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“A little,” I smile awkwardly. “If you know a shortcut, feel free to use it.”
“Oh, I will!” he says. His energy is contagious, I must admit, but right now it comes across more as annoying than anything. I think my nerves are kicking in, but I don’t want to stop and question what I’m doing.
Luckily, he does step on it and speeds up ahead towards what I remember from the address. We get on the same street, and I guide him towards the beautiful house Harvey’s parents own.
I leave the driver with his fare and a good tip, take out my bag, and head towards the door. I ring the doorbell once, twice, three times. I spy through the window, and what little I can see through the closed curtains reveals it’s dark and tells me they aren’t home.
And then, I spot the neighbors going out and about their business. It’s a chubby older man, about the age of Harvey’s father, and a middle-aged blond woman.
“Hi! Excuse me!” I call for their attention, and I finally get it, at least from him. She doesn’t seem so happy to see me.
“Do you know if the Bakers are home?”
“No, honey,” the man says politely. “They went to drop their kids off at the airport. Their girl just got married!”
“I know, I was at the wedding!” I say, smiling, but the truth is I want to dart out of here immediately. I’m starting to feel awkward and am starting to question what the hell I’m doing.
“Thank you so much!”
“Do you need a ride?” the man offers.
“Abner!” his wife protests, elbowing him in the ribs. “We’re in a hurry!”
“No, we’re not, Celia. We’re just getting groceries!” Abner argues back. “Come on, hon. We’ll take you there!”
“Are you sure, mister…?” I ask, fishing for his name.
“Jenkins! Abner Jenkins!” he says, shaking my hand. “This is my wife, Celia.”
“Hi,” Celia greets me, without much enthusiasm.
“Well, let’s go!” Mr. Jenkins signals me to follow him and begins walking to his car.
Mrs. Jenkins, on the other hand, is not happy to have me. She says she needs to use the restroom since it’s going to be a long drive and goes back inside.
“So, what you are to the Bakers?” Mr. Jenkins asks lightly as we wait for his wife to return.
Well, once in a lie, why not go deeper…
“I’m Harvey’s fiancé.” I finish, my heart racing.
“Oh, Harvey! The hockey player!” he says with a puffed up, wide chest. “The kid is a legend all around town! I wonder if he’s retiring after this season…”
Now it’s my eyes that widen. “Retire? I thought he was at the height of his career!” I say.
Mr. Jenkins says, “He’s past his prime, but still a great player. Could play well into his forties! But…”
“But what?” I raise an eyebrow. I don’t know why I am worried. The man is a billionaire and can afford to retire any time he wants, but hockey seems to be such an integral part of his life that I’m not sure how’d he feel about this conversation.
“But that’s what’s being spread around,” Mr. Jenkins shrugs. “I’m betting against it, though.”
“Oh, you’re a betting man!” I say, full of cheer. “My father likes to post a bet or two, but on basketball.”
“Abner doesn’t bet anymore,” Mrs. Jenkins says, walking back out with her arms crossed, and face twisted into a frown. “Right, Abner?”
“Right, hon…” The man nods weakly, cold sweat dripping down his temples.
As I’m about to get inside their car, my heart jumps a beat when I see Harvey’s new truck pull into his parent’s drive.
