Maddox, Cal,Whatever
Delaney
Inside Walt's apartment, I was still gripping the back of his recliner like it might save me from falling over with surprise.
No. Not surprise. Shock – with a side helping of mortification.
As my heart hammered, I struggled to process everything I'd just learned. The guy I knew as Maddox had shown Walt my photo – before the two of us had collided in the doorway.
He'd even given Walt his card – except the name on the card wasn't Maddox at all.
It was Cal.
Walt had promised to help the two of us connect. And now Walt was saying, "Except I didn't have to, because you ran into him yourself."
Yes. Literally. Absently, I mumbled, "In the lobby."
"Yeah, you remember me saying something about it, right?"
I wasn't even sure what Walt meant. I was still stuck on the name.
Cal.
Not Maddox.
To Walt's question, I gave a numb shake of my head.
He explained, "When I passed the two of you, I called out to him. Remember?"
I tried to think. "I guess…maybe?"
"I told him it was his lucky day. You heard me, right?"
That, I did remember, but not the way Walt described it. "But I thought you were talking to me, not him." I was still struggling to catch up. "I mean…he didn't even look in your direction."
"Yeah, because he was looking at you. I couldn't blame the guy for that."
Walt was wrong. Whatever the guy's name was – Maddox, Cal, or Slick – I could blame him for a lot of things.
He'd totally misled me – and not only about his name.
Had any of it been real?
Good Lord. He'd even kissed me.
But of course, I'd practically begged for it while puckering up like the world's biggest fool.
If I was smart, I'd hustle back to Tessa's apartment, stuff everything back into my suitcase, and run for the hills.
Except I had no hills to run to.
Tessa might be in Miami. But maybe not. And even if she were, I had no idea where to find her, and she wasn't answering my calls. Plus, how on Earth would I get to Miami when I had literally zero money?
My parents would be worse than no help. If I went there, all I'd get were a bunch of questions I wasn't ready to answer. That's if I was lucky. If I was unlucky, I'd get the usual grief from Mom despite the fact she'd pilfered a few grand from my account.
My jaw clenched. This, of course, assumed she was even home. For all I knew, she was still shopping in Paris – using my money, which would've come in super handy right about now.
And then, there was the place I really wanted to go – Mackinac Island. But I couldn't go there either, because the last thing I wanted was to bring this mess of trouble to the doorstep of Maisie and her dad.
And besides, how could I go anywhere at all?
Forget buying gas. I couldn't even pay to get my car out of that stupid parking garage.
I gave Walt a desperate look. "You said he gave you a card? Like…a business card? Do you still have it?"
Walt shook his head. "Sorry, I tossed it yesterday."
I felt like screaming in frustration. "But why?"
"Because I saw the two of you meet up." He spread his hands. "Why keep the card after that?"
Damn it.
That was actually a good point.
My gaze drifted to Walt's kitchen. Just past those groceries was a tall, beige trash bin sitting near the end of his kitchen counter. I bit my lip. Just how deep was that card buried?
As if reading my mind, Walt said with an uneasy chuckle, "Dig if you want, but the only thing you're gonna find is banana peels and coffee grounds."
For one terrible second, I actually considered it.
Then I remembered Mrs. Stelter.
No.
Absolutely not.
Apparently, even I had limits.
Probably.
Plus, the way Walt talked, the card wasn't even there.
Still, I felt compelled to confirm it. "So you already took out the trash, huh?"
"No. But I tossed the card in that can by the elevators."
"Oh." I turned and looked toward his apartment door. "You mean on this floor, or…?" I didn't bother finishing, because the last thing I needed was more temptation.
When I looked back to Walt, he was frowning. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Totally." I plastered on a smile. "Anyway, I should let you get back to the game."
"Hold on. If you're in trouble—"
"I'm not."
"You sure?" He studied my face. "Want me to call the cops?"
Panic surged in my chest. "No. Absolutely not." Forcing another smile, I released my grip on the recliner. "I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding."
He gave me a dubious look. "It doesn't sound like one to me."
Yeah, me neither. But I refused to drag a perfectly nice stranger into my drama. And besides, I wasn't even sure what I was going to do.
Run?
Hide?
What I wanted to do was march up there and give Whatever-His-Name-Was a piece of my mind.
That's what the old Delaney would've done, especially during those teenage years when I'd been just a little reckless.
But that was a long time ago. I was a new-and-improved version, right?
All too soon, I had my answer.
Forget improvements.
Turns out, I was still reckless.
And very, very pissed off.