“So, buy a painting, buy a favor?” I wager.
He nods. “It doesn’t matter that she had been selling her work for over ten years before my dad even ran for office, but, well, Clark says ‘jump,’ and my old man is too eager to listen. Since she’s not allowed to sell her artwork anymore, Mom figured at least she could still work in a gallery, until Clark took issue with that as well.”
“That’s where I remember you from.” Mrs. Rivers’s eyes narrow as she takes in my appearance, but it doesn’t hold the suspicion Blythe’s always does. “I used to see you outside the Garrison Gallery when you were little. Every Tuesday and Thursday, at the dance studio next door with your mom and sister. Are you a ballerina?”
I laugh, and not only at the absurd fact that she’d actually rememberme.
Yeah, with my tiny waist, complete lack of curves, and gangly, thin limbs, it isn’t a stretch to think I could be a ballerina just by looking at me. Sadly, I confess, “No, my sister’s the only dancer in the family. I just used to tag along to Vanessa’s lessons.”
Jase’s mom nods, but she’s no longer looking me in the eyes. Her gaze is a couple inches too high. “Is that your grandfather’s?” she asks, glancing at her son.
I realize she’s referring to the Red Sox cap, and insecurity has me peeling it off. Or, at least, I try to. I only get as far as lifting the brim when Jase’s hand tugs it right back into place.
“Indeed it is,” he says simply.
Mrs. Rivers grins, still eyeing me. “So,you’rethe one who’s managed to drag my son out of his Bat Cave as of late. Usually,we have to do everything short of throwing smoke grenades into the theater room to get him to leave. How did you two meet?”
“Animal attack,” Jase says, not bothering to elaborate as he prepares the next bag of popcorn.
I elbow him in the side when he fails to hide his grin at his mother’s confusion. Explaining the bird incident is easy enough, but the rest? Not so much. I haven’t seen Blythe and Mrs. Rivers engage in anything more than casual small talk, but I don’t want to risk word getting back to my stepmom that I was here. Jase, on the other hand, doesn’t bother dancing around the subject, outright calling Blythe a word that rhymes with “witch” as he recounts the terms of my house arrest.
I balk, expecting Mrs. Rivers to at least condemn her son’s language, but to my shock, she just looks over at me.
When I don’t argue his position, she grins. “Considering what I just witnessed at the grocery store, I can’t say I’m surprised.”
The mention has me breaking out in a cold sweat, becausewhat?
“You just saw my stepmom there?”
Mrs. Rivers nods, understandably not seeing what the big deal is.
I, on the other hand, am losing my shit.
Blythe always saves grocery shopping for her last errand of the day. She wouldn’t be at the market unless she was planning on returning home immediately after, and since she already bought a bulk of the groceries yesterday, it would be a short trip.
I don’t even need to say anything. One look at my expression tells Jase enough. We’re charging out the door before Mrs. Rivers can ask what’s wrong.
Never in myentire life have I run this fast. Jase and I don’t bother with sidewalks, cutting across every last park, street, and yard until we reach the grove behind my house. We weave our way through the trees and bolt out onto the property. I know Jase is far more athletic than me, but even he’s panting as we come to the side of the house.
And just in time.
The mechanical workings of what can only be from the garage shudder to a halt as the door shuts.
Crap, crap, crap!
Did Blythe just get home?
Did she already bring the groceries inside?
Does she know I’m not here?
The questions run through my head on a continuous loop as I scramble for the lattice.
Sure, I could try sneaking in the front or back door, but there’s no way of knowing where my stepmom is. And what if she’s not alone?
Too many variables leave me with the not-so-stellar option of climbing the garden trellis. It’s made of powder-coated steel, so it can thankfully support my weight, but I’m not afforded the luxury of time to navigate the plants growing around the framework safely. Leaves and vines bat me in the face with every step I take, and I’m pretty sure I have a spider in my hair.
The knowledge would typically have me shrieking, but an infinitely more terrifying sound comes from inside.
