Mr. Beefy types at the computer, his brows furrowing. “The state never found your parents. You have no biological siblings.” He types in something else, and I’m wondering how he found all this information. “No extended family was found either,” he mumbles, and then his eyes meet mine.
He’s not telling me anything I don’t know. I was told the same things. My mom said she was told that I was found bruised and dirty a block from home. I was taken to the police station, and when the cops went back to the house to speak with my parents, there was a shootout, several cops were killed, thousands of dollars’ worth of drugs were found, but my parents and a few of their friends escaped. They found my birth certificate and my birth mom’s ID.
“You had blonde hair?” Mr. Beefy mumbles, spinning the computer to face me. The earliest picture of me stares back. “This you?”
It’s a picture that was printed in the paper when the state of Tennessee tried to find my family members. My hair was platinum blonde and cut into a short bob. “That’s me.”
He peers at my messy bun. “You dyed your hair brown?”
“This is my natural color. It was blonde when I was little.”
“They could have dyed it,” Tilly says, leaning forward. “Later pictures of her look like it was dyed by the way the roots came in.”
I jerk my head to my sister. I’ve never heard her say she thought that. “What the hell are you talking about? No lying. I’m not trying to be someone I’m not.”
“I’m not lying. I’ve thought about this, Hayley. I knew how you’d react if I brought it up.”
Mr. Beefy nods and turns the computer toward me again. Seven-year-old me fills the screen. My sapphire eyes are watery and pink lips pulled into a frown. The top half of my hair is brown but from the ears to my shoulders, it’s blonde. That was taken when I went to stay in a group home.
“She was late losing all her baby teeth. Our mom said it was because she was a late bloomer, but maybe it’s because she was a year and a half younger.”
“Tilly!” I stare at my sister. “What the fuck?”
“I told you I’ve thought about this. Anna Westling would have turned eighteen a couple months ago. You struggled academically in school, were the smallest in middle school, and were a late bloomer in everything. Maybe it’s because you’re younger than your birth certificate says.”
I can’t tell if she believes what she’s saying or she’s making this shit up on the fly because she wants to lie my way in.
Getting to his feet, Mr. Beefy points at Tilly. “You, step out the door for a second. I need to talk to Hayley alone.”
Tilly is all too eager to listen and jumps to her feet.
“Hold up,” I say, catching her wrist before she can walk out the door that Mr. Beefy is holding open. “I’m not leaving my sister alone so you can harvest her organs or some crazy shit like that.”
Tilly rolls her eyes and bounces away, happily taking a seat in the chair by the door. “I’ll be fine. I’m not a baby.”
“Fine,” I mumble through a clenched jaw. I focus on the hulking man. “Hurry up.”
Once the door’s closed, I glare at him. “I’m not taking my clothes off. I’ve heard rumors about what happens at the interviews.”
He plucks a paper and pen from the desk drawer and sets them on top. “Sign this.”
I scan the paper, an NDA. It’s pretty cut and dry, so I fill in the information and sloppy sign a fake name. “Done. What now?”
Mr. Beefy steps up to me and motions for me to turn around. I give him my back, glancing at the window. “Is someone in there now?”
“No. We’re being recorded though.”
I feel his fingers at the back of my neck, parting my hair. “Are you checking for lice because I haven’t had that since I was like twelve.”
“Fuck.”
His whispered breath has me on edge. Fuck? Why fuck? “You didn’t find any, right?” My scalp begins to itch at the thought of those tiny bugs. Lice are the worst. Having to comb through my hair would be a nightmare. I’d end up cutting it short.
His fingers leave the back of my neck. “I’ll be damned. I owe the kid some money.”
I look over my shoulder. “What’d you see?”
Smiling, he steps back. “What I needed to. It’s nice to meet you, Miss Westling. My name is James Gregory, and I’ve been searching for you for a very long time.”
Chapter 3
With narrowed eyes, I tilt my head to the side. “Are you fucking with me? Is this part of the test?” I eye at the two-way mirror. “You want to see how I’ll react or some shit?”
“I’m sure the news is overwhelming, but you are Anna Westling.” He smiles wide, brown eyes shining.
“And you think I’m her because of the back of my neck?”
“There’s a mark, a symbol only a Westling child can have. You’ll take a DNA test, but it’ll be a match.”
I grab my purse from the chair and snatch my papers from his desk. “I don’t like being fucked with.” I give the two-way mirror my middle finger. “You’re lucky I didn’t want to be her. This is sick.” I gesture to the door where the Anna look-alikes sit. “I bet this shit really fucks with their emotions.”
I push past Mr. Beefy. Tilly jumps to her feet when she sees me, no doubt seeing my furious expression. Not slowing my pace, I grab her arm and pull her with me.
“Wait!” Mr. Beefy calls after me.
I pick up the pace, and Tilly grills me with questions. When I don’t answer, she tries to slow us down by dragging her feet. All I have to do is shoot her a look and then she’s running with me down the main hall toward the double doors that lead to freedom.
Mr. Beefy’s much younger doppelganger comes into view on the left and it’s a race. Tilly and I make it to the doors first and are rushing outside as he’s yelling for us to stop. We speed down the sidewalk and then move across the street to where I parked Nana’s old car. My foot smashes down the gas pedal before Tilly’s had a chance to snap her seatbelt into place.
“What the hell?”
I jerk the wheel, turning sharply out of the parking lot. “The interview was bullshit.”
“How?”
I grip the wheel as we tear down a side street. After a few minutes of speeding down different roads, I whip the car into a gas station parking lot.
I twist in my seat, giving Tilly my back. “Do you see something on my neck?”
“Like what?” Tilly brushes her finger over my neck. “There’s nothing there.”
I scoff, turning back to face the windshield. “Nothing.”
“You’re not going to tell me what happened?”
I contemplate what telling her would mean. She’d probably demand we go back, and I’m not doing that. “They wanted me to take my clothes off, and the interview was recorded.”
Tilly’s face scrunches up. “Gross. Are you serious?”
“Yeah.” I pull the car back onto the road.
“Why would the Westlings want the girls to get naked? That’s really weird.”
“I signed an NDA, so don’t tell anyone what I said. I could get sued.”
She slumps down in the seat. “Okay. Sorry I talked you into going. I thought you could be her.” Her voice sounds small, and she looks so sad as she picks the blue polish on her fingernails.
“No biggie.” I smile. “I just wish you would’ve gotten to see Aiden. Maybe then that shit show would have been worth it.”
She stares out the window. “I don’t want to see him now. They’re a bunch of freaks.”
“Right,” I say, feeling slightly guilty my lie ruined Aiden’s image for her. “Hey, why don’t we get pizza and ice cream?”
Tilly eyes me. “You said we didn’t have enough money for eating out.”
I shrug. “I got some extra shifts coming up. I think we can afford lunch.”
A smile breaks free. “If you’re sure we can afford it then yes. Yay!”
Pizza and ice cream for the
win.
Chapter 4
Two hours later, I pull up the driveway and pull the keys from the ignition. “I ate too much.” I glance at the clock on the dash. “Fuck. I need to get ready for work.”
Tilly quickly unbuckles her seatbelt. “I’m going to pee my pants. I shouldn’t have drunk that third soda.”
She flies out of the car and races toward the house. I’m slower because I need caffeine. I drudge up the concrete steps to the narrow porch. Nana’s house is a small two-bedroom, but it’s clean, clutter-free, and there’s another adult to help me with Tilly so she can remain a kid.
I kick my shoes off next to my bed and grab my work clothes from the top of the dresser. I text Trent again to see if he’s picking me up. I messaged him when we got to the restaurant, and I still haven’t heard from him. I pull on black slacks and tuck in my red button-up shirt so it doesn’t hang to my knees.
I kick back in bed waiting for my douchebag boyfriend to text me back. We have to be at work in thirty minutes. If he doesn’t let me know something soon, I’ll fork out the cash to Uber. I’ve been saving as much money as I can in case I need to start helping my grandmother with the bills. She’s paying Dad’s mortgage while he’s taking time off work. I’ve offered her money, but she won’t take it. She says I need to put it into savings.
“Margo’s here.” Tilly throws a bunch of crap into her oversized purse.
“Just bowling, right? Do you need a ride home?”
“We might go to the movies after. Brittany and Natalie are going. Brittany’s mom is going to bring me home.” She ditches her dress for jeans and a teal tank top.
I hold out a couple of twenties. “Call me if you need anything. I get off work at eleven.”
She bites her bottom lip, staring at the money, but ultimately takes it. “Thanks, Hayley. Love ya. Bye.”
She hurries out of the room as a blaring car horn comes from the front. Tilly yells that Trent’s here even though I already knew. My sweet boyfriend lays on the horn again to let me know he’s arrived instead of texting me like a normal person. I slip on my checkered Vans and shove my phone into my pocket.
Trent’s smoking a cigarette in his beat-up Honda. My stomach sinks. I’m sick of pretending with him. After my mom died, I was in rough shape, and Trent knew where all the parties were. He had a big group of friends and good weed. Plus, he was an easy ride to work. Getting with him was a way to keep my mind off the pain, and now, it’s because I’m using him for his car.
He flicks the half-smoked cancer stick out the window when I open the passenger door. “Hey, babe. How’s it going?”
I drop down in the seat and shut the door. “Fine.”
He looks over his shoulder as he backs the car down the driveway. “When you moving back home? Coming here is way outta the way.”
It’s not. My nana’s house is twenty minutes from home. “I don’t know. Probably a few months. I can give you more gas money.” I snap my seatbelt into place. I didn’t use to wear one, but Mom’s accident changed that.
As we ride down the road, he flicks his head to the side every few minutes to get the hair out of his eyes. It’s been driving me nuts lately. He has the same hairstyle as a freshman in high school.
“You thought any more about taking Stephanie’s spot?”
“Told you before, waitressing isn’t for me.”
He flicks his head. “Yeah, babe, but it’ll be more money. We could get a place.”
I don’t want to move in with him for multiple reasons. First, no way in hell am I leaving my little sister. Second, I don’t like him enough. I’m not even really attracted to him. He’s not my type, personality-wise or looks. “Trent, if I took Stephanie’s spot, I’d end up in jail from killing a customer. I’m looking at other jobs anyway.”
“Damn, Hayley. I’m ready to get out of my mom’s house. She’s trippin´ all the damn time.”
“I know.”
He rests his hand on my thigh, inching toward the center. “We have a little time. Wanna stop real quick?”
“I’m on my period,” I lie. I had sex with him a couple of times at the beginning of our relationship because I was trying to scratch an itch, but it was never worth it. He pounded into me for a minute, and then bam, done. I don’t know why he keeps trying. I heard he hooks up with his ex. I’m going to break up with him soon.
“Damn, again? Weren’t you on your period last week?”
“Red light,” I say because he’s focused on me and not the damn road.
He cusses and hits the brakes. The light turns green the second he stops and we’re moving again.
Another couple minutes and we pull into the parking lot at work. As soon as the car stops, I grab my purse and scoot out the car. Daffy’s is one of the more popular restaurants in our small town. We walk inside, and I shove my purse under the U-shaped hostess counter. Trent heads to the bathroom, and I head to the break room.
Angie, Ronald, and Carmen are lounging around the small table that seats four. Management removed the second table a few weeks ago thinking people would talk less and work more or some shit. Angie and Ronald are wearing the restaurant’s attire: black slacks with a red button-down shirt. Carmen is wearing teal leggings and the ugly orange work shirt that only she can pull off. Her eyeshadow is hot pink and so is the scrunchy that’s holding her dark blonde hair into a high pony.
Carmen is the one I talk to the most. Everyone is nice, a little nosy, but nice. I grab my timesheet and push it into the slot that stamps it with the time.
“Hey, girl, hey,” Carmen says, grinning. “Did Tilly get to interview today?”
I frown, crossing my arms. “How’d you know about that?”
Carmen laughs. “Tilly was up here last month beggin´ you to agree to take her.”
“Oh yeah,” I mumble, leaning against the wall. “I took her. She’s not Anna.”
“Damn,” Carmen says, her pouty lips pulling down. “I was hoping for a ticket outta here.”
“Like she’d give you money,” Ronald says, grinning but quickly pulls in his smile. He had a tooth pulled last week, but it’s only noticeable when he smiles wide.
“Nah, it’s a good thing,” Angie says, pulling her curly red hair into a bun. “They may be rich as hell, but that family has some serious issues.”
“That’s true.” Carmen’s honey-colored eyes narrow. “I don’t think the girls interviewing know what they’re getting themselves into. You’d be constantly watched and talked about. Nothing would be private anymore.” She shakes her head. “Fuck that. I’m not signing away my freedom. None of the kids look happy. Especially Aiden Westling.”
“Dude, his twin sister was taken. I think that gives him a reason to look like that,” Angie says, and then smiles and wags her brows. “I bet I could put a smile on his face.”
Carmen blows a bubble with her gum and then pops it loudly. “No wonder Nora turned to drugs. She’s probably depressed. She lost her daughter and her husband is never around.” She looks at Angie and rolls her eyes. “And as if. Everyone knows Aiden plays for the other team.”
Bane, who reminds me more of a college frat boy than a cook, steps in with his apron in his hands and Trent trailing behind him. “What are you guys talking about?”
“The interview. Hayley took Tilly today.”
“Oh yeah? I thought that was Saturday?” Bane says.
Ronald chuckles. “Today is Saturday.”
Bane tilts his head to the side, studying my face. “You didn’t interview? You could be Anna Westling. Weren’t you adopted like Tilly?”
Carmen pops her gum. “You really could, Hayley.” She swipes at her phone screen and then gets up to hold it up to me. “Dude, see. You and Aiden look alike. That’s freaky. You have the exact same eyes.” She studies the picture. “Nora’s eyes are hazel, and John’s are brown, so I don’t know where Aiden got his eye color.”
“Damn, they do look alike,” Bane says, leaning over my shoulder to better see the pi
cture on Carmen’s phone. “Look at the chin. They have the same chin.”
“No way.” Trent scoffs and then laughs. “I can’t even picture her as a princess or in a dress. She looks nothing like that family.” He leans closer to the picture and shakes his head. “Pull up a picture of Nora. Hayley looks nothing like that. Nora’s hot as fuck.”
Finally, someone with some sense. It’s not usually Trent but right now he’s the only logical one here.
“Take out her facial piercings, tame the hair, makeup the face and she would fit right in,” Bane says. “She could be a hot as fuck princess. Maybe she should pretend to be Anna to get some money.”
“I bet the rumors about Nora killing Anna and hiding the body are true,” Trent says. “Hot bitches are always crazy as fuck.”
“Dude, that’s what I’ve always said,” Ronald says, snapping his fingers and pointing at Trent.
“God, you guys are so morbid,” Angie says.
“Okay.” I squeeze between Bane and Trent, putting myself closer to the open doorway. “I wouldn’t want to be a part of that shit show. Like Carmen and Angie said, that family has way too many issues.”
“Wait, didn’t they find Anna?” Bane asks. “A couple months ago or something.”
“I heard that the lab reported the test out wrong,” Angie says. “Or they lied. Either way, it wasn’t Anna.”
I’m nearly out of the room when Lisa’s much bigger body almost collides with mine. I shuffle back a few steps and take the spot next to Trent.
Lisa claps her hands loudly three times. “If you’re on the clock, get to work. Now, guys. It’s getting busy up front.”
She’s an ex-cop and not someone to take lightly. She’s almost six-foot-tall with a full sleeve on her right arm and a strong jaw that’s always tensed. When Lisa says move, you better listen.
The little pow-wow that has my gut-churning, breaks up. What happened back at the interview is finally setting in. If Mr. Beefy thinks I’m Anna, he will come looking for me. I filled in a false address on the NDA, but I doubt that will stop him. I hope it was all a fucked-up hoax.
Everywhen: (Savage Princess book 1) Page 2
