Page 10 of Carnal

5

Mia

I wokethe next morning and, for a few minutes, thought that last night had been an incredible dream. It only lasted a second before the haunting realization that last night was no dream settled into my stomach. It wasn’t a wonderful dream; it was the beginning of a nightmare.

At least I didn’t need to pretend to Grant anymore. I fought the urge to dash out to the drug store and buy hair dye. Going back to my natural color or ripping out my hair extensions would not bring back the real me. One glance at my surgically enhanced figure was all the reminder I needed for how I had permanently and irrevocably changed my body. I would be able to drop the act, but the old physical me was gone forever.

“Grant?” I slid out of bed and listened for any noise in the house, but there was only Hero, who was barking at the door.

“So, you’re the one who gave me up, buddy?” I rubbed the scruff of his neck and then let him outside. Grant had made coffee, and next to the pot, there was a folded piece of paper. Scribbled in all-too-familiar handwriting was his dictation for me to stay in the house. He hadn’t even signed it. I sighed and dropped it back to the counter. It had been fewer than twelve hours since he found out, so I’d play by the rules.

For now.

I had so much to do. I needed to see Joaquín, alone, and I needed to pick up a new phone in case Daniel was tracking mine. I needed to check if my former Russian teacher, Roman, received the second set of DNA results comparing my hair to Julián’s. I needed to get back on track. I felt like I’d lost my focus, narrowing in on Mitch and pursuing him because I thought he raped me.

The last night I had gone to The Pickled Frog as Mia, Kyle told me that he, Pat, Vic, and Joe left the party before the strippers arrived, which was what was in the police reports. That didn’t mean they were being honest, though. There were a number of reasons they would have lied to the police, not the least of which was because there was a dead stripper. I had taken their words as truth, but maybe I should verify it. Autumn would know, or hell, so would Grant.

I still needed to look into Paul. The party had been at his in-laws’ place. Did they still live there? Had they sold it?

Hero finished his business, so I opened the door for him and made myself coffee. I was supposed to work the night shift at The Pickled Frog. Until then, I would take a much-needed break. I turned on the television and settled for some old sitcom.

I needed to laugh.

Two shows and three coffees later, my phone rang.

“You’re not mad at me?” Autumn said in lieu of a greeting, and I forced myself to switch to Ksenya’s accent.

“No, I am not mad with you. Why it is you think that?”

“Oh. It’s silly really. I just hadn’t heard from you since we went to Tiff’s mom’s house, and I didn’t see you at Diamond, so I thought you were mad at me because I had coffee with Grant. I wasn’t trying to hook up with him, I swear.”

When the fuck did she have coffee with Grant? “I have not worked at Diamond yet. I do not know if I am going to. It is no big deal about Grant. He told to me.” The lie was bitter on my tongue.

“Oh, thank God. I didn’t think you were, but I wanted to make sure. You’re so nice to me and all.”

God, I hated myself. She was way too nice to be wrapped up in this mess. I wanted to drop the accent and come out to her, but I couldn’t. Yet.

“I am friends together with you. I work tonight at The Pickled Frog. You can meet me, and I buy for you drink if you like?” I would also get to see her interact with the other SEALs. Maybe I could learn something.

“Oh, that sounds fun. I’m off tonight. Maybe Grant can introduce me to one of his hot friends.”

“The bar will be full of the SEALs.”

“Okay, great. I’ll come by at eight. Did you guys find out anything about Julián? When I showed Grant a picture of him, he said he looked like he could be Joaquín’s kid.”

Oh my God. What the fuck!

“No, nothing yet. Did Tiffany ever mention his father?”

“Barely. Just that he was a drug dealer.”

I gulped and a hint of sadness hit my core. I would have known if Joaquín ever used drugs. Roman had already told me that the DNA didn’t match Joaquín and that running them against mine wasn’t likely to give us different results. I had to accept that I was grasping at straws, hoping to find a connection when there wasn’t one. At least I wasn’t the only one who had been suspicious about who Julián’s father was. Grant obviously considered it too. We were probably both just trying to eliminate Joaquín as a suspect. Even I could understand that if Joaquín found out she had hidden his kid from him, he could’ve snapped.

“That is very bad. I see you tonight, yes?”

“Yes. I’m excited. Bye.”

“Bye.”

I hung up the phone with a dozen different emotions twisted inside me. As usual, I had more questions than answers, but until I heard back from Roman, I would hold out the faint hope that the little boy who had eyes that looked like my father’s could somehow be related to me and could fill the hole in my heart that had been ripped open when my own son died.