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18
“Neither of my parents is returning my calls,” Mia said, sitting across from Oliver at the diner. “So I decided to take matters in my own hands. I’m going to Boston.”
Oliver leaned toward her. “That seems a little extreme. Can’t you just wait? Be a little patient?”
No, she couldn’t.
“Something’s wrong. Don’t ask me how I know, I just do. My birthday is in a few days, and my mom has never missed a single one. Today, Dad hasn’t answered a single voicemail or text. And although I haven’t known him very long, still, he’s never done that before, ya know?” She poked at her Greek salad, pushing the feta cheese to the side of her plate. “Something’s wrong. I just know it.”
“How do you plan on getting there?” Oliver asked, leaning his head on his fingertips away from his mother, and whispering, “That’s a long trip from Wayward to Boston.”
“Well,” she said with a hopeful glance. “I was hoping you’d drive me.”
“Me?” His eyes darted toward the counter where Sara-Lynn was busy serving a sober Fenton Fester a large wedge of key lime pie. “I just got my license a couple weeks ago, and you want me to drive you all the way to Boston in my truck?”
“What? You do the driving, and I navigate. Piece of cake. It’ll be an adventure.”
Oliver sat back in his seat and sighed. “There’s no way my parents would let me do that.”
“I know.” She chewed her lip, contemplating her next move. “I guess I thought we’d ask forgiveness instead of permission.”
His eyebrows jammed up and into his forehead. “Um, you know I would never do that. You’re basically asking me to lie to my parents. Drive you to Boston so you can check in on your mom and dad for the sole purpose of celebrating your birthday.”
Mia’s body deflated. So much for Oliver being the bad boy troublemaker her dad had warned her against. This kid was one-hundred-percent crystal clean and devout through and through.
She needed to find wilier friends. Maybe that kid who did all the graffiti in town would give her a ride?
“I told you,” she said, scanning the room for eavesdroppers. “Something’s wrong.” She speared a cucumber. “I tried calling Uncle Grant but he left town already, and wouldn’t tell me why.”
Oliver leaned on his elbows and brought both fists to his mouth and shook his head as if conflicted. “No, I can’t do it, Mia. I mean, I won’t do it. I have never disobeyed my parents. Ever. Not going to start now.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I get it.” She stared off to the side, already considering other transportation options. “I even respect you for it. But my parents are a thousand miles away and in trouble. I know you don’t believe me. I get it. I’m not sure I would either. But I’ve gotta go. I guess I have no other choice but to purchase a train ticket to Boston like I did when I traveled to Wayward. It will take longer to get there by train, but I guess when you don’t have a choice, you don’t have a problem. Could you at least drive me to the train station?”
Just as she was sure Oliver was about to deny her yet another request, the door jangled as someone walked into the diner.
It was Mary-Lou, who spotted Mia and waved self-consciously at her. Pulling her eyes away in case she didn’t wave back.
The woman was wracked with guilt.
“Mary-Lou Jeffries,” Mia whispered to herself, the wheels in her brain moving in hyperspeed.
Twenty minutes later, with a couple half-truths, some Oscar-worthy soulful eyes, a lip tremble, and one outright lie, she had a ride to Boston that was leaving in two hours.
* * *
That evening,Birdie discovered a very different style of lingerie draped on top of her silk coverlet.
As opposed to an elegant and demure nightgown from another time, what lay garishly on her bed was an electric cobalt-blue bra with a peep cut-out design, a blue thong with a French lace base, and a matching garter belt to attach to blue fishnet stockings.
Lucas’s instincts were spot-on when he mentioned his concern for Errol’s proclivities becoming all the more perverted as opposed to the strange but harmless interludes that included an indignant Ariana.
Tonight, it looked to be a different scene altogether with a triple X rating. And, supposedly, this was her big break.
Birdie pulled on one of the tags, which indicated the lingerie was Agent Provocateur. Nothing but the best for the most tawdry of evenings.
Great.
She checked the time on her phone. It was getting late, and she needed to get moving. Surely, she was crafty enough to dodge any acts including the consummation of their fake marriage.
