Promises I Made (14 page)

Scotty and I were heading to the Galleria later that day when I spotted another poster, this one stapled to the bus shelter in front of the Town Center, informing Playa Hermosa residents about the upcoming town meeting. I read it as we drove past, wondering if I would be around to see the outcome.

“People are such assholes sometimes,” Scotty said. I turned to look at him, and he raised an eyebrow over his sunglasses. “The peacocks?”

“Do you think they'll get kicked out?” I asked.

“Hard to say,” he said. “It's a battle of wills between the people who think they're above anything that makes them uncomfortable and the ones who fancy themselves ecofriendly because it's cool. If you ask me, most of the people in this place couldn't find their way out of a paper bag unless
the GPS was working on their Mercedes.”

I laughed even though I knew they weren't all like that. “What do you think?” I asked him.

“I think the peacocks were here first,” he said. “But that's never counted for much.”

I nodded sadly.

He turned left at a fork in the road and headed for PCH. Somehow I wasn't surprised he'd want to take the long way to the mall. It's what I'd always done, and I remembered Selena laughing, teasing that I was so enamored with the ocean that I'd add twenty minutes to our drive just so I could look at the water on the way.

I still wasn't sure why we were going to the mall. Marcus had said he had a line on something that might help us, and Scotty had jumped at the chance to keep me busy, claiming he was claustrophobic from the last two days of cloud cover. We were halfway to the mall when I figured out his secret agenda.

“I want you to think about what you need,” he said. “You can't keep wearing the same two outfits over and over.”

My cheeks felt hot. “I don't need anything. I'm fine, really. But thank you.”

He stopped at a red light and looked at me as he took off his sunglasses. “Are you really going to deprive me of the chance to buy something for someone that doesn't involve birds or tropical flowers?”

I smiled. “I appreciate it. I just . . . You and Marcus have already been too good to me.”

Something sad touched his eyes. “What makes you think anything could be too good for you?”

I shook my head. “I . . . I don't know.”

He turned his eyes back to the road as the light changed to green. “Well, maybe you should think about that, because I don't think anything's too good for you, and neither does Marcus.” He glanced over at me. “But it doesn't matter what we think, now does it?”

I turned my face to the window, my throat closing around the emotion that suddenly rose there.

We arrived at the mall and headed inside, Scotty regaling me with stories about shopping with Marcus. According to Scotty, Marcus's uniform only changed when the temperature dropped below sixty degrees. Then he would trade his cargo shorts for chinos. He had Hawaiian shirts in every color and pattern imaginable, and he had a near-psychic intuition if one of them went missing.

“So I took the green one out of rotation,” Scotty was saying as we entered the mall, “rolled it up and tucked it in the back of my sock drawer. My eyes were starting to bleed. And would you believe he came downstairs wearing it the very next day?”

I laughed. I don't know what was funnier to imagine, the look of satisfaction on Marcus's face or Scotty's surprise.

“We need a warm-up,” Scotty announced, leading the way to the second floor.

I had no idea what he was talking about, but I followed him past several stores until we came to an arcade. Lights
flashed, electronic music and voices spilling from inside the darkened space. Scotty turned into the storefront, stopping when he saw that I was lagging behind.

“Don't tell me you don't like video games,” he said.

“No, I do. I just . . .”

“Didn't think I'd like them?” he smiled. “Don't get too confident. I will totally kick your ass at DDR.”

He got change from the machine and proceeded to beat me in three games of Dance Dance Revolution. I was sweating by the time we were done, but he looked like he'd been sitting in the shade, enjoying an umbrella drink. He wasn't even breathing hard.

“Need a break?” he asked with a satisfied smirk.

I shook my head, still catching my breath. “Let's just make the next one a sitting-down game.”

He grinned. “Deal.”

We played a racing game (I finally beat him after four tries) and then moved onto an old-fashioned pinball machine. By the time we finished, we were tied.

“I'll get you on the tiebreaker next time,” he said.

We were leaving the arcade when Scotty stopped cold. “Oh, yes. We are definitely doing that.”

I followed his gaze to the photo booth, its dingy blue curtain half open to reveal an unoccupied stool. I shook my head. “I can't . . . I don't . . .”

“What?” He looked legitimately confused.

“It's one of the rules. We don't take pictures.”

He took my hand. “Well,
we
do.” He sighed, and I could
tell that he was struggling to find the right words. “Listen, Grace. I'm not a fan of Marcus's former business endeavors, but there's a right way to do things and a wrong way. You can't live like a ghost, caring about people only because you need them for a job, forgetting about them as soon as you leave, never taking pictures. . . . That's all the stuff that makes life fun. Getting attached and falling in love and making friends and taking pictures.” I looked around, wondering if anyone could hear what Scotty was saying, if anyone even cared. But the sound of the arcade muffled everything else, and even if it didn't, what would people hear? Scotty talking about a job that could be anything. Talking about life. I turned back to him as he continued. “You might as well be dead. And you have your whole life in front of you with lots of friends to make and boys to fall in love with and pictures to take. Try to be excited about that. Don't let the past dictate the way you live from here on out. There's no limit to how many times you can reinvent yourself you know.”

I nodded and let him lead me into the photo booth. We took two sets of pictures, making goofy faces and vamping for the camera. When the two strips came out of the little slot on the outside of the machine, Scotty handed me one.

“The first of many pictures you'll have to remember the good times.”

The words scared me, like they were some kind of jinx against a future that didn't involve jail or the con.

Scotty asked me which stores I liked as we left the arcade, but I hadn't been shopping enough in California to really
know, so I just picked ones that I hadn't visited with Selena. The tiniest seed of hope had blossomed inside me. I didn't want reminders of the past. Not today.

Scotty was patient while I agonized over what to buy. It had been a long time since I'd chosen anything to wear without a mark or con in mind. I wasn't even sure what I liked, if I even had a style I could call my own. In the end, I got a couple of pairs of shorts, a new pair of capris, two sundresses, and a few tank tops and T-shirts. I thought we were finished after Scotty insisted on a new pair of sandals and tennis shoes, but he led me to Victoria's Secret instead.

My face got hot as he handed me his credit card. “Honey, don't be embarrassed. Believe me, I can appreciate the importance of nice underwear, even if it's not something I'll ever see Marcus wearing.” I burst into laughter at the image as he continued. “Just get what you need. I'm going to sit out here and check my email. Or play Candy Crush. I'll never tell which.” He walked away before I could protest.

I bought new underwear and three new bras, then left the store and looked around for Scotty. He was nowhere in sight. My breath caught in my throat, the familiar tingling sensation hitting my head as things started to blur around me. I hurriedly scanned the benches for Scotty as my vision started to cloud. I didn't see him, and everything suddenly got worse, my vision blackening at the edges. I was feeling for the railing that looked down on the first floor of the mall, hoping to brace myself, when Scotty came into view. Concern washed over his face when he saw me, and he pressed
a button on his phone and hurried over.

“Grace? What's wrong?” He took my arm and led me to one of the benches. “Deep breaths . . . come on, just keep breathing.” He breathed with me, and I tried to slow down to match his breaths. A couple of minutes later, my head started to clear, and my face didn't feel quite as numb. “Better?” he asked.

I nodded. “Better.”

“What happened?” he asked.

“I don't know. I came out of the store, and I didn't see you. . . .” It was the first time I'd made the connection. Did I think that Scotty had left me? That I was alone all over again?

“Oh . . . oh, Grace. I'm so sorry.” He put an arm around my shoulders and pulled me to him. “I just went into the stationery store across the way to get you this.”

I looked down at the bag in his hand. “What is it?”

“There's only one way to find out,” he said.

I looked inside and saw only tissue paper. I stuck my hand into the bag and felt past the tissue to something flat and hard. When I pulled it out I saw that it was some kind of notebook or journal, its cover adorned with green-and-blue paisley.

“It's nothing big,” Scotty explained. “I just thought it might be nice for you to have a place to write down your thoughts. I do it myself from time to time. I think the reader-writer thing is kind of connected, and since you're a reader, too . . .”

I didn't know what to say. It wasn't just the journal that
choked me up—it was permission to leave proof that I was real.

I looked up at him. “Thank you, Scotty. Really. I love it.”

“Good!” His expression grew serious again. “I want you to know something, Grace: Marcus and I are going to see you through this. If you look and don't see me, I'm probably buying a smoothie, okay?”

I nodded, embarrassed at the tears leaking from my eyes. “Thanks.”

“Whew!” he said, standing. “I think what really happened is that you almost fainted from hunger! I'm starving. Let's go eat.”

We were heading for a little bistro in the mall when my cell phone buzzed. My heart stuttered when I saw that it was a text from Selena. I wasn't sure I was ready for news about Logan, about what he was going to do with the knowledge that I was in Playa Hermosa.

I looked at my phone.

Talked to Logan. He'll give you until Parker's trial date to find Cormac. If you don't do it by then, he's going to turn you in.

And then:
I'm sorry. It's the best I could do.

I exhaled a breath I didn't know I'd been holding and texted back:
You're sorry? You saved my life. Literally. Thank you. <3

I put the phone back in my bag and looked at Scotty. “Logan's giving me until June twenty-ninth, Parker's trial date, to turn Cormac in.”

“That's great news!” Scotty said. “See? Sometimes you
just have to have a little faith that the universe knows what it's doing, even if it doesn't always make sense when we're in the middle of it.”

I nodded, forcing a smile. I knew I should be happy. Logan wouldn't turn me in. At least not right away. What more had I expected? That he would suddenly forgive me? That he would want to see me again? I had no right to expect any of that.

On the way home, we stopped at a bookstore called Pages in Manhattan Beach. I sat on the floor, checking out the backs of books, opening them up to random chapters and reading a few paragraphs the way I'd always liked to do. I felt wrapped in warmth, safely ensconced in a cocoon of books with Scotty nearby. We'd been there an hour when Scotty insisted I pick out a couple to take home with me.

“Marcus will be busy with his part of the work for a few days,” he said. “You'll need something to do. Besides watch bad TV with me, I mean.”

I reluctantly handed over two books. Scotty paid and we headed back up PCH toward the peninsula and a place that was rapidly beginning to feel like home.

I spent the next ten days reading and sleeping, taking breaks to help Scotty cook or to sit on the big sofa in the living room and watch TV with him. A couple of times I walked in on him facing the wall and sitting in the lotus position on the cushion in the living room. A coil of smoke rose from the incense burner at his side, the scent of sandalwood stronger than normal. I knew he was meditating, and I walked quietly out of the room without saying anything.

Marcus locked himself in his office for hours, appearing in the kitchen only for meals and refills on his coffee. I wasn't sure what he was doing, but I knew it had something to do with the leads I'd provided about Cormac's whereabouts. I heard his voice, muffled through the closed door on the second floor, at all hours of the day and night, and I assumed he was on the phone.

After a few practice runs, I got the hang of feeding the birds, and Marcus let me take over. I'd come to like the morning ritual, and every two or three days I'd take my juice outside, grab the nectar and seed from the big container, and make the rounds. Then I'd sit at the table on the deck and watch the birds flock to the feeders. There were a few that only showed up sporadically, but also three parrots and two hummingbirds that were there every morning. The parrots looked a lot alike, but Marcus was right: it didn't take long to start telling them apart. There was the one with yellow rings around its eyes (it never bothered me, but Marcus hadn't been kidding: it liked to torture Scotty), and another with a green body, its head covered in bright red feathers that continued partway down its back like a cloak. The shiest of the bunch was almost entirely green, the edges of its wings barely touched with blue. The hummingbirds were unique, too: one of them had a chest of brilliant violet, and the other one was covered in iridescent feathers that made me think of Playa Hermosa's peacocks. Their wings beat so fast sometimes that they seemed to be hovering in midair. It felt good to take care of something else, to do something without expecting anything in return, even if it was only for the birds that populated Marcus's lush backyard.

Marcus didn't cook unless it involved slapping meat on the grill, so when Scotty didn't feel like making dinner, we'd order takeout pizza or Thai from the Town Center. Still nervous about being recognized, I never went with Marcus or Scotty to pick it up. I slept more than I thought possible, and
often at odd hours of the day. I'd doze on the couch, still clutching my book after breakfast. I'd go to my room to read after lunch and wake up hours later to the sounds of Scotty in the kitchen starting dinner. Once I even fell asleep sitting on the deck, a soft sea breeze blowing in off the water, the crashing of waves against the cliffs below mingling with the chirping of the birds in a kind of lullaby. Scotty waved away my apologies, and after a while, I stopped feeling like I had to offer them.

About a week after my trip to the mall with Scotty, Selena texted me to say she was going to visit Parker. I was nervous about meeting in person to discuss it, but I wanted to see her, and I wasn't crazy about the idea of leaving the details of her meeting with Parker up to chance. She wasn't used to being careful, and I didn't want her to give away the fact that I was in town in case anyone was listening in on the visit. Plus, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping for information on Logan.

Scotty's eyes shaded with worry when I told him I was going to meet Selena at the cliffs. “Are you sure that's a good idea?” he asked. He was standing in the dining room with a spouted metal can in his hand, watering the plants that were scattered around the house. “What about that detective, Fletcher?”

“I can't stay locked up all the time,” I said. “I'm getting cabin fever. Besides, I need to give Selena tips for talking to Parker, ways she can let him know I'm trying to get him out without actually saying that I'm in town,” I said. “Plus, she's
doing this for me. I want to thank her in person.”

“How do you know she'll come alone?” he asked.

Was it naive to be sure that she would? I didn't think so. I trusted her, for better or worse. “I just do. She could have turned me in a long time ago.”

There was a long pause, and I knew Scotty was thinking, weighing my arguments. “Okay, but I'm going to drive you. That way I can make sure the coast is clear while you meet.”

I didn't like the idea of Scotty waiting like a sitting duck. I trusted Selena, but trusting her with my safety was totally different than trusting her with Scotty's, who would be charged with aiding and abetting a criminal—or something like that—if anyone found out he and Marcus were helping me.

“I don't know. . . .”

“Grace, I'm going.” His tone told me there was no point arguing. “I'll wait in the car on the road. I just want to make sure she's alone.”

I hesitated, trying to come up with another argument. Finally, I nodded. “Okay, if you're sure.”

“I am. When are you meeting her?”

“Tonight at seven thirty at the cliffs.” I didn't tell him that Selena said couples went there at night to make out, which is why we'd decided to meet between the sunset and postparty hours.

He nodded. “We'll leave at seven.”