Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73817 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73817 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“If you saw me with him, then why are you pretending like you don’t know what’s going on? Asking me about beach cougars and rich bitches?”
“Because I was giving you an opportunity to tell me the truth. Obviously you failed. You don’t trust your best friend. We’ve gotta work on that.”
I don’t even bother drying my hands. “I gotta go.”
The moment I try to get around him, he blocks my way. “He into threesomes?” Ice invades my space again, leaning in close. “Why can’t you work me in, dude? He rich? You think we can score off of him?”
Suddenly the roles have reversed and I’m the one who is protecting Cooper. “I’m not with him.”
“Don’t lie.”
“I’m just checking out the street fair. Y’know half of the food booths give out free samples, right?”
His voice hardens. “I said don’t lie to me.”
The change of his tone makes my confidence break. I know how he can get. Conversations become a minefield. Any misstep or wrong word can get dangerous quickly. I learned that lesson the first day I met him, same day I got off a bus with an old lady and her husband.
An old lady whose offer I declined still hangs over me like a ghost, haunting me with what-ifs and fading dreams.
Unless she was just another trap.
A call to the police. A call to my dad. A call to Jesus, to a camp for troubled kids, to some secret Hell she had planned for me.
I may never know.
“I’m not lying,” I gently assure him, my voice losing all its edge. “There really are free samples out there.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it. Don’t play dumb. What is it you got going on with the bartender guy?”
He played dumb—and played me. He knows Coop’s a bartender. Either he has been watching me all weekend or recognizes Coop from the bar.
This whole thing just went from bad to worse.
What can I tell him that sounds reasonable? Obviously Mr. Sherlock here knows more than he’s telling me, so I can’t just fib my way out of this. I can’t afford for him to catch me in another lie. He’s scary and unpredictable.
Before I can start my sentence, the noise of a flushing toilet fills the whole restroom like a hurricane, then one of the stall doors flies open.
And out comes Toby.
Toby, the person who knows I’m a liar and a thief.
Toby, who just heard all of this.
Toby, who probably thinks I’m the scum of the earth now, taking advantage of lovable, giving Cooper.
As if just now becoming aware of us, Toby puts on a bright smile. “Hey there!” he greets me as he twists on a faucet and starts vigorously washing his hands. Ice and I have drawn silent, watching him. “Phew, that spicy burrito totally hit wrong. That’ll be the last time I ever gamble on habanero.” He flicks his hands at the sink several times to dry them, then throws an arm around a very stunned me. “Ready to get back out there, bud? Vann’s waiting for us.”
Without even a moment to acknowledge Ice or the odd expression on his face, Toby scoops me straight out of the restroom and into the store.
As we pass through the aisles, I start panicking. “Toby, I … I don’t know how much you, uh, heard, but I swear it wasn’t what it sounded like. That guy is a—”
“Don’t sweat it, bud. It isn’t my business. I don’t need to know.”
“Really, I’m not taking advantage of Cooper. That guy is a crazy bum who wouldn’t leave me alone when I used to sleep at the park, and—” I freeze. I never told Toby I’m homeless. He knows nothing. “I mean when I first came to town. From San Antonio. The guy just found me and—”
“It’s okay, it’s okay, no need to explain.”
I feel like there’s every need to explain. But the more I say, the more there is to explain. “Toby …”
“You encounter weirdoes here all the time, especially when big events are going on. Vann and I have barely been here a month or so and it’s the first lesson we learned.”
Did he miss the part about me sleeping in the park? Is he really so unfazed by things, or did he not catch the very clear implication? “Yeah,” I decide to agree, dismissing my worries. “Weirdoes. Right.”
We spill through the sliding doors of the corner store, returning to the streets. I spot Cooper right away, chatting with a man at a nearby table, my cotton candy stick still in his hand. He doesn’t see me just yet, but from the look on his face, I hesitate to approach. He seems stressed.
So am I.
Just one encounter in the bathroom and I feel my little paradise crumbling in the palms of my hands.