Livy leaned her head onto Trey’s shoulder and they watched rows of parked cars flash past as they raced through the parking lot.
The ATV lurched to a sudden stop at section F near Livy’s car. Trey jumped to his feet and helped Livy up by the hand.
“Thanks, Tom,” said Amy as her and Zach climbed from the back.
The guard casually eased into his seat and relaxed at the wheel. “Sure thing.”
The teens shuffled their way along the hot pavement to the nearby car and stood at their corresponding doors. Tom sat patiently watching with a pleasant smile.
The door locks clicked, and Trey pulled open the passenger door. “What’s he think we’re going to do?”
Amy shot Trey a look. “He’s just doing his job.”
Trey rolled his eyes and ducked inside. He looked back over his shoulder through the rear glass. The dutiful guard made no move to head back into the park.
“I’m supposed to call Jeremy,” said Trey, “but I guess we’ll do it from the road.”
Livy whipped the agile Prius out of the tight parking space, and as they sped away Tom keyed his phone and pressed it to his ear, likely reporting in with the tough-man in charge.
Zach leaned forward with his arms resting on the front seat-backs. “Is that all he wrote? What do you think he wants?”
“He said to call in an hour, so I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
Amy leaned up beside Zach. “What do you think Dylan meant by baby girl? Does that mean he’s a dad?”
Trey shrugged. “I’d say so, but he could be talking about his girlfriend.”
Livy shook her head vigorously, keeping her eyes on the road. “No! Did you see the look on his face? He was talking about his daughter.”
“Yeah well, who’s the mother then?”
Livy took her eyes off the road long enough to give Trey a serious look. She fingered a button on the steering wheel and spoke clearly. “Call Jeremy.”
The speaker system blurted out a dialing sequence and began to ring. A moment later, Jeremy’s voice filled the quiet car. “Hey, Ma, what’s up?”
Everyone remained silent, not sure whether to respond. Livy eventually spoke softly, “It’s us. Should we call back later?”
“Oh no, that’s fine, Ma. I can meet you there around five . . . yep . . . see you at the Burger Barn.”
Burger Barn
TREY LOOKED ACROSS the rough-cut wooden table to Zach and Amy with Livy parked at his side. Four empty cups of Burger Barn soda sat between them. Nobody was hungry, despite having driven through the small tourist-trap community for hours waiting for their meeting time with Jeremy.
Zach checked the display on his smartphone for the third time in only a minute.
“Ugh,” grunted Livy, flopping into her bulky wooden chair. “It feels like we’ve been in this town for days.”
Amy watched Trey closely, perhaps unaware he’d noticed behind his mirrored sunglasses. He glanced around the country-style diner for signs of security cameras and eased off the shades.
“Suppose he’ll show up?” Amy asked, returning from wherever her thoughts had taken her.
Trey hung his glasses from the neck of his t-shirt. “Yes, I think so. If he’s not here in a few minutes it just means he’s late.”
Zach pushed apart the plaid curtains to peer into the parking lot. The distance runner had a low tolerance for sitting still.
A cowbell rang out, announcing an entrance through the front door. Everyone at the table stretched their necks to see over the wagon-themed condiment bar that blocked their view of the entryway. Jeremy stepped into sight and panned the room until spotting Trey’s wave.
Casually, Jeremy strolled to their table, his hands shoved inside the pockets of his light-weight hoodie. Trey pushed the empty chair from the table with his foot, welcoming their guest.
Jeremy smiled nervously. “Hey, guys.”
“Hey,” they answered in near unison as he lowered into his seat.
Trey eyed everyone, unsure who would begin.
Jeremy was the first to speak. “Thanks for sticking around. I’m sure Dylan wasn’t thinking when he pushed you away.”
“What’s with that?” Livy asked, scooting closer to the table.
“I don’t know,” said Jeremy. “Dylan has always been a bit temperamental, but it doesn’t make sense. His only reason for working that job has been to find out if there are others like him.”
“And to support his daughter?” Livy asked bluntly.
“Not really,” said Jeremy. “With his talents, he could make a ton of cash with a lot less hassle.”
“But he does have a daughter,” said Trey.
Jeremy nodded, giving no further details.
Livy pressed on. “And the mother isn’t like him?”
Jeremy looked warily over his shoulder. “No.”
“What about the girl?” she whispered loudly.
He leaned forward onto his elbows and spoke quietly. “Besides a white baby with two black parents, she’s perfectly normal.”
“And he’s sure he’s the father?” asked Trey.
Jeremy’s eyes bulged. “Don’t ever ask that question around Dylan unless you like the idea of having pretzels for arms.”
Trey raised his brow. “Well, he’s not here, so I’ll ask you. Are you sure?”
Jeremy nodded. “Yes, I am.” He relaxed back into his chair. “Dylan got around a lot, and I mean a lot. But Brittany wouldn’t lie about something like that.” He studied their faces. “And I’ve seen Dylan like nobody else has. He’s white as that napkin without his voodoo.”
Trey wasn’t a bit surprised, and judging by the lack of reaction, neither were his friends.
“How old is the baby?” Livy asked.
“Pshh . . .” he said, thinking hard. “Six months . . . yeah, somewhere in there.”
Livy put her hand on Trey’s arm. “Your mother said you were a year old before they knew.”
Jeremy swiped the air. “Man! That’s just the kind of thing you can’t go saying around Dylan.”
At that moment, their young, strikingly hot waitress slipped up to the table. “What shouldn’t they go saying around Dylan?”
Jeremy nearly slid out of his chair. When he straightened without answering, she tapped her pencil to the notepad. “You know what? Don’t answer that. I don’t care what that jerk thinks.” She looked at the others. “Y’all want to order now, or should I just bring another round of free refills?”
“I think we’re good,” said Trey.
Jeremy looked up. “Give me the Barn Buster, and put their drinks on my check.”
She tucked her notepad into her short apron that hung lower than her cut-off denim shorts. She turned away, shaking her tattered Daisy Dukes precariously close to Jeremy’s face.
When she was a safe distance away, Jeremy leaned forward. “Like I said before, he got around. But that all changed when Pearl was born.”
“Pearl?” said Amy.
Jeremy rolled his eyes. “I didn’t name her. It was his grandma’s idea as I recall. You see, Dylan was raised by his grandma from the time he was a baby. His parents split up ‘cause his dad accused his mother of fooling around with some white dude. She begged him not to go, and he finally took her back, but without Dylan.”
Trey sighed. It seemed he might be the only one of the dozen misplaced children to have grown up in an unbroken home.
Jeremy continued. “When Brittany’s father disowned Pearl, it was just like a replay. Dylan and his grandma took the baby, and Brittany seemed happy to just move on with her life.”
Trey reared back at the table. “That does explain a lot. But I don’t get why he’d push us away. You’d think with what he’s been through he’d react the opposite.”
“Maybe we should talk to him?” said Amy.
“Hold up there,” said Jeremy. “You didn’t hear any of this from me. I’m just giving you a heads up so you don’t stick your neck out and get it k
nocked off.”
“And we appreciate it,” said Zach, obviously sincere.
Jeremy looked over his shoulder, then added. “But that’s not the only reason I wanted to talk to you.”
Before Jeremy could utter another word, the cowbell clanged at the entrance, and Trey’s eyes instinctively rose toward the noise. Moments later, Dylan stepped into view wearing his teenager appearance.
Trey prodded Jeremy to grab his attention. “I think we’re in big trouble.”
Dylan spotted Trey's group almost immediately and showed a there you are grin. Jeremy didn't look up as Dylan strolled toward them and spun an empty chair from the adjacent table.
"Hey," said Jeremy, glancing up nervously. "Look who I ran into."
Dylan lowered into the seat. "Yeah, imagine that." He looked across the table and made brief eye contact with Trey then Livy. "I'm glad you're still in town."
"Lucky for you," said Trey. "As soon as we're done here, we're hittin' the road."
The waitress appeared without warning and placed Jeremy's drink in front of him. She turned quickly and shuffled away.
Dylan raised his hand. "Uh, Stephanie! Yeah, I'd like to order, too."
She turned on her boot-heels, visibly irritated. "Oh, I didn't see you there. I'll send someone over."
He raised his brow. "Oookay . . ."
Jeremy pulled his straw away from his lips long enough to mutter, "It's Tiffany."
Dylan winced, then shook it off to turn his attention to those at the table. "You guys suck at being discreet."
Trey shot him an offended glare.
"I'm just saying," said Dylan. "You've been driving in circles all afternoon."
Livy jumped in. "You had us followed?"
Dylan shrugged. "Technically, after the first hour, he wasn't following you. He just parked and watched to see where you landed. And besides, it wasn't my idea. Tiny took it on himself to fill me in on what was going down."
He gave Jeremy a shrewd push. "I'm guessing it's no coincidence you ended up here, too."
Jeremy straightened. "Well, you were just gonna let them leave."
"I know, you're right. Again!" Dylan turned to Livy. "That tough guy image is just an act to keep my guys in line. You know that, right?"
"Sure," she said. "It looks like it works."
Tiffany arrived and slid a plate loaded with fries and a massive hamburger in front of Jeremy.
Dylan noticed the empty table. "You guys didn't order food?"
They synchronously shook their heads.
Dylan raised a hand and whistled. "Tiff! Bring a to-go box and the check please."
With his burger gripped in both hands, Jeremy spoke through a mouthful of food. "What's the rush?"
Dylan checked over his shoulder, then looked straight at Livy. "I want you to teach me how to tell when someone isn't real without using a camera."
Pearl
AT THE FAR end of town, the car Livy had been following slowed to nearly a stop, illuminating its one working brake light. A row of small, nearly identical houses lined both sides of the one-lane street. The car ahead turned abruptly and drove into the grass, leaving the small asphalt driveway empty.
"I guess this is it," said Livy, wheeling into to drive alongside Dylan's faded-gold four-door sedan.
Jeremy lifted out of the passenger side of Dylan's clunker, sucking on a soda straw.
Dylan popped up and moved quickly around the front of his vehicle to Livy's door, motioning to lower her window.
With the car still running, she buzzed down the glass. "Maybe he changed his mind."
Dylan put his hands on the window-sill and spoke inside. "You don't all have to come inside."
Trey popped open his door, not about to let Livy go without him. The back doors swung open, and Livy shut off the car.
Dylan rolled his eyes. "Or maybe you do."
Trey circled the rear of the Prius and met Livy as she rose from the driver's seat. The doors slammed and everyone paused momentarily, taking in the amber-tented surroundings painted by the late afternoon sun.
Dylan led the way up the small stoop and pushed open the unlocked front door. "Gramma," he yelled inside. "I brought company."
He turned to wait for the others.
Zach and Amy stepped onto the porch hand-in-hand, and he pulled her aside. "We'll wait out here."
Amy gave him a disappointed look, but didn't argue.
Jeremy bounded onto the porch and sidled toward Zach and Amy. "I'll keep you two company."
Dylan wave Trey and Livy inside as they ascended the steps. Trey couldn't help noticing the small camera mounted to the side of the porch light in passing. The interior of the small house went dark as the waning sunlight gave way to the interior, exacerbated by his tinted sunglasses.
Livy pulled off her shades, and Trey reluctantly followed suit. Dylan hadn't taken up the practice of wearing them constantly, but he also hadn't experienced the horror of being dragged against his will into a spacecraft by black-eyed aliens.
The unassuming living room was tidy, though well shy of being spotless. A playpen sat unoccupied in the corner, and the vintage floor-model television quietly broadcast a commercial. The top half of the screen was completely blank, while everything in the lower portion was tinted green.
The late-afternoon heat struck Trey more heavily inside where the air didn't move, and he fanned the collar of his t-shirt to counter the stuffiness.
Dylan pushed the door partially closed and headed to the center of the house, where four rooms converged to open doorways. He looked into the brightest room to the right and quickly moved on. At the darkest room, he pulled the door closed and turned away. He peered into the final room and smiled. "Come," he said, signaling them to follow as he disappeared inside.
Trey stepped through the doorway into a small bedroom. An elderly woman stared up at him from a weathered rocking chair. Her hazy gray eyes, tracked his motion while her dark, cracked face remained still and emotionless.
Dylan leaned over the bedside, quietly adoring a sleeping baby wedged between two pillows. Livy eased up alongside Trey to take in the setting. Grandma's eyes widened with a look of wonder.
Dylan motioned his guests forward. "Come closer, I want you to see her."
The old woman leaned forward, then back again, repeatedly building momentum to lift herself from the rocker. "Who are these people?" she asked, agitated.
"They're friends, Gramma. I'll explain it in a minute."
She creaked slowly to a stand, spilling a package of straight-pins from her lap, scattering them on the floor at her feet. "Oh fiddle," she said, tossing a bundle of fabric into the rocker. She trampled over the shiny pins to get a close look at Trey and Livy. Her wrinkled, arthritis-curled fingers lifted toward Trey's face.
Trey backed away. "What the heck?"
Dylan spun around. "Gramma!"
Her attention turned to Livy. "Explain it now, son."
Dylan pushed down his grandmother's outstretched arm. "Leave them alone. I brought them here to help."
She eyed Trey again. "Where did they come from?"
After an awkward pause, Trey answered frankly. "Longwood, Ohio."
The old woman cracked a smile. "Is that so?"
Dylan took her by the shoulders and guided her back several steps. "I ran a check on them. They're cool."
She raised a crooked finger toward Trey, narrowing her eyes. "I see you. Don't think I don't see you."
"Sorry, guys," said Dylan. "Gramma is nearly blind, but she can see my disguises as clearly as anyone. I guess she can see yours, too."
"Wait," said Livy. "You're saying you can see our projections?"
Gramma looked Livy up and down with a smirk. "I ain't peepin' at your little projections, honey."
Livy seemed embarrassed, "No, I mean. You can see our faces clearly?"
"Mm-hmm," she said, nodding.
"But you can't see other stuff?"
"I ain't blind. I can see every
thing. It's just all cloudy and dark . . . except for your cute little faces." She focused on Livy. "Have you got some ugly ol' woman like me hidin' underneath there?"
Trey fought the urge to drag Livy away from Dylan and the crabby old woman.
Livy simply smiled and took a small step forward, letting her projection fade. The old woman's smoky eyes widened, clearly struggling to take in Livy's true face. As Livy stepped closer, Gramma jerked her arm free from Dylan's grip and extended her wrinkled fingers.
"Go ahead," said Livy. "We've got nothing to hide."
The old woman met Livy's soft face with a gentle discerning touch. Her sour expression brightened to a satisfied smile, and with a final palm pat against Livy's cheek, she pulled away.
Livy turned to Trey with a pleading gaze. He rolled his eyes and reluctantly dropped his projection.
Gramma looked him over, and to his relief, she made no move to probe his face.
Dylan stepped to the bed, shaking his head. "Can we get to what I brought them here for now?"
The old woman's eyes fell on the cozy infant. "And why is that?"
"Livy here can see disguises like you do, and she can teach me how."
"Don't you trust your own Grandmother's word?"
"Oh, Gramma," he said softly. "Of course I do. But you aren't always around.”
Dylan waved Trey and Livy closer. “I also want your opinions about Pearl. You said you saw pictures of Trey when he was a baby."
Trey stepped to the bed and eyed the infant, not exactly sure what he was expected to find.
Livy eased onto the bedside and leaned over Pearl with a motherly gaze. Gently, she lifted the baby's tiny fingers. "Open your eyes, you precious little gem."
Pearl stirred, beginning to wake. Seeing the strangers hovering over her, the girl's face puckered, about to break into a quivery cry.
"It's okay," Livy said in a babying tone. "We just wanted to see those pretty brown eyes."
Dylan swooped to the rescue, scooping Pearl from the bed and into his thick arms, just in time to avoid a bawling outburst. The shy baby wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and held on for dear life.
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