Wonderland

by Jennifer Hillier

  “Hey. Where’d you go just now?” Oscar said.

  Rather than answer the question, she reached up and pulled his head down toward hers. Their lips met, and a few minutes later, they were both breathing hard once again.

  “How much time do you have?” He was panting in her ear, his hands busy under the sheets.

  She glanced at the clock. “No more than a half hour.”

  “I won’t need that long.”

  A few moments later he was inside her again, though Vanessa’s mind was elsewhere. John was never far from her thoughts, and she imagined him looking down on her now from wherever he was, blaming her for everything, deeply disappointed because she hadn’t been a better wife or a better mother, and because she hadn’t been able to fix him, even though she’d tried.

  She’d tried.

  Recipient(s):All Wonderland Staff

  Sender:Nick Bishop

  Subject:Friendships and Relationships, the Wonderland Way!

  Dear Wonder Worker,

  Part of the Wonderland experience is the camaraderie you build with your fellow Wonder Workers. Nothing compares to spending an entire summer alongside hardworking, fun-loving individuals, and it’s natural to want to socialize with your friends after hours.

  However, friendships that extend beyond platonic are both tricky and risky. While there’s no set rule in the Employee Handbook regarding fraternization between coworkers of equal levels (i.e., Wonder Worker to Wonder Worker), a romantic relationship can be awkward for your fellow coworkers. Should you choose to pursue a relationship, please refrain from demonstrating physical affection while working, and please save all conversations of a personal nature for after hours.

  Romantic relationships of any kind between employees of differing levels (i.e., Wonder Worker to Team Leader) are considered a violation, and may result in your dismissal. Wonderland believes in providing a safe, fair working environment for everyone. That’s the Wonderland way!

  Yours sincerely,

  Nick Bishop

  Owner, Wonderland Amusement Park, Inc.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Things were better between Ava and her mom. Not perfect—she couldn’t imagine they’d ever be perfect—but they were better and that was good for now. That being said, if her mother had any idea where she was right now, it would pretty much destroy any goodwill they’d managed to rebuild over the past little while.

  Ava had gotten off work early, but had texted her mom to say that she’d been asked to stay late, and that one of the Wonder Workers would drive her home. Her mom didn’t question it—she was totally wrapped up in her job these days, and seemed distracted all the time, not that it was any different from how things had been in Seattle. In any case, there’d been no reason for Ava to say no when Xander Cameron invited her back to his dorm room to hang out.

  Because it was Xander. Who was eighteen. The boy with the blond hair and golden tan, whose eyes crinkled when he laughed, had actually invited her back to his dorm room. She had texted both Katya and McKenzie a little while ago to tell them, and both had squealed appropriately (as much as a person can using emojis and exclamation marks, anyway).

  Ava was sitting sideways on Xander’s small bed, and he was beside her, his long legs stretched out and resting on the floor. He hadn’t been assigned a roommate, so they had the entire room to themselves. An open bag of Cheetos sat between them, and they were drinking root beer and watching Candyman on his laptop, a horror movie from 1992 that had scared the bejeezus out of Ava when she’d watched it with her dad a couple of years ago.

  “This movie’s so old,” Xander said. “Look at their hair and their clothes. This is from, like, before I was born.”

  “It’s a classic,” Ava said. “I dare you to say Candyman five times.”

  “No fucking way.”

  “Come on, do it,” she said, poking him. The premise of the movie was that if you said Candyman five times in front of a mirror, it would summon a man from the depths of hell who’d died a terrible death as a slave. Who would then, of course, kill you in an equally terrible way. “Come on, chicken.”

  “Candyman, Candyman, Candyman, Candyman—” Xander stopped, dissolving into laughter. “I can’t do it. Protect me. I’m scared.” He pulled her closer to him.

  Ava happily snuggled into him, every fiber in her body tingling. Part of her couldn’t believe she was actually here, in Xander’s room, alone. Yes, they were friends, and yes, they talked and hung out on breaks together at work, but he was four years older than she was. What she felt for him went a lot deeper than friendship. What he felt for her was . . . well, the truth was, she didn’t know. Sometimes he treated her like a buddy. Other times he treated her like a little sister. And right now, with their bodies touching and his arms wrapped around her, it felt like something else entirely.

  She looked up at him, and he looked down at her and grinned. She returned the smile, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. He held her gaze for a moment, and then his eyes flickered down.

  “You have a cute nose,” he said.

  “You think so? I was actually thinking of getting it pierced. My mom would freak, but I wouldn’t do a big piercing. Just a tiny one, for a bit of sparkle.”

  “You should. That would look good on you.” Xander continued to hug her, his gaze moving down a little more. “You also have really nice lips. Anyone ever tell you that?”

  “I always thought they were too small.”

  “They’re not.” His voice was husky. “They’re just right.”

  He moved his head closer to hers, and she braced herself.

  Oh my god it’s really going to happen he’s really going to kiss me Xander Cameron’s going to be my first kiss oh my god I’m going to die I can’t believe this is happening . . .

  And then his lips met hers, and she felt like she was melting. He kissed her gently at first, and then a little harder, her insides turning to mush.

  It was better, so much better, than Ava could have ever imagined. Xander’s kisses tasted sweet from the root beer, and his face smelled like soap and water. She parted her lips slightly, feeling his tongue slip in, warm and soft and gentle. Yes, she liked this. She liked this a lot. Opening her mouth a little more, she met his tongue with hers, feeling every inch of her body go from warm to hot in a matter of seconds.

  Then Xander’s hands moved slowly up from her waist to her breasts. She almost didn’t notice it until she felt his hand cup her boob. Despite herself—despite how good it felt—Ava stiffened immediately. Xander sensed the change and stopped right away, pulling back to look at her.

  “Sorry,” she said, a little out of breath. “Sorry, I just . . . I wasn’t expecting that.”

  “Too fast?”

  “Um . . . maybe a little. Sorry,” she said again, feeling like a complete and total idiot.

  “No, I’m sorry.” Xander moved away from her completely. The laptop slid off the bed and he caught it just before it hit the floor. “Sometimes I forget how young you are.”

  “I’m not that young.” Ava mentally cursed herself. “It’s just, you know—”

  He smiled at her. “It’s okay, you don’t need to explain. I don’t know what I was thinking, anyway. We’re just friends.”

  “Right . . . of course.” She was quiet for a few seconds, not knowing what else to say. Just because things had moved a little quicker than she expected didn’t mean she didn’t want things to move at all. The kissing had been good. Scratch that, the kissing had been great.

  You idiot! she screamed at herself silently. You’re ruining it. Fix it! Fix it now.

  She cleared her throat. “It’s just . . . what if we were more than friends? I mean, I’d be okay with that.”

  Xander smiled again and reached for his root beer. “You’re cute. But it’s better that we stay friends, you know? I would hate for things
to get complicated.”

  “I guess.” Ava slumped a little. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so high one moment, then so defeated the next. “I mean, obviously I care about our friendship.”

  “Me, too.” He patted her leg, and just like that, they were big brother/little sister again. “Besides, and I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but . . . I’m sort of involved with someone.”

  He might as well have slapped her in the face. For god’s sake, his tongue had been touching hers less than a minute ago, and she could still taste his root beer in her mouth. “Oh?” she said, struggling to keep her composure. “With who?”

  “Can you keep a secret?”

  “Sure.”

  “It’s Bianca Bishop.”

  Ava thought she’d misheard him. “What?”

  “Bianca Bishop,” he said with a grin. “I know, it’s crazy. But . . . I like her. And she likes me.”

  “What?” Ava said again, staring at him. “You’re having a thing with Bianca Bishop? But she’s like . . . old. And she’s . . . the boss. Of, like . . . the whole park. I don’t understand.” She couldn’t seem to process what he’d just told her. “How is this possible? I mean, are you messing with me? Are you just saying this to make me feel bad?”

  “Of course not,” he said. “She and I are, you know, together. I mean, it’s a real thing. We’re really into each other.”

  “I can’t believe you.” Furious, Ava got off the bed, looking around wildly for her knapsack. She spotted it in the corner and tossed it over her shoulder.

  “See, this is why she told me not to say anything.” Xander looked like he wanted to kick himself. “She told me people wouldn’t understand, and she was right. But I thought that maybe you would. I thought you were mature enough to handle it, and I really needed to tell someone.”

  “Handle it?” Ava repeated, staring at him. Now she understood what her girlfriends meant when they said boys could be total assholes. “Seriously, is this really happening right now? Did you just stick your tongue in my mouth and then tell me that you’re involved with Bianca Bishop?”

  “I’m sorry.” He looked up at her from the bed, where he was still sitting. “I’m not trying to hurt you. I think you’re a cool girl, I do, it’s just, I got carried away for a second.”

  “With her or with me?” Ava said. When he didn’t respond right away, she made a sound of disgust. “You know what, don’t bother to answer that. So what kind of relationship is it, anyway? With the Dragon Lady?”

  “Don’t call her that.” Xander’s tone was sharp. “She hates that. We’re . . . I don’t know. We’re close.”

  “You’ve kissed?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you hook up?”

  He paused then said, “Yeah.”

  “More than once?”

  “A few times.”

  “Oh my god, that’s disgusting,” Ava said. “She’s, like, my mom’s age.”

  “It’s not this ugly thing like you’re trying to make it sound.” Xander got up off the bed, and he was starting to look angry. “The Bianca you know is nothing like the person she really is. When we’re alone, she’s totally different. I don’t know how to explain it. We care about each other.”

  “And how long’s it been going on?”

  “For a while.” Xander averted his gaze. “Since I started at the park.”

  “Oh, wow.” Ava wasn’t sure if she should laugh or cry. “So the rumors are true.”

  “What rumors?”

  “People said you guys always look really cozy,” Ava said. “She always says hello to you in the midway, when she doesn’t talk to anyone else, ever, unless she’s reaming them out for something. You know what people are saying about you? People are saying you’re her boy toy, that the only reason you got the Hoop Shot gig is because the Dragon Lady’s hot for you. And now it turns out you’re hot for her, too.” Shaking her head, Ava moved toward the door. “I gotta get out of here.”

  “Just stay, please,” Xander said. “I thought you told your mom you weren’t going to be home till later. Let’s at least finish the movie. Candyman, Candyman, Candyman, Candyman, Candyman,” he added with a hopeful smile.

  Ava refused to laugh. “Why aren’t you hanging out with your girlfriend?”

  “She’s busy tonight.”

  “So I’m your backup.”

  He threw his arms up over his head in frustration. “It’s not like that. I care about you. I thought we were friends.”

  “I’m not your consolation prize.” Ava had heard that line in a movie once, but she couldn’t remember which one now. Nevertheless, it felt good to say it. “I’ll see you at work, I guess.”

  “Please don’t tell anyone about me and Bianca,” Xander said. “She’ll kill me.”

  Ava walked out of his dorm room, slamming the door shut behind her. That, too, felt good.

  TWENTY-SIX

  The warrant had come through to search Glenn Hovey’s house, and Sherry Hovey wasn’t exactly being cooperative.

  “You people can’t come here and traipse through my house and my private property.” She was following Vanessa around with a cigarette in one shaking hand and a coffee in the other. There was something more than just coffee in the mug, based on the smell. “I have valuable things in here. Collector’s items dating back to when the Hawks were founded. You break something, it can’t be replaced. This is my house, and I do not give you my permission to search it.”

  “We don’t need your permission, Mrs. Hovey,” Vanessa said, “but I understand your concerns. We’ll be careful with your things, I promise.”

  She nodded to Officers Nate Essex and Pete Warwick, who were starting on the main-floor bedrooms. Donnie and Vanessa would take the basement, where Glenn Hovey slept. She had sent the young detective on ahead.

  This was the first time Vanessa had set foot inside the Hovey residence, and it was just as ridiculous as the outside. Everything was Seahawks. The sofa blankets had the Seahawks logo. The throw pillows—which looked homemade—were made of old Seahawks jerseys, with the players’ numbers right in the center. There were three, no, four Seahawks posters framed on the walls of the living and dining rooms. A recent picture of a beaming Sherry Hovey standing beside the current Seahawks quarterback Russell Wilson was framed above the fireplace mantel, right next to a football signed by the old quarterback, Matt Hasselbeck.

  “I don’t understand what you’re even looking for,” Sherry Hovey said. “You think Glenny killed that Homeless Harry guy? Glenny wasn’t even in town.”

  “It’s all on the search warrant, ma’am. I’m authorized to look for everything and anything pertaining to both Aiden Cole and Blake Dozier.”

  “Who?”

  Vanessa suppressed a sigh. “Homeless Harry and the Wonder Wheel Kid.”

  “Why would Glenny know anything about them? I told you last time, my Glenny’s a good boy. Just because he’s missed a few days at work, it don’t make him a murderer.” Sherry Hovey looked up into Vanessa’s face. She was tiny, and her teeth were bared, reminding Vanessa of an angry Chihuahua. “Did Margie from next door tell you something about Glenny? I thought I saw you go into her house the first time you were here. She denies it, but I know what I saw.”

  “I can’t comment on that, Mrs. Hovey,” Vanessa said. “But the sooner you let me do my job, the sooner we’ll all be out of here and you can resume your . . . whatever you were doing.”

  “Damn that Margie.” The tremors in Sherry Hovey’s hands caused her coffee to finally spill over. It landed on the front of her hooded sweatshirt, which was pink this time, but still emblazoned with the Seahawks logo. “That nosy woman needs to keep her damn mouth shut. She’s never liked my Glenny. She keeps him away from her grandkids, but yet it’s okay if Glenny drives us to the mall or comes with us to the movies.”

/>   Vanessa’s cell phone pinged. Donnie Ambrose was texting her from downstairs. Found something.

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Hovey.” She pulled a pair of latex-free rubber gloves out of her pocket. “I need to go check on my detective.”

  “Don’t you be touching nothing down there!” the woman hollered as Vanessa proceeded down the stairs to the basement. “Glenny don’t like it when his stuff is moved around!”

  Blissfully, Vanessa couldn’t hear her once she got all the way down the stairs. The basement was finished, but it looked straight out of the seventies, down to the green shag carpeting. The wood-paneled walls absorbed whatever natural light there was, which wasn’t much, as the lone window tucked in the highest part of the wall was blocked by one of Sherry Hovey’s blue hydrangea bushes. Though dated, the basement was clean and the furnishings sparse, a far cry from the Seahawks extravaganza on the main floor.

  “Deputy?” Donnie’s voice wafted from the back bedroom. The door was open, and Vanessa could see the wood chips from where the detective had kicked it in. “I had to break the door down, Hovey kept it locked. I was going to ask his mother if she had a key, but then realized if she did, Hovey wouldn’t have needed to lock it.”

  “That’s fine, the warrant covers it.” Vanessa entered the bedroom. “What did you find?”

  Like the outer area of the basement, Glenn Hovey’s bedroom contained minimal furniture. A double bed was centered on the back wall, flanked by a nightstand on one side and a small dresser on the other. A closet with no door revealed that Hovey didn’t have much of a wardrobe. Half his clothes were his Wonderland uniform—several purple golf shirts, several pairs of khaki pants and shorts, a fleece Wonderland vest, and a couple of hoodies with the Wonderland logo—and the other half was a dreary mix of sloppy-looking T-shirts, button-downs, cardigans, and jeans, all in bland colors.

  Donnie had a box on the bed. It was metal, with a lock. “I found this behind the nightstand,” he said. “I might have missed it because it was hidden in the wall, but a picture fell over. When I went behind the nightstand to pick it up, I noticed one of the wood panels looked off. This was tucked inside.”