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“Julie Ann sent extra copies so I sweet-talked you a table.” She straightens her suit and walks out of the bathroom.
I jump out of the tub, shove the diary behind the extra toilet paper under the sink, and chase after Vi.
“I’m glad you worked things out with Gabriel.” She grabs the handle on her rolling laptop case. “I texted him your number.”
Me shutting the door in his face does not translate as working things out. “Why?”
“He’ll be signing autographs as Jax while you signHaunted.” She snaps her fingers. “Oh. Julie Ann loved the idea of pre-promoting your new book too.”
My stomach tanks to a new low. Tied-up-in-knots nauseous to tell her the truth, I open my mouth to admit what a failure I am, to own up to the book-that’s-never-going-to-happen, the diary, everything.
“Do you think it’s too much to ask Gabriel to do the signing à laTwilight?” Her voice hits a new high.
“What?”
“Wearing only a pair of cut-offs? Like the werewolves in the movie.”
Swallowing my confession, the way I have since she darted off withHaunted, I slide down the wall wondering if you can buy a backbone off Amazon and how much it would cost to overnight.
“No worries.” She laughs, oblivious to me fossilizing at her feet. “I’ll text him.” She reapplies a perfect layer of peach lipstick without the aid of a mirror, then drags her laptop case behind her out the door while I hug my knees and try not to be sick.
chapter 10
Gabe
“Memories last forever.”
~ Meredith Morgan
(played by the award-winning Meredith Wade)
Raising Ryder: Episode247
There are a thousand ways I’d rather kill a Tuesday afternoon than meet with David and a Realtor. Like maybe slicing off my skin in layers.
The Imperial Marchgoes off on my cell, and a text pops up from David—I have another meeting at 4.
Translation: Heard your car in the driveway. Get your ass in the house. Only without the wordass. David’s too refined for that.
Withdrawal-like shakes hit my body and sweat rolls down my neck like I’m coming off a bad trip—which isn’t totally off—only this trip’s down memory lane.
I make it as far as the great room before flashbacks rev my heart and slow my steps, kicking me into a mental spin of my last night here.
Splintered picture frames. Shattered glass. Broken lamps. Books thrown everywhere. My sister in the corner, hands over her ears in makeshift armor against Mom’s irrational rant. David and his sway-the-jury voice trying to talk Mom down. Me, frozen in the fallout, my world blasted into so many fragments there was no chance in hell I was ever getting my old life back.
I blink, and everything’s back in place. Mom’s paint-spatter art hangs on the wall in brand new frames. The contemporary lamps have been replaced. Her self-help books line the bookshelves. David must’ve spent hours here. He wouldn’t trust anyone else.
The 5X7 propped on the mantel pulls me forward. Mom poses on the left, smile on high beam. My sister stands relaxed on the right in clothes that fit. And, yeah, I used to be that mellow guy in the middle—a million years ago.
I pick up our last family picture, even though I don’t want a reminder ofbefore. Before I realized life wasn’t going to stay a perpetual party. Before my sister escaped to college. Before Mom got lost inside herself.
“Gabe,” David yells from the other side of the house, his impatience striking the high ceilings and hardwood floors.
Calling up my Gabriel Wade camouflage, I stride into the kitchen with an iron-backed grin that feels paper thin.
David’s sorting documents. His symmetrical stacks are white cutouts on the black high-top table, and he’s brought us each two water bottles. As much as he drives me insane, if there ever is a zombie apocalypse, I’d pick him as myWalking-Deadwingman. He thinks of everything.
Well almost everything. Standing across from him, I set the silver frame on the counter.
