Chapter 56 Justin
JUSTIN
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I’ve shut myself in my room, Chinese takeout and a sports drink keeping me company.
My bodybuilding roommates have taken over the TV room, watching Schwarzenegger’s Pumping Iron documentary for the hundredth time.
There’s no way I can stomach sitting through a repeat of Arnie’s rise to bodybuilding fame and deal with all the testosterone-charged worship in there.
My laptop pings. It’s the email I’m expecting from Heather. A glance at my watch shows it’s after seven. She must have typed up her log notes as soon as she arrived home from work.
I deliberately didn’t contact her today, worried that my interest in her is interfering with the job.
Tomorrow though, I can’t put off meeting her at SolomiChem.
I need to allay any suspicions Glen the Gaunt has regarding the whole boyfriend setup.
Just thinking about the guy getting fresh with Heather has fury hemorrhaging inside me.
If he tries anything with her, I’ll rearrange his face.
Realizing how hard I’m clenching the bottle, I relax my grip, shoving the anger aside. Focus. An assault charge won’t go down well with Kane right now.
I click on Heather’s email, reading what she’s written about Turbo and the other beagles in the chemopreventive study.
As I take a sip of my drink, my laptop pings again.
Another email from Heather. In the subject line, I read PRIMATE NECROPSY.
She’s attached pics and a video. I outfitted her with the camera only yesterday and she’s making use of it already.
Pride swells inside my chest. Good work.
I open the pics, the bottle stalling against my lips when I view the photos.
No, no, no.
Straightening in my seat, I play the video. The jumpy footage sends a wave of rage and fear through me. I need to send this to Kane, but I have to get to Heather first. I have to check she’s okay.
I’m on my feet, my hand curled around the door handle before I remember I haven’t closed down my laptop.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
My carelessness could cost AFD everything.
Jason and Alex might be missing half their brain cells, but there’s enough remaining to raise a few alarm bells if they glimpse what’s on my screen.
Shutting down my laptop, I grab my jacket off the back of the chair and hurry out of the room, nearly colliding with Alex doing bicep curls in front of the TV.
Without taking his eyes off the screen, he asks, “What’s the rush?”
“Hot date,” I lie.
“You have to watch Arnie take on Lou Ferrigno. It’s pure poetry.”
I’d rather take on that eighties mullet you’re attempting to grow. “Yeah, another time.”
From behind a dumbbell, Jason grunts a goodbye.
I catch mostly green lights on the twenty-minute trip from my place to hers. Stopping outside her parents’ house, a double-story, ivy-walled home, I send Heather a text.
Justin: Meet me outside.
I wait five minutes, but there’s no reply. Irritation flares. If I want to see her, I’ll have to venture inside. Heather probably thinks I don’t have the guts to confront her father.
How wrong you are, babe.
Taking off my helmet, I dismount and press the gate buzzer.
“Yes?” says a voice on the intercom.
“Good evening, Mr. Walker. I’m here to see Heather.”
Silence. “Your name, son?”
“Justin.”
Another five-second silence. “Come on in, Justin.”
The gate motors open. I bring my bike in, toe out the kickstand, and leave it on the driveway.
The front door opens and a balding man wearing glasses stands in the doorway.
His gaze flicks to my shoulder-length hair, then to my eco-pirate T-shirt sporting the Sea Shepherd’s logo.
When his brown eyes make the return trip to my face, I stiffen, steeling myself for the judgment and condemnation the man will be unable to hide.
Heather’s father, however, simply smiles and extends his hand in greeting. “Good to meet you, Justin. You can dispense with the mister and call me Leo.”
I shake his hand, my shoulders relaxing a fraction. “Good to meet you, Leo.”
Leo motions me in and I step into the entrance hall.
Photos cover one wall. I pause, captivated by all the different stages of Heather growing up, from a chubby-cheeked baby to a brace-toting teenager to a recent photo of her looking poised and happy at some college event.
Heather mentioned a sister and I assume the golden-brown beauty in many of the photos is Heather’s sister.
A week ago, she would have grabbed my attention, but now my eyes bypass the beauty and are repeatedly drawn to Heather’s wholesome appeal.
My folks’ house also boasts its share of photos.
There’s one of my parents marching in a protest rally with the founder of IDA, another of my mom and PETA’s president posing together.
In pride of place is a photo of my dad chatting to primatologist Jane Goodall.
Our living room is a bragging wall of fame.
A wall that doesn’t feature a single photo of me, their only son.
“Heather’s cute, isn’t she?” asks Leo, standing behind me.
I nearly choke on my astonishment. Talk about a loaded question. However I answer there’s a bullet for me. “Uh, I don’t...”
Heather’s father chuckles. “I’m teasing, Justin. Let’s go through to the living room.”
I follow Leo through the expensively furnished house.
“Heather’s still upstairs in her room.” Leo removes a folded newspaper from an armchair and settles himself onto it. “Shall we chat for a bit before I call her down?”
Taking a seat opposite him, I force a smile, resigning myself to suffer through the proverbial grilling. “Sounds good.”
Sounds like I’d rather stick hot needles in my eyes.
Before the questions can begin, though, Heather’s mom walks in. I see echoes of her beauty in the strong cheekbones and kind brown eyes. I stand, remembering the manners Joel drilled into me.
“Lynn, this is Justin. He’s a friend of Heather’s.” Leo raises his eyebrows. “Have I got that right, Justin? You’re a friend?”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. The man doesn’t believe in subtlety. I look him straight in the eye and because I honestly don’t know what we are to one another I lie through my teeth. “We’re friends, yes.”
Although it didn’t feel so friendly when I kissed her.
Heather’s mom steps forward to shake my hand, her warm smile defusing the mild tension. The resemblance to Heather is strong. “Please call me Lynn.” She glances over at Leo. “Honey, have you offered him something to drink?”
“No.” At her pointed look, he grumbles, “The interrogation’s more effective if the suspect’s dying of thirst.”
I let out a rumble of laughter, enjoying the father’s unexpected sense of humor.
“What would you like to drink, Justin?” Lynn asks.
“A glass of water, please.” I settle back in my seat.
Leo keeps the conversation light until Lynn returns. He waits until she’s seated before he asks me, “So, Justin, have you known Heather long?”
I sip my water. “About a week.”
They exchange a glance I can’t interpret.
“How did you meet?”
“We know each other through work,” I reply evasively.
“Are you also working for SolomiChem?” Lynn asks, her eyes bright with interest.
“In a way.” Working to bring the company down. “Contract work, mostly.”
Leo straightens his glasses. “Justin, Lynn and I are a little old-fashioned in the sense that we like to get to know the friends our children are spending time with. This means I’ll be asking you a few personal questions. I want to be upfront with you about this.”
I offer a wry smile. “I’d probably do the same if I had a daughter.” In truth, I’d keep her well away from someone like me.
“All right, then. Do you drink, Justin?”
I shake my head. “My fitness is too important for me to indulge.”
“Do you smoke?”
“No.”
“Do you do drugs?”
“No.”
But Leo must hear something in my tone for he says perceptively, “Have you ever done drugs?”
The gentle question undoes me. Not many people know about my druggie past. The lie is on the tip of my tongue. What does another lie matter in a life filled with them? But seeing the unflinching honesty in Leo’s eyes, I experience a baffling compulsion to come clean.
“When I was seventeen, I indulged in six months of stupidity,” I admit. “But rehab sorted me out. I haven’t touched drugs, haven’t wanted to, since then.”
That gets their full attention. Seconds pass as they absorb my words. Confronted with their silence, I begin to regret my openness.
And then Leo says, “It was courageous of you to share that with us, Justin. I appreciate your honesty.”
He says it with such compassion my chest tightens with unwanted emotion.
I’ve been called courageous once before, by my father for rescuing two malnourished donkeys from a brickworks where they were blindfolded and forced to walk in endless circles turning the wheel that mixed mud and straw for bricks.
I’ve never been commended for opening up my heart.
Lynn offers me an encouraging smile. “It must have been an incredibly difficult time for you.”
What an understatement. Rehab was pure hell, where there lurked plenty of demons to fight. I clear my throat, try to clear my mind of the memories. “Yeah, it was a rough time.”
“Ah, Heather, there you are,” Lynn says.
Heather is wearing jeans and a T-shirt that do little to hide her hour-glass curves. The strap of a white bra peeks out at one shoulder. Her hair is in a loose ponytail, stray pieces framing her face. Pleasure courses through me at the sight of her.
The moment she sees me shock widens her eyes and her cheeks redden. The flustered look on her is endearing.
I push to my feet, keeping my gaze on her face. “Hi, Heather.”
“Justin,” she manages. “What are you doing here?”
I offer her an easy smile. “Visiting you. You had a rough day at work. I thought we could grab a coffee and talk about it.” I stick as close to the truth as possible, guessing she’d want to minimize the amount of lying she has to do.
“Oh, honey, I thought something was wrong when you came home,” Lynn says in concern. “You looked so down.” She aims a grateful smile my way. “Isn’t it sweet of Justin to think of you?”
“So sweet,” Heather says from between clenched teeth.
“Do you want to talk to us about it?” Leo asks Heather.
I stiffen, watching as Heather dredges up a smile for her father, a smile that doesn’t touch her eyes.
“You know how much I love animals, Dad. It’s just hard sometimes seeing them in cages and putting them through some of the procedures.”
Leo crosses the room and envelops her in a hug. “At least you’re there to love and comfort them. And when you come home we’re here to love and comfort you.”
I can’t tear my gaze away from their picture of family affection, feeling a little like a kid peeking into a shop window to look at a display I can’t afford.
Anger bubbles up inside me. I’m not a kid anymore, I tell myself harshly. I don’t want—I don’t need—what Heather has in such abundance.
Leo draws back, studying his daughter. “Are you up for going out with Justin tonight?”
“I’ll be okay,” she assures him. “Getting out might do me some good.”
Her father nods, and I wonder if I’m the only one who hears the lie in her voice.