"So?" April said. "Are you? Surprised, I mean?"
"Yeah." I gave a weak laugh. "Stunned, actually." I was still trying to sort things out. "So, when did you see it?"
"This morning. On my way out of town. So in a way, I have you to thank for it."
"Why me?" I asked.
"Because if it weren't for your birthday, I wouldn't've been in town, so I wouldn't've been driving down that road at all. See?"
"Uh, yeah. Which road? You never said."
"The one along the lake. You know, where that campground is."
Oh, crap. So much for a poor, destitute brother, walking to work.
April said, "You know the road, right?
Did I ever. "Oh yeah," I murmured. "I definitely know."
"Anyway," April continued, "I'm passing this storage place – you know, the one across from the campground – and what do I see? That car! And I'm thinking, 'No freaking way!' But I hit the brakes and turn around. And like half-a-minute later, I'm pulling into that storage place, and I ask the guy driving it–"
"Wait," I said. "Which guy?" It couldn’t be Joel, or she would've already mentioned it. Maybe this was just a coincidence.
April said, "The guy who works at the storage place. Apparently, I'd caught him moving it from one unit to the other. But that's not the point." She gave another happy squeal. "I got to sit in it!"
Yeah. Me, too.
My mind was a jumbled mess. "Do you have any pictures? Like a selfie or something?"
April sighed in obvious disappointment. "No. The guy wouldn’t let me take any. He acted like it was all top-secret or something." She paused. "But you do believe me, right?"
Oh yeah. I definitely believed her.
But now, I felt like giant idiot.
Chapter 28
After getting off the phone with April, I spent the next half-hour scouring the internet. There, I found countless pictures of the Camaro, movie stills mostly. But as far as the Camaro's owner, that remained a mystery.
So I started researching the movie itself. At last, I discovered something that made me sit up and take notice. One of the movie's financial backers was a guy named Jake Bishop.
Staring at the screen, I said his last name out loud. "Bishop." Like Joel Bishop. Coincidence? Unlikely.
After that, my research got a lot easier. While hunched over my computer, I learned that Jake Bishop was a big internet star, with a rabid fan base of frat boys, groupies, and mixed-martial arts fans.
Apparently, he was some sort of fighter, or prankster, or both. Scrolling through the promo images, I saw blood and plenty of it.
I gave a shudder. I hated the sight of blood. And I wasn't a fan of fighting at all.
Bracing myself, I clicked on a random video. After five minutes, I hit the stop button and turned to look out my back window.
Outside, the view was amazing. The sun hovered just above the horizon, casting a shimmering glow over the endless water. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't bring myself to appreciate it. Not now.
I'd made a huge mistake.
Joel's brother was nothing like what I'd assumed. He wasn't some poor slob, stranded on the roadside. He was rich and famous – and a total jerk.
The way it looked, he made his money by pushing people's buttons and beating them senseless when they finally took a swing at him. Oh sure, the guys he encountered were rich and famous in their own right – sports stars mostly. But the whole thing was crude and ugly, even if the guy himself wasn't.
He was, to put it mildly, quite attractive, with features that were strikingly similar to Joel's.
I sighed. Yup, he was Joel's brother, alright.
With growing regret, I considered Joel's claim, that he'd taken the Camaro as some sort of payback. I bit my lip. Probably, his brother had it coming.
And what had I done? I'd gotten on my high horse and acted like Joel was the bad guy in all this. As my thoughts churned, I stared out over the horizon. Soon, it would be dark. I had no car. And yet, I had to see him.
Before I knew it, I was outside, pulling out my bike. With growing resolve, I began peddling toward the campground. If I was lucky, I'd reach it before darkness fell.
Or not.
By the time I peddled breathlessly up to his site, it was officially dark and worse, I saw no sign of Joel's car.
I stopped and straddled my bike while I gazed out over his campsite. It didn't look nearly as barren as last time. The tent was still there, but now, I saw two lawn chairs facing the darkened fire-pit, along with a loose pile of logs and kindling a few feet away.
Unable to resist, I got off my bike and leaned it against a tree. And then, I walked forward to check out the fire-pit. Among the ashes, I saw a few scattered remnants of that torn check. Against all logic, I felt a wistful smile tug at my lips.
That whole scene had been utterly awful, and yet, it had led to an amazing night.
It would make for a great story someday. But how would the story end? My smile faded. For all I knew, the story was already over.
Behind me, a male voice – Joel's voice – cut through the darkness. "What are you doing?"
I whirled around and saw him standing within arm's reach. "How'd you do that?" I asked.
"Do what?"
"Sneak up on me like that."
"I wasn't sneaking. It's my campsite. Remember?"
I glanced around. "Where's your car?"
"Across the street."
"You mean at the storage place?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"I'm just wondering, why would you park there?"
He shrugged. "Why not?"
"Well, I’m just saying, most people park right there at their campsites."
"Not if they want privacy."
I drew back. If that wasn't a hint, I didn't know what was.
Joel's expression softened. "I didn't mean you."
I studied his face. Did he mean that? Or was he just being nice?
He glanced toward my bicycle. "You didn't ride your bike here?"
"Well, yeah. I mean, it's not like I have a car."
He frowned. "But it's dark out."
I gave him a tentative smile. "But it wasn't when I left."
He was still frowning. "You've gotta be more careful."
"Why? It's perfectly safe."
"Well, you're not biking back," he said. "Hang on, I'll get the car."
What was this? A dismissal? "But wait, you haven't asked why I'm here."
"I know why you're here."
I gave him a perplexed look. "Why?"
As an answer, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a credit card. Wordlessly, he handed it over. I took a look. It wasn't just any credit card. It was my credit card, the one I kept tucked in the front pocket of my purse for emergencies.
"Where'd you find this?" I asked.
His voice was deadpan. "In the Camaro."
Oh. The Camaro.
Obviously, it was still a sore subject, and I could totally see why.
About the credit card, I was beyond grateful to have it back, even if I hadn't realized it was missing. I met Joel's gaze. "Thanks."
"You're welcome." He glanced toward my bike. "You ready to go?"
"Actually, not yet." I tucked the card into the pocket of my shorts and said, "I'm not here because of the credit card. You want the truth? I didn't even know you had it."
"Then why are you here?"
I gave him a shaky smile. "I was awful earlier, wasn't I?"
Joel shoved his hands into his pockets. "I wouldn't say that."
"Oh come on," I said. "You would, too. Because I was." I cleared my throat. "Anyway, I just wanted to say, well, I'm sorry."
"Forget it. Not a big deal."
I studied his face. Did he mean it? I wasn't so sure.
"No seriously," I said. "On Friday, you were so great about taking my side, and I should've done the same for you, with the Camaro, I mean. I don't know why you took it, but I'm sure you had a good
reason." I took a deep breath. "And lastly, I never thanked you."
"For what?"
"Where to begin?" I gave a shaky laugh. "Let's see, you gave me a ride, went to my party…" I rolled my eyes. "Saved the horse."
His eyebrows furrowed. "What horse?"
"You know. The one my uncle was swiping."
His lips lifted at the corners. "Oh yeah. That horse."
While I was on a roll, I figured I might as well cover everything. "And also, for coming by today to tell me about my car. That was really great of you, and I should've been nicer about it."
I shoved a nervous hand through my hair. "So, I guess that's everything." I glanced around. "So, if you still wanted to give me a ride home, that would be really great."
Joel gave my bike a long look. "You're giving me too much credit."
"I am not," I insisted. "It's all true."
"Nah." He lowered his voice. "I'll let you in on a secret."
"What?"
"Today, about your car, that wasn't the only reason I stopped by."
"It wasn't?" I cleared my throat. "I mean, was there something else?"
"Yeah."
"What?" I asked.
He smiled. "Marshmallows."
Chapter 29
The campfire was at the perfect stage, with cheerful flames and a glowing bed of red embers. Joel and I each had a marshmallow on a long stick, and were turning them over the flames.
I gave mine another slow turn. "So, do you camp a lot?"
Sitting in the lawn chair beside me, he looked easy and relaxed as he gazed into the fire. "The truth?" he said. "It's my first time."
The answer surprised me, not because he looked like an avid outdoorsman or anything, but mostly because he'd whipped up a fire in no time flat.
"Really?" I gave him a curious look. "What made you start now? Did you just need a vacation or something?"
A shadow passed over his features. "Something like that."
Obviously, there was a lot more to this story. "So why'd you pick this place?"
Joel glanced around. "Why not?" And then, he returned his gaze to the fire and said nothing more about it.
I studied his face in profile. Thanks to my internet research, I knew more than he realized. Obviously, this had something to do with his brother.
I returned my own gaze to the fire and was surprised to see that my marshmallow was almost done. I gave my stick a few more turns, making sure the marshmallow was roasted evenly all around.
I pulled it back and gave it a closer look. I smiled with satisfaction. It was almost perfect, just like it was the perfect night for a campfire. The evening was cool and clear, with almost no breeze. In the background, I heard crickets chirping and people laughing from a few campsites away.
The place was a lot less crowded than it had been on Friday night, but that was no surprise.
Technically, it was no longer summer, which meant that kids were back in school, and camping would be mostly confined to retirees and weekend warriors.
It was Sunday night, and the weekend was almost over. Most people, including me, had to work tomorrow. I gave Joel a sideways glance. Did he have to work tomorrow?
After that whole scene in the boardroom, I'd been reluctant to mention his job at all. And yet, the longer I knew him, the more confused I became.
On one hand, he wasn't from around here, and he seemed to be on vacation. But on the other hand, he'd somehow been hired to paint the boardroom. Those two things didn't quite mesh.
While thinking this over, I nibbled at my marshmallow, loving the taste and texture of its warm, semi-crunchy exterior. Next to me, Joel pulled his own stick from the fire and gave his marshmallow a closer look. It was darker than mine and smoking at the edges. Even so, he plucked it off the stick and popped the whole thing into his mouth.
I had to laugh. "Isn't that too hot?"
He shook his head. "Nope. It's just right."
"Oh yeah?" I teased. "Is it the best one you've ever had?"
"Sure." He leaned his stick against the side of his chair. "The worst, too."
"How so?" I asked.
"It was my first one."
"Your first marshmallow? Seriously?"
"My first roasted marshmallow." He flashed me a grin. "Big difference."
I didn't get it. While making the fire, Joel had mentioned in passing that he'd grown up on the other side of the state. I knew for a fact they had plenty of campgrounds over there, too. And yet, he'd never gone camping? Or roasted a marshmallow?
I just had to ask, "What else haven't you done?"
That same shadow passed over his features. "Trust me. I've done plenty."
I had no doubt of that.
He returned his gaze to the flames. "You wanna know why I'm here?"
"Yeah. I mean, if you feel like telling me."
"Alright. Here's the truth." He turned and gave me a smile that chased the shadows away. "I'm in hiding."
I laughed. "Oh stop it, you can't be."
"Yeah? Why not?"
"Okay, let's say you are. Who would you be hiding from?"
He gave a rueful laugh. "My family."
Given what I knew, that actually made sense. I recalled the little he'd told me on Friday night. He had multiple brothers, who he didn't seem to like very much. Other than the guy who owned the Camaro, I knew nothing about any of them. But I did know that the car wasn't the only thing that Joel had taken.
I said, "Can I ask you something?"
"Yeah, what?"
I lowered my voice. "We talked about the Camaro, but what about the other stuff?"
"What other stuff?"
I glanced around before whispering, "You know, the guns."
Unlike me, Joel didn't feel the need to whisper. "What about them?"
While peddling out here, I'd given this a lot of thought. By the time I reached the campground entrance, I was pretty sure I'd figured it out.
I said, "I have a theory. And I'm wondering if I'm right."
"Yeah? What's the theory?"
Again, I lowered my voice. "That the guns were an accident."
He was silent for a long moment. "An accident?"
"Yeah. Like, they were in the trunk already, and you just happened to take the Camaro at a bad time. So now, you're stuck with them, and don't know how to give them back." I gave Joel a hopeful smile. "So, am I right?"
"No."
"Oh." I bit my lip. So much for my cheerful little theory.
Joel looked vaguely amused. "Sorry to disappoint you."
"I'm not disappointed."
He gave a low laugh. "Right."
"Well, okay," I said. "Maybe I'm a little disappointed. I mean, who likes to be wrong?"
"No one," he said. "But that's not the reason you're disappointed."
"What makes you say that?"
"I can see it on your face."
"Oh." Busted. I cleared my throat. "So are you planning to return them?"
Joel gave it some thought. "Maybe."
Maybe? What kind of answer was that? I tried again. "But those belong to a different brother, right? Doesn't he want them back?"
"Oh, he wants them. But whether he gets them…" Joel gave a loose shrug. "I'm still deciding."
More confused than ever, I looked back to my marshmallow. I'd already eaten its crispy shell, so all that remained was a small shapeless blob on the end of a cold, dark stick.
Lost in thought, I held out the stick and positioned the blob over the fire. As I turned it over the flames, I asked, "Aren't you worried?"
"About what?"
"Getting in trouble."
"From who?" he said. "My brothers?"
I turned back to Joel. "Them, or someone else."
He gave me a cocky smile. "I'm not worried."
He looked so confident that I had to laugh. "Oh yeah? If that's the case, why are you in hiding?"
"Because I don't want them bugging me."
In spite of everything, I couldn't help b
ut tease him at least a little. "Well, maybe they wouldn't be 'bugging you' if you didn't have their stuff."
Joel shook his head. "I know them. You don't."
His words reminded me of something he'd said at my house. The reminder stung, but I tried to laugh it off. "And I guess I never will, huh?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, when you stopped by earlier, you said that I'd never meet them."
"No. What I said was, you'd never meet the one."
For some reason, the distinction made me feel a whole lot better. "You mean the one with the Camaro?"
"Yeah. Him." Joel's voice hardened. "I wouldn’t let him within ten feet of you."
"Why not?"
"Because he's a dick."
I don't know why, but I laughed. "Oh. Okay."
"And I don't trust him." His gaze met mine. "Not with someone as sweet as you."
My heart gave a funny little flutter. "You think I'm sweet?"
He leaned his head a fraction closer to mine. In a quiet voice, he said, "You know I do."
Our chairs suddenly felt way too far apart. I leaned toward him, wondering if he'd say anything else, or even better, if he'd kiss me. But I must've leaned too far, because my chair practically toppled over, leaving me laughing in embarrassment, even as Joel reached out to steady me in my seat.
His hands were on my upper arms, and he wasn't pulling away. I dropped my stick, marshmallow and all, and ignored the telltale sizzle of it being consumed by the flames.
My chair was steady now, but I wasn't. And I was feeling less steady with every passing moment.
Joel smiled. "You alright?"
His hands were large, but his grip was gentle. The feel of his touch, even as innocent as it was, warmed me far more than the fire.
I felt myself nod.
He said, "Remember what you asked me?"
With him so close, I was having a hard time remembering anything. I whispered, "When?"
He leaned closer. "At that bar."
I tried to think. He meant T.J.'s of course. The night of my party was mostly a blur. I didn't recall asking him much of anything, except to kiss me, and – . "Oh." I felt a shy smile curve my lips. "Sorry. I guess I was a little drunk, huh?"
His eyes warmed in the firelight. "How about now?"
I hadn't had a single drop of alcohol since my party, and yet, I was having a hard time forming any coherent thoughts. Somehow, I managed to say, "You mean, am I sober?"
Something Tattered (Joel Bishop Book 1) Page 11
