Aftermath (36 page)

“Ray, this is Ben. He’s friends with Lucas,” she said to him. Ray didn’t turn or answer her until Neal gestured in my direction. Neal’s relief when Ray stopped talking would have been evident even if I couldn’t read his mind. He immediately took a pull of his beer when Ray turned away.

“Yah-yeah. I’m Ray,” he said, extending his hand to me. Ray was about Neal’s age with a similar build, but a few inches shorter. He wore navy slacks and a starched white shirt with his sleeves rolled up, exposing a thick, gold-link chain on his wrist. He was the opposite of Char’s disheveled look in her oversized dress. By contrast, Ray’s thin, dark hair was neatly trimmed and combed perfectly in place. He carried himself with confidence, while she had none.

Before I shook his hand, I already knew he owned an auto repair shop and sold used cars on the adjacent lot in Riverside for the past seventeen years. He had a firm grip, but unlike other humans I met, I got nothing. No downloaded files other than those in his current memory, like the names and addresses of the three salesmen and two mechanics that worked for him. I got lists of interests and hobbies, even bank account numbers. Ray owned a couple of rental units, including the two-family house on Leonard Street where Char lived. He was with Char for four years, since the day she returned to Wisconsin.

Once our hands parted, all that remained were the memories of what I learned. None of the data I viewed was stored. It was like an old television without pause or rewind. Did Jorgenson ever see this before?

I was still dismayed when Ray asked, “You new here?” His eyes were so dark that I couldn’t differentiate between his iris and pupil.

“Yes, sir,” I answered like a respectful adolescent.

“Where from?”

“Libertyville, Illinois.”

“Your folks here? Maybe I met ’em.”

I shook my head, still evaluating him. “They couldn’t make it.”

He nodded, but remained silent.

“Well, it was nice meeting you,” I said, starting to leave.

“Wait! Ray, could you be a dear and get a photo of Ben and Lucas?” Char asked.

“You don’t need any more pictures, Char,” Ray scolded.

“We always need pictures, Ray. Especially now. You said—”

“I know what I said. Yeah, okay, fine. We’ll take more pictures,” he answered to appease her. “Where’s Lucas?”

Neal shrugged and everyone looked at me.

“I’m not sure,” I answered.

“Oh, dear. Um, okay. Can you find him? Please?” Char pleaded.

“Sure.”

As I walked away, I heard her whisper, “See, I told you he was a good boy.” By the time I reached the water’s edge, there was no lingering scent of a hybrid and no essence. The girls were taking pictures on the pier, with their dates nearby.

I watched from a distance, not wanting to interfere, yet unable to shake Ray’s lack of download. At least Jorgenson saw it on the tetherstream.

When I turned to seek out Ray again, he and Char were nowhere to be seen.

Emma's Story

Aunt Barb outdid herself again.

The Inn was a perfect place for pictures and scheduling the staff photographer was a nice touch she didn’t tell me about ahead of time. Girls I barely knew thanked me for hosting the pre-dance event. “Oh-my-god, you need to do this again for prom!” one girl said.

While another added, “This is so pretty. You are so lucky to live here. I wish my parents had some cool place like this.”

Of course, I couldn’t correct them. I didn’t actually live here. And being lucky was the last thing I was. Most of the girls heard I transferred because my dad died, but at that moment, I felt like that no longer mattered and they no longer treated me differently.

Even Brinn, who hated me the minute I took her starting position on the soccer team, was nice. She asked Lucas and me to join her friends at their table for dinner, but Lucas declined, leading me elsewhere. I was glad, actually.

Then it dawned on me. I was one of the super-rich kids everyone envied back in Highland Park. I was the kid that lived in the mega-mansion, whose parents hosted
the
party of the year. The girl everyone wanted to be or to be with.

These girls were jealous of
me
.

It was a revelation that took me by surprise, yet fit perfectly. I wasn’t the outsider, not anymore. People that never gave me the time of day before suddenly talked to me. They were nice to me. Girls complimented my dress and asked where I got my hair done. Guys that never acknowledged me in the halls at school said hi.

The thought made me feel warm inside. The confidence I lost that day in the principal’s office a few months ago was gone. As I followed Lucas to the far table filled with his football buddies and their dates, I realized I was me again. I was no longer sad, or scared. I was no longer angry with Dad for leaving me. I knew it wasn’t his fault, and I knew he’d be upset with me if I dwelled on it too long.

Confidence rippled through me, as we passed Ben’s table. When he noticed me, I smiled. Not a meek, shy smile, but a real one. One that I hoped would tell him I was interested.

I didn’t care that Stephanie saw me, or that she turned to look at Ben, whose eyes sparkled as he smiled back at me. I didn’t care that Lucas was ahead of me, impatient that I was walking too slow and not attentively at his side. Or whatever his annoyed look meant.

I was me again, and I knew it would be a perfect night.

Ben's Story

Sorry it took so long,
Grant Preston said.

He sat with a few parents in the lobby, while I had dinner in the dining room with the rest of the teenagers. The waitress placed a salad in front of me and asked if I wanted freshly ground pepper.

“No, thanks,” I told her, and then glanced at Claire across the table. She moved lettuce from one side of her plate to the other. Drew didn’t notice. His salad plate was bare, except for the slice of avocado he left behind.

What’d you find out?
I asked Grant and took a bite. Stephanie finally finished cutting the mixed greens into bite-sized pieces. Like Claire, she moved food from one spot to another on the white china. She just wasn’t trying to avoid the peppercorn ranch dressing, like Claire was.

Neal Crandon is type AB negative,
Grant
answered
.

Wait. Lucas is O positive. Isn’t he?
I stabbed a forkful of lettuce and put it in my mouth, not realizing it was covered in dressing. I winced and ate it anyway, washing it down with a drink of water.

Yes.

How’s that possible?

It’s not. That’s what took so long. I went back to the hard copy files at the police station and double-checked the lab reports. Neal has a rare blood type. As a matter of fact, the blood bank has several pints on reserve for him. Just in case.”

I finished my water and waved to the busboy for a refill. The best way to overcome the toxicity of piperine, the component in black pepper, was to dilute it out with plenty of water.

I took another drink.
And this means…?

It means Neal isn’t Lucas’ biological father.

Then who is?

Emma's Story

“Are you heading out now?” Aunt Barb asked.

I found her in the bar near the lobby, sitting with a few other parents I recognized. Lucas already said goodbye to Neal.

“Yes. Thank you so much for doing this, Aunt Barb.” Tears built in my eyes when the words came out. She gave a closed-mouth grin, and I noticed a slight quiver in her lower lip. She blinked rapidly and pulled me into her arms.

“Honey, you look so beautiful.”

As tears overflowed and ran down my cheeks, I saw a brown-haired man in the hall staring at me. His arms were crossed in a familiar way and, for a second, he reminded me of my dad.

“You look just like your mom,” she said. The man turned and even though all I could see was his profile, I was sure he was my dad.

I blinked hard, while Aunt Barb gently patted my back.

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered. The stranger greeted a man in a dark pinstripe suit with an old-fashioned hat and shiny shoes.

My voice cracked, as I thanked my aunt again. I tried to focus through watery eyes and caught a glimpse of red in the dark-skinned man’s hat, like a spot or feather on the side. 

Aunt Barb released me from her hug and held me at an arm’s distance. “Your parents would be proud of you, too. You know that, right?”

“I know,” I croaked. My throat burned, as I tried to form more words. I glanced toward the hall in hopes of getting a better look at the two men, but when my vision cleared, they were gone.

“Don’t cry, honey,” she said, wiping the wet streak on my cheek. “Wait. I don’t want to ruin your make-up.” She smiled and handed me a beverage napkin.

I blotted my tears away.

“Okay. So I’m not really good at this parenting thing, but here goes.” She chuckled. “Behave. No drugs. No drinking. Definitely no driving if you’re drinking.” Her eyes widened, as she paused momentarily. “Just be safe. Make good judgments. Call me if you need me… or get into trouble… or anything. And most important, have fun.”

“I will.” With one last hug, I left.

It wasn’t until I was walking out the front door of the Inn that I realized why the man in the hat looked familiar.

He was the man from my dreams.

Ben's Story

Emma’s dad showed up again,
Molly said as I drove Stephanie to the dance.

What? How’d I miss that?
I asked.

You were being a good date and saying goodbye to Stephanie’s parents. It was right when TJ and I passed through the lobby. Brian Bennett popped in through a portal near the pub and just loitered in the hall.

“Mind if I turn the radio on?” Stephanie interrupted.

“Go ahead,” I said. Music filled the silence in my car. Stephanie switched from station to station, looking for a tune she liked. As annoying as that was, it was better than listening to her mindless jabber.

Where was Brian’s caseworker?
I asked Molly.

She chuckled, and then answered,
Well, she’s off the case now.
The rookie would be reassigned, probably on extended probation without possibility of a solo assignment for quite some time. If ever. Stupid mistake.
The best part is that Commander E caught him.

What? What do you mean?

I mean, our fearless leader was here. In the lobby. At the Carmichael Inn.

You gotta be kidding. The commander hasn’t made himself visible in what? Decades? Where’s he now?

I believe he left. He took Brian back.

I can’t recall the last time E checked in on one of our assignments. Can you?

No,
Molly said.
But Benjamin, you should know… Emma saw her dad. She recognized him.

That would be why E intervened,
I acknowledged as I turned into a parking stall and shut off the engine. That, and because of Victor, and the abundance of hybrids and Lucas’ blood. The reasons for the commander’s visit were endless. Everyone was on high alert. 

“… Ben? Did you hear me? Are you staying overnight at Trent’s?” Stephanie asked, her squeaky voice a distraction from my conversation with Molly.

“Oh... No. Sorry. Can’t,” I answered, though my thoughts were still on Commander E and Brian’s visit. And why I couldn’t get a download from Ray. And what was up with Lucas’ blood?

“O-o-o-h-h-h,” she whined. “I was really hoping you were. I can. I mean, I told my mom that. You know… the girls were staying at one house and the guys were elsewhere. But, that’s okay, if you can’t. I mean… unless I can change your mind?”

She chewed on her lower lip and batted her eyes. That might change most guys’ minds, but she wasn’t going to change mine.

“Sorry, Stephanie,” I said in my most sincere tone. “I can’t.” The sparkle in her eyes dulled. Even I didn’t believe my lie. “My parents are coming into town, and I have to be home when they get there.”

“Okay. Well, maybe you can stay really late?” She smiled, and I knew I was forgiven.

I nodded. I was definitely staying late—as late as I needed to keep an eye on Emma.

“Good.” She leaned forward and kissed my cheek.

I turned in time to see TJ and Molly pull into the parking spot beside us.

“Ready to go in?” I asked.

“Sure.”

Molly apologized, as I opened the car door.

Don’t worry, Mols,
I said.
Revenge is ever so sweet when its least expected.

Emma's Story

Lucas was already in the car when I went outside.

He revved the engine of his ’80s-something Oldsmobile from the middle of the parking lot when he saw me exit the building. The sound of his impatience snapped me out of the sentimental moment I had with my aunt and made me realize how thoughtless Lucas was.

I didn’t need him to walk me out, or open the car door like Justin did for Hannah a few spots down from where Lucas was parked. But revving the engine was no different than honking the horn from the driveway.

A guy that won’t come to the door isn’t worth your time, Emma,
Dad told me the day before my first date with Matt. I smiled at the thought and remembered how embarrassed I was that Dad and I even had that conversation. At least Matt came to the door without being prompted. Lucas would never think of that on his own. Neal had to tell him to carry the groceries into the house, the first time they came over for dinner. Not to mention, Lucas wanted me to drive when we went out TP’ing.

It was suddenly clear. Lucas wasn’t worth my time.

“Want a drink?” he asked as he pulled out of the parking lot. He motioned to a brown paper bag on the console between us.

“What? No!” I said, and then realized the tone of my voice was harsh.

“Wow. Aren’t you a prima-donna?”

“Because I said
no
?”

Lucas was quiet as we drove the windy road back to Westport, which fueled my anger. When we stopped at a red light blocks from school, he reached for my hand, but I pulled it away. “I was kidding, Emma. Shit. Get over it.”

“Seriously, Lucas? Didn’t your dad give you the same lecture that I got? About not drinking and driving?”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t look at me as the light changed to green.

The silence that followed spoke volumes and gave me the confidence I needed.

When he turned into the parking lot, I took a deep breath and began. “Look. I like you, Lucas. But we are
so
different. Too different. This just isn’t going to work. Between us, I mean,” I said. “I just want us to be friends.”

He shut off the engine and stared out the window.

“Just friends?” Lucas asked after a moment. Then he turned and glared at me. “You didn’t act like you wanted to be
just friends
back at my gramp’s place.”

“You gave me pot brownies.”

“No. Correction. You ate ’em yourself.”

“Lucas, come on. You knew they were laced, and you didn’t tell me.”

“Whatever,” he said, nodding toward a sedan a row over. “Trent’s here with Bianca. Let’s go.” He got out of the car and slammed the door, greeting Trent like nothing was bothering him.

At least I told him how I felt. It wasn’t my problem if he didn’t like it.