Tomorrow's Lies (Promises #1) (33 page)

Later that night, when I’m stretched out on the cot, freshly showered from my rigged-up system, I lie there and listen to the
plop-plop-plop
of water dripping down the drain. Finally, I allow myself to think of Jaynie.

There has to be a way we can be together again.

“Yeah, right,” I mutter as I roll to my side, the cot creaking beneath me.

I have no doubt Mrs. Lowry is keeping close tabs on me already. I refuse to take any stupid chances and put Jaynie in jeopardy. Crafty Lo’s threats are far from idle, and I have a feeling she’d get a special kind of joy from sending Jaynie to prison, thus separating us forever.

Still, as I nod off, I can’t help but recall all the old, great love stories I used to hate reading about in English class when I was a kid. Now I understand them better and they don’t seem so bad. I remember one theme always stood out—even in the direst of circumstances, love always found a way to prevail.

So why should my and Jaynie’s story end any differently? But then, before I succumb to sleep, I remember life is not a novel.

Too bad for me.

Jaynie

F
orty-two days and still no Flynn… Forty-three days, forty-four.

I remain on autopilot. I work my job, eat a little, and sleep a lot. I buy a pay-as-you-go phone, but I can’t bring myself to ask Bill for Mandy’s number. It’s not that I don’t want to talk to her, because I desperately do. I miss my friend like crazy. I’m afraid, though. If I talk to her and tell her Flynn never made it to Lawrence, it’ll make his being gone from my life all too real. And I just can’t handle coming to terms with yet another loss. Not yet.

Bill invites me to a big Thanksgiving dinner he’s preparing for the homeless people in town. I decline, choosing instead to stay upstairs in my rented room. Smiling for and chatting up customers at the deli is tough enough. I’m feeling more than a little tapped out in the social skills department these days.

I miss Flynn. I miss the family we once had, and I miss the family we could have been.

Standing at the counter in the deli the Friday after Thanksgiving, as I’m closing out the register for the day, something snaps.

I realize I cannot go on like this, dealing with all these problems alone. “I need people,” I whisper to myself.

Bill is placing turkey sandwiches in the display case beside me. He stops what he’s doing and looks over at me. “What was that, Jaynie? I didn’t hear you.”

I close the register drawer and wipe my hands on my regulation Delmont Deli apron.

“Oh, nothing,” I reply. “But can I ask you a question?”

He smiles and says, “Sure. Ask away.”

I clear my throat. This is a big step. This is me moving forward, possibly without Flynn. This is me accepting that I’ve maybe lost him from my life.

“Can I have Mandy’s cell number?” I say.

“Of course you can.” Bill watches me curiously as he adds, “Does this have something to do with Flynn?”

“No, not really,” I mumble.

I’m surprised. Bill has never mentioned Flynn to me, and I’ve not said anything to him. I’m sure he knows about Flynn, though, from Mandy. Still, I suspect she never mentioned we were so deeply in love. Bill has probably long since figured that part out on his own. All he has to do is see the sorrow that never leaves my eyes to guess the reason why.

Crossing his arms across his chest, he says, “Jaynie, you should know before you talk to Mandy that she hasn’t heard a word from Flynn.”

“I figured as much,” I say, which is true. “I still want to talk to her. We have a lot of catching up to do.”

Bill then apologizes. “I wasn’t trying to question your motives. I figured you’d want to talk to Mandy eventually. I just didn’t want you getting your hopes up, is all.”

It’s weird to have a friend outside of the ones I had up at the Lowry house. But it’s in that moment I realize Bill is more than an employer and a landlord. He’s also my friend, and he’s looking out for me.

Softly, I say, “I appreciate that, Bill. Really, I do.”

He nods. “Let me go grab my phone and get you Mandy’s number.”

An hour later, up in my bed, wrapped up in the same fuzzy blanket Bill gave me the night I arrived, I scroll to the newly entered number for Mandy and hit
call
.

Flynn

I
work, I sleep, and I eat. I don’t bother making friends. My circle of friends—my
family
—is dispersed to God knows where. And I’m not ever allowed to contact them.
Fuck
.

I assume Jaynie is in Lawrence, making a new life for herself. How ironic that she’s the one who jumped in the water, but it’s me who is drowning, sinking in a life of nothingness.

I don’t dare try to dig up any info on Jaynie, for fear of a reprisal from Mrs. Lowry. Eyes and ears are everywhere in Forsaken. People are waiting to report back, for money I’m sure. I can’t research where the twins might be, and I definitely can’t go find Mandy. I’m sure a maneuver like that would be reported back to Crafty Lo pronto. And she has those bloody scissors.

My throat constricts, and I mutter what I feel, “Fuck my life.”

The next morning, for some unknown reason, I start up a conversation with the guy next to me. “Shit, it’s colder than a witch’s tit today,” I say.

It’s still dark, with sub-zero temperatures. There’s a foot of snow on the ground and more on the way. I am waiting out in front of the job center, with the one guy as desperate as I am. I know from talking with him once or twice that his name is Crick. He’s skinny as fuck and kind of squirrely-looking, but he seems like a decent-enough dude. Doesn’t ask a lot of questions, which I like. Guess it’s because Crick is dealing with his own demons. He’s an ex-meth addict, I’ve heard, and he’s trying to stay clean.

I assume he didn’t hear my comment on the weather, seeing as he’s still turned away, staring down the road. We’re waiting for the rusty maroon van that picks up workers with no transportation, and then shuttles them to the construction site. Usually there are a few more of us standing around, but not today. No one wants to work in this shit, but some of us have to.

Crick turns to me, smiling a missing-tooth grin. He lights up a smoke and flicks the match down to the slushy snow on the salted sidewalk.

“You ain’t just singing a song,” he says, at last. I should have remembered from our few short convos that sometimes it takes him awhile to reply.

“Witch’s tit, eh?” he continues. “You come up with that one on your own?”

Crick is a trip. I’ve noticed he likes to make up little sayings on his own. Usually they’re messed up versions of existing ones. Guess he thinks I like to do the same.

I shake my head and laugh. “No. I’m not as creative as you. That one was something my dad used to say. But he didn’t come up with it, either.”

Crick gives me a good, solid once-over. He exhales a wispy plume of smoke. “Used to, huh? Your pops dead or something? That why you out on your own?”

“No, he’s not dead.” I look down and kick at a hunk of ice. “He’s in prison.”

Crick lets out a low whistle, but doesn’t ask what happened to land him there. Not that I’d tell him. Though, maybe I would. Keeping shit bottled up inside is starting to wear on me. I have no one to talk with anymore. And I find the longer I go without, the more I crave human connection.

That’s why when Crick offers me a cigarette, I take it.

“Thanks, man,” I mumble from around the filter pressed between my lips.

I light up and, dropping my match next to his, I inhale deeply. The smoke burns my frozen lungs, but it makes me feel more alert right away.

When I start to cough, Crick says, “Hey, maybe I shouldn’t have given you one. Don’t wanna get you started on a bad habit.”

“Nah,” I assure him, taking another drag that doesn’t make me choke. “I quit a while back, but I’m no newbie to this game.”

“Still”—the cherry tip of his cigarette glows red as he inhales deeply, then exhales—“I hate to be the one pushing you back down the slide of death.”

Laughing, I pat him on the back. “Don’t worry, Crick. I don’t have much to live for anyway. I did, once upon a time, but not anymore.”

And with that, I take another drag.

Jaynie

“H
ello?”

Hearing Mandy’s voice all these months later brings me to tears. “Mandy,” I choke out. “It’s me, Jaynie.”

“Jaynie! I was wondering when you’d get around to calling.” Her voice is warm, not angry in the least.

“I’m sorry. I am so sorry.” I try to explain, “I haven’t been myself lately, Mandy. I’m in Lawrence now and… Wait, you know all this from Bill, right?”

“I do,” she says softly. “And I know why you haven’t been yourself lately. Flynn never showed up, did he?”

Of course Bill would have told her all this.

“Oh, Mandy, he hasn’t, and I don’t think he’s going to.” The tears start to flow. “I am so damn worried. Do you think he’s okay?” I can’t shut up now that I’ve started. “Maybe Flynn just moved on with his life, right? I’d rather it’d be something like that than some horrible alternative explanation. I’d die if something bad happened to him.”

“Jaynie,” Mandy says. “Calm down for a sec, okay?”

Mandy is as patient as always. That makes me happy and sad, all at the same time. But I do feel calmer just talking with her. “I wish you were here,” I murmur.

“I’d give you a hug if I were,” she replies.

I choke up again. “I miss you so much. I try not to think about it much—I’ll go crazy, if I do—but I miss everyone like you wouldn’t believe. We were a family, you know.”

“I know, sweetie. I know.”

She lets me cry it out, and I hear her sobbing once or twice herself. When we pull ourselves together, we talk. Oh, do we talk. I could stay on the phone all night with Mandy, and I just about do.

I tell her stuff she probably already knows—details about my job, and how much I love my little room above the deli. And she tells me about her and Josh and their new place. They went with subsidized housing, just like they planned, but they got lucky—they’re in a house, not an apartment.

“It’s tiny,” Mandy says. “But even so, there are two bedrooms and a back yard.”

“Cody and Callie will love that,” I say. “Bill told me you’re still planning on fostering them.”

“The application is in,” she replies proudly. “Though there won’t be any word till we finish our parenting classes. Plus, there’s a home inspection coming up. Gotta pass that, too.”

“I’m sure you’ll pass everything with flying colors. The twins need to be with you, Mandy. If there’s one thing that makes sense in this world, it’s that.”

“From your mouth to God’s ears,” Mandy replies. And then, after a pause, “Damn, Jaynie, it feels good to share this stuff with you.”

“It really does,” I agree. “It’s like old times.”

“It is.”

When the subject turns to Flynn again, Mandy says, “I’m not going to ask what happened that night, Jaynie. But, I should tell you I’ve heard some things.”

“What kind of things?” I cautiously inquire.

“Just some rumblings from people Josh and I know who’ve passed through Forsaken.”

I can’t even speak, and my throat closes when Mandy says gently, “Josh did hear something interesting the other day, but I can’t verify anything. So, if I tell you, you have to promise you won’t get all worked up.”