Charlie had texted me over the weekend, checking in on us. His warmth and concern drew me like a magnet to his corner of town, plus I had more questions about my dad. And there was always the possibility of eye candy, if Lucas was working.
I drove to his shop, then parked a block away and sat debating with myself, suddenly overcome by shyness, remembering how I’d practically run out of the store last time.
“This is stupid,” I muttered aloud. “Stop being such a coward.”
Visor mirror inspection for food in teeth. Check. Cell phone ready in case anything weird happened and I needed to fake getting an emergency text. Check. God, I was so not my dad’s Tri daughter. He’d walk into this store like he owned the place and sell a full set of his life-changing DVDs to anyone within shouting distance.
As I approached the store, Lucas nodded at me from the sidewalk where he leaned against the wall, smoking a cigarette. Too bad he smoked; that was the only problem with his otherwise perfect look. I tripped on the curb while fumbling with Toby’s leash. Oh yeah, I was gonna rock this.
Toby dragged me toward Lucas, who flicked his cigarette butt into a trash can. “Nasty habit. One of these days I’ll kick it.” He bent down to rub Toby’s ears. “So you got some new wheels?” He stood up, tilting his head toward the truck.
“More like old wheels. It’s my dad’s truck.” I ducked my head, embarrassed. “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I lived on a farm.” I glanced up to find him watching me curiously.
“I like trucks. Not just any girl can pull off driving one.”
What the heck did that mean? I was too flustered to ask.
He held the door open for me, bowing and flashing a grin. “Come on in, niece of Charlie.”
Toby dragged me into the store, his nose seeking out the donuts. My uncle was nowhere in sight. “Where is he?” I asked.
Lucas put a hand in his front pocket and he pulled out his cell. My gaze followed his movement, straight to his crotch. I blushed and looked desperately around the store for something else to stare at.
“Hang on a sec.” Lucas’s fingers tapped on his cell. I assumed he was texting Charlie to announce my arrival.
My body felt turned inside out, all of my nerves skittering along the surface of my skin instead of staying inside where they belonged. What was wrong with me? Woodbridge was filled with hot guys but I never reacted like this. Not even around Ryan.
Lucas sauntered to the other side of the counter with Toby close at his heels.
“Toby!” Embarrassed, I snapped my fingers at my dog. “Get over here.” Toby ignored me, watching Lucas with adoration.
Lucas laughed. “Looks like Toby’s still in love with me.”
“Apparently so.” I returned Lucas’s smile, forcing myself to maintain eye contact.
Get a grip Darcy. You’re here to see your uncle. Your life is falling apart. This is no time for a hormonal meltdown.
“Water?” Lucas asked. “Coffee?” He grinned. “Just black coffee here; no hazelnut.”
“Water please.” I feigned interest in a stack of old magazines on the counter. Maybe if I didn’t look at him, he’d go away.
A water bottle slid toward me on the counter, pushed by long fingers anchored to a perfectly sculpted arm.
Don’t make eye contact. Don’t do it. Where the heck was my uncle? I took a sip of water.
“Are you okay?” asked Lucas. “You look kind of stressed.”
Water squirted out of my nose. I grabbed a napkin and wiped my face. Dad would be so proud. I took a deep breath and met Lucas’s eyes again. He wasn’t laughing at me. He wasn’t laughing at all.
“I saw the Letterman show on YouTube,” he said quietly. “With the Top Ten list.”
Oh God.
I couldn’t think of a thing to say, so I didn’t say anything.
Lucas pulled a screwdriver out of his back pocket and started taking apart an old radio. I was grateful I didn’t have to make eye contact anymore. Just watching his face as he concentrated on the radio was causing me plenty of internal havoc.
The weird “bwahahaa” noise sounded as the door to the store opened. Lucas glanced up and I swung around on my stool.
“Darcy.” Uncle Charlie smiled at me like I was holding a lottery check. “I’m so glad you came back to see me.” He glanced at Lucas. “Us.”
I blushed. “Yeah, uh, s-sorry about last time,” I stammered. “Leaving in a hurry.”
“We’re the ones who owe you an apology,” Charlie said, shooting a cryptic look at Lucas. “We didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
Lucas looked up from the radio, meeting my eyes. “Definitely not,” he said. “It sucks about your car.” He held my gaze. “And everything else.”
I swallowed and blinked nervously. Maybe I should have worn some of Sal’s eye shadow, something sparkly to deflect all this intense eye contact.
“It’s okay. I was the one who freaked out. I’m just kind of overwhelmed.”
Charlie put a hand on my shoulder. If I closed my eyes I’d swear it was my dad. “Of course you are,” Charlie said. “I’ve been thinking about your predicament, trying to think of some way I can help you and your mom.”
Predicament. Ha. What a polite little word. I was calling it the Tri Shit Storm myself, but I wasn’t going to tell Charlie that. Even though I felt surprisingly safe and comfortable with him, I didn’t know him well enough for cussing. Yet.
“Yeah,” I said. “That’s kind of why I came by. I want to talk to you about my dad.”
“Let’s go for a walk,” Charlie said. He hooked Lucas with a commanding gaze. “Hold down the fort, Captain Jack. And keep an eye on Toby for us while we walk.”
Heat flooded my face. So I wasn’t the only one who thought Lucas looked kind of like Johnny Depp? Only taller, and not at all scrawny, and with only one visible tattoo.
Charlie winked at me as we left the store. “That’s Lucas’s nickname. All the girls around here call him that.”
My body betrayed me and I giggled like a middle-schooler.
Charlie laughed as we walked down the street. “Sounds like you agree. That’s part of the reason I hired him. My sales to girls have increased dramatically. That, and he’s got magic hands that can fix anything.”
I tried not to think of stalker girls flooding the thrift store waiting for some time with Lucas and his magic hands.
Charlie and I walked down Broadway. We passed a pawn shop and smoke shop before I worked up the courage to ask my question.
“So,” I said. “About my dad. He’s never done anything like this before. Just disappeared.” I took a breath. “I wondered if he, you know, ever did something like this before? Maybe when he was younger?”
Charlie didn’t respond right away. We walked by an antique shop and a weird store that sold only rubber ducks. It made me smile. If this place could make it, maybe some day I’d open a salt and pepper shaker store.
“No,” Charlie said, answering my question. “He didn’t. You don’t have any idea where he is?”
I sighed. “He sends postcards. We never know where they’ll be from.”
“He’s not answering his phone, is he? I’ve left him messages and texted him.”
“No,” I said. “Mom and I keep trying his phone, too. But he never calls back. He checks in with J.J., his partner, so we know he’s okay.” At least we hope he is, I thought.
“I can only imagine how scary this is for you, Darcy. But I want you to know your dad would never leave you and your mom forever. He’ll come back.” He let out a long, slow breath. “I don’t know when. But he will.”
I wanted to believe it. Hearing my uncle say it gave me a tiny burst of hope.
We’d reached the end of the double block. Charlie turned around. “Let’s head back. I want you to meet Liz.”
We walked in companionable silence until Charlie stopped in front of a coffee shop. The sign on the brick wall overhead
said “Tin Lizzy’s” spelled out in metal script, with the dots over the “I’s” shaped like coffee mugs. The barista behind the counter looked up as we entered, her face lighting when she saw Charlie. She was beautiful in the way only middle-aged hippie chicks can be, with long, thick brownish-gray hair, beautiful skin, and huge brown eyes. She was dressed like a granola, but on her it looked elegant. I had the crazy thought that I wanted to be just like her when I was forty years old.
“Charlie.” Her voice was musical. “This must be Darcy.” She turned her big doe eyes on me. Everything about her warmed me like some kind of cosmic hug.
“Darcy, this is Liz, owner of this marvelous caffeine emporium.” Charlie and Liz shared a look so sizzling I realized they were more than just friendly business owners. Not a thought I wanted to dwell on.
“What can I make you?” Liz asked. She gave me a warning frown, though her eyes danced with laughter. “No foo-foo drinks, though.”
So no strawberry frap. Got it.
“I’m not really thirsty right now. But thanks.”
She gestured to the pastry case. “Hungry? It’s on the house.”
The croissants looked tempting, but then I thought of how sporadically I’d been running with Toby lately and shook my head.
Glancing around the store, I noticed a faded help wanted sign in the window. “Part-time barista needed: nights and weekends. Free drinks and food!”
Liz needed a barista. I needed a job. Should I apply?
“Um, the barista job?” I said to Liz, trying to force the tremble out of my voice. “Is it still available?”
She and Charlie exchanged surprised looks.
She nodded. “Are you interested?”
I’d suck at customer service. I didn’t know how to talk to strangers. I’d break the fancy espresso machine. Lucas would see what an idiot I was, when he came in for his high-maintenance coffee drink.
“Maybe,” I said, answering her question. Probably.
Liz smiled. “You could apply right now.” She gestured toward the gleaming copper espresso machine that looked like something from a steampunk movie. “Show me what you can do.”
I swallowed. I made Mom a pot of coffee every morning, to chase away her hangovers, but that was the extent of my barista skills. “I should probably check with my mom first,” I said. Wimp.
“I could use someone reliable,” Liz said. “I’ve had to fire the past couple of people I’ve hired because they were so flaky.”
Yikes. I’d never had a job before, because I hadn’t needed the money. Listening to Liz, I realized this was a big deal. I thought of one of Dad’s favorite lines: never commit unless you mean it.
“You can come by anytime to apply.” She grinned. “I practically live here. Just ask Charlie.”
“I’ll let you know,” I said, and then turned to Charlie to say good-bye.
He pulled me into a hug. “Don’t be a stranger, favorite niece.” The hug intensified, reminding me of Dad. “I mean it,” he whispered in my ear.
“Okay,” I whispered back.
I left Liz and Charlie together in the coffee shop, since I was ready to get Toby and head home. What was it about this neighborhood? It was so unlike my part of town, but I wasn’t scared. I felt…comfortable. Was it because it was so different? Because it was easier to hide here? It was highly unlikely I’d run into anyone from Woodbridge.
Maybe hiding out was a good idea. Dad obviously thought so. But I wouldn’t hide 24/7 like him. If I got a job with Liz I’d just hide out here a few nights a week and some weekends. Plus I’d make money.
“So what do you think of Tin Lizzy’s?” Lucas’s low voice stopped me in my tracks. I was so lost in thought I hadn’t noticed him standing on the sidewalk, a cigarette dangling from his fingers. Toby lunged for me, and I took the leash from Lucas, careful to avoid skin contact.
“It’s great,” I sighed. I thought again about working there, and pictured myself standing behind the counter, waiting on customers.
Lucas nodded. “Yeah, it’s a cool place. And Liz is awesome.” He exhaled smoke from his perfectly straight nose.
I crinkled my own nose as the cigarette smoke reached me.
He stubbed out his cigarette quickly and tossed it into a trash can. “I need to get back to work,” he said. “Broken toasters are calling.”
I stole one more glance at him, hoping not to forget any details. “Maybe I’ll see you around,” I said.
He nodded. “I hope so.” He pushed through the door of the Second Hand Story, pausing briefly to glance over his shoulder. His lips quirked in a mysterious smile that made me half want to run away, and half want to chase him like a pathetic fan girl.
Instead I walked as quickly as I could to my truck, still trying to preserve a little dignity by not breaking into a full-on sprint.
Spending time on Broadway made me feel like the universe had cracked open a new door for me. I could see a tiny bit of light on the other side.
Did I dare open the door all the way?
Chapter Nine
October 2
As I sat in study hall, my last period of the day, Mom’s text intruded on my black thoughts. “I have a great idea. R u there?”
“No,” I typed. “I’ve been abducted by aliens. They have Dad, too.”
She ignored my black humor. “Meet me after school. Bring your camera.”
Mom hadn’t exactly been full of great ideas lately. I dreaded hearing the next one.
“???” I texted back.
She sent me an address. Sigh. Was she still thinking about me taking pictures of houses for a real estate website?
“C u later,” I replied.
Mom texted back a row of smiley faces. Lately we did better communicating via texts and notepads than in person, because when we were together in the evenings, she turned into someone else when she drank.
After school I waited until the parking lot was almost empty before I revved up the beast. It was my latest strategy to avoid stares and mocking laughter, especially since Sal had slapped on a “Save a horse, ride a cowboy” bumper sticker.
“It’s true,” she’d said when I busted her. “You need a cowboy, or any boy toy. Something to take your mind off all the stress.”
“Not exactly my first priority,” I’d replied, trying to block out the image of Lucas’s face that popped to mind.
I found the house and parked my rusty truck behind a row of shiny, perfect cars: Mom’s Volvo, Fake-Bake Pam’s Mercedes, and a couple of BMWs. The place was immense, even bigger than our house, and that was saying something. Mom must have been watching for me or maybe the belching Reaper announced my arrival. She flung open the massive front door before I could ring the doorbell.
“Darcy, come in. You have your camera, right?”
I nodded and stepped into the enormous entrance hall. Suits of armor? Flags with coats of arms? Seriously? How pretentious could you get?
Laughter bounced off the stone floor, as did the clicking of high heels. Fake-Bake Pam and some other lady walked toward us with bright red lipstick smiles stretching their face-lifted cheeks.
Mom put an arm around me. “Darcy, this is Pam Hendricks. You know her daughter Chloe.”
Fake-Bake Pam narrowed her eyes and gave me one of those wimpy girl handshakes that felt like a dead fish. I hated that. My dad always taught me that a woman’s handshake should be as firm as a man’s. Liz had a strong handshake, warm but firm. I gave Pam’s hand an extra squeeze as I thought of the hell Chloe had put me through at school.
“Darcy,” she said, wincing at my grip. “It’s so cute of your mom to give you this little job.”
Job? What job? I glanced at Mom, whose expression silently begged me to act like I knew what was going on.
Pam turned to the woman next to her, who apparently went to the same tanning salon she did. “Darcy, this is Dee Armstrong,” said Pam. “She’s an interior designer helping me g
et the house ready to be listed. You probably know her son Ryan from school.”
My heart thudded straight down to my feet. I nodded and stuck my hand out to shake hers. Manners could override shock, evidently. Good to know.
“Lovely, darling, lovely to meet you.”
At least her hand didn’t feel like a dead fish.
“So,” Mom said, “Darcy and I will get started on the photos and get out of your way.”
I frowned at her. Get out of their way? We weren’t taking up any more space than the freaking suits of armor.
Mom tightened her arm around my shoulder and steered me out of King Arthur’s court.
“What the—” I began, but she put a finger to her lips. We walked silently down a hallway and emerged into an enormous kitchen. I looked around, my mouth open in shock.
“Three stoves? Two refrigerators? Two dishwashers? For real?”
Mom crinkled her nose and shrugged. “They like to entertain.”
“For the army?”
Mom laughed. “Maybe for a few generals. Not the whole army.”
I crossed my arms. “So tell me about this job I’m supposed to know about.”
Mom took a breath. “Well, I was thinking… Remember when we talked at the cabin? You taking photos for the real estate website?”
I’d hoped she’d forgotten.
“It’s a perfect match. You can earn some extra cash. Spend a little time with me. Pam will pay you five dollars per photo.”
I stared. Five bucks a photo? I could do better than that setting up my own photo booth at a preschool. But it wasn’t the money so much as the neon “charity case” sign that seemed to be blinking over our heads.
“She doesn’t need me to take photos, Mom. I’m sure she already has someone to do that, someone who specializes in that type of photography. I’m not some junior realtor wannabe.”
Mom bit her lip and turned to look out the fifteen-foot windows. She was quiet for a long time. I stared at the black and white tiled floor. God, I could be such a bitch.
Her eyes were glassy when she looked at me again. “Damn it, Darcy. I’m doing the best I can. You can’t blame me for Dad leaving.” Her words stung like a spray of shattered glass.
How (Not) to Fall in Love Page 6
