered.

The rest of the barbecue hadn't been a rousing success. I'd spent my time with Logan, torn between how much I liked being with him and how uncomfortable it was to look over and see Rachel following us with her eyes. Parker hadn't helped, either. By the end of the afternoon he was so sullen he wasn't even going through the motions. He'd barely tipped his head in thanks to Warren and Leslie Fairchild when we said good-bye.

Despite my growing attraction to Logan, I'd been glad to leave.

Now, I trudged up the stairs behind Parker, mentally preparing myself for whatever was coming when we got to the War Room.

Closing the door behind me, I sat down at the little table in the center of the room. Parker was already there, leaning back with his legs splayed out, a stubborn light in his eyes.

Our dad glared at him. “Would you care to explain what that was all about?”

His voice was level, but I wasn't fooled. He was a dynamic, intense person, even when angry. I knew he was really mad when he didn't speak with emotion. It meant he was making an effort to keep it under wraps.

“Nothing,” Parker answered, his expression defiant.

My dad leaned in until he was close to Parker's face. “That didn't look like
nothing
. You spent the afternoon ignoring Logan and Rachel instead of being friendly to them, which I might remind you, is
your job
.”

“Maybe I don't want this job anymore,” Parker said lazily.

“Parker . . . ,” my mother warned.

He glanced over at me, and I remembered his words from the parking lot above the Cove:
We could just leave. Start over somewhere.

He took a deep breath and looked away, like he was remembering, too.

“I'm sorry,” he finally said. “It's just . . . Grace is my little sister. I know it's not biological or anything, but I don't like the idea of her having to come on to some guy for the con.”

“It's business,” our dad said. “We're in this together. Grace understands that.”

Parker's nod was slow, his jaw clenched. “It won't happen again.”

Our dad nodded. “Good.” He pulled up a chair, turning his eyes on me. “Now, how did it go?”

I jumped in to fill the awkward beat of silence. “Logan and I are getting along well.”

“How about the house and grounds?” He looked from me to Parker. “Notice anything unusual? Anything that might point to the location of the gold?”

“I went inside once,” Parker said, “but Leslie Fairchild was dealing with the desserts and she started making conversation. Then she needed help carrying everything outside and that was the end of that.”

My mom spoke up. “I got a quick look around when you were talking to Leslie and Warren about business.”

I could only assume she was referring to the fake venture capital firm that was our excuse for moving to Playa Hermosa.

“And?” my dad prompted.

“I only got through a couple of the rooms, but I didn't see anything that would point to a vault or panic room big enough to hold all that gold.”

“Did you look behind the paintings?” my dad asked. “Check the bookcases for false fronts?”

“As well as I could with fifty of the Fairchilds' closest friends wandering in and out of the house.”

My dad rubbed the five o'clock shadow that had appeared on his jawline. “What about you, Grace?”

“I didn't get a look inside, but I did scope out the old carriage house in back.”

“And?”

I shrugged. “It's just an empty room. The walls are wood with no insulation. I could see the sun shining through them, so there's definitely no place to hide a safe or panic room. It looks like it hasn't been used for ages.” I hesitated, deciding to leave out my conversation with Rachel. It didn't really change anything. “I did spot cameras in the trees along that old driveway, though. The one that runs next to the grass.”

He grabbed the sketch pad and handed it to me. “Show us.”

I drew a rough sketch of the Fairchild property, feeling like a traitor with every stroke of the pen. There was the house, the lawn, the big driveway that segued into the narrow, old one leading to the carriage house.

“I spotted them here.” I marked the cameras along the drive, finishing with the one right in front of the carriage house. “And here.”

“Good.” My dad nodded his approval. “Anything else?”

I shook my head, and my mother smiled knowingly. “Well, Logan really seems to like you. I'm sure you'll be invited back to the Fairchilds' soon.”

For a split second, pride at a job well done overcame the guilt in my mind.

“How's it going with Leslie Fairchild?” my dad asked.

My mom laughed a little. “Let's just say I'll be volunteering, baking cookies, and covering up my cleavage for the foreseeable future.”

“Whatever it takes,” he said. “I'm having Allied quote us
a security system like Warren's. Everyone wants what everyone else has in a place like this. Allied will spill the details of the Fairchilds' system if it means a new client. I'm also working on how to transport and sell the gold once we find it. In the meantime, Warren's been generous with his recommendation. I'm expecting the club to approve my application any day. After that, it'll be easy to score more time with him on the course.”

“Is he really . . .” I hesitated, not sure which word to use.

“Crazy?” my dad finished.

I nodded. “I guess.”

He thought about it. “He has some irrational fears, but I don't think you'd notice if you weren't looking for it.”

“Fears?” I pictured the friendly husband and father manning the grill at the Fairchilds'. “Like what?”

“He won't use a golf cart, for one. Insists on walking. He claims he likes the exercise, but he gets nervous when someone else drives by in a cart. And he stares at the electrical wires a lot.”

“What do you mean?” my mother asked.

“Just what I said. I'll look over and he'll be standing there, staring at the power lines like he expects them to fall any second. It's a wonder he manages to go anywhere at all.”

There was a strange ache in my chest at the thought of it. Warren Fairchild wasn't what I'd expected. He was just a regular guy, struggling with something dark inside himself, which made him more like the rest of us than I wanted to admit.

“Well!” My mom smiled. “It sounds like we're on track.”

My dad nodded. “I'd say so. Details are the name of the game now. We need as many of them as possible. About the Fairchilds, their schedule, the house, the security system . . . anything and everything. As always, we don't know what will make a difference when the time comes to make our move. Until then, proceed as planned. And remember”—he leveled his gaze at Parker—“no one talks about the job outside of this room.”

Parker nodded stiffly as everyone stood.

I tore out the sheet of paper depicting the layout of the Fairchild property and fed it through the shredder. Our parents were already locked in their bedroom by the time I followed Parker out of the War Room.

“Parker . . .” I didn't know what to say. I wanted to thank him for looking out for me, but all that came out was, “Everything will be all right.”

He turned to face me. “Just think about what I said, okay?”

He didn't wait for my answer, just walked into his room and closed the door.

I was heading to my usual table on Monday, surprised to see Selena sitting alone, when Logan waved me over. Liam, David, and Raj were there, and Olivia, Harper, and Rachel. Olivia smiled as Harper moved over to make room. Rachel was the only one who looked less than thrilled. But it didn't matter. Too many of the others wanted me there now.

I glanced from Selena, head bent over a book, back to Logan's table. I didn't have a choice. Infiltrating Logan's group was what I'd been working toward since my first day at Playa Hermosa High. It was my part of the job and one of the most important components of the con.

But Selena was my friend. My only friend. And they didn't exactly grow on trees. Not for me, anyway.

I looked at Logan and mouthed the words
Hold on.

Then I headed to Selena's table.

She looked up as I approached. “Hey!” She closed her book. “How was the bonfire?”

“Well, I have good news and I have bad news,” I said, still standing. “Which do you want first?”

“Um . . .” Her forehead wrinkled with concern. “The good news?”

“The good news is: the bonfire didn't suck as much as I thought it would, although I still wish you would have come with me.”

“Oh . . . okay,” Selena said. “That
is
good. What's the bad news?”

I let her eyes slide to Logan's table. “They want me to sit with them now, and I'm not going without you.”

“Wait a minute. You're asking me to sit with them?”

“No,” I said. “I'm asking you to sit with me . . . while I sit with them.”

She gave me a half smile. “Kind of sounds like the same thing.”

“Well, it's not.” I sighed. “Look, you're the best friend I have here. I don't want to lose that just because I'm getting to know other people. And they're not that bad.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Not that bad, huh?”

“Okay, Rachel's kind of a bitch.” I laughed. “But everyone else is really nice. Besides, Ashley and Nina aren't even here, and I'm pretty sure David's been checking you out.”

“Now you're getting desperate.”

“Look for yourself if you don't believe me,” I said. “Although I don't recommend it.”

“Right.”

She turned in her seat to look at Logan's table. David was staring right at her. When she turned around, her cheeks were flaming.

“Thanks for that.”

I grinned. “Anytime. Seriously, though. Will you come with me? Please?”

She stood with a sigh. “Okay, but I'm not promising it'll be permanent.”

“No worries,” I said. “This is a contract-free arrangement.”

I tried to calm the butterflies in my stomach as I led the way to Logan's table. It wasn't about getting in with the group, about the con. I just wanted Logan to like me, and I wanted everyone to be nice to Selena.

But I shouldn't have worried. After a moment's surprise, everyone moved over and made room for both of us. I chose a seat next to Logan, and Selena took the one across from me.

“Where's Parker?” Rachel asked.

I looked around. “Um . . . I don't know. Probably studying or something.”

She nodded as conversation resumed at the table. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief when I overheard David ask Selena what she was reading. Everything would be fine.

Logan smiled down at me. “Hey.”

Heat rushed to my stomach as his denim-clad thigh brushed against mine under the table.

“Hey,” I said. “Thanks for yesterday. I had fun.”

“Me too. My parents like you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He leaned in, so close I could smell the Mango Madness Snapple, fruity and tropical, on his breath. “So do I.”

I smiled up at him and something warm and tremulous seemed to blossom between us.

After that, I was surprised how easy it was, sliding into Logan's group, sitting with them at lunch, hanging out by the BMW in the morning. Even more surprising was how much I liked them. Sure, they were spoiled and a little entitled—Rachel being one of the worse offenders—but they were nice and interesting, too. They welcomed Selena without question, and after some initial shyness, she seemed happy to have a new group of friends. Olivia teased her about her propensity for the clearance rack and Selena teased back about Olivia's shoes costing enough to feed ten third-world children. But it was all in good fun. Selena still said hello to Ashley in the halls and still walked to and from school with Nina, so I guessed the new arrangement hadn't impacted their less-than-wholehearted friendship.

Even the guys seemed happy to have us around, and Raj and Liam parted ways with Logan at the first bell so we could walk to class alone together. After Parker's intensity, it was nice to just be with someone. To be silent in someone's company without worrying that they were slip-sliding toward the depression and self-destruction that always seemed to lurk under Parker's surface.

Rachel was the only one who never quite warmed up, and I got tired of the icy gaze, the surreptitious glances, the flip of red hair. Tired of Rachel acting like I would go away if only she ignored me long enough. Then, just when I was ready to tell her to bite me, I would see that thing in her eyes, that sly and knowing
thing
that made my heart skip a beat for no good reason. A rush of fear would flood my body and I'd have to remind myself to take it easy. To be careful.

By the second week of October, my nerves were shot. Torn between annoyance and anxiety, I finally decided to err on the side of caution by trying one last time to win Rachel over. It might not make a difference to the con, but it would definitely make things more pleasant in the meantime.

Drastic times call for drastic measures and all that.

I made my move on a Friday, inviting Selena, Rachel, Harper, and Olivia over for a hangout and sleepover later that night. I half hoped they would say no—I was a little freaked about the idea of having them all in the house on Camino Jardin—but they were all over the idea. Olivia launched into a plan to give Selena a makeover (over Selena's very public protests), and Harper suggested a clothing swap (after glancing nervously at Rachel for approval).

Rachel just sat there.

“You'll come, too, right, Rach?” Olivia asked.

Rachel hesitated, glancing at me before turning her gaze on Olivia with a smile. “Definitely. Sounds like fun.”

Later, when I was saying good-bye to Logan after making plans to get together Saturday night, he tucked a piece of
hair behind my ear and smiled.

“You don't have to win Rachel over for me, you know. I don't care what she thinks.”

“Yeah, but I do,” I said. “You've all been friends a long time. I don't want to be the one who makes that awkward. I just don't get why she hates me so much.”

Logan laughed. “She doesn't hate you. She's just . . . Rachel. It takes her a while to trust people. It's crazy, but she'll come around.”

I gave him a hug good-bye, his words echoing through my mind. There was no way to tell him that Rachel wasn't crazy at all.

She had every reason not to trust me, even if she didn't know why.