“I can’t. I need to get ready for my date.” The lies kept pouring out my mouth.
“Could you throw me a bone? A name? Looks? Job? Anything?”
“I will tell you everything when it’s time. Let me make sure this is going somewhere first.”
She begrudgingly agreed, and when we hung up, the guilt laid heavy.
I’d just lied, made up a make-believe boyfriend to keep my mother off my back. Worse than that, I lied to my mother aboutheading out to meet someone I had been scolding for being a liar. I was no better than he was. Such a hypocrite.
And worse than all of that, I was about to ask him if maybe he could be my fake boyfriend and convince my mother to quit interfering. That was sort of a fair exchange for this whole panther fiasco, wasn’t it? Or did it make me just as bad as he was?
Probably that.
Underneath it all, it was just an excuse to see him again. It was official, I was just as bad as Lincoln.
7
LINCOLN
I paced the living room floor as I waited for Bronson’s arrival.
Dale had left an hour ago to return to his dorm but had told me the only way to stay out of jail and to gain the trust of my mate was to be truthful. I’d also made him promise never to drag me to another bonfire, though he reacted by saying that was how I’d gotten in contact with Bronson.
“I’m the hero in this story.”
I doubted there were any, and at the end of the day, my life might be in tatters and I’d be surrounded by carnage caused by my lies.
My brother had printed out images of wild animals and told me to put them in frames. But I was too jittery to dash out and buy any. Instead, I stood on the back deck and congratulated myself, not for the first time, on buying this property. It backed onto woods, making it private and secluded and the perfect place to shift. But by this evening, it could be the place where my chance at happiness ended.
I couldn’t blow this, but perhaps I already had. The professional photographer fib couldn’t be undone by saying I was kidding.
Stop. Your jiggly tummy is making me sick.
The doorbell rang, and my heart made a thump-a-lump maneuver. It irritated my beast, as it was worse than what was going on in my belly.
After wiping my sweaty palms on my pants, I strode to the front door, telling myself not to be anxious but also to avoid being overconfident. I had to win Bronson’s trust, and based on my past behavior, that wouldn’t be easy.
My mate stood on the stairs with a thick folder under his arm.
“Hi.” I stepped back, inviting him to enter. “Thanks for coming.”
He stood on the threshold and hesitated as he eyed the inside of the house and the view of the woods at the back. I wished I’d taken Dale’s advice and framed those pics. It was too late now unless I told him to wait in the car while I ran an errand. Nah, that wasn’t happening.
We stood awkwardly in the entryway, and he fiddled with the folder until I offered him coffee. He agreed, and that gave us both a few minutes to adjust to the other’s presence and Bronson to suss out whether I had a panther squirreled away behind the TV.
“This is a nice place.” He sat on the edge of the sofa as if anticipating a quick getaway.
“Thanks. It took ages for me to find what I wanted, but I was glad I didn’t buy whatever was on the market just so I could have my own home.”
Bronson craned his neck toward the deck. “Looks as though you have a big garden.”
Now we were getting into dangerous territory, because his next comment or question might be about the location of my panther.
I sat opposite him and was glad of the coffee mug I was clutching because it gave me something to do with my hands.
“This is for you.” He handed me the folder but couldn’t hide his trembling hand.
My mind scrambled though possible reasons for the thick file. But other than a lengthy arrest warrant, I was at a loss.
