14. Amelie
14
AMELIE
Meg attacks me with a lint roller the second I step foot in the living room.
“NO NO NO NO!” She screeches, rolling the thing down my side. “I will not have cat hair all over this place. You played with his cat ?”
“You don’t even live here! You don’t get a say in how much cat hair I drag in.” I huff. “But yes, I did. Her name is Betty and I love her.”
She huffs, sounding equally as exhausted as I. “I’m thrilled you got to spend the day with a cat. Really. But did you, oh, I don’t know, find out why Harry wants our help?”
“You’re smashing my new bra!” I yank the lint roller out of her hand and chuck it at the couch. It hits Jensen’s shoulder, but he’s smart enough to keep quiet. “And no, I still haven’t figured that out. Jen and I did learn that his dad—Roman Arlington, if you aren’t caught up—owns his apartment building.”
“I don’t care if his daddy pays his rent.”
“I didn’t say he pays his rent.” I cross my arms. “He owns the building. If he wanted to, couldn’t he just get the security footage? Henry has the penthouse. It’s not like someone can get in there without being seen. He even had a key to the elevator. It was a whole thing.”
I’m vaguely aware that his dad might find out I was there, but hopefully he wouldn’t think anything of it. Old friends, right? Nothing fishy. Just two kids catching up. I’ve never met Roman, but he has no reason to be overly suspicious of me.
I mean, he totally has reason, but not that he knows about.
Jensen stands. “I think something is going on.”
“We could be overreacting,” Meg offers, but I don’t think we are. Henry shouldn’t be so willing to go through with all of this. The whole thing is off.
“I just don’t like it.” I shake my head, bite my lips together. “Something is unfolding right in front of us, and we’re going to figure out what.”
Meg takes Jensen’s seat and pulls a blanket into her lap. For someone that doesn’t live here, she certainly thinks she does. “We’ll get it, Ames. Promise. You’ve got him already, right? You know more than he wants.”
“No.” I shake my head. “I don’t think he even cares what I know, and that’s what’s bothering me.”
Logically, his only reason for not going to the police would be some issue of legality. Perhaps he’s got his own thing going for him—maybe he steals cake pans for sport or something. But I didn’t find anything like that today. There was nothing suspicious about him, and it’s killing me. I’d almost rather him have told me upfront.
“I’ve murdered four people this week,” he’d say, to which I’d respond , “Great! I understand now. Your perfect disposition is a facade. Let’s deal with that before moving on.”
But no. I think he’s seriously just desperate.
Panic seeps through me when a knock comes to my door. The last time someone knocked on our door, it was Henry, carrying a pocketful of blackmail with him. We don’t get a lot of company, and I’d like to keep it that way.
“Peephole,” I say to Jensen.
He scoffs. “ What did you just call me?”
“No, you dunce. Go check the peephole.”
“Oh.” Jensen crosses the room and puts his eye up to the lens on the door. I hold my breath as he tilts his head to get a better view, but he unlocks the deadbolt seconds later. “It’s your parents.”
I blink and walk to the entryway. “What?”
“Pumpkin!” My dad is beaming as he walks through the door, and Mom isn’t far behind him. It’s almost sickening what a picture-perfect couple my parents are, especially on workdays. Their outfits match; today, they don identical sweaters. “Surprise!”
“What for?” I ask, returning the hug they both wrap me in.
My dad laughs. To this day, his voice is one of those comforting sounds I’ll never tire of. “Well, it’s more of a surprise on our part, I guess. We got a call this morning…were you doing some business at the hall?”
I wince. This morning, before meeting with Henry, we dropped the piece off at Grand Arts. I was so preoccupied with him that telling my parents slipped my mind.
“Yes,” I say, hoping I didn’t cause any unnecessary trouble. “Jensen locked back up. Unless he messed up, which is possible.”
He crosses his arms. “I did not .”
“He did not,” Mom confirms, patting him on the shoulder. Her and Jen have a whole alliance; he’s basically the son she never had, and she’s the mom he wanted. It works for them. Me, on the other hand, I’m not pleased when they gang up on me. Mom acts as Jensen’s metaphorical shield in all our arguments.
“We’re actually here because of two things,” Dad says, drawing the attention back to him. “First off, has the painting been picked up yet?”
“Not sure,” Meg says before I can respond. “I called them and they didn’t pick up. I’ll try again later.”
“What’s the other thing?” I ask.
Dad sighs. “Well, your mom?—”
“Don’t you know what today is, Amelie?” Mom asks, and I instantly begin to panic, because I have no idea. It could be an anniversary, or a national holiday, and I wouldn’t have a clue. I don’t even know whether it’s morning or night right now.
“No,” I say slowly. “I’ve got no idea.”
“It’s the third.”
“And your point is…?”
“It’s February third.”
February. February.
Oh, no.
“Mom—” I try, but there’s no use.
“Two weeks, Ames,” she says. “Yours and Margot’s birthday is in two weeks! I refuse for us to be split up this year.”
I’m still shaking my head. “Mom, I don’t think?—”
“It’s about time my girls are together again,” she argues pointedly. “It’s been too long, and this is the perfect excuse. I’ve got everything figured out.”
“You do?” I croak.
She nods. “I do. And I know I shouldn’t have without your permission, but I don’t care. I’m pulling the mom card .”
“She can do that,” Jensen tells me. “She can do anything with the mom card.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. Take a breath. “And Margot agreed?”
“That’s the thing…” Mom looks at Dad, and he gives a shrug. “Margot agreed because she has a showing for the week I’ve got planned. The exhibit is near our cabin, so…”
“You want us all to stay in the cabin,” I finish, wringing my hands together. “You want us to have a birthday vacation, go to Marg’s showing, and have a jolly time.”
“Exactly,” she says, nodding proudly. “It’ll be the best thing we’ve done in a while, Ames.”
I do not feel as though it would be the best thing. In fact, it sounds like a very bad thing to me.
Margot, my twin sister, is sort of a sore subject. Not to Mom and Dad, but to me. Mom isn’t being dramatic when she says it’s been too long. The two of us haven’t talked in…well, it’s probably been four years since I’ve seen her in person. Not since she left for art school. I haven’t thought about our birthday once since then. Jen simply buys me a cake, Meg gets me a new pajama set, and we move on. By noontime, it’s just another day.
Four years. Four years since I’ve seen her, since our family has all been together.
I abandoned a lot of things that year. Sometimes I wonder if it was too much.
“Okay,” I say quietly. “Maybe. But I’ve got things lined up, Mom. I do this stuff months in advance. It’s hard to just drop it all.”
“The cabin is only a couple hours away,” Dad says. “Couldn’t you just come back and deal with it all next weekend? We’re only planning a week-long stay.”
“A week?! ” That’s like a year! “When is this all going down?”
“We’d get there on the tenth,” Mom says. “Marg’s exhibit is on the sixteenth.”
I pull out my phone and find the calendar. It’s the third, or so everyone is telling me (I hadn’t even realized we left January!). That gives me a week to tie up loose ends here.
“I don’t know,” I say, staring at the little dated boxes on my screen. “It’s not that I don’t want to, but I’m busy. I have things to keep up with.”
Dad winces. “Well, pumpkin, we rented out the hall for that week, so you can’t work through there.”
Hmm. That puts a dent in things. Nothing that I can’t solve, but a dent nonetheless.
“Okay,” I mumble, adding this to my mental list. It’s right next to deal with blackmail scheme and fix broken mug. “I’ll let you know by the end of the week.”
“Thank you, Amelie,” Mom says, giving me a soft smile. Her genuine look of happiness makes guilt sink into my stomach, given how reluctant I feel right now. It isn’t that I don’t want to spend time with them; my parents are some of my favorite people, and they’re right. Despite me running business through their workplace, we haven’t really seen each other in a while.
I just don’t want to see my sister.
Mom suddenly grabs my wrist, instantly dragging me into the hall. It’s not really a hallway—it’s more like a square foot of space next to the bathroom, but it’s close enough. The boys are already preoccupied with something on Dad’s phone, but Meg is listening. She’s eyeing me like she knows something, even though she can’t possibly.
“Honey, you know our neighbor?”
I blink. “That’s so vague.”
“You know, the Bridges.”
I shake my head. I do not know the Bridges.
Mom waves a hand. “Well, anyways, their son is going to be at the lodge when we are. I’ve been in contact with his mom—Courtney, remember? The one who owns the winery?” She’s grinning now. “We think you guys should meet up this time around.”
I close my eyes. “Absolutely not?—”
“Oh, why not? You’re young and beautiful.”
“I know.”
She ignores me. “You should be going out and having fun, not being obsessed with your work. One date wouldn’t hurt, right?”
I groan. I thought I had escaped my mom setting me up on dates, though I know her intentions are pure. My parents, despite their history of thievery as well, don’t have a single bad bone in their body. Mom just wants me to find love. Probably would rather me settle down with a man with a stable job than continue what I’ve got going. I think I’m the reason her hair is graying.
But no.
“I can’t, Mom,” I say, shaking my head. “Maybe next time.” There will be no next time.
“Really, why not, Amelie?” Her eyes are bright. “He’s a handsome boy!”
“She can’t because she has a boyfriend.”
The words come out of Meg’s mouth, but I can’t understand why.
Immediately, my gaze connects with hers. I probably look like the personification of terror right now—my eyes feel like they’re bulging out of my face, and my teeth are pressed together so hard, I’m concerned I’ll need dental work after this is all said and done.
“What?” My mom says ecstatically.
“Yeah, what ?” I say, less discreetly than I’d planned.
“That’s right. Our favorite girl has a boyfriend.” Meg stands and folds the blanket back up—something she’s never done—before joining our little hallway gathering. “Am I wrong, Ames? Haven’t you been seeing someone?”
I have two options here. I tell my mom that Meg is a filthy liar and go on a date with what’s-his-face, or I lie.
I’m very good at lying.
“Yes,” I say, looking at my mom. “I’ve been seeing someone lately. We’ve only gone out a few times, but I quite like him. I couldn’t go on a date with Jacob?—”
“Jack!”
Close enough. “—while knowing how much I like this boy. It wouldn’t be right.”
Mom sighs, and I think I’m free. I think this will never be spoken of again, at least not right now. But then her face lights up. Her eyes widen and she smiles and I just know I’m in trouble.
“Bring him to the cabin!” Mom says. “That would be fun! Arnie, wouldn’t that be fun?”
“Huh?” Dad says from the living room. He and Jensen have parked themselves on the couch, now locked in on a football rerun.
“Couldn’t Amelie bring the boy she’s dating to the cabin?”
“She’s dating?” Dad asks, looking mildly appalled. “I guess so. I’d like to meet the chap.”
This is going downhill so much quicker than expected. “Guys, no. I just started seeing him. It’s only been, like, a month?—”
“Your father and I were married by then.” She waves a hand around like that’s normal. “And it isn’t a big deal. Just think of it as a vacation for the both of you. No one minds getting away from work, and you need a break. Let us all celebrate you and Margot for a bit, okay? Just ask him.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. The second I get ahold of Meg, it is over . I’m finding Jensen’s hair clippers and ending her. She’ll look nice with a buzzcut. She’s got the head shape for it.
“I’ll decide everything by this weekend,” I tell her, starting to move toward the door so she’ll follow. Dad notes my tactic and complies, but Mom keeps her feet planted in the living room. “And if I can make it work…I’ll see what he says.”
“Yay!” Mom gives me a quick, suffocating hug. “Thank you, honey. You won’t regret coming. It’ll be so great, and maybe, you and Margot can?—”
“Maybe,” I interrupt so she won’t finish the sentence.
Mom’s mouth turns to a thin line, like she knows how intent I am on not breaching that subject. Relief sweeps over me when she just nods, keeping her words to herself.
Dad sighs and puts a hand on Mom’s back, then grabs the door handle with the other. Thank you. “We oughta get back to the hall. Orchestral performance tonight. You guys comin’?”
Jensen stands. “You know?—”
“I think we’re good,” I say, leaning against the wall in the entryway. I close out of my calendar app and shut my phone off, slipping it into my front pocket. “Maybe next time.”
Dad nods and gives me a side hug. “See ya, pumpkin. Give us a call tomorrow.”
“I will.” I wave to them as I close and lock the door. When I spin back around, Jensen is staring at Meg, shaking his head.
“You are in hot water, darling,” he says.
“I’m so sorry,” Meg starts, and I’m shocked to find her tone sincere. “Genuinely, Ames, I thought I was helping. I thought she’d just leave it. I didn’t realize?—”
“It’s fine,” I tell her, because I believe her. She hasn’t been around my mom as much as Jensen; therefore, she doesn’t know that she’s never let anything go, ever. “You’re just a little insane.”
“We already knew that.”
I groan. “But what do I do?”
“You don’t have to do anything,” Jen says pointedly. “Just say you asked, but he couldn’t make it.”
“That won’t work, and you know it.” I’d have to give her a name, but it wouldn’t stop there. Details—albeit fake ones—would be drawn out of me before I even notice it. It’s like sorcery.
Jensen shrugs. “Just ask a friend of yours to go as your date. A week at a lodge sounds nice.”
I sigh. I don’t have any other friends, let alone guy friends. There’s seriously no out here, not unless…
I turn to Jensen. “You could do it.”
“Ew!” He scoffs. “Ames, we’re like siblings . That’s disgusting!”
“I’m sorry!” I huff. “I’m desperate.’”
“You could bribe Henry,” Meg suggests.
I gape at her. “You’re kidding. Henry Arlington? You want me to ask my ex-boyfriend to pretend he’s dating me for a week? I’d rather gouge my eyes out with fire pokers.”
“Just a suggestion.” She shrugs and crosses her arms. “Regardless, I’m going to help you figure it out. Promise. It’s my fault, so I’ll think of something.”
I groan and flop down onto the couch. “Okay, well, this is going to have to wait. I need to call our client and see if they ever picked up the piece.”
“I’ll pull up their number,” Meg says, sitting down beside me.
I get out my phone and frown. The screen is on, but I don’t remember leaving it on. Henry’s and my text messages are on the screen, and I see one that I didn’t send.
A voice text box.
“No,” I say aloud, holding the phone up to my eyes. It’s too close to see, but it’s perfect for dramatic effect.
The tiny numbers in the corner send my heart into a fit.
Three minutes.
I just sent Henry three minutes of conversation about needing someone to be my fake boyfriend. One of those someone ’s being him.
“What’s wrong?” Jen asks.
“I just sent a voice recording to Henry.”
“Of that conversation?”
“The one we just had, yes.”
“Oh, Ames.” Meg winces.
“Can you delete it? Please? You’re techy.”
She shakes her head. “Once it’s sent, you can’t delete it.”
“You’re lying .” I hope she’s lying. If not, I’m going to take the fire poker route.
“I’m sorry,” she says again, right before going back to her laptop.
I chew my lip raw and try to delete the message. Meg is right—there’s no way. I consider sending a follow up, something like, please don’t listen to this, I’m so sorry it was a joke, but that would just tempt him further.
I exhale and rub my eyes. “Just forward me the number. Please.”
“Working on it.”
I unlock my phone again, ready to click the contact, but that’s not what I see.
No, my first notification is a text from Henry.
Arlington
I’m going to assume that wasn’t for me.
My face heats as I read the message over and over again. Why couldn’t he have dropped his phone down a sewer grate or something?
you’re so smart wow! please leave me alone. as you can see i am clearly in distress right now. let’s just never bring it up again ok THANK YOU
Arlington
Eh, I can’t promise that.
you git.
Arlington
You wound me, Ames.
I’m going to throat punch him if he keeps calling me that. And not because I hate it. More so because I don’t.
haven’t you tormented me enough for one day?
Arlington
No. I’m afraid I could never tire of that.
On an unrelated note, please meet me at the café tomorrow, same time. I’d appreciate it. We have more things to cover.
My client’s number comes through just as I read Henry’s final message. I start to click it and make the call, thankful for a distraction from him, but I decide against it. Instead, I just shut my phone off and vow to call tomorrow.
For now, I’ve got to cook up some excuse to feed Henry.