Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 46875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
I can hear some movement in the house and the definite sound of hushed voices.
A kid’s voice mostly, so I’m certain this is Joey’s place.
But why all the secret whispering? Why not just open the damned door?
I’m not that scary looking.
At least, I don’t think I am.
The door eventually does open, and to my relief, it’s a kid.
Joey. I recognize him from our video call earlier. And I’m glad it’s him because, by the looks of it, neither of us knows exactly what to say.
But I make a clumsy start.
“Hi Joey, it’s me. Zak. Zak Templeton,” I exclaim, doing my best ‘pleased to meet you’ with a ten-year-old while trying not to look like a psycho just turning up on people’s doorsteps.
“Uh…hi,” he murmurs, fidgeting with his hands before tucking them by his sides, looking like he’s having a harder time finding words than I am.
I open my mouth to ask about Jade and start to explain I’m here to talk about her email, but he beats me to it.
“I’m grounded,” he sighs, creasing the sides of his mouth, but I feel mine curling into a smile as I chuckle.
“Oh no!” I reply with exaggerated concern.
The way you do with kids when they have ‘bad news,’ which is usually nothing major.
“I was wondering if your mom’s home?” I hear myself starting to ask, and the tiny shift in his expression tells me everything.
Well, almost everything.
I’m pretty sure it puts the Jade as his mom theory to rest, but I also know he’s telling the truth about being grounded.
Joey turns to look behind him as if he’s expecting someone else to be there. But he leans in a little closer and whispers hoarsely.
“We’re both…,” he starts to say, but the beams of a car’s headlights pulling into the house next door see him stop. And turning pale, he announces that he’s got to go.
And as quickly as the door opened, it closed again.
My instinct is to knock or ring again, knowing full well that Jade must be in there with him.
But the car pulling up next door has two women getting out of it, both heading my way.
I could make a run for it, even dive into a bush, and hope they haven’t spotted me yet.
But I’m not going anywhere until I find out what’s really going on here. And I’m certainly not going anyplace until I’ve seen and spoken to Jade.
And get her out of here. This is all starting to get more complex than I thought it would on the drive down.
Putting on my friendliest face, I stand my ground on the porch as the women approach, with the taller blond asking me if I need any help.
Her tone isn’t helpful. And, if I had to guess whose mom she is, I’d say she’s Joey’s.
“Uh, hi!” I reply, holding up a static hand. “I’m actually looking for Jade…,” I start to say, my voice trailing off.
Wondering if this was really such a great idea after all.
I didn’t expect other people to just turn up like this. But I didn’t really know what was going to happen either.
“And you are?” the other woman asks in an accusing tone.
Shorter than her friend, and only a few degrees warmer than ice cold, I’m assuming this is Jade’s mom.
“I’m Zak Templeton,” I answer confidently, not surprised when both women keep their distance, with Joey’s mom looking from me to her house and then to her friend.
“So?” the other retorts.
But keeping with the reason I am here, I let her know it’s about work. Or more specifically, Jade’s resumé.
“I was hoping to talk to Jade about her job application,” I counter, figuring that should buy me some time.
Even give me a reason for being here.
“At six o’clock on a Friday?” Joey’s mom snaps. Both of them look like they’re ready to call the cops or worse when I hear a noise behind the front door.
And before I even turn to see her, I know it’s Jade. Come to rescue me, I hope. But quickly joining the dots again about Joey and Jade in my mind, I figure I might be the one who can do the rescuing here.
“Yeah, that’s right,” I reply, glancing at my watch.
“Jade missed her interview with us this afternoon. I was just calling to check if there was a problem.”
Both women shift their expressions from suspicious to embarrassed, so I go in for the kill shot.
“Zak Templeton. Software designer,” I tell them both, moving over toward them and fishing for some business cards from the back pocket of my jeans.
It draws their attention away from the house, and once they both study the cards, it’s Jade’s mom who remarks that she’s heard of me.
“You were in the news a while back,” she recalls absently, creasing a half-smile, but her friend isn’t as impressed.