by Anne Eliot
Hunter could relate. Moms were a force few could beat.
“Once they get over the shock of this, they will act normally,” Mrs. Roth added.
“I’m sorry,” Charlie said. “I acted like a jerk. But don’t wait around expecting my little sister to act normal, ever.”
Hunter smiled down at the still glaring Vere. “Normal is boring on my planet.” He moved his attention to Charlie. “And the name is Dustin McHugh. Please. How about you and I start over? I’m sorry if I came off as—”
“An ass?” Charlie finished for him.
“Charlie Owen Roth, if you utter one more curse or say one more rude thing to poor Hunter—” Mrs. Roth had turned as red as her daughter.
“It’s okay Mrs. Roth. I was a complete tool when I met him. And I’m sorry. I’ve been really tired planning my move to Colorado. You can imagine this day is not up there on my top ten list.”
“And you did scream in his face, Charlie,” Vere said.
Hunter bit his own lip. Was the gnome girl defending him? “We can figure out a way I can be low impact on both of your lives. I won’t try to hang around with you if it’s not easy or natural, okay?”
Charlie seemed to relax. “Appreciated. I apologize right back. I went from screaming at you to dropping the ball on your situation. So, without screaming in your face, Dustin—it’s nice to meet you again. For real. Or...whatever.” Charlie flushed and shoved his hands in his pockets.
The kid was jumpy as hell—reminded him of Martin.
To Hunter, jumpy meant difficult to trust.
Hunter nodded. “Thanks...we’re cool. You’re not the first fanboy to lose it like that on me. I’ve had much worse.”
“You have?” Vere asked.
“You don’t even want to know. Let’s not talk about that stuff. Stories about who I’m NOT supposed to be anymore will throw off our focus. I only want you to think of me as just another kid, like you. If that’s possible,” Hunter evaded. “Nan is right, I’m sure I can’t do this without you.”
“I don’t know...” Charlie shook his head, his expression still not convinced.
“Mom, why didn’t you tell us about all this—him—sooner?” Vere asked, her expression also holding at skeptical.
“His identity has to remain a secret. Nan and I have known for a month. I didn’t want to tell you too early in case one of you slipped.”
“Well, the too-late option bites,” Charlie muttered under his breath. “This is no small assignment to pull off in one, long weekend.”
Mrs. Roth rewarded Charlie with another hell-to-pay glance.
His Aunt Nan walked over and took Charlie’s hand. “Please Charlie. We need your help.”
Charlie shifted uncomfortably. “I know. I’m in...if it will work, and even if it won’t, I’ll try.” He parried his mom’s look. “Mostly because I don’t want to be killed.”
Hunter’s attention was distracted again by Vere. Her right hand floated up in the graceful, unconscious gesture she used to check her Mad Hatter bun. A gesture Hunter had already grown used to. It was a movement the girl executed like clock-work every five minutes.
“We will try...but what will we try...” she trailed off softly, pulling her delicate brows together, frowning as she examined him from head to toe for another long moment. “How tall are you?” she asked, finally. Her gaze stopping at Hunter’s eyes.
“Six three,” he answered, biting back a laugh at her new all-business tone.
“What year?” Charlie added.
“He’s to be in with the junior class, even though he’s Charlie’s age. We thought that swap would also help hide him.” Mrs. Roth turned to Hunter. “You’ll be in all senior-level core courses though, so don’t worry about being bored.”
Hunter held back a groan, tracking Vere’s expressive, darting eyes as they’d moved around his face again. He could tell that she’d noticed his unhappy reaction to his new ‘junior status'.
Vere spoke again, “You want us to hide this six-foot-three, positively gorgeous, famous rock star—one who has sports-drink blue eyes BY THE WAY—and who is absolutely PERFECT looking, at Palmer Divide High? In this town? In my junior class?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Roth answered. “Why is it such a difficult concept for you to grasp?”
“Because guys who look like that.” She pointed a finger at him. “Do not come from this town. In addition to the face, he’s too tall, and he’s got the posture of some Russian—ballerina! And did you not notice his voice?”
“What’s wrong with my voice?” Hunter frowned.
“It’s all LOW and, SUPER-MANLY-AMAZING,” she modulated her voice down, trying to sound like him.
Charlie cracked up, and Hunter had to bury his own laugh.
“Nobody sounds like that! Mom, Aunt Nan, it won’t work. No way is he ever, ever, ever going to blend in. And his...you know....his shoulders are all wide and he’s all tan and looks Superman strong...and...”
“Anything else? Should I turn around?” Hunter shot her a smile, hoping for another blush, but instead drew a glare from Charlie.
Vere threw up her arms. “And he’s a compliment fishing, egomaniac to boot! ”
Hunter laughed. “Wow. I am not. Swear.” He laughed again.
Vere shot him a look that said she did not believe him at all while she tightened the rubber band in her giant bun.
He laughed one more time, unable to stop himself.
Damn, but she’s hilarious.
This entire ludicrous situation had gone way beyond insane. And the odd antics of this Vere Roth were the frosting on his whacked-out cake.
Hunter had never really hung out with a girl near to his own age that hadn’t been acquainted with his music or at least obsessed/impressed to the point of gushing over his star status.
After eleven years in the public eye, he’d just taken it for granted that every teen sort of knew who he was.
Vere was on a whole new level. She hadn’t even recognized him at first. He wondered if she’d ever listened to GuardeRobe’s music at all. Hell, five minutes ago she’d actually acted as though she might not even want to stay in the same room with him. Now she was sitting here, calling him hot and hatefully conceited in the same sentence.
Total entertaining novelty!
Charlie spoke up next. “Vere’s right. Just look at him. He’ll be an attention magnet.”
“It is not impossible.” Mrs. Roth’s voice was tight. “We have four days to figure it out. I want you all to come up with a real disguise and take him shopping right now. We can teach him how to speak differently, mumble maybe? And Hunter?” She frowned. “Do you think you can learn to slouch? Vere’s right about the posture thing. You do stand out.”
“I’ll try my best.” Hunter shrugged.
Mrs. Roth continued, “I thought he could get away with borrowing Charlie’s clothes, but now I see that won’t work. He needs something less mainstream. Something—a lot of things— to make him much less attractive. Take him to a store somewhere, but NOT one at the mall.”
“I can’t be in on the shopping.” Charlie backed away. “Mom, Curtis is on his way. You can’t expect me to get kicked off the team for this project. If I miss I get benched. Dude, I’ll help you with the slouching or whatever later. We’ll meet up at the cabin. Deal?”
“I’d take you,” Aunt Nan said. “But my arthritis won’t let me walk much. I’d have no idea what to pick out so I’ll just gather our things and meet you up there?”
Hunter shrugged, suddenly wishing he could run away and sleep for a year. All this forced politeness was exhausting him. They didn’t want to do this as much he didn’t want to do this. “I’m sorry I’m so much trouble,” he said feeling beyond lame.
Mrs. Roth’s expression wavered. “Vere? Do you think you can take him alone?”
“Uh...” she answered.
“I’m also going to need to get some things ready to bring up to the cabin. You will know what he needs to blend in at schoo
l way better than I would. You also have good instincts for acting and costumes. All that stage stuff you do at school is going to have to come in to play here.”
Vere’s face registered shock, then a hint of bug-eyed fear before she met his gaze and turned completely pink and awkward again.
“Vere? Honey? What do you think?” Mrs. Roth said.
Vere didn’t answer.
It was like she couldn’t answer.
“Mom. Vere can’t just go and—take a strange guy shopping!” Charlie said, obviously trying to cover for Vere’s lapse.
Hunter was struck again by the bond that seemed to exist between the two siblings, and how they loved and respected their mom. From the photos he’d seen lined up on the piano, it appeared they were the perfect, made for TV, family of four. The kind his network, NewtNet, always featured in shows. He could only imagine their dad as some sort of ultra-chipper, lawn-mowing, barbeque-tending, friendly stereotype.
Who knew families like this really existed? Bizarre.
Mrs. Roth looked as though she might kill Charlie again. “He is not a strange guy, he’s Nan’s nephew. We’ve introduced you, and my goodness, we’ve known Nan so long this boy might as well be your cousin.”
“Mom! Seriously. He’s a complete stranger. And he could be some sort of girl playing creeper!” Charlie fisted his hands by his sides. “And we don’t need any more cousins!”
Really? Well I don’t want any damn cousins either!
The shouting escalated, and Hunter’s head was about to implode. As much as he found Vere interesting, it was time to set the record straight.
Hunter held up his hands high in surrender. “Okay. STOP. Hold up! Everyone just chill!”
They all stopped arguing and looked at him.
“Look. This whole conversation is ridiculous. No offense intended here.” He tossed Vere a shrug before he continued in a more controlled voice, “I’m used to girls who are...well...more...um. Let’s just say stick-legged, milk-fed tumbleweeds are not my type. They aren’t even on my radar. I’m not desperate, Jesus!”
Charlie laughed, and Hunter felt bad for that comment because it caused Vere to flush red again. Her mouth had also dropped open in what appeared to be shock.
“What did you call me? I ought to—GOD!”
What was her deal? The girl must be whacked.
Maybe as whacked as I am.
Hunter couldn’t take his eyes off of Vere’s flushed face all over again, trying to figure her out. She might not be able to talk, but he could tell she was pissed off, that was certain.
Charlie laughingly piped in, “I can only imagine what kind of girls you’re used to. Vere would knock you flat if you tried to make a move on her. She’s famous for that.”
Vere seemed to choke. Then sputter. “Charlie—you—suck. Just—don’t EVEN go there. Just stop. Stop—”
Vere finally seemed to reagin her control and aimed a small-ball-of-death glower onto everyone in the room. “No. Offense. Back. But I can take care of myself. I can certainly drag this spoiled, rock-and-roll-prince shopping for ugly clothes and drive him to the lake cabin without getting mauled or pregnant!”
Mrs. Roth gasped.
Hunter bit back another huge laugh.
Vere turned to Hunter and wrinkled her mouth in another one of her charming attempts at a mean scowl. She was breathing all funny. Puffing air in and out like she’d just run really far.
“You should be so lucky, Mr. Model-Magazine Cover, to even catch my eye. You aren’t my type either! I’m used to guys who don’t require so much attention and personal—grooming. You are the last guy on earth I’d ever go for. I’m not desperate or into pretty boys either. So—yeah.”
Hunter’s gaze tangled with Vere’s. He had the feeling she couldn’t look away from him as much as he couldn’t stop staring at her.
“And, and—I wouldn’t look twice at you at—your—well—your—you know—all of your—YOU. And all that—”
He saved her. “Okay. Okay. You win! Touché again. I’m glad that’s understood. If we’re meant to be hanging out together it will help the situation to note to all involved: we are not each other’s types.”
“Good. Great. Let the record show. Not at all. And never,” Vere added, rolling her eyes.
“That goes for you too, Charlie,” Hunter teased. “We’ll all agree to be just friends, with zero weirdness. Okay?”
Charlie snorted. “Sure. Insta-friends with one of the world’s most famous rock stars. ZERO weirdness. Check. And you’re not my type either, dude.”
They all cracked up at that. Vere’s temper seemed to wane as quickly as it had come. He crossed his arms tightly against his chest. Forced himself to stop staring at how Vere’s eyes crinkled at the edges when she laughed. Demanded his brain to stop noticing that he might really like the sound of her laugh...
He turned away from her and pretended to examine the details of the living room while an odd barrage of misplaced butterflies ripped around his stomach like someone had shuffled cards in there. Everything in the room melted to a blur. He never got butterflies—just like he never looked twice at girls like Vere.
Hell. But you’ve looked at her way more than twice...
And hell... you seem to have a whole pile of butterflies right now.Probably just nerves. Nothing but that.
If he could place a bet, he’d put two hundred toward the side that said she’d probably never even been kissed.
His head started to pound.
She called me a pretty boy! Girl doesn’t even know me, but thinks she does. Shit. I swear I’m dizzy. This has to be some of that high-altitude sickness Aunt Nan told me about.
He turned back and studied the light dusting of freckles on the bridge of Vere’s nose, trying to analyze what drew his attention so strongly. The girl might be a junior but she looked younger compared to the girls he’d known, even with the soft smudges of eyeshadow and mascara she sported. Maybe he was simply fascinated because Vere’s entire look mimicked a long legged, big eyed, bobble-head doll hiding in a giant hoodie?
Who wouldn’t stare at that?
No need to freak out that you find a person highly amusing.
Not my type. Not in a million years. But very appealing to watch. No crime in that.
As if to confirm his thoughts, she adjusted her incredible bun and hiked up her baggy shorts all over again. It was all he could do not to bust out grinning like a fool.
At least holding back laughter lightened the weight in his heart. It was also a bonus to think that Vere, plus her wound-too-tight brother, would ensure his time here wasn’t going to be boring.
“The guys are going to be here soon. Let’s hear where you’re taking him, Vere. I’ve got to change for practice.”
“He’s right. We don’t have a lot of time. What’s your plan?” Mrs. Roth added.
Vere had slapped on the comical down-to-business persona again. “I want to take him to Dad’s office first. I think he can jump start the disguise.”
“I’d already thought of that too.” Mrs. Roth nodded. “Go there first. Dad’s working through some ideas already.”
Hunter let the noise and the impossible conversation in the room fade out as he grabbed his backpack and pulled out his phone. The battery marker read full.
He’d set it to vibrate, but so far, nothing had been texted.
No emails either. He figured there wouldn’t be any phone calls from the guys. Not yet, anyhow. They probably were just getting settled at some rented house or taking over a hotel floor in New York. That always took time...
Vere walked forward, her expression guarded.
“Oh, do I have some good ideas now. Promise you’ll let me choose the overall theme of your make-over? No arguments.”
He pocketed his phone and tried to concentrate on anything but how her eyes seemed to sparkle brighter than any eyes he’d ever seen on a girl. “You have a theme?” he managed, wondering if he was really going to let this disaster virgin pic
k his outfits and drive him around?
“Yes. But you’ll have to trust me.” She crossed her arms, waiting.
He didn’t, but he gave her the answer he thought she’d want. Mostly because he hoped it would bring on her smile. “Okay. I trust you.”
It worked. Vere’s smile matched her eyes.
Open, happy and nothing else.
Meaning it was cool how she didn’t seem to want, or expect, anything out of him at all.
I’ll let Vere Roth drive me straight into hell if she keeps smiling at me like this.
He smiled back. He couldn’t help himself.
It was like her happiness—her irrepressibility—was rubbing off on him. Not like he was going to start skipping around or anything like she seemed to do, but he realized he felt calm around her. At the very least, safe.
That feeling felt different enough to make him hope this whole experience might not crush him. It also made him wonder if he should try to trust her. If the possibility of being friends—and nothing else—with someone his own age could be a reality.
He’d give it, give her a chance. Maybe.
Plus, he didn’t want to think of how to disguise himself alone. There was no reason to fight any of this. He’d just roll with everything. See what came next. Like Barry said.
One hour at a time.
“Why do we have to go see your dad? Does he own a clothing store?” he asked finally, trying to grasp one shred of the conversation flying over his spinning head.
“Well, like I said...” She stepped forward.
He had to lock his knees so he wouldn’t pull away. Any possibility of him concentrating shredded to bits when he caught some of Vere’s scent.
Flowers or lavender...or sage? Or hell, I have no damn clue.
Smells like friendly-happiness...whatever it is...whatever she is...
Everyone seemed to be talking at once. Hunter breathed in the air around Vere, zoning out on her completely with his relaxed ‘meet-and-greet’ smile secured on his face.
