CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Honey
Mac’s eyes go comically wide. “What are you wearing?”
I glance down at my t-shirt, which has a picture of Bigfoot carrying a woman in his arms. The image is inside a giant heart. The text reads, Bigfoot does it in the woods. “I got it from your aunt’s store. Isn’t it great?”
He slaps a hand over his face and peeks out between his fingers like he’s hoping reality will have changed. “How did she get that done so fast?”
I shrug, holding back a laugh. “I don’t know, but she’d nearly sold out when I bought this one. I’m going to make her a mug to match.”
He drops his hand and mock glares at me. “Don’t encourage her.”
“It’s not her I’d be worried about. Her store was full of women who’re fed up with human men and want to try their luck with Bigfoot. You’re lucky we didn’t run into any of them in the woods this week.” Three days of hunting and still no sign of treasure.
“Maybe it’s time to put Bert away for good.” He grabs a cap from just inside the door and puts it on, covering his purple hair and most of his face. “You ready to go?”
“I’m ready. The car’s fueled up and I’ve got a playlist for the drive.”
He pulls the door shut and steps onto the stoop. “I’m driving.”
He continues past me like it’s a done deal.
“Wait. Why should you drive?”
He doesn’t even look back. “I’ve got the better car and I love driving. I never get to do it.”
That gives me pause. There’s the weird thing about him going on tours and now he rarely drives. Is he in the mafia? Mafia men have drivers, right?
Jared seemed to know, but he wasn’t answering his phone last night. The way Jared was glaring at Mac, it was clear he doesn’t like him. But then why was he asking about a tour?
Maybe Mac’s a white-collar criminal. The kind who sells ponzi schemes or something and goes on speaking tours to tout his product. I need to warn Jared, but I need to know the truth about what Mac’s into first.
If Jared and Clover know Mac’s a criminal, they’d definitely warn me. Mac’s been lying to all of us, and I’m the only one who can see through his lies.
It’s time to push for more clues. “You don’t do your own driving on tour?”
That stops him. Finally. He turns, eyes wide. “No. I… Wait, I told you we don’t call it a tour when I teach at other colleges.”
I cock my head like I’m confused and not like I just caught him in some sort of lie. “Whatever you call it, why don’t you drive?”
“We take a bus.” He opens the driver”s door of his small, gray four-door. I have no idea if it’s a nice car, because I know nothing about cars. All I can say for sure is that it looks like it would slide around on snow.
I stop and cross my arms over my chest. Does he really expect me to believe colleges load professors up in buses like a sports team and take them around to other colleges for lectures?
This guy is a terrible liar. Which makes it less likely he’s selling some illegal or shady business scheme. “Huh.” I humor him, because I want to see how deeply he’s committed to the lie. “I didn’t realize you took buses for tours. Do you stay in the dorms or get a hotel?”
He turns to me, brow crinkled. “We should probably get on the road.”
I consider arguing for him to let me drive, but I don’t care enough to push the issue. “Let me just grab my bag.”
By the time I’m sliding into the passenger seat, Mac has the car started, and the radio tuned to a saccharine pop station. “Ugh.” I groan. “I’ll accept you driving, but if I have to listen to this crap for the next hour, I’ll rip my ears off.”
He glances over at me before starting down his driveway. “Car rules state the passenger gets to choose the music, but what have you got against pop? Everyone loves a good dance beat.”
“Obviously not everyone.” I drop my bag at my feet and pull out my cell phone. His car has some high tech, fancy radio set up that only takes me like three seconds to connect to my phone. “Sweet tech. Is this one of those fancy cars rich people drive?”
“It’s a rental.” He says it like that answers the question. Maybe he doesn’t know cars either.
I start up the play list I created for the trip and breathe a sigh of contentment as the screaming vocals and hard pounding bass line fills the small space.
Mac hits the power button on the radio and the car goes silent. “Nope. I’m not listening to that for the next hour. I’ll have a raging headache by the time we get to the restaurant.”
I get not everyone likes the same music I do. When I’m creating in my art shed, I prefer full-on, classic, heavy metal and, if I’m really stuck on a project, only death metal will get me through it. But Aggravated assault is more hard rock than heavy metal. I figured it would be tolerable for anyone.
“Okay.” I’m willing to compromise. I scroll through my play lists until I find the one I listen to when I’m cleaning or hanging out alone. The music I listen to when I need inspiration for creating a song. I turn the radio back on.
Mac glances over at me, brows high. “Bluegrass?”
“It seems like the best compromise we’re going to find.”
He stares out at the road as we glide into town, pulling his hat lower over his brow and putting on a pair of sunglasses he grabs from the center bucket thing between our seats. “I’ve never really listened to much bluegrass.”
“You only listen to pop music? I’ve heard of people like you, but I never thought I’d meet one.”
His shoulders have risen to his ears. “Just because I don’t like heavy metal, it doesn’t mean I only listen to pop. I listen to all kinds of music, hip-hop, rap, jazz, even some country.”
“If you don’t listen to metal, you aren’t listening to all music.”
“I guess it depends on how you define music.”
I snort. “Okay, grandpa.”
The streets of town are full of locals and tourists on this sunny June day, and Mac sinks lower in his seat.
“I doubt your aunt is going to see you driving through town. She’s probably in her store.”
“I’m not taking any chances.” He doesn’t relax until we’re well out of town and on the highway to Roanoke. Interesting. Whatever kind of touring he does, he’s well-known enough he thinks strangers might recognize him.
Maybe he does those TED talks. Is that a traveling thing? Or he could be a stand-up comedian. They tour. Mac hasn’t been very funny around me, but comedians aren’t funny all the time, are they?
A comedian who does something illegal on the side?
“How about some car snacks?” I bend over to dig them out of my bag.
“I just had breakfast. I’m good.”
I sit up and plop the bag of candy and chips on my lap. “But it’s a road trip.” I love road trips. I think. This might be my first one. At least my first one with a friend.
“We’re going to Roanoke. It’s a couple hour’s drive at most.” Mac’s smile is patronizing and annoying. “It hardly counts as a road trip.”
I deflate, some of my excitement replaced by embarrassment. “It might not be a road trip to someone who tours the country on a bus filled with smart people, but it’s a road trip in my book.” I pull out a bag of gummy worms and rip it open, stuffing two in my mouth. “I’m going to enjoy it.”
Mac glances over at me. “How many road trips have you been on?”
“Plenty,” I lie. “And I believe in making the most of every moment.”
“You’re right.” He holds out his hand, his expression softening. “Give me some road trip snacks.”
***
I’m smiling when I walk into the restaurant, because Mac kept me laughing all the way here. We didn’t talk about anything particularly meaningful, mostly just chatted about Catalpa Creek and our experiences there as kids. He’s a great storyteller, and I found myself telling him more about me and my sisters than I think I’ve ever told anyone.
It should have made me sad, talking about how distant I’ve always felt from my sisters, how I’ve always felt I’m on the outside looking in, but he felt the same with his siblings and it made me think, for the first time in forever, that maybe there’s not something dreadfully wrong with me, maybe it’s just a case of normal sibling dynamics.
I smile even bigger when Maya stands from her seat at a nearby table. She’s already ordered and her table is loaded with a burger, fries, and the biggest milkshake they have here. She’s put on weight since we were teens, and it looks good on her. Her white skin is healthy and glowing, with her hair lightened and hanging past her shoulders, wearing a white blouse and jeans that seem tailored to her petite, curvy body.
Her eyes glisten with tears as I cross the room. I don’t even hesitate to hug her, the years between us falling away. I realize now that I’ve always liked her better than Dell, even though she could be vicious when she had to be.
“It’s good to see you, Honey. It’s been too long.”
I pull away. “You look amazing.”
She smiles and sits back down. “That’s what regular meals and a low-stress life will do for a person. I don’t even know how I survived that wild life we lived together.”
I sit across from her. “I know what you mean. You couldn’t pay me to go back.”
“You look good too. Do you want to get some food?”
I shrug. “I’ve been vegan for a few months. I don’t think there’s anything here I can eat.”
She shakes her head. “You becoming a vegan doesn’t surprise me. You have a softer heart than you’ve ever wanted anyone to know.”
Maya hasn’t always thought the best of me, but she seems to have forgiven me for our differences. “I taught you to con people out of their money. I’m no saint.”
She shoves the basket of fries at me. “You know I always order too much. And you have never given yourself enough credit, Honey Weston. If you have such a hard heart, you never would have quit the business.”
“Is that what we’re calling it now?” I dip a fry in ketchup and pop it in my mouth. Just as good as I remember.
“That’s what Dell called it.” Her expression darkens, her red lips pressing tight for a moment. “He got really paranoid after you left. Always worried about someone edging in on our game if they overheard us talking about it.”
“How’d you get out?”
“I was only in for a few more months after you left. You weren’t the only one who got turned off by what we saw.” She shakes her head. “You know I checked in on them a few months ago. They’re okay.”
I wrap my arms around myself, remembering. We thought we’d been conning a woman who could afford to lose a few hundred dollars. She dressed well and came from a wealthy family. We didn’t know she’d been kicked out of her house because she was pregnant.
“I should have known. People don’t fall for a scam unless they’re desperate.”
She waves a hand. “Oh, shut up.” Some of her old attitude shines through. “We conned plenty of people who were straight up greedy. We made a mistake targeting her, that’s all.”
“Except we can’t be sure that’s all.” Dark guilt sits in my belly like hardening clay, making me drop the fry I just picked up. “Her case proved we can’t ever really know what someone’s going through or what their financial situation really is. We can’t ever really know how many people we hurt.”
She nods. “I think about that all the time.”
I prop my elbows on the table. “Did you get out after Dell got arrested?”
She winces. “Right before. I saved enough money for a semester at community college and I walked away.” She tears up. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and Dell blames me for him getting arrested.”
“I’m glad you got out.” I wish I’d never helped her get deeper into that life. “You two were so close, and I felt like, most of the time, you just went along with the schemes because you wanted to be there for Dell.”
She nods and swipes at her eyes. “He took care of me, Honey. You know the stories.”
I know some of them, the little they shared about an abusive father, never enough to eat, and a system that failed them. “I’m so sorry.”
She nods. “Me too. Dell won’t talk to me. Won’t see me. He says I’m not his family any longer because I left him when he needed me.” She uses the palms of her hands to scrub away the tears running down her cheeks. “I couldn’t keep doing it. If I’d stayed, I’d have ended up in jail with him and I—”
“You were pregnant,” I whisper. This could be what pushes her away, but there’s only gratitude in her eyes when she looks up at me. “I saw pictures of your son on social media. The time line adds up.”
She nods. “Dell didn’t understand, but I couldn’t raise a child in that situation. He said he’d take care of my kid and me, but he couldn’t promise that and I didn’t want him to have to. I got out and got a good job. I just got my paralegal certification. I fell in love and I’m…” She swallows and looks away. “I feel like such a traitor for saying this, but I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”
“You deserve to be happy.” I reach across the table and take her hand in mine. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Thank you. Are you happy?”
I don’t think about the question too hard. I’m not sure how to answer it. “I’m living with my sisters and we’ve opened a sanctuary farm. I have an art studio and I’m in it every day.” After pulling a package from my bag, I pass it across the table to her.
She opens it carefully. “You were always so talented.” She gasps as she moves tissue paper aside. “This is gorgeous.” She pulls out a tiny cup from the tiny tea set. “So delicate.”
“I know you have a little boy, but…”
She smiles warmly. “And a little girl on the way. And my little boy loves playing kitchen. I bet he’ll love playing tea party, too. This is perfect. Thank you.”
She takes her time studying each piece of the tea set. I started working on it as soon as I found out she’d had a child and I love that it will be used by her children.
She closes the box and looks up at me. “Don’t let your past mistakes haunt you, Honey. You’re a good person. One of the best I know.”
Now my eyes are tearing up. She’s sweet, but she doesn’t know all my sins or the darkness that dwells in me still. “Dell told me he’s trying to go straight, but I don’t believe him. He claims he wants to open an auto repair shop, and he’s asked me for a lot of money to help him do it. Do you have any idea what he might really want the money for?”
Her eyes widen and her brow creases with worry. “I have no idea. He hasn’t talked to me in over a year. But Dell was always small time. As many risks as he took, he was smart enough to avoid anyone truly dangerous.” Her expression turns thoughtful. “At least, he used to be. I don’t know why he’d want that much money.”
“I’m worried he’s—”
A man slides into the booth next to me and tosses an arm over my shoulders. “Hey there, Honey. What you doing talking to my dead sister?”
I shove his arm off my shoulder and scoot into the corner of the booth. He just slides over and wraps his arm back around me, pulling me tight against his side.
“Dell.” Maya leans toward us, her eyes glassy. “You look terrible. What have you done to yourself?”
I’m too close to get a good look at Dell, but I can smell him. He clearly hasn’t bathed in a while and there’s something rotten and decaying about his scent.
“I haven’t done anything to myself.” Dell wraps his fingers around my arm and squeezes. Hard. I elbow him in the ribs and he lightens his grip, but he doesn’t let go. “You left me, Maya. You did this to me.”
Maya crosses her arms over her chest, her chin quivering, but defiance in her eyes. “I did what I had to do for myself and your nephew. You changed, Dell. You got greedy and put me in danger. Now, let go of Honey and tell me why you’re asking her for money.”
“Why?” Dell snorts. “You going to help me out? Or are you just going to walk away again?”
“Let go of her.” I recognize Mac’s voice, though it’s sharper and deeper and more dangerous than I’ve ever heard it. I lean forward enough to see him standing at the end of the table, hat low, his mouth set in a firm, angry line.
“Fuck off, asshole.” Dell doesn’t even look at Mac. “I’m having a conversation with my ladies.”
“Let her go, or I’m going to make you let her go.” Mac is seething with anger, but there’s fear flashing in his eyes, too. Fear for me?
“I’m okay,” I say.
“Yeah, and I’m going to help him make you let her go.” Maya shoves the food aside like she’s ready to come over the table and pull Dell off me if she has to.
The restaurant has gone silent. Everyone can feel the tension at our table, even though we haven’t raised our voices yet.
The Dell I knew was always the type to throw the first punch, to let his temper and his passion lead the way. He leans in close, nuzzling his nose against my cheek. “Keep my sister out of this or I’m bringing your sisters into it.”
He slaps a hand on the table, then raises both hands, letting me go and scooting to the edge of the booth. “She’s all yours, bro. No need to fight about it.”
“Are you okay?” Mac asks, his gaze on me, worry making him pale.
Dell gets out of the booth and walks away.
Mac’s so focused on me, he doesn’t see Dell turn and rush him, fist raised. “Mac! Look out.”
Mac spins and straightens so that Dell’s fist hits his shoulder instead of his face, but even so, the punch has enough force to make him wobble and catch himself with a hand on the table.
Everyone in the restaurant is watching now. A manager walks toward our table.
Mac faces Dell, hands up, palms out. “I don’t want to fight you. I just want you to go away and leave Honey alone.”
“I have business with Honey that has nothing to do with you. Stay the fuck out of it.” Dell lunges forward, and body slams Mac onto the table between us. Mac’s hat flies off, and Maya gasps.
“Holy shit. Is that—?” she says.
“Dell, get off him.” I shove at Dell to get him off Mac. Dell’s not punching him or anything, just pinning him to the table and yelling in his face about staying out of his business.
When Dell doesn’t move, I grab the salt shaker from the little basket on the table, unscrew the lid, and toss as much salt as I can in Dell’s face.
Dell shouts and slides off Mac.
Mac jumps off the table and gets in a defensive posture, but Dell is just standing there, cursing and rubbing his eyes.
Somewhere in the restaurant, someone screams like they’re being cut in two. I have no idea what happened to the manager who was headed our way before the fight started, and I slide out of the booth to see what’s causing the screaming.
My first thought is that Dell’s trouble, the real reason he’s asking me for money, has followed him here.
Someone yells, “Jaxon Hayes. Oh, my God, it’s Jaxon Hayes.”
I spin, trying to find where the yelling is coming from and see a table of what look to be twelve-year-old girls, all of them wearing adorable birthday hats on the sides of their heads. Like a mom got them the hats, and they wanted to wear them, but didn’t want to seem like little kids, so are wearing them in a goofy way.
As one unit, they run toward our table and start hitting and kicking Dell, while one of them films the whole thing with a cell phone. “You can’t beat up Jaxon Hayes,” they yell.
I look over at Mac, expecting him to be as confused as I am, but he’s looking at me with something like fear and concern. What the hell is going on?
“Stop hitting me,” Dell whines. “My eyes are burning.”
The girls push Dell toward the door. “Get out,” they chant. “Leave him alone.”
Dell, unable to see and still rubbing his eyes, allows himself to be pushed along.
Mac grabs my hand and yanks me toward the counter at the back of the restaurant. The cashiers stare at him with wide eyes.
“Is there a back way out of here?” Mac asks.
A cashier with pink hair in a high ponytail nods dumbly.
“Can you show me?”
Now, the manager shows up. “Of course, Mr. Hayes. Right this way.”
I glance back at Maya. She’s kneeling on the booth seat and filming us along with most of the people in the restaurant.
She gives me a small wave and a thumbs up.
I wave back, totally confused.
Mac squeezes my hand. “We should get out of here before those kids come back.”
I nod, because those girls were adorable, but also more than a little scary.
We follow the manager through the kitchen and out a back door where Mac’s car just happens to be conveniently parked.
Did I hit my head? What is happening?