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“Alright, Yoda.” It’s my turn to clasp a hand on his shoulder.
“How about Maggie Reinhart? She’d be open to an arrangement. I heard she broke up with that singer she was with.”
“She talks too much. I can’t stand that.”
“Sophie Adams? She’s a redhead, and those boobs, whew!”
“Sophie drinks even more than I used to. She’ll ruin my image and possibly ruin my life. That’s the worst possible choice unless you aim to get me to relapse.”
Luke looks at me with hurt in his eyes. I immediately regret my words. “Don’t you think I should date someone for real? It’d certainly be easier.”
“Oh, yeah? And when that ends on the rocks, which it invariably will because you’re in goddamn North Carolina, you’ll seem even more unstable.”
“Hmm.” He’s right.
“It’s better to have an arrangement with someone who will be your fiancée at least until the next voting period. Since you'd have a contract, no pesky emotions will end things. Once you’ve been retained, you can pay her off.”
“Whoa, fiancée? I thought we were going the girlfriend route?”
“A fiancée seems more respectable, yeah? We get her, and you bring her to the Christmas party, flaunt your new love, your family-man image, and bam! Things should be great. The only problem is choosing someone willing to make the journey to North Carolina as frequently as possible.”
We stay silent, watching the flock of people down in the streets. I know Luke’s thinking of names, but I’ve had a single name on my mind the whole time we’ve spoken.
“How about someone who’s already in North Carolina? Someone who doesn’t have to journey since she already lives there? Someone who wouldn’t seem random when the story breaks?”
Someone I’ve already fallen for.
Luke looks at me, pouting and shaking his head. “It’s the nanny, isn’t it?”
A wide smile crosses my face.
Chapter nine
Layla
Ifeel almost as guilty as when my dad caught me searching his jeans for money. The only difference was that I was a teenager then so I could excuse my actions with my age. Setting Tristan up with the whiskey was low, even with what I was already doing. I tremble from a loud honk behind me and look in the rear mirror.
“Great,” I hiss and throw my hands up, “Greg.”
It’s almost 2 P.M., and I’m waiting outside the crowded Diane Memorial School. Dad always stayed right where I was to pick me and Deanna up, and now, I’m here to pick up Ruby. It feels like I’ve come full circle. The black truck behind me honks again, and I honk in return. I don’t want to speak to Greg, not today.
“Where is she?” I look toward the old, giant school with its fresh coat of white paint.
I hear the truck’s door slam behind me as I see Greg in my side mirror. I can see him coming towards me. He’s wearing jeans and a flannel shirt. I hope he doesn’t stay long, but knowing Greg, I doubt it.
“Hey, sugar plum!” His smiling face comes into view as he bends at my window, blocking the sun. “That’s a nice blouse. Pink suits you.”
Unsurprisingly, the smell of rum fills my car as he speaks. We went to high school together, and it’s an open secret that he wants me—he always has. Greg turned to alcohol after his wife, Veronica, served him divorce papers and moved to the city. She left their kid, Caroline, with him—poor kid.
He’s here to pick his kid up, and I’m not happy to see him.
“I’ve told you not to call me that.”
“It’s not my fault you’re sweeter than… sweeter than…” he stares with glassy eyes as he tries to find the words, his bald head glinting in the afternoon light.
“Sugar?” I offer him an out.
“Honey.” He smiles as the smell of rum intensifies.
