Ignited
Page 34
“Not a goddamn thing.” And then, with as much flourish as I could manage, I yanked off my Perk Up apron, tossed it at his face, and marched out the door.
fourteen
I didn’t have a reason to go by the house, but Glenn had pissed me off enough that I wanted to see it. Maybe I wanted reassurance that it was real and that tomorrow it would be mine.
I didn’t know.
All I knew was that I let myself in again, then stood at the center of the dingy room with the dingy walls and thought about all of this hidden potential.
And there was so much, I thought. Like people, so much of a property lay hidden beneath the surface.
I’d tried to say as much to Cyndee on a day when she’d been dragging me all over the city, looking at dozens of cookie-cutter houses with neutral-tone walls, flowers in just the right places. Fresh paint, fresh carpet.
Pretty, but sterile.
And I couldn’t help but wonder what evils those fresh coats of paint hid. Or what gateways to hell lurked under the safely beige rug.
Maybe it’s just the way I was raised, but the whole process of staging and showing, praising and selling seemed just one small step away from the grift. A short con that no one ever complained about. Set the stage, bring in the pigeon, and take the completely legitimate commission.
The process had a certain beauty that I admired, and the job had the kind of lifestyle that appealed. No countertop to trap you, no manager who smelled faintly of rotten milk yelling at you.
The possibility had been teasing me for a few weeks now, and the pull was getting stronger and stronger.
It was like what I’d told Sloane about Cole. Eventually, I was just going to have to go after it.
I grinned. Going after Cole had worked out well. Maybe that was a sign that a job selling real estate was where I should land.
“First things first,” I said, with a quick pat to the floor. “Tomorrow morning at ten, you’re mine.” And why did I know for certain that buying this house was the absolute right move for me? Because I didn’t feel even the slightest bit foolish talking out loud to it.
I spent another hour poking around the house, measuring, taking notes, thinking about all the things I had to buy—in addition to the house itself—simply to make my meager amount of stuff fit into this tiny space. I planned to hit both Home Depot and The Container Store after the closing tomorrow. And then I’d spend the afternoon in the blissful haze of that lovely state known as home ownership.
After that, I’d see about finding another job. My job at Perk Up might have been crappy, but I’d been counting on the minuscule paycheck to cover the mortgage.
I was going to go straight back to the apartment to pack a few more boxes, but once I got in my car, I found myself heading toward the Windy City Motor Inn instead.
I knew that I should call Cole, but I didn’t. He would only tell me to stay away. That every time I went, I ran a risk.
He was right, of course.
But I knew how to spot a tail and how to lose one, and when I arrived at the inn after my incredibly circuitous route, I knew I hadn’t been followed.
The inn was conveniently located next to a Taco Bell, and I parked in that lot, then went inside to buy an assortment of burritos and tacos. I took my bulging sack across to the motel, scoped out my surroundings, then headed to my dad’s room.
I tapped three times. “Daddy. It’s me.”
No answer.
I frowned and tapped again.
I pressed my ear to the door, but heard nothing except the pounding of my heart as my fear grew and grew.
I’d kept a key for myself, and though I hadn’t used it originally out of respect for my father’s privacy, I put it in the door now, then gingerly cracked it open. “Dad, if you’re in the bathroom, I’m coming in.”
I pushed the door the rest of the way open, then froze.
He was gone.
Except that made no sense. How could he be gone? Where could he have gone?
I looked more closely around the room. Nothing in the drawers. No suitcase anywhere.
I felt the rise of panic and tried hard to tamp it down.
Had they found him?
No—no, because then the room would be wrecked. So he was safe. Or, at least, he’d been safe when he left the room. But where had he gone?
Did he not trust me to help him? Had he suddenly gotten spooked by this room? Had he seen someone watching him?
I didn’t know—hell, I couldn’t know—and the whole situation both pissed me off and scared me. This was my dad. My dad. And he’d gone into the wind on my watch.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I locked the place back up, then stalked down to the management office. A bored clerk who looked to be all of fourteen was playing games on his phone. He barely glanced up at me. “Help you?” he asked, between smacks of gum.
“There was a man in room 247,” I said. “Do you know where he is now?”
“Lady, this isn’t the kind of place where the guests leave a forwarding address. He was here, now he’s gone.”
“So then he’s definitely checked out?”
“Not too long ago, actually. Took his stuff. Paid the bill for the movies he rented. Left.”
“In cash?”
“Yeah, then he took off with two guys.”
Fear cut through me like a blade. It must have been Muratti. His goons had let Daddy pack. Given him that false sense that everything could be worked out.
I swallowed, forcing myself to push back the fear and focus. “Tell me about the two guys.”
The clerk’s face scrunched up as he remembered. “Um, a pretty-boy type in a suit, and a black guy—maybe some Hispanic blood there, too, had that light-skinned look, you know? But who can tell? Big, though. He was in a suit, too.”
“Did they say their names?” I asked, though I knew the answer would be no before he said so.
That didn’t matter, though. I knew who the men were.
Evan and Cole.
Shit.
Cole had come up with a plan, all right.
But despite looking me in the eye and promising to keep me in the loop, he’d gone and moved my dad without telling me a thing.
He’d lied to me, goddammit.
And that, frankly, pissed me off.
I sat in my car with the engine off and the top down and worked the phone. Not that it made a difference. Neither Cole nor Evan were answering, and though I caught Angie at work, she didn’t know a thing.
“Evan only said that he and Cole had something to take care of this morning. Why? What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” I felt guilty that Angie knew nothing about my dad. Hell, about my old life. But how could I tell her now? “Nothing,” I repeated. “Long story.”
“Does this have anything to do with you and Cole finally hooking up?”
I’d been eating one of the bean and cheese burritos, and now I choked. “Oh my god. What did he tell you?”
Angie’s delighted laugh sparkled across the phone line. “Nothing, are you kidding? When has Cole ever overshared?”
“But—”
“He didn’t tell me or Evan anything. Or, if he told Evan, then he’s keeping it to himself.”
“Like Evan would keep something from you,” I said.
“I know, right?” She said the words matter-of-factly, like a given, and I felt a tinge of jealousy. How nice to know someone so well. To trust them so completely.
fourteen
I didn’t have a reason to go by the house, but Glenn had pissed me off enough that I wanted to see it. Maybe I wanted reassurance that it was real and that tomorrow it would be mine.
I didn’t know.
All I knew was that I let myself in again, then stood at the center of the dingy room with the dingy walls and thought about all of this hidden potential.
And there was so much, I thought. Like people, so much of a property lay hidden beneath the surface.
I’d tried to say as much to Cyndee on a day when she’d been dragging me all over the city, looking at dozens of cookie-cutter houses with neutral-tone walls, flowers in just the right places. Fresh paint, fresh carpet.
Pretty, but sterile.
And I couldn’t help but wonder what evils those fresh coats of paint hid. Or what gateways to hell lurked under the safely beige rug.
Maybe it’s just the way I was raised, but the whole process of staging and showing, praising and selling seemed just one small step away from the grift. A short con that no one ever complained about. Set the stage, bring in the pigeon, and take the completely legitimate commission.
The process had a certain beauty that I admired, and the job had the kind of lifestyle that appealed. No countertop to trap you, no manager who smelled faintly of rotten milk yelling at you.
The possibility had been teasing me for a few weeks now, and the pull was getting stronger and stronger.
It was like what I’d told Sloane about Cole. Eventually, I was just going to have to go after it.
I grinned. Going after Cole had worked out well. Maybe that was a sign that a job selling real estate was where I should land.
“First things first,” I said, with a quick pat to the floor. “Tomorrow morning at ten, you’re mine.” And why did I know for certain that buying this house was the absolute right move for me? Because I didn’t feel even the slightest bit foolish talking out loud to it.
I spent another hour poking around the house, measuring, taking notes, thinking about all the things I had to buy—in addition to the house itself—simply to make my meager amount of stuff fit into this tiny space. I planned to hit both Home Depot and The Container Store after the closing tomorrow. And then I’d spend the afternoon in the blissful haze of that lovely state known as home ownership.
After that, I’d see about finding another job. My job at Perk Up might have been crappy, but I’d been counting on the minuscule paycheck to cover the mortgage.
I was going to go straight back to the apartment to pack a few more boxes, but once I got in my car, I found myself heading toward the Windy City Motor Inn instead.
I knew that I should call Cole, but I didn’t. He would only tell me to stay away. That every time I went, I ran a risk.
He was right, of course.
But I knew how to spot a tail and how to lose one, and when I arrived at the inn after my incredibly circuitous route, I knew I hadn’t been followed.
The inn was conveniently located next to a Taco Bell, and I parked in that lot, then went inside to buy an assortment of burritos and tacos. I took my bulging sack across to the motel, scoped out my surroundings, then headed to my dad’s room.
I tapped three times. “Daddy. It’s me.”
No answer.
I frowned and tapped again.
I pressed my ear to the door, but heard nothing except the pounding of my heart as my fear grew and grew.
I’d kept a key for myself, and though I hadn’t used it originally out of respect for my father’s privacy, I put it in the door now, then gingerly cracked it open. “Dad, if you’re in the bathroom, I’m coming in.”
I pushed the door the rest of the way open, then froze.
He was gone.
Except that made no sense. How could he be gone? Where could he have gone?
I looked more closely around the room. Nothing in the drawers. No suitcase anywhere.
I felt the rise of panic and tried hard to tamp it down.
Had they found him?
No—no, because then the room would be wrecked. So he was safe. Or, at least, he’d been safe when he left the room. But where had he gone?
Did he not trust me to help him? Had he suddenly gotten spooked by this room? Had he seen someone watching him?
I didn’t know—hell, I couldn’t know—and the whole situation both pissed me off and scared me. This was my dad. My dad. And he’d gone into the wind on my watch.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I locked the place back up, then stalked down to the management office. A bored clerk who looked to be all of fourteen was playing games on his phone. He barely glanced up at me. “Help you?” he asked, between smacks of gum.
“There was a man in room 247,” I said. “Do you know where he is now?”
“Lady, this isn’t the kind of place where the guests leave a forwarding address. He was here, now he’s gone.”
“So then he’s definitely checked out?”
“Not too long ago, actually. Took his stuff. Paid the bill for the movies he rented. Left.”
“In cash?”
“Yeah, then he took off with two guys.”
Fear cut through me like a blade. It must have been Muratti. His goons had let Daddy pack. Given him that false sense that everything could be worked out.
I swallowed, forcing myself to push back the fear and focus. “Tell me about the two guys.”
The clerk’s face scrunched up as he remembered. “Um, a pretty-boy type in a suit, and a black guy—maybe some Hispanic blood there, too, had that light-skinned look, you know? But who can tell? Big, though. He was in a suit, too.”
“Did they say their names?” I asked, though I knew the answer would be no before he said so.
That didn’t matter, though. I knew who the men were.
Evan and Cole.
Shit.
Cole had come up with a plan, all right.
But despite looking me in the eye and promising to keep me in the loop, he’d gone and moved my dad without telling me a thing.
He’d lied to me, goddammit.
And that, frankly, pissed me off.
I sat in my car with the engine off and the top down and worked the phone. Not that it made a difference. Neither Cole nor Evan were answering, and though I caught Angie at work, she didn’t know a thing.
“Evan only said that he and Cole had something to take care of this morning. Why? What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” I felt guilty that Angie knew nothing about my dad. Hell, about my old life. But how could I tell her now? “Nothing,” I repeated. “Long story.”
“Does this have anything to do with you and Cole finally hooking up?”
I’d been eating one of the bean and cheese burritos, and now I choked. “Oh my god. What did he tell you?”
Angie’s delighted laugh sparkled across the phone line. “Nothing, are you kidding? When has Cole ever overshared?”
“But—”
“He didn’t tell me or Evan anything. Or, if he told Evan, then he’s keeping it to himself.”
“Like Evan would keep something from you,” I said.
“I know, right?” She said the words matter-of-factly, like a given, and I felt a tinge of jealousy. How nice to know someone so well. To trust them so completely.
