Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
Ghosts
CLIFF
Cliff had a way with a certain kind of woman.
The wayward kind. Broken, damaged, lonely souls who sought him out and sidled up to him.
They could spot a sucker like him a mile away.
It never lasted long. Eventually, he’d find himself drowning in the chasms of their needs and drama, which was almost always self-created.
He would gently extricate himself after bailing them out of jail, paying off gambling debts, or patching up a rift with their children.
He’d leave them with the equivalent of a kiss on the forehead and good memories.
No permanent damage done. He knew how to handle himself with a woman like that.
So, when he met Jamie Frisco he was not prepared. He was physically drawn to her, but it was something about her energy that kept him there. Moth, meet flame.
Beyond the instant, inexplicable attraction that struck him where he stood, he found Jamie was incredibly bright, insightful, and funny. He found himself goofily smiling in her direction at most things she said.
Get a hold of yourself, man! Be aloof! Be mysterious!
But it was no use. He was the uncoolest version of himself around her.
The flirtation between them was palpable and obvious to everyone, including Amber, the waitress who was playing the role of jilted lover. But Cliff threw caution to the wind and flirted back with Jamie, even though it might infuriate Amber. Jamie was worth it.
Cliff, though, finally had to interrupt their engaging conversation to go to the restroom.
While standing at the urinal, he found himself daydreaming about going on a trip with Jamie.
She’d mentioned the Central Coast, and now his thoughts drifted to being there in time to catch the sunset as the leaves were changing, the rocky coastline, otters frolicking in the water while he held her hand.
With a dramatic whoosh, the door was flung open. Amber pulled a surprise attack and walked in the men’s room while he was peeing. The jolt made him stop midstream. He hurriedly tucked his goods back in his trousers and said, “Jesus!”
“Correction. My name is Amber. The girl you ghosted most recently,” she said, venom in her voice.
Cliff clenched his jaw. “Amber, listen, I’m sorry about that.
You don’t understand the circumstances, I was…
” But Cliff trailed off; there was no way he was telling her the truth even if it could get him off the hook.
Instead he said, “I had just come out of a bad situation. I came to the beach to make a fresh start. I was not in my right mind, facing going home to a lonely apartment for the first time in nearly a decade.”
This did nothing to sway Amber’s glare. “I feel used, Cliff. I don’t like to feel used,” she said flatly.
Cliff sighed and then took one of her hands in his. “Look, Amber. Sure, you can choose to see it that way. But that’s not how I see it or remember it. You were this beautiful face in my sea of uncertainty. You were open, and fun, and warm. And you brought me back to life. I had a great night.”
Amber’s tightened lips began to give way. “Really? You had a great night?”
“Yes.” Cliff looked her in the eyes, hopeful that she would relent but found nothing warm in her eyes, only the result of what a steady stream of disappointment can do. It had turned her bitter, darker, meaner.
“Riiiight. Wow, you are a master bullshitter. Only thing is, I’m not the poor, naive sap I once was.”
Cliff tried to picture that version of Amber but could not.
“Meet me back here in fifteen minutes,” she demanded.
“Amber, I can’t—I’m part of that group blind date.”
She glowered at him. “Meet be back here in fifteen minutes, or I’ll tell everyone, including that cute one in the navy-blue jumper, that you’re a convict.”
Cliff tightened his jaw and his eyes widened. “Ex-convict. How do you know that?”
She scoffed. “I saw your ID when you went to the john on that fateful first night. And, hello, Google.”
Cliff put his hands on his hips and sighed. “Look, I’m trying to change my life. I’m a legitimate businessman.”
“Sure.” She gave him an oily smile. “Didn’t take me long to find your record, Cliff Weston. Grand theft. Robbery. They called you a mastermind on the FBI website. Twenty-year sentence pleaded down to seven.”
Cliff stiffened. She could ruin everything.
This woman who had been dismissed, cast aside, and treated as a cheap trick by most of the men in her life, had Cliff’s fate in her hands.
She had an ax to grind against the cads that had ruined her hope, and now Cliff was going to be the target of all her unleashed wrath.
“Meet me back here in fifteen minutes,” she snarled.
“Why?” he asked warily.
“I have something to show you.”
“Show me now.”
“You can wait.” Amber clucked. “Just like I waited for your call.”
Cliff clenched his jaw and exhaled very slowly. “Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll meet you back here in fifteen minutes.”
He walked back to the table, back to Jamie, back to the light, back to the sparkling conversation—only now he had a small dark cloud hanging over his head named regret.
On his way back to the table, his phone pinged. He looked at the incoming text.
It was from Mel Ott with ominous words.
“T-minus thirty minutes.”