CHAPTER TWELVE
I woke up around ten o’ clock thankful that I got to sleep in a little bit. The scent of bacon and eggs crept in under my bedroom door, demanding that I get down stairs immediately. It was almost intoxicating, much like the grilled cheese Dad made me yesterday. I hoped Dad planned to prepare all of my meals for now on.
I stormed down the steps, stopping just a ways from the front door and found my parents sitting at a fully loaded table. A plate of smoky, crisp bacon took center stage while a pile of scrambled eggs occupied the next plate over. Two pitchers of freshly squeezed orange juice held their place at the different ends of the table. Dad was holding a plate of toast that he evenly allocated to each of the plates arranged for the three of us to eat. I had never been so happy to be starving.
Peaches, who had chosen to sleep on the couch the night before, brushed past me to get to her shiny food bowl just outside of the kitchen opening. All of the Quinn’s were clambering for a good meal.
Mom and Dad must not of seen me standing there. Their eyes were locked in a flirtatious battle. Dad set down the remaining plate of toast and sat at the head of the table. He used his free hand to grab my mother’s. They were so intent that I thought I better return to my room to give them their much-needed time, but I wasn’t fast enough. Dad saw me in the corner of his eye and motioned for me to join them at the table.
“We are not going to eat all of this food by ourselves, are we?” he said.
Mom laughed and began reaching for all the food, saying,“Speak for yourself.”
I took my place next to Mom and filled my own plate, taking two pieces of bacon and a decent mound of scrambled eggs that I promptly filled the inside of two pieces of toast with to make a decent bacon and egg sandwich. I started out slow, only eating a few bites to savor the taste, but my stomach wouldn’t allow it. I scarfed the rest and washed it down with a glass of orange juice and I was in Heaven, or was it Draio? That was certainly becoming a pesky grey area.
Dad decided to headline the family conversation, “So, what is the first order of business, Alan?”
I said, “What do you mean?” as I grabbed for seconds.
“Our little adventure around town. Where to first? Are we going to hit up the hip hangouts?”
Mom hit his arm, “Gosh, you sound like a geezer. No one calls them ‘hip hangouts’ anymore.”
Offended, he said, “I found you at a ‘hip hangout.’” They smiled at each other like it was there own special secret. That was one I wouldn’t have minded for them to keep to their selves.
I said, “Victor’s is a nice place. We could go there first and—oh, oh, there is a nice café directly across the street called Red Hearts Café.”
Mom snorted, “You certainly go to Victor’s a lot.”
Dad set down his fork, “This town does not play around when it comes to their Alice in Wonderland shtick. I wonder how a store called Victor’s snuck past them.”
“Well, figured it was because that was the name of the owner,” I giggled, “I should bring that up to the LeCarre’s. They love making fun of the Alice stuff.”
Dad flinched at the mention of their names. Almost as quickly, he noticed what he had done and turned his attention back to his food.
Breaking the awkward silence, Mom said, “Well, I don’t know about you guys but I am going to enjoy my day. I sense a good book and a few naps in my future,” she winked at me, “Wine free.”
That was terrific news. Mom was beginning to resemble a train wreck whenever she would drink. Although, I did think I was going to miss her lunatic renditions of classic Broadway tunes.
Dad’s mood shifted. He couldn’t have been less enthusiastic. It made me think I had said something out of turn. He half-heartedly congratulated Mom on her simplistic plans, but had lost a little spring in his step.
“Is something wrong, Dear?” Mom said.
He laughed loudly, “No, nothing is wrong.” He widened his grin upon seeing that neither of us believed him. “Ok, I do not mind the LeCarre kids. The kids are great, but their father is a hack. A total whack job.”
“You are one to talk,” Mom scolded his arm, “Besides, Alan may not agree with you. You should watch what you say about people in front of him.”
I said, “How do you know what Mr. LeCarre does? He is my history teacher. I think he is plenty serviceable.” I left out that I tended to sleep in his class.
Dad said, “He does not broadcast it, but he studies dreams as I do.”
Mom was still unconvinced. I was too busy trying to figure out his angle. Where was he going with this?
Dad continued, “Darius and I were not the only people out there in our field. It actually expands pretty far,” he paused, to allow my mother to stop her snickering, “There are even groups of people in London that work like I do. That is why we could not stay for very long. We were invading their territory.”
My heart rapidly began to pound against my chest. Every time I believed Dad was normal again, he would say something that would remind me of the warnings that Lathon provided me concerning Dad’s motives. Was Dad talking about actual colleagues or was he talking about—why couldn’t the world slow down for me? The colleagues he referred to had to be the Silhouettes at the pub he always used to carry on about.
“Anyways, LeCarre was located in Ashton, so we hardly saw anything wrong with moving here. It is like American football without all of the tackling or, well, I guess it is nothing like American football. The point is that there are winners and losers in every field and LeCarre is a loser.”
Mom shook her head, “You sound like a child.”
“Well, I would not be nearly as much fun if I did not.”
I attempted to keep the ideas from pouring into my head by taking my dishes to the sink. I learned something that I had yet to consider. The cities, the countries, the towns that we moved to were not chosen at random. They all had one thing in common and if Silhouettes were one of those factors, it pained me to finish the thought.
There must have been a Silhouette in every place that we have lived. We barely stayed in London because there were too many of them to handle on their own. The dream chasers were not just following us because they wanted to be around my family, they were using us to bring the Silhouettes out of hiding so they could—murder them?
Ashton isn’t any different. They came here to hunt down LeCarre. Did they consider their families? Jessica and Gerry were only my age living without a Mother to watch over them should something happen to their Dad. The dream chasers were becoming worse in my eyes by the minute. They had to be stopped.
Dad joined me at the sink, stacking his empty plate on top of mine. He said, “I am sorry about what I said. I know you think he is a good guy. You have a little romance brewing with his daughter, do you not?”
“Maybe. Not sure I want to talk about it.”
He knowingly elbowed me, “That is my boy. Finish getting ready and we will head into town.”
I left him in the kitchen and walked back to the dining room to give Mom a kiss on the forehead. She said, “You’ll have fun. Just stay out of trouble.”
She could not possibly know what she was getting me into.
The Silhouette (Alan Quinn and the Second Lifes) Page 16
