Ignacio’s dad took the keys out of his pocket and tossed them over. “Be careful,” he said.
“You know I’m a good driver.”
Raul Torrez smiled at his son. “Who said anything about driving?”
Lily Rose’s house was the place to be on Thanksgiving. She took great care to make every holiday special by decorating and cooking and inviting as many people over as their little house and tiny budget could accommodate. So when Dalton told her grandmother that Emory and his family had no place to go, she invited them over immediately. Knowing Lily Rose couldn’t afford to feed four extra people, Raphael quickly devised a plan. On Thursday afternoon the Flatliners convened at Lily Rose’s, each of them bearing food. The result was the most awesome potluck Raphael had ever seen.
The kitchen counter was spilling over with casserole dishes, pie pans, platters of turkey and ham, and bowls of vegetables and gravy and fruit. Basically, everything Raphael knew a Thanksgiving feast should have was there, and the house was stuffed with people, too. Emory’s mom stood in one corner, wiping tears away, overwhelmed by the kindness of her neighbors. Emory’s dad was next to her, his arms folded and a grateful smile across his face. Haylee, shy with so many people around, was quiet for once. Since her near-fatal experience with Zhai, her attitude toward Emory had changed, and she followed him around like a shadow.
Nass had arrived last, with a bag full of Mexican delicacies. He was standing right next to Dalton, but Raphael noticed they were pointedly ignoring each other. It seemed there was nothing Nass could do to patch up the rift between them, though Raph knew he had tried. She still wouldn’t return Nass’s calls and she avoided him at school.
Kate was there, too, wearing jeans and a colorful sweater, probably borrowed from Dalton, Raph thought. She had on a little makeup and she looked really pretty. She was also staring at the counter, her green eyes wide with wonder, as if she’d never seen so much food in one place in all her life.
When Kate saw Raphael, she hurried over. “So kind of you to arrange this for your friend,” she said with a smile.
Raphael shrugged. “We help each other out. That’s how we do it in the Flats,” he said. “We make do with little and share what we have.”
“Well, no one could be having a finer holiday meal, not even in Hilltop Haven,” she said. “And ’tis a lovely tradition—giving thanks.”
“Yeah,” he said and wondered why it seemed like such a revolutionary idea to her. “I guess it is.” But her enthusiasm was contagious and he started to cheer up, even though he was missing Aimee like crazy.
“How’s your friend, Zhai?” she asked. “Did you call a truce to your feud yet?”
Raphael shook his head. “No chance of that.”
“But I guess you see him at school,” she replied, a shadow of concern crossing her face.
And suddenly he got it. She was fishing—she was interested in Zhai.
“No, sorry—I haven’t seen him at school all week,” he said. Not since he tried to kill Haylee, jumped off a rooftop, and disappeared up the street. “How do you know Zhai?”
“Oh—it was the day after Halloween,” she told him. “The ghosties and goblins were still runnin’ amuck and he came by the Celtic Spirit. He needed something for some kind of scavenger hunt.” She paused, Raphael thought, to see how he would take the news she was consorting with his enemy. “He seems a good lad,” she added. “’Tis a great shame you can’t be friends.”
“Like I said, no chance.” He looked at the time on his phone. It was getting late and he’d promised his mom he’d be back as soon as he’d delivered the food for Emory’s family. Even though Raphael’s dad was gone, his mom went all out for Thanksgiving. It was a good thing her unemployment checks had kicked in, in time to pay for the food she’d been cooking all morning. Maybe Jack Banfield was helping her—if he was the big man he thought he was, Raphael thought, he would be.
Everyone was chatting happily, but as soon as there was a lull in the conversation, Raph said to his crew, “Okay—we should get a move on and let these guys eat.”
They said their goodbyes and started filing out of the crammed kitchen amid a chorus of thank yous from Lily Rose, Dalton, and Emory’s family. Raphael was among the last to leave and as he passed Ignacio, he saw his friend lean close to Dalton.
“Hey, Dalton,” Nass whispered. “Can I talk to you? Just for a minute.”
Dalton didn’t smile, but she nodded and led Nass down the hall toward the back of the house.
“Wow!” Nass said as he stepped out the back door and into Lily Rose’s garden. A multitude of beautifully colored flowers stuck up in rows from the thin layer of frost on the grass.
Even that tiny three-letter word made Dalton’s heart ache. Ignacio got so excited about everything, just like a little kid. It was one of the things she loved about him, and one more painful reminder of how miserable she was without him.
“You’ve never seen my grandma’s backyard before, huh?” she said, trying to keep the emotion from creeping into her voice.
“They have to be fake, right?” Nass asked, bending down to examine one of the flowers.
Dalton shook her head. “I know—it’s weird. But they’re real.”
“It’s more than weird,” Ignacio said. “Does she come out here and put heat lamps on them, or what?”
“No—she says all they need is her special fertilizer. Love.”
His laugh sounded, to Dalton, a little nervous. There were a few other amazing things she could tell him about her grandma—things she would like to share with him—but now it felt hard to trust him.
He sat down on an old swing (just two old ropes with a weathered board between them, tied to a big tree branch), and leaned against the ropes halfheartedly.
“So,” Dalton asked. “What did you want to talk about?”
“Anything. I just miss talking to you.”
“Ah . . . desperate to hear my voice, eh?” she said cynically. She was determined to be cold and aloof with him, but all she wanted to do was run into his arms.
“Yeah,” Nass said, serious. “I do want to hear your voice—all the time. I miss you.”
“And does Clarisse know you’re over here, missing me?”
Nass winced, and Dalton almost felt bad for ruining the moment. But, she noticed, Nass didn’t answer the question. “She doesn’t know you’re here, does she?”
Still, he didn’t answer.
“Nass, what are you doing?” She was no longer able to push her anger down. “Maybe things work a little differently in L.A.. Maybe out there, you can be living with one girl and have something going on with another one but guess what—you’re not in L.A. anymore. This isn’t the hood. You’re not in a rap video. And if you think I’m going to just let you string me along while you make up your mind—then you don’t know me at all.”
“I guess I deserve that,” he said quietly, staring down at his shoes. “Look, the last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt you. But Clarisse—she’s almost like family. I mean, we were best friends for years. And yeah, we did go out for a few weeks before I left L.A. but—it’s not like I’m in love with her or anything. When I’m with her I don’t feel . . .” he hesitated, swallowed hard and continued. “When I’m with her I don’t feel like I do when I’m with you. And when you won’t talk to me—when you see me at school and you walk the other way—man, that’s cold.”
“What did you expect, Nass? If you’d told me about her from the beginning—”
“I know,” he broke in. “I should have. But what you need to know is that my mom and her mom have been close for years—closer than sisters—and Clarisse is going to be around for a while. She’s got some personal stuff going on that I can’t talk about. The bottom line is that I have to help her out right now—but I don’t want t
o lose you. If you think that makes me a player or something and won’t hang out with me, I understand. But it won’t change how I feel about you.”
Nass finally looked up at her, and his pain was unmistakable. He was telling her the truth—even if he wouldn’t tell her the whole truth.
“So she got into some trouble in L.A.? That’s why she’s here?”
“I really can’t talk about it, Dalton,” he said gently. “I’m sorry. It’s a bad situation, but there’s nothing I can do to change it for now.”
She could see he was as miserable as she was. He was hurting and she wanted more than anything to put her arms around him and comfort him. Whatever trouble Clarisse was in, Nass was going to stand by her—another reason Dalton loved him.
“Okay,” she said. “I just want to know one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Are you sure she’s not playing you?”
“I’m sure,” he said. “I wish it were that simple.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment. “Then it sounds like the last thing you need is another complication in your life. So we have to stay away from each other until you figure this out or she doesn’t need you anymore.”
“I don’t think I can stand it.”
“Neither can I,” she agreed, and she realized that the moment they were sharing in the frosty garden might be their last.
“Close your eyes,” she said.
“Why?”
“Close them.”
He obeyed and she pressed her lips softly against his. He opened his eyes, just for a moment, and then he gathered her in his arms, closed them again and kissed her more deeply. When at last she pulled away he asked, “Does this mean we’re okay?”
“It means goodbye—for now.”
Clarisse stepped back from Lily Rose’s fence, her eyes trained on the cold, blank whiteness of the snow at her feet, but all she could see was the image of Ignacio kissing Dalton.
The helpless rage swirling inside her head seemed to coalesce into something darker, colder, and it sank into her chest like a stone. Her first impulse was to fight for her man, to climb the fence and kick Dalton’s ass and take him back. Her second idea intrigued her more. There was a better way to get her revenge . . .
If she played everything right, she might be able to solve her money problems too. She could get back at ’Nacio as well and have some fun. A wicked excitement coursed through her veins as she hurried away, the details of her plan already forming.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Raphael watched, amused, as his mom pushed a strand of hair out of her face with one hand to make way for the forkful of turkey she shoveled into her mouth with the other. He didn’t see much of her these days; he was always at school, training with Master Chin, working at Rack ’Em, hanging out with Aimee or doing something with the Flatliners.
His mom was still looking for a job. Word had spread quickly in the Flats that Oberon’s son and heir was about to create jobs in Middleburg, and Savana Kain, like almost everyone else in the neighborhood, was eager to line up for an application. Raph didn’t know if she was still spending time with Jack Banfield. He hoped not. She hadn’t mentioned him lately and that was a good sign. Whatever was going on with her, she seemed happier than she’d been in a long time.
Every day, she looked more radiant than she had the day before. Even though the whole situation made Raphael uncomfortable, it seemed like being pregnant agreed with her. She was more like her old self than she’d been since his dad had passed away. Today, she’d made the whole turkey dinner from scratch—well, almost. Raphael had helped out with some instant stuffing and Pillsbury crescent rolls.
“So, how are things going with Aimee?” she asked.
Raphael tried to suppress a smile. “Fine. She’s learning kung fu now.”
“Ah, just what you need. A girl who can kick your butt,” Savana joked.
“Yeah,” Raphael said. “But you can’t tell her dad. He still doesn’t want us together.”
He hadn’t meant to bring up Jack; they had sort of an unspoken agreement about that. His mom frowned.
“Did he say why—or did Aimee?”
“He doesn’t think I’m good enough for her,” Raphael said with a shrug, and scooped a big bite of mixed-up mashed potatoes, stuffing, turkey, and gravy into his mouth. His mother’s frown deepened.
“No,” she said. “It’s not like that. It’s just that the situation is so complicated. You know—me and him, you and Aimee.”
Raphael looked into his mother’s eyes and saw she was completely serious. She really didn’t think Jack Banfield would look down on him just because he was a poor kid from the Flats. He wondered how Jack had made her think he was such a nice guy instead of the two-faced shark he really was. Raph was simultaneously angry at his mom for being so gullible and furious at Jack for using her—because he was sure Jack had no serious, permanent interest in the widow of a blue-collar worker from the Flats who had been reduced to working at a strip joint after her husband’s death. But he didn’t want to ruin the wonderful dinner she’d prepared so he swallowed his anger along with the turkey and said nothing.
“Ohhh!” Savana winced suddenly, and both hands went to her abdomen.
“What is it?” Raphael asked, alarmed.
“Ow . . .” she groaned, clearly in pain.
“What? What’s going on?” He put his fork down and pushed back from the table. Often, since he’d found out he was going to have a little brother or sister, he’d imagined himself rushing her to the clinic in Benton to have the baby, like some comic, addled dad in a movie—but she wasn’t due for months. He was afraid something was wrong.
Savana exhaled and opened her eyes. There was a sheen of sweat on her forehead, but otherwise she looked okay.
“That was strange,” she said, and then she winced again. She lifted her shirt and looked at her bulbous belly and he wondered if it should it be so big, this early in the pregnancy.
Raphael could see something moving, twitching slightly beneath her skin. That seemed weird, too. He stood up from his chair, unsure what to do.
Savana tilted her head back and closed her eyes, still in pain. And then he saw a white glow coming from within his mother’s belly, like somebody shining a flashlight on the wall of a tent from the inside. He stood frozen, staring at the moving, glowing light. It blinked twice, shifted positions, and then went out. His mom relaxed, rubbed her abdomen, and pulled her shirt back down, took a few deep breaths, and wiped the perspiration from her forehead with her napkin.
“Are you okay?” Raphael asked, his heart racing.
“Yeah—fine.” But her smile was weak and she was pushing her plate back. “Just indigestion, I guess. It’s over.” And she laughed, that wonderful sound Raphael always associated with his happy, carefree childhood. “What’s wrong with you? You look like you saw a ghost.”
Raphael shook his head and then slowly sat back down. “I’m just worried about you,” he mumbled. “Is . . . is that supposed to happen? I mean, pain like that?”
“Aw, Raphy, you’re so sweet. Don’t worry though, really. You’ll find out some day when you’re having kids of your own that a pregnant woman is a strange and mysterious thing.”
“No kidding,” he said. And they both laughed loudly—maybe a little too loudly. Beneath the laughter, though, Raphael was worried. On top of everything else going on, he had to worry about his mom. He didn’t know much about pregnancy, but he knew there was something bizarre about the baby she was carrying—something unnatural. Babies moved, at some point, inside the mother—but they didn’t glow.
On Saturday at the appointed time, Aimee’s dad pulled up in front of Orias’s house. She was wearing a dress under her overcoat, along with a pair of high-heeled boots her mother had left be
hind. She felt totally awkward and entirely too grown up in her outfit.
Most of all, she dreaded seeing Orias again . . . but she was looking forward to it also, with a funny feeling that was almost like longing. That not only puzzled her; it made her feel disloyal to Raphael. As her dad put the car in park, she appealed to him one more time.
“Do I really have to do this?”
“I honestly don’t understand what the big deal is,” he griped. “Orias is a family friend and a business associate and he’s having a get-together. It’s called networking, Aimee. You go in, sip tea, make small talk, and when you’re done, call me and I’ll pick you up. What’s so hard about that?”
“I just feel weird. I hardly know him.”
“I’m sure there will be other people there you do know.”
“Like who?”
She could tell he was starting to lose patience with her. “Look, I’ve got my fingers in just about every pie in town,” he told her. “Except the businesses Oberon controlled. Now, Orias owns them and he seems willing to play ball with me. If we act quickly, I can own a piece of every bit of commerce that happens in Smith County.”
Aimee sighed. “I don’t get it. Why is it necessary for you to own every business and every piece of land in sight?”
“You’re right,” Jack said. “You don’t get it. Neither did your mother. If you were a man, you’d see things differently. But you don’t have to understand, Aimee. You just have to do what I tell you. Now go in there and try not to say or do anything that will reflect badly on me. You think you can handle that?”
“Sure,” Aimee said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I’ll call when I’m ready to leave.”
She got out and shut the door carefully. She wanted to slam it, but she knew how particular her dad was about his stupid cars and that would just be one more thing for him to be pissed off about. The engine growled behind her and the car tore off down the street, leaving her to stand alone on the sidewalk. As she headed up the walkway toward the old house, a gust of wind whipped her skirt around her. Pausing to straighten it, she glanced up at the dilapidated Victorian structure. There was an overwhelming stillness about the place; the windows were as black as chalkboards, and one shutter creaked in the breeze and thumped against the siding.
GHOST CROWN: THE TRACKS TRILOGY - Book Two Page 32
