One Tiny Secret

by Adam Kunz

  I see Parker waiting beside his motorcycle for me as I pull into the parking spot next to his. He opens my door like the gentleman he can be, and escorts me to the entrance. When he pulls open the door, I’m enveloped by the stench of alcohol and cheap cologne. The clank of pool balls in the back area draws my attention to the billiards room. Typical sounds from a typical bar. I do have to give them credit for their cute paper Halloween decorations placed haphazardly around the space, though.

  “Come here often?” I ask, looking around.

  “Not really,” he replies. That lie is called out the moment Larry announces our arrival.

  “Parker! One of my best customers,” he chuckles heartily, causing his belly to bounce underneath his whitish wife beater. Even from a distance, I can tell he doesn’t have all his teeth. “Oh, and we’re being graced by the presence of Sheriff Marks’ daughter.” He wriggles his eyebrows at me, which only succeeds in making me more wigged out. “You know I can’t serve minors, Parker, especially the sheriff’s daughter.”

  “Nope. I’m the only drinker tonight,” Parker says, motioning to one of the booths in the back corner of the bar. “Two pumpkin ales, Larry.”

  I slide into the booth and feel every inch of the cheap pleather coating the seats, making me cringe. Parker follows in right behind, trying to sit next to me. I scootch over more to put some space between us. There’s an awkward silence as we wait for the beers to be delivered.

  Moments later, Larry comes by the table and slams two bottles of Holden Ridge Brewery’s Pumpkin Ale on the table.

  “It’s a shame about that Benson boy,” Larry comments, cracking the top off both bottles with an opener. “I guess the sayings true, ‘Only the good die young.’”

  Seeming to sense my uneasiness, Parker replies, “I guess so. Thanks, Larry.”

  “Want me to start you a tab?”

  Parker shrugs. “Sure, why not? We might be here a while.” As Larry walks away, Parker slides one of the bottles with the back of his hand so it sits in front of me. “Drink up.”

  “I really shouldn’t. This place may be a dump, but I don’t want to get Larry in trouble. Besides, Unknown’s probably recording us as we speak, and I don’t want to give him or her any more ammo to be used against me,” I reply, pushing the beer back toward him.

  “Do you really think he brought two beers over here for little old me? And fuck that Unknown bastard. Drink up,” he says, grabbing the bottle and setting it down right in front of me again.

  I look over at Larry, who’s busy chatting it up with a couple of customers at the bar, and then snatch up the beer. “You’re right. Fuck Unknown. Here goes nothing.”

  I pause for a second when it suddenly occurs to me that we’re missing Gunnar’s candlelight ceremony at the school. Raising the bottle, I say, “To Gunnar and Mr. Whitman,” clanging my bottle against Parker’s. Then I proceed to slam mine back. It feels soothing as the cool liquid rushes down my throat and swirls around my mouth. The pumpkin flavor pops, bringing a genuine smile to my face.

  “To Gunnar and Mr. Whitman,” Parker echoes as I continue to down the beer.

  Taking the bottle away from my lips, I release a hard breath as I slam it on the table. “Damn, that’s good,” I say, letting out a small laugh.

  I look over at Parker and he has a pensive look on his face. He’s staring at me, but he doesn’t say anything. My subtle enjoyment of the beer fades away when I realize a serious conversation is about to take place.

  “You want to talk, huh?” I ask him when I notice he starts swirling around his bottle on the table while still gazing at me.

  “Only if you’re up to it, but yes, I think we should.” He brings the bottle up to his lips and takes a sip after he finishes talking.

  I take a deep breath followed by another long drink of beer before I begin. “Yesterday, that sick bastard made me choose between saving Rory or Mr. Whitman. I found Rory unconscious in the school pool, and I thought Mr. Whitman was fine since nothing happened to him. Well, not until today,” I explain in a reflective tone. My eyes tear up at the thought of not seeing Mr. Whitman at school on Monday, or ever again. “That’s how I know it was Unknown. The psycho said I had to choose and I chose Rory. That’s why Mr. Whitman’s dead—because I chose.”

  As I take another swig of beer, I see Parker’s face out of the corner of my eye and it looks like he’s mulling over everything I just dumped on him.

  “I believe you,” he says after taking a sizeable gulp of his beer.

  I find myself oddly happy to hear him say those words. Maybe it’s just the alcohol, but I feel my walls coming down brick by brick as I sit here with Parker. Though, he does tend to have this effect on me even when I’m not under the influence.

  “Thank you. It’s nice to hear that every so often,” I reply, and look into the bottle to see the last little drops swishing around at the bottom. I tilt the bottle back and finish off the beer with a satisfied sigh. Before I have a chance to say anything, Larry places more bottles down on the table in front of Parker.

  “Here’s two more, Parker. Drink responsibly,” he says, popping the tops off of them too. Then he winks at me, which I find both nice and creepy at the same time.

  Sliding over the second bottle, Parker says, “I think you need this more than I do,” flashing that seductive grin of his.

  “I don’t need to get wasted, Parker. I have to drive home soon. And how will I explain beer breath to my dad?”

  “You’re not supposed to be home for another three hours, and we’ve got more to talk about. So hush, drink up, and we’ll worry about your dad later,” he states, clinking our bottlenecks together.

  “Peer pressure can be a bitch sometimes.”

  “Yes it can.”

  I start feeling the effects of the beer after a few more swigs. I think I drank the first one way too fast, especially since I haven’t had anything to eat since my meager lunch.

  “So, who do you think Unknown is?” Parker asks out of the blue.

  “I have no idea. There really aren’t any clues, and it’s not like I can analyze the evidence, since there is none. I want to tell everyone about this, but it seems like when I do, no one believes me.”

  “I said I believe you,” he reminds me, placing his hand on mine. His touch feels warm and comforting, causing me to beam. Looking over at him, I’m swept away by his beautiful eyes and soft grin, but only for a moment.

  “I can’t, Parker. Not with everything else that’s going on,” I say, sliding my hand from under his and grabbing for the beer bottle.

  “I’m not asking you to,” he replies. “I just want you to know that you’re not alone in this.” He takes my hand in his again and moves a little closer to me.

  “Why do you do this?” I ask abruptly.

  “Why do I do what?”

  “Make yourself so irresistible, even though the other person should resist you at all costs.”

  “Dani, look at me,” he says, moving his hand to my chin, and turning my head to face him. “I care about you, and what happens to you. I’m not here to fool you or lie to you. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you about my ex-girlfriend. I know I can be a complete dick at times, but this is just me being here for you—nothing more, nothing less, okay?”

  I nod my head as a tear falls down my cheek. For a second, I almost forget we’re in some seedy bar named "Larry’s." All I can see is Parker’s serious face right before mine, and I sense that he’s not lying to me. I know he has in the past, but this feels genuine. His eyes tell me all I need to know.

  He lets out a soft chuckle, breaking the silence between us. His face becomes serious again when he says, “And speaking of irresistible, you might want to turn that statement around on yourself. It’s taking everything in my power not to kiss you right now, but I know that’s not what you need, so I won’t.”

  Parker’s always had a way with words.

  The heat between us is intense as his face hovers close to mine.
Damn, I love that cologne he wears, and thankfully it’s not mixing with the awful smells that permeate through this place. I’d hate for his scent to be ruined for me. All I smell is Parker.

  When I return my gaze to my half-empty beer bottle, I feel him move to rest against the back of the booth.

  “Parker?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Aren’t you scared?” I ask, turning to face him again.

  “Shitless. Hence, the alcohol. But it’s a little too late for me to turn and run now, right?” he replies before leaning forward to get closer to me again. “We’re in this together, Dani. You have my word on that.”

  “That’s actually what I’m afraid of. If you go, there’s no one standing between this asshole and me. But if you stay, you could be the next body they find,” I explain, getting misty-eyed.

  He leans in even closer than he was before, “How many times do I have to tell you?” he begins in a whisper. “I’m not going anywhere. And there’s no one who will change that.” He smiles. “That’s one thing we definitely have in common, Dani—we’re both incredibly, and most absolutely, stubborn.”

  I raise my lips to be mere inches from his and whisper back, “To the point of being ridiculously stupid.”

  All regrets and worries melt away the moment our lips caress in a sweet embrace. This kiss feels different than any of the others we’ve shared before. It feels like we’re both trying to release all of the emotions we have built up, and not all of them are of the warm fuzzy kind.

  He grabs the back of my head tightly and pulls me forward to deepen the kiss. I don’t fight it. His lips are so soft it’s driving me insane. I can feel every emotion he’s putting behind this, and I attempt to match it by completely letting go and allowing this moment to enrapture my being. His mouth takes great care with mine, making sure the sensation is tender and not sloppy or rushed.

  As we pull away from each other, I half expect to have everyone in the bar staring at us. It was a pretty passionate kiss after all, and probably quite a unique sight in a place like this. Instead, all I’m met with are Parker’s dazzling dimples resting on each corner of his grin. No words are spoken. We just sit and gaze into each other’s eyes. I’m pretty sure if I was a spectator, I’d be yelling, “Get a room already” by now.

  “Was that too much?” he asks, combing my hair to lay behind my ear.

  “Not at all.”

  “Good.”

  Reality begins to set in again and I float down from cloud nine. “Parker, what are we doing? If Phoebe ever finds out that we even kissed once and didn’t tell her, she’s going to be pissed beyond reason. Not to mention, two people we knew just died, and there’s a crazy person after me,” I ramble on, counting off every issue.

  Parker grabs me by the shoulders. “Don’t you think I know all of this already? Believe me, I’m well aware of what’s going on and what we’re doing. But dammit, I don’t care. Shit happens, that’s life. It’s a horrible and unfortunate truth. I can’t let all of this get in the way of how I feel. I’m not going to let you push me away that easily, Dani.”

  “I’m not pushing away from you, Parker. I just think we need to pump the brakes a little and realize my actions have consequences—our actions have consequences. Things are a little too crazy at the moment,” I reply, gently pushing his arms.

  “Maybe you’re right, but that doesn’t change how I feel about you,” he insists, resting his hands on my shoulders once more.

  “Okay, so what do we do now?”

  “Maybe we should call it a night. Like you said, a lot has been going on. We might just need some time to think all this through.”

  “The only problem is, we might not have the time,” I point out, taking the last swig of my beer.

  “That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he replies, kissing me on the forehead. “Do you feel okay enough to drive home?”

  “Yeah, I should be fine.”

  “Want me to follow you? Just in case?” he asks with concern in his voice.

  “No, that’s okay. You’ve got a long drive to campus. It’ll be double if you follow me all the way home.”

  Parker pulls out a pack of cinnamon gum and slides out a piece. “Here, this should help cover up the beer.”

  “Thanks.” I take it from his hand and then proceed to scootch out the other side of the booth.

  I wait for him at the front of the bar while he takes care of the bill. Peering out the window at the single lamppost casting a circle of light onto the pavement, I see a lone cat sitting right in the center of the light. It’s none the wiser of its surroundings, and seems solely focused on cleaning itself. Even as a few people pass just outside the circle of light, they don’t faze the cat. I realize that this feline and I have a lot in common. We’re both at the center of something, but at the same time, we’re trying with all our might to be blissfully unaware of what’s going on right around us.

  “Ready to go?” Parker asks, coming up behind me. I nod and he places his hand at the small of my back as he opens the door.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  “So, how was work?” My dad asks when I come through the front door. I know this is just the beginning of a full line of questioning that’s sure to follow.

  “How do you think it was?”

  “Sorry, I didn’t really know how to come right out and ask about—”

  “Mr. Whitman?” I interrupt.

  He sighs. “Yeah.”

  “What’s there really to say?”

  “For starters, how about what you’re feeling?” he responds, seeming frustrated. “I know you were close to him. I just want to make sure you’re okay, is that all right?”

  “I feel angry, scared, pissed off at the world. How do you think I feel? My world seems to be crashing down around me, and my own father won’t believe me when I say there’s someone after me. Let me ask you a question, Dad. How would you feel if you were in my position?”

  The look on his face changes from one of worry and concern to irritation. Typical parent move once your child calls you out.

  “I want to believe you, Dani. Trust me, I do. But it seems like you’re making something out of nothing. I know you’ve seen things that would put anyone under a lot of stress. Your story just doesn’t make any sense, and you have nothing to back up these claims. There’s a protocol I have to follow here,” he explains, but every word keeps throwing more oil on an already roaring bonfire.

  “Seriously, spare me your technical jargon. You’re talking to your own daughter, not some perp or victim out on the street.” I pause for a second to gain my composure. “I don’t want to become a statistic like Gunnar and Mr. Whitman. I need you to believe me before I end up being just another one of your cases,” I say, tears forming in my eyes.

  “You won’t become one of my cases. Why do you think you will?”

  He’s clearly not getting what I’m trying to say. Story of my life, it seems lately. No wonder Mom left him. That thought resonates deep within me and I feel terrible for even thinking it, even if it might be true.

  “Never mind, Dad. I’m just speaking out of my ass, right? It’s just a phase I’m going through. It’ll pass.”

  I stomp up the stairs. My dad says nothing. No rebuttal, no reply, no arguing…nothing. There’s only silence as I reach the top of the stairs and make a beeline to my room. Slamming the door behind me, I fall onto the bed and let the tears flow. I’ve been harboring a lot of emotions and I feel like every single one of them is pouring out. The pillow I’m cuddling with is becoming soaked with tears, but I don’t care. I’ll keep crying until I’m tapped out.

  A light rap at my door pulls my attention to it.

  “I’m sorry, Dani.” My dad’s muffled voice comes from the other side. “I’m terrible at handling stuff like this. This was always your mom’s department, but I’m trying my best here. I’m just so used to dealing with criminals and the facts. I guess I forget to turn off my sheriff brain. I don’t think you’re go
ing through a phase, I just think you’re overstressed.”

  I was with him up until he used the word “overstressed.” Wanting to just put an end to the convo, I reply, “It’s okay, Dad. You’re right, I just need to relax and take my mind off what’s been going on. I’ll be better in a day or so.”

  He releases a heavy sigh. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help, all right? I’ll be downstairs if you want to talk some more,” he says, and I can hear the desperation in his voice.

  “I think I’m going to call it a night, if that’s okay,” I reply, trying to keep my tears at bay until he leaves.

  I hear his hand graze the door before he says good night. I murmur “good night” when I hear him making his way down the stairs.

  My phone chimes in my pocket and I pull it out to see a message from Parker:

  Made it home safe. Hope u did 2. Tonight felt good, despite the circumstances. Try 2 get some sleep, k?

  Seeing his text reminds me I still haven’t gotten a message from Unknown taking credit for what happened to Mr. Whitman. Maybe my father is right. Maybe it was an accident.

  I spend most of my entire Saturday in bed. I figure that if I never leave the house, or my bedroom for that matter, then nothing bad will happen. Well, that’s my thought, anyway.

  Usually about this time, I’d be watching a horror movie marathon on TV since it’s so close to Halloween. Instead, I’m lying here with a kitchen knife under the mattress and silly Saturday morning cartoons blaring from the television.

  I slept like shit last night, but that was pretty much expected. This whole “sleeping with one eye open” thing is getting exhausting. I can’t seem to shake the fact that not only has Unknown been in my room, but he or she has possibly killed two people in my life. I actually find myself getting nauseous thinking about who the next target will be.