Chapter Twenty-Four
Amber
Istare at the number scribbled on my hand through a fit of tears.
I have no idea who Kent Lawson is. I tracked down one of Declan’s high school classmates on an online site for people looking to stay connected with friends from the past. He said Kent is Declan’s best friend, and if anyone can tell me how to contact Declan’s family, it’s Kent.
I dial the number, and the phone rings only once.
“Yellow,” a high-pitched voice answers.
“Um,” I mumble, “Hi. Is Mr. Lawson available?”
“You got him,” he responds. “Who’s this?”
“My name is, uh.” My nerves have a hold on me.
“Well, Uh,” says Kent jokingly. “What can I do you for?”
“Haha.” I chuckle, which helps a little. “I’m Amber. I got your number from a friend.” I promised not to divulge my source, though I feel a little dirty being so sketchy about it.
“Really?” Kent says in a questioning tone. “I didn’t know I had any left. But here we are, talking, sorta.” He stops, but I don’t say anything just yet. “I’m assuming you’re calling to do more than tell me your name. So, let’s have it.” Proper grammar isn’t his thing.
“I apologize, Mr. Lawson,” I say softly, “I’m calling because I need to locate Declan Roberts’ family.” I hope this will work.
“What?” Kent asks, confused. “Why do you need to reach Declan’s family? And you can call me Kent.”
“I’m sorry for the confusion Kent,” I say, “I’m just trying to understand what happened to him. I’m guessing by the sound of shock in your voice that Declan never told you about me.”
“Well, Amber,” says Kent. “You’re right. I don’t know anything about you. But that don’t matter. How’d you know him?”
“We’re supposed to be getting married in three months,” I say apologetically, felling embarrassed. “I don’t know what happened, but I can’t just sit and do nothing about it. Will you help me?” I can’t hide the helplessness in my voice, still sniffling from crying.
“Okay, okay,” says Kent. “Don’t go all coo-coo on me now. I don’t know what you’re up to lady, but if you wanna talk to Declan’s family, I can give you their names and phone numbers. Can I text them to this number?” He sounds anxious to get rid of me, which is fine.
“Yeah,” I say, happily surprised. “That’d be great. Thanks so much.”
“Just do me one favor,” says Kent. “If you find what you’re looking for, lemme know.”
I try to respond, but Kent hangs up before I can say another word. A moment later my phone vibrates. Kent followed through. There are two names with phone numbers. One for Declan’s brother, and another for his mother. Now, to get some answers.
I met Declan at the county fair, where the bright lights, rides and games mixed with the scent of the world’s unhealthiest fried foods.
People came in droves for days on end to spend their hard-earned money on the freak show that was the County Fair.
Live music, horse racing, and all the entertainment scams one could stomach came together for one unforgettable week.
I loved the fair. There wasn’t much else to do for fun during the year, unless I wanted to spend exorbitant amounts of money to stand in line at theme park.
Bonnie and I met during our freshman year and had been best friends since.
She dragged me there the first time. It didn’t sound like something I’d enjoy.
Not with all the people. But it quickly became a tradition.
Now, we always go together. Hell, we spend the weeks before hand pumping each other up for it.
We both graduated from cosmetology school before we were twenty and had started our own business together. People often mistook us for twins. Both about five and a half feet tall with long black hair, chocolate brown eyes and smooth mocha skin.
Every year at the fair, there was one game we had to play. But this time, there was a creepy old man disguised as a clown trying to cheat me out of my reward. Worse than the deceit was the stench. He reeked of sour milk and rancid vegetables combined with old crusty socks.
Bonnie and I knew how the game worked. We were practically pros.
All we had to do was toss three rings around one of the red beer bottles among a sea of green bottles to win the grand prize.
But, when I successfully tossed all three rings at once and they stayed on the red bottle, the disgusting clown decided to make up his own rules.
He told me I could only pick from the third row of stuffed animals on the wall for this toss.
His eyes dragged up and down my body while he licked his lips through rotten teeth from what had to be a meth addiction.
I had a few drinks in me by then, and false courage crept up my spine, urging me to take a stand.
I demanded my prize, pointing my finger at his chest, calling bullshit on this random stipulation.
He never mentioned any dumb rule before I tossed my rings.
The crowd agreed with me, and a young man stepped forward to confront the clown.
He demanded the circus freak give me my TV or he'd make sure he never earned another dollar at this fair again.
I couldn’t believe it when, after an intense stare down, the buffoon gave in. I was sure I was leaving with a shitty teddy. It felt nice to have someone stand up for me for once. My county fair days were saved thanks to this brave young stud.
“Thanks,” I said to the kind man, blushing. “You didn’t have to do that for me. I should have known better than to give my money to con-artists.”
He must have felt like a hero, because that first smile, he gave me, stole my heart.
“My name is Amber,” I continued, setting the bait. “How can I make this up to you?”
“Nice to meet you Amber,” he responded with a smile. “I’m Declan.”
It had been a long time since I had shown anyone romantic consideration, but Declan’s dimples when he grinned back crushed my defenses.
“You don’t owe me a thing,” he said. I know the look in my eyes had to scream disappointment. “But,” Declan added, “should you feel obligated, I’m always up for a cup of coffee.” The flutters in my gut made it official. I was his.
Tears form a puddle on the glass frame holding the photo from our first date, and I speak to my dream come true through uncontrollable tears, “Where are you?”