CHAPTER EIGHT
When I report for work the next afternoon, it’s all over the carnival that Adair and Hunter are taking a break.
“It was totally his idea,” Maia tells me.
She’s the reason the news has spread. Maia’s working at the arcade tonight, but the two venues are close enough that she can dash back and forth when she’s on break. The gossip is so juicy that she seems to have forgotten she was angry with me.
“He’s tired of her shit,” Maia is whispering, but the carnival hasn’t gotten cranked up yet so I can hear her fine.
I’m using sanitizing wipes on the Kiddie Land motorcycle ride, my first assignment of the day. I pause and give Maia my full attention. I had the pretty strong impression she only talked to Hunter on an as-needed basis. “Hunter told you this?”
“Adair did.”
“Adair used those words? That Hunter was tired of her shit?”
“She should have. She texted him that she was at her dad’s cabin. When he didn’t come out to be with her, she let him have it. I guess usually he takes it. This time he didn’t.”
“I’m surprised she told you that.”
Maia adjusts the yellow chrysanthemum in her hair. “Why’s that?”
“She’s usually pretty secretive.”
Maia shrugs. “I guess she needed somebody to talk to.”
So she picked the biggest gossip in Midway Beach?
“Did Adair seem... different to you?” I ask.
“Hell, yeah. I’ve never seen her so mad in my life.”
Not counting this morning in my kitchen, I’d never heard her raise her voice.
“But then, she’s never been dumped before,” Maia adds.
“I thought you said Hunter and Adair were taking a break.”
“Taking a break is what guys say when they don’t want their girlfriend to go ballistic because they’re dumping her.” Maia wrinkles her nose. “Why are you so interested in Adair anyway? Are you still hung up on Hunter?”
Like I’m going to admit that to the Mouth of Midway Beach.
“Of course not.” Time to switch subjects. “How long is your break, anyway? Don’t you need to be getting back?”
She pulls out her cell phone and checks the time. “Shit! I’m outta here.”
She takes off running in the direction of the arcade, weaving her way through the sparse crowd. At this time of the late afternoon, people are still enjoying the sun and the sand and the ocean. Business won’t pick up until after dinner time.
I wipe down another miniature motorcycle, spending extra time on the rubber horn. When I straighten, I glimpse a flash of turquoise through the Fun Slide and the Dragon Wagon.
The same shade as my mother’s suit.
“Son of a bitch.” I jog toward the entrance to Kiddie Land and spot the woman in turquoise walking briskly away from the carnival. This time I’m not imagining things. Even from behind, I can tell it’s my mother.
If she truly believes I might be schizophrenic, why is she keeping tabs on me? Could it be that I was right in the first place? That she thinks her enemies might now be mine? Of course, Mom never had any enemies. I’m the only one who does.
The blood rushes from my head when I realize how irrational that sounds. I walk over to the motorcycle ride on wobbly legs, sink into the stool beside it and lower my head beneath my heart. Mom isn’t the only one who thinks something is wrong with me. After I lost the forty-eight hours, Aunt Carol made an appointment for me to see a psychiatrist but I refused to go.
There’s nothing wrong with me, I insisted. The same thing I said to my mother when she advanced the theory that I could be taking after her.
“Hey, Jade,” Becky calls. “Are you okay?”
I make my lips curve upward and lift my head, intending to tell her I’m fine. The words never make it past my lips. Walking alongside Becky is a guy with black hair and pale skin who’s wearing the orange T-shirt of a carnival worker.
Not just any guy. The guy from the coastal forest.
“You don’t look so great,” Becky says. “Want me to get you some water or something?”
It’s too much of a coincidence that the dark-haired stranger who was skulking around the coastal forest one day turns up at the Midway Beach carnival the next. From the half-grin on his face, he knows that.
“No, I’m good.” I struggle to appear normal. “Just resting up before the rush.”
“Okay.” Becky isn’t convinced, but she won’t call me out in front of a stranger. “Jade, this is Max Harper. He’s gonna be on rides. I’m showing him the ropes. Max, this is Jade.”
In the daylight, he looks even better than he did last night in the gloom. His body is lean but surprisingly muscular. His black hair is thick, his cheekbones sharp and his eyes a clear blue. His nose isn’t quite as perfect as Hunter Prescott’s but his mouth would be better if not for his smirk.
Max Harper’s blue, blue eyes meet mine and dance. “Nice to meet you, Jade.”
So that’s how we’re going to play this. “I’m surprised I haven’t seen you before. Are you from around here?”
“Nope. Came here for the job.”
A job that pays minimum wage. Like that makes sense. “Where are you staying?”
“I got me a place.”
Not many people our age have enough money to rent something while making so little. “With a roommate or by yourself?”
“By myself.”
“Where is it?’
Becky laughs uncomfortably. “What is this, Jade? Twenty questions. Give the guy a break.”
Max winks at me, the same way he’d winked when I drove away from the cabin in the forest before he’d blown me that kiss. “If you’d like, you can come over sometime and see it yourself.”
I meet his gaze. “I would like.”
“Great.” His smile, not a half-grin this time, lights up his face. “I’ll get back to you on that.”
“You be sure to do that.”
Behind Max’s back, Becky lifts her hands and raises her eyebrows in the time-old gesture to indicate she doesn’t know what’s going on.
Neither do I, but I intend to find out.
Dead Ringers 1: Illusion Page 8
