Unbelievable (30 page)

“Two weeks,” Booker shook his head. “No. This needs to end. I’ll install new moldings, and then they can put carpet in right away.”

“Why, what’s the ru . . . Oh, for crying out loud. This is ridiculous. Lilah’s still going to be my friend when we’re done here. Finishing the trailer won’t change that,” she snapped. “Need I remind you there’s security following us around? It’s not like she can
off
me without getting caught.” Seth cringed at her choice of words.

“Actually, I could. The spy watching us is across the street. She can’t really see inside. I could kill Mags and leave, pretending I have to run to the store for supplies.” Both Booker and Seth’s eyes widened as I revealed my fictitious plot.

“Lilah!” Maggie said, smacking my shoulder. “Guys, please go get the other A/C unit. That wasn’t funny,” Maggie chastised as they left.

“Oh, yes it was, just to see Booker’s face turn green,” I said, smiling ear to ear. Maggie pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I do understand why they’re worried. I don’t have anyone to blame but myself.” I reloaded my roller and continued painting in silence. Guilty silence.

Two minutes later, Seth and Booker carried the last A/C unit in. It was larger than the two bedroom units. Jenny, the spy, walked in behind them.

“Have a seat,
Jenny,” Booker said as they set the unit on the counter in the kitchen.

Jenny
frowned and sat on an overturned trashcan. Booker gave me a curt nod and followed Seth into a bedroom. Maggie rolled her eyes.

**

The next three days were no better. Booker tore up all the molding along the floor so the carpet could be installed without delay. He talked Maggie into going with a boring beige carpet because it was in stock and we wouldn’t have to wait. After it was installed, he brought over his loud nail gun and even louder saw, and installed new pre-painted moldings.

“Pre-painted is the easiest, Maggie. You won’t have to worry about spilling paint on the carpet,” Booker insisted.

“True. Of course the fact that it saves time, thus expediting Lilah and I working together has no bearing on your choice. Right?” she complained.

A heated debate between the two ensued. Having had enough of Booker for one day, I left and went back to my apartment. I packed and unpacked my belongings twice before giving up on the idea of running away. With Booker having my every action monitored, it would be near impossible to skip town.

I gathered my easel and paints to work on my canvas of Cole. I didn’t get very far before tears clouded my vision, making it difficult for me to see. Giving up, I crawled onto my bed and cried myself to sleep.

When I woke the next morning, I checked my cell hoping that just maybe Cole had called. But no. Not a call, not a text. Maggie called twice, leaving a message the second time, apologizing for what happened earlier.
I showered and headed over to Maggie’s trailer.

“Morning,” Maggie said, smiling brightly as I came up the small walkway to the trailer. Two men were on the roof ripping off the old shingles, and an entire team of men worked installing new siding.

“It’s hopping around here already,” I said.

“Yup.” Mags grabbed my arm.
Jenny was on her heels. “Hurry. Let’s get going before Booker shows up.” She dragged me toward her red Lexus. I climbed in the front as Maggie signaled for the spy to get in. She sat in the back.

“We need furniture and some household supplies,” she explained as we drove to Hank’s Furniture Emporium off Main by the park.

She chose a dull couch and chair for the living room, but I talked her into an adorable set of wrought iron chairs and a table with a glass top for the kitchen.

“Is it generic enough?” she asked, caressing the wrought iron’s curves.

“Maggie,
generic doesn’t mean boring
. I think it is perfect, especially the size. That’s a small area. Anything else would be overpowering.” I looked at our spy. “What do you think, Jenny?” She shrugged. Definitely one of Booker’s cronies. I was the enemy and you don’t fraternize with the enemy.

We went back to the trailer. Booker was there, finishing up the moldings in the main bedroom. Maggie pulled some sandwiches from the fridge and we sat on the new carpet and ate.

“I had so much fun today. I can see why you like decorating,” she said, pouring me a glass of ice water.

“I love it. It’s even more fun when you don’t have to buy boring stuff,” I said, taking the glass from her.

“Did you see that crimson couch on display in the window?” she asked. “I really liked it.”

“Me too. With some cute pillows to balance out the red.”

“Dark blue,” she said. “They’d be perfect.”

“Have you thought about going into interior design, Maggie? You have good taste.”

“Actually, since we started doing the trailer, it’s all I think about. You’ve taught me a lot.” She passed me a bag of corn chips and a napkin.

“I hear you. I’ve always wanted to start my own interior design company. To me, that’s heaven.”

“We should start our own. I’d be an apprentice until I’m done with school, but wouldn’t that be fun,” she said.

“That would be. I’d want to do home interiors. I don’t care for office design.” I leaned back on my elbows, forgetting all about the troubles that haunted me for the past several days and enjoyed the fantasy of having a design business. “What should we call it?” I asked Maggie.

“Lilah and Maggie’s Design, maybe.” She thought for a minute. “Maybe not. How about Innovative Design?”

I sat up. “How about Innovative Interiors?”

“I like it. I’ll Google it and make sure no one else is using it,” she said, pulling out her phone. “What do you think of a loft bed in the second bedroom? It’s so small, and a loft bed would be functional.”

“Great idea.” I lay back on the carpet.

“What was the name I’m supposed to Google again?” she asked.

“Name for what?” Booker walked into the living room carrying a scrap of molding.

“Nothing. We’re just goofing around,” I assured him.

“No, we’re not. At least I’m not. I think it would be fun. Don’t you?” she asked sincerely.

“Name for what?” Booker repeated.

“Lilah and I are going to start an interior design company and we’re brainstorming a name.” she told him

“Not happening, Magpie,” he said bluntly.

“Booker, I don’t want to fight about this again,” she said, gritting her teeth.

“I’m just stating the obvious. Once we catch her father, she’s leaving. There’s nothing left for her here.”

“Except for, geez
, I don’t know, Cole maybe?” Maggie pointed out.

“Nope. I talked to him yesterday. There’s no need for her to stay.” He walked out of the trailer. I followed, as did Maggie.

“What did Cole say?” I asked, preparing for the worst.

“I asked him what was going on between you two and his words were, ‘I’m done talking about her.’” Booker turned to me. “Like I said, there’s no reason to stay.”

“I see.” The bottom to my world dropped out. He had it right; there was no reason to stay now. I wanted to get into my car and drive off the face of the earth. “Maggie, I’m going to call it a day since we can’t do anything else until the furniture comes.” I rushed to my car.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she called after me.

I got in and took off down the street, shaking so badly I could hardly drive. I circled Port Fare twice, before my sorrow twisted into anger. Anger at my father for the mess he’d made of my life. Anger at myself for not standing up to him. And anger at Booker for hovering around, robbing me of privacy.

I glared in the rearview mirror at the blue sedan following me. My anger, and the poor judgment that seemed more often than not to be anger’s companion kicked in. Booker clearly underestimated that fact that he dealt with a Dreser by having only one car tail me. I floored the gas pedal and sped onto the freeway. I had to give
whoever followed me credit, they did a pretty good job staying on my tail.

Until we hit traffic.

I grew up in Phoenix, Arizona, population three-and-a-quarter million people. I
knew
how to drive aggressively. I got off and on the freeway several times, even backtracking at one point. It took me all of five minutes to lose my shadow.

I turned south and headed for the Finger Lakes area about an hour from Port Fare. Maybe I’d get lucky and drown.

I strolled the sandy beach of Canandaigua Lake, barefoot in the beautiful blue water. I found some pretty river rocks and slipped a couple into my purse. I spent the afternoon not being followed or harassed. For the first time in days I felt free.

As the skies clouded over, the beaches were soon dese
rted, which only made it better. I settled onto the sand, watching the water lap the shore, completely alone. Not even the annoying birds were around thanks to the wind.

I needed to leave Port Fare. There was no reason to stay now. It would be the perfect time. No one knew where I was. I could get back in my car and drive. Except for one small detail. Booker and his henchmen could track me through my credit card purchases. When I left three years ago, I took money from my dad’s safe. I didn’t have that option this time.

Anger and frustration welled up inside me. Trapped. The story of my life.

When my cell phone rang, interrupting my peace, it took more control than I thought I had not to hurl it into the lake. The voice of reason told me that if I did, Booker would twist the meaning of my action into some stupid ploy to help my father. The guy had paranoia down to a science.

The caller ID read
Maggie
. I didn’t answer. Several moments later, it rang again.
Restricted
. Daddy. I intended to let it go to voicemail when my anger took over.

“Why are you calling?” I snapped, shooting to my feet.

“Don’t use that tone with me.” He sounded terrible. He was panting as if he’d run a race.

“Daddy, you need to listen to me. This is wrong. You’ve made a mistake. Please
, please
let this go.”

“Did you get Gatto’s security code yet, or have you failed me once again?” Daddy asked, ignoring my request. I kicked the sand in frustration.

“I’ve got the code.” I’d have to make up random numbers, but he wouldn’t know that until he got here. “It wasn’t easy. Gatto’s a pompous, arrogant idiot.” I smiled, knowing Booker monitored my calls.
Ha!

“Good girl, princess.” He coughed for several seconds before continuing. “Give it to me.”

“Daddy, why do you sound so bad? Do you have a cold?”

“The treatments aren’t working. I think I’ll be coming to Port Fare sooner than planned. Now give me the code.”

“I don’t have all the info you need yet. I have to have more time.” I paced as I spoke. Booker said I needed to keep Daddy on the line as long as possible if they hoped to trace the call at all.

“I didn’t say I’m coming yet, Delilah. They switched my treatment to a new experimental regime. It’s my last hope.” He coughed before demanding, “Give me the code.”

“Okay, don’t get yourself all worked up. It’s in my purse, hold on.” I pretended to rummage through my purse, snapping and unsnapping my wallet.

“Delilah, what’s taking so long?” he yelled.

I looked at my watch. Two minutes. That was enough time. “I can’t find it. I’m really sorry. I must have left it in my apartment. Listen, we don’t need it, Daddy.” I was going to tell him I’d get a job and take care of him, but I didn’t get the chance.

“You’re a spoiled child,” he exploded. “You’re a disappointment to me, do you understand? I blame this all on that stupid Birdie. I should have gotten rid of her years ago!” Fits of coughing interspersed his screams. “You find that number, and I mean fast. Do I make myself clear?”

Anger, shame, and guilt welled up inside me. I was sick of lies, sick of pressure, sick of feeling guilty. I hung up the phone as he screamed about justice. I’d pay for that, but I didn’t really care.

Raindrops began to fall and I walked slowly to the car, dreading having to go back. I settled inside as lightening cut the air and the downpour began.

“Time to continue my miserable life.” I started my car and turned for Port Fare, chuckling as I imagined Booker going insane searching for me.

The rain came down in sheets, so heavy I had to slow to see the road. I turned left on Main Street, only to discover it wasn’t Main, but the road two blocks before. It led to the local spaghetti sauce factory. I had to wait for four diesels heading into the factory to pass before I could make a U-turn. I almost ran my car off the road in the process, though I did manage to nail a huge pot hole in the road. “Geez.” Seconds later, a loud
thud-thud-thud left no doubt in my mind. I had a flat.
Why everything at once
,
God
?
Why not spread the misery a little
?

I pulled over to the side, as far off the road as possible, parking alongside a small grove of trees. Hopefully, they’d block the rain that beat down mercilessly on my poor bug.