If that was true, then she could be in serious trouble.
Chapter 14
“I can’t believe you read that entire book.” Scott grumbled as they departed Barnes & Noble, plunging headlong into the broiling heat of the day.
“It was just a graphic novel.” Angie cut her eyes his way, struggling to keep up with him. “And it only took me an hour. Usually when I loiter at a book store, I’ll stay four or five hours and polish off an actual novel.”
“Great, so you’re a bookworm. That’s adorable.” His tone started off sardonic, but it eased by the end. “Don’t you know how to have any real fun?”
“To me, that -is- real fun,” Angie said, her annoyance with him mounting.
Scott hadn’t been exceptionally patient with their day thus far. Adding to her frustration, there was a strange tension between them that seemed exacerbated by the unforgiving weather. They’d left early in the morning to stand in line for half-price Broadway tickets, only to learn after an hour’s wait that The Lion King was sold out. He’d made a point to take her by the book store on their way back, but was antsy the entire time they perused the enormous building. While she’d sat in a window and read, he’d paced the store, various magazines holding his interest for only minutes at a time. It was the most significant disparity between them she’d noticed thus far — her idea of paradise seemed to be his idea of purgatory.
That doesn’t bode well.
“See, you’re tame,” he said. “You’ve even got this road trip thing all planned out like a class schedule, right?”
Angie looked straight ahead without answering. Well it’s not like much has been going according to plan. You included.
Likely taking her silence for anger, Scott’s tone reverted to something more concerned. “I’m just saying, if you’re gonna go out and find yourself or whatever, you should try being a little impulsive.” His pace slowed, his restlessness sapped by the weighty humidity.
“I get it, I’m boring.” She sighed. “I’m working on that.” Remembering the study Bible she’d bought, she slid the straps of the plastic bag into her palm and thrust it out toward him in offering. “This is for you.”
He accepted the bag from her with obvious skepticism.“You got me a book?”
“Okay, so I’ll work on being less boring tomorrow.”
Scott’s dark brows knit as he peered inside the bag. “Oh.” His demeanor seemed to soften as he cast her a more sedate look. “Thanks.”
He remained silent for several minutes, seeming lost in his own contemplations as he deftly navigated them through bustling crowds and harrowing crosswalks. Angie stuck close beside him, glad for his improved mood. She didn’t promote any further conversation, afraid they might revert to the inane bickering they seemed to keep falling into.
Before she could catch herself, she’d begun reading aloud from a sign she saw up ahead. “Free Personality Testing! No Obligation.” The white A-frame sign stood in front of a nondescript storefront.
Scott overheard and glanced her way. “What, they test to see if you have a personality?”
“I don’t think it’s pass or fail.” She cracked a smile. “Have you ever taken one?”
“Nope.” Scott shook his head. “I don’t take any more tests than I have to.”
“You should sometime—they’re fun.” She scanned the darkened windows of the storefront. “It helps to get to know yourself and why you react to things the way you do.”
“There’s gotta be a catch to this, though.” Scott slowed as they reached the sign, giving it further scrutiny.
“Yeah, there usually is—” Angie said, only to be interrupted by a petite woman in a pale blue business suit.
“Oh no, no catch!” Her voice was high and breezy as she stepped from beside the sign to address them, offering a pamphlet from the small stack she carried. “This is a free service for the betterment of the community.” Angie guessed the woman to be in her mid-twenties, graced with thin, flawless features and crowned by a halo of rich brown curls. A bar nametag on her suit jacket read ‘Debbie.’
Scott accepted the pamphlet and scanned over it.
Angie took one as well, curiosity trumping her wariness. “So, what form of personality test is this based on...Myers-Briggs? Hippocrates’ four temperaments—?” When she glanced up, the woman had a bemused look on her face.
Scott smirked. “Don’t worry about it. She just reads a lot.” He tipped his head toward Angie.
“I’m not really sure, actually,” Debbie confessed. “I’m not familiar with other tests. But, I know it’s very accurate—there are over a hundred questions,” she added with renewed enthusiasm. “They’re just about to start another session, if you’d like to come in. I’m sure one of our analysts can answer any questions you might have.” She pulled open the door and a rush of refrigerated air enveloped them.
Angie felt herself sway toward the promise of relief. She looked to Scott, catching his uncertain gaze. “So, how about being impulsive?” With a mischievous smile, she motioned toward the open door.
Scott’s confident smirk returned to meet her challenge. He moved inside the building, catching Angie’s hand as he passed to pull her along with him.
Inside, the front room offered little to look at. Sterile white walls rose up from blue, low pile carpeting. No company name was visible.
A set of long tables took up most of the room, surrounded by folding chairs. A balding, older man sat in one of the chairs, one elbow propped on the table in a listless pose. To the left the room was sectioned into several small offices and a hallway.
It was from the hallway that a tall, square-jawed man in his early thirties appeared, and introduced himself as Gerald. Like the woman out front, he had a professional air about him that coincided with his crisp slacks, tie, and dress shirt ensemble. While his pale eyes sparkled with charisma and his demeanor was welcoming, Angie felt uneasy with him. It had something to do with his smile, she decided. Combined with his rigid good looks, his smile seemed phony and plastic. He reminded her of a life-size Ken doll.
Gerald explained that they would be shown a short video, and then led them down a narrow hall to a viewing room with a projector screen and seating for roughly two dozen people. As they sat in the back and awaited the video, Angie felt the seed of unease grow into anxiety.
“Do you see any other way out of this room?” she whispered aside to Scott .
Scott’s eyes narrowed as he gave the room a slow sweep. “Nope. Just the way we came in.” His brow furrowed. “What’s that mean?”
“Aside from this being a death trap if there happened to be a fire? I’m not sure.” Angie pondered the prickling sense of caution that refused to resolve. “Just remember, we’re not buying anything. And if anybody offers you Kool-Aid, don’t drink it.” She expected him to tease her about being paranoid. Instead he remained quiet, arms folded across his chest as he began to regularly glance back at the door.
The video began abruptly, and both of them jumped in their seats. They looked at each other then and chuckled nervously. Scott amused himself by mocking the old man who began the narration, and later the dated hair styles and clothing of the people featured. The only other person in the room with them was the bald man, who sat at the front and dozed off early on.
Angie strained to pay attention over Scott’s covert heckling, but she wasn’t able to discern the point of the video. They were definitely selling something — that much was clear. She didn’t recognize anything regarding personality traits or types, only nebulous concepts about negative thoughts and insecurities. The assertions seemed as broadly applicable as the message in a fortune cookie. By the end of the showing, she was regretting their little detour.
Gerald returned and herded them back to the front room, where they sat down at the tables for testing. There were a lot of questions. Initially, Angie thought that might be a good thing. But as she went through it she found many of them to be vague. Scott finished before she
did, which seemed to please him. Gerald took their tests to an office, then returned to show them graphs representing their results.
“Very interesting,” Gerald said, laying out papers before them. “As you can see, you two scored similarly in most areas.”
Angie’s gaze flickered to Scott, though her surprise dissipated quickly. That probably explains why we get on each other’s nerves.
Gerald leaned in between them as he gestured to the spiking lines on each of their graphs. “Abnormally high scores in aggression and drive—unusually low in self-esteem. You’ve got a few things within normal boundaries, at least. Don’t worry too much about the negative scores—our training program can help with that.”
Ah, Angie thought. The catch.
They listened as Gerald dissected their results in an authoritative tone. He stressed all of the scores that were ‘abnormal,’ taking on an air of deep concern. The impression she received was clear: ‘You are fatally flawed.’ That much Angie could believe. It was his continual emphasis on their ‘program’ being the answer that made her suspicious. When she finally cut to the quick and asked about the cost involved, Gerald mentioned something about a preliminary two hundred dollars and promised to be right back with a schedule and payment plan. She waited until he’d gone into one of the tiny offices before snapping her attention to Scott.
She looked from him to the door and back, voice lowered with urgency. “Run for it.”
Scott’s brows quirked in surprise, but the instruction was all it took to get him on his feet. They split up, darting around opposite ends of the table before breaking into a sprint. Angie hit the door first, putting her weight behind her shoulder to throw it open. Together they bolted down the broad sidewalk, spurred on when they heard Debbie calling after them. Scott grabbed Angie’s hand and took the lead, running for three blocks before their overly dramatic escape ended in heaving, breathless laughter.
“That was crazy.” Scott grinned rakishly, leaning back against the stone face of the nearest building. “According to them, we’re pretty messed up, huh?”
“According to them, we’re a plague upon humanity.” Angie struggled to straighten up, more from mirth than from exertion. “If we’re so defective, you’d think they could have at least offered to ‘fix’ us for free.” She was very aware that he was still holding her hand, but she didn’t want to withdraw it and risk hurting his feelings.
That’s not the only reason. She had to admit, it felt good.
“Anything else you want to try out on our way home?” Scott asked, pushing off from the wall to resume their progress.
Angie found her thought process slowed with preoccupation over having his fingers laced with hers. In spite of this, she managed to keep her tone casual. “I want to try some authentic New York Cheesecake, if you know someplace that sells it. ”
“They sell that everywhere,” Scott chuckled. “But, we should save it for tomorrow. My dad and stepmom wanted us to go to dinner with them tonight.”
“Is it a fancy place?” she asked, concealing her concern.
“It’s French.” He shrugged. “We go there a lot. I don’t think there’s a dress code or anything.”
“Well if they let you in, then I know they’ll let me in,” she teased.
Scott just grinned.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
After changing into the nicest clothes she had with her, which amounted to a knee-length denim skirt with a violet wrap blouse, Angie met her host family in the lobby and together they took a taxi to Jubilee. The modern French restaurant embodied refinement, from the fastidious décor and stiffly-postured waiters to the menu prices that made her cringe. She felt a keen sense of guilt over realizing the cost of one meal should have easily been enough to feed her for a week. But Scott’s father was insistent that she order something she’d never had before, and she wanted to be a gracious guest.
“I’ve never had escargot,” she said finally, setting her finger over its description on the menu.
Scott groomed his wild, unbound hair behind his shoulders with one hand, revealing the blatant disgust on his face. “Snail? That’s an -insect-, you know.”
Angie barely refrained from rolling her eyes and volunteering her biology scores. She’d gathered that he was wearing his hair down in an effort to annoy his father in public, and she didn’t want to encourage his contrary mood.
Martha spoke up in a concerned voice, “That’s brave of you, but are you sure? The duck and pheasant are both very good.”
“I’ve actually had both of those before. We have a few hunters in my family,” Angie said. “Although, I’m sure the experience is more enjoyable when you don’t have to mind every bite to keep from breaking a tooth on a BB—”
Scott’s father broke into a rumbling belly laugh that drew the attention of a few nearby tables. Once he’d collected himself, it became apparent that he’d found her candor endearing as well as amusing. He asked what type of game Angie thought was the most exotic, and she thought for a moment before explaining her mother’s recipe for barbecued squirrel. That was enough to elicit murmurs of fascination out of both Martha and Shaun. Scott feigned a look of nausea, which she decidedly ignored.
Once their orders had been taken, Scott’s father beckoned a waiter to him and requested white wine for everyone at the table. Angie shifted in discomfort when the man came by to fill her glass, waiting until he came to Shaun and began a light conversation about the quality of the wine before she leaned aside to Scott.
“Does your dad know how old I am?” she whispered.
“Relax. They always have wine with dinner,” Scott muttered, sounding irked. “Seriously, take a break from the goody-goody thing.”
Angie resisted glowering at him as she straightened up in her chair. He probably thinks I’ve never even smelled alcohol.
While drinking wasn’t a pastime her immediate family had ever taken an interest in, it wasn’t something she was oblivious to. Alcohol had often been blamed for her grandfather’s meanness and her uncle’s ailing liver. She knew full well that too much of it made sensible people stupid and stupid people dangerous.
No big deal. Just don’t overdo it.
Picking up the glass of pale-gold liquid, she brought it to her lips. She expected it to be bitter, like the Chardonnay her mother occasionally sipped to soothe back spasms after a long day, but this wine was smooth and sweet. She was glad — that would make it easier to avoid being rude.
Shaun turned his full attention to Angie once the waiter had moved on. “What destinations do you have coming up next on your trip?” he asked, admiration for her venture carrying thick in his voice.
“One day in Lancaster, Pennsylvania; then all the way down to Georgia for two weeks near Atlanta; five days near Miami; and then maybe a few days somewhere near Birmingham, Alabama.” She paused, reviewing the map in her mind. “I’m not really sure after that. I had to cut out a stop in Arkansas, so I don’t know what way I’ll head home yet.”
“You know, Scott will be staying with his mother in D.C. for the rest of the summer,” Shaun said, glancing to his son with a questioning look. “If you have any interest in seeing the Capitol, you might want to think about coming back that way.”
Seeming caught unawares, Scott sat up at attention. “Yeah, I mean, that could work. I can check with mom.”
It had to be the first time Angie had seen him agree with his father with any degree of enthusiasm. “That might be a good option. I’d love to see Washington D.C. in person,” she said, smiling in appreciation.
The food arrived, diverting the discussion while everyone tended to their meal. Angie’s dish was served on a circular plate with a dozen half-sphere hollows, which had been filled with a steaming mixture of butter, garlic, and herbs. The escargot wallowed within each depression, requiring her to use a pronged utensil to spear the morsels. Once she was sure everyone else had started eating, she popped one of the shapeless bits into her mouth and chewed before she could delib
erate on its origins. The piece was rubbery, but void of the sliminess she’d braced for. The flavor itself was unremarkable, as the meat had taken on the essence of the butter and garlic.
Martha went into fond detail about each of the proposal attempts Shaun had made before convincing her to become his fifth wife.
“I made him propose once for every previous wife,” she joked, giving Scott’s father a good-humored smile. Scott sat by impassive, appearing bored with the story he’d no doubt heard many times.
In spite of her initial concern over the evening, Angie felt confident it had been a success by the end. But as they all got up to leave, she felt the floor of the restaurant suddenly tilt. She grabbed the back of her chair to steady herself, glancing around to see if anyone else had noticed the phenomenon. Scott’s father and stepmother were busy chatting, unaware of her misstep.
Scott did notice, however. Eyeing her, he sidestepped closer and touched her arm. “You okay?”
“I think I ate too much,” Angie lied, rummaging through her memory for the number of times her wine glass had been refilled. Twice? She hadn’t paid it much attention, presuming the food would absorb the alcohol. She had felt perfectly normal while she was seated. But now that she was standing, her head swam and her balance was questionable.
You idiot, she chided herself.
Arm in arm, Shaun and Martha headed out the front door. Angie poured all of her concentration into her footing as she turned to follow the couple out, aware that Scott was still watching her. You’re fine. Just make it to the taxi. She wobbled slightly at the threshold but covered it by placing a hand on the door frame. Stepping out onto the sidewalk, she was just in time to be struck with dread as Scott’s stepmother made a suggestion.
“It’s such a gorgeous evening, why don’t we walk back?” Martha gave Shaun’s doughy midsection a playful poke. “Some of us could use a little exercise.”
Once Upon A Road Trip Page 20
