I scoff. His honesty actually makes me feel safer.
Flo knocks on the door at the same time she opens it. “Things have cleared out for a sec. Now’s a good time to go if you’re going.”
She says this to Cal, like he’s the one in charge. Which, I guess he is. And I reckon I’m okay with that.
“Wait here while I put Junie’s seat in my truck. I’ll come back for you both.” He grabs the car seat at the same time Junie grabs my hand.
“Yay! Playdate! Do you want to play Barbies or ponies? Or you can meet my pony…” she jabbers on, swinging my hand back and forth, but my focus is on Flo.
“Should I come in tomorrow?” I chew my lip, waiting for the answer I already know.
She shakes her head. “I’m afraid you’ll be more of a distraction than a help. I’ll figure something out.”
“I’m sorry.” I grab her hand and squeeze tight.
Flo’s not a hugger, and I’m in a hurry, but she pulls me into her arms. “Nothing to be sorry for. I’ll keep you updated about anyone you need to keep away from. This’ll all die down, and you’ll be back here in no time.”
We both know that’s not true. Today was my last day wearing a blonde beehive wig and working for Flo. The only way to show my gratitude for everything she’s done for me is to not come back.
And that just sucks.
Cal comes back inside, and I follow him to the back door. When we get there, he boosts Junie and her bag in one arm, then tucks me under the other, rushing us both to his truck like we’re under fire.
Which, apparently, we are. Someone calls my name before he’s able to close the passenger door. In the time it takes him to buckle Junie into her seat, a half dozen people swarm his truck. I sink low in the seat, tucking my chin close to my chest and pulling the hood tighter.
“Move out of the way, please. I’ve got to get my girl home,” Cal tells the small crowd in a calm voice laced with a bit of a threat.
“Is Frankie Forsythe your girl?” someone yells, and my head whips up.
“No idea who you’re talking about, but it’s dinnertime for my kid.” He climbs in the truck and slams the door.
My heart pounds almost as loud as his engine. He revs it as a warning, then reverses. I curl into my lap, hoping anyone who hasn’t backed away will when they realize they can’t get any good pics of me.
I don’t sit up until Cal tells me it’s safe. Even then, I keep the sunglasses and hat on and the hoodie pulled up.
“You shouldn’t have said anything about Junie,” I say when I’m able to breathe again.
His eyes dart to me then back to the road. “I didn’t. Only that I wanted to get her home for dinner.”
“You don’t understand these people, Cal. Now they know you live nearby, they’ll be looking for your truck and followingyou to see if I’m at your house, too.” I glance at the side mirror, worried someone might be following us now. “They’ll follow Junie to preschool, ask her questions about me. I told you this was a bad idea.”
Cal huffs like he’s blowing off my concerns, but I hear the worry in it. “Let’s cross one bridge at a time, okay? Nobody’s following us now. Trust me, if they try to, I’ve driven these roads a million times. I can outrun them.”
“I hope you’re right.” I give him a grateful smile, but his confidence doesn’t soothe all my worries. Paparazzi is one thing. Once my dad knows where I am, though, there won’t be any outrunning him.
Junie chatters in the back, and Cal keeps up a steady conversation with her, but I stay silent, worry working through me like termites in timber.
We turn down a dirt road and don’t go far before he stops at a gate with the same cursive H that’s on the side of his truck. He keys in a code, and the big gates take long enough to open that I look over my shoulder to make sure no one has caught up with us.
I watch in the side mirror as the gates close behind us, then sit up straight for the first time since leaving Flamingo’s. I crack the window and take a deep breath. My chest loosens on my exhale.
“Are those your avocados?” I point to the grove of trees on the side of the winding dirt road.
“Yeah. We’ve got a decent crop this year.”
A crew is out picking the fruit, some on ladders, some using poles, and I’m tempted to ask Cal to stop, so I can watch. Or maybe join. Unlike my life, the purpose and certainty in their movements is soothing.
The road climbs higher, giving me a better view of the hillssurrounding us and also the towns below. In the distance, cows graze.
