Chapter 21
Vaughn
We all left the bar at the same time, but as soon as the Uber arrived, Jax shot one finger into the air and yelled, “Tallyho, Ron! Shenanigans and fuckery await!” Before he took off running down the street.
Without a word of goodbye to us, Marshall shouted “I’m not Ron! You’re Ron! I’m Harry, damn it!” And then sprinted off after Jax.
Eli rode all the way home with me in the Uber.
I expected him to come inside and stay, but he didn’t.
I thought we might continue to...explore one another, but he said he needed to go home.
My thoughts immediately went back to Abigail.
After I saw she was calling, he kept his phone in his pocket the rest of the night and never mentioned who she is to him.
Why? Isn’t it just natural to explain why you’re ignoring a call? Maybe I’m just paranoid.
The phone seems to ring forever before Marshall’s fake hillbilly accent comes through the speaker. “You’ve reached Harper’s Mule Barn. You’ve got the head jackass speaking. How may I help you?”
Maybe reaching out to the proxies wasn’t a good idea after all.
“Uh, yeah. Anyway, Marshall, I need help. Proxy help.”
“Hold please.”
Not sure what he thinks he’s doing by covering the phone. I hear everything he’s saying, though it’s slightly muted by whatever he has over the speaker.
“It’s V. Proxy business.”
“Yes! What is it?”
There’s more shuffling on the other end of the line.
“Ah, yes. You’re on with Marshall and Jax. Submit your request.”
Good grief. This was a bad idea. He’s put the phone on speaker so I can consult with both of them.
I clear my throat before continuing. “Yeah. So Eli went home last night.”
“Mmhmm. Mmhmm. You see, a man has responsibilities, V. A man’s home is his palace. He must-”
Cutting him off in the same way he did to me, I finish what I was saying.
“Actually, I wasn’t finished talking. The upsetting thing isn’t that he went home.
It’s that he’s always getting calls and ignoring them.
I’ve literally never seen him talk on the phone or even send a text.
He keeps his phone is his back pocket, and I hear it vibrate, but he ignores it every time.
Last night, for the first time, I saw who was calling.
And I’m not saying that this is the same person who’s been calling the whole time, but it said Abigail Washington. ”
“Hmmm. I see. Could be a relative.”
“Yeah. I know. It could be. The thing is that he saw me looking at it, and he didn’t explain. Wouldn’t it be natural to say, ‘hey that’s my sister, or cousin, or whatever’?”
“Does he have a sister?”
“Yeah. I don’t know her name, though. He doesn’t like to talk about himself, so I haven’t pushed the issue but, now I’m wondering what all the secrecy is about. I mean, I’ve never even been to his house.”
There’s shuffling on the other end of the phone again, and I hear muffled voices.
“That’s weird, right?”
“Yeah, a little weird. I guess. I don’t know. Maybe not. I mean, what are we thinking here? Double life?”
“I don’t know. Sounds suspicious. I can’t imagine Eli doing anything like that, though. He’s so....I don’t know. He’s like...he’s like Jesus.”
“Jesus?”
“Yeah, you know, like tough, saving people, he’s got the long hair, and people kind of just...I don’t know. Like fall at his feet or whatever.”
“Yeah. He’s like Jesus. Good point.”
More shuffling.
“Okay. So, we know where he lives.”
“What? Have you been to his house?”
“No, but we had his license overnight, remember?”
“Oh. Yeah.”
“We didn’t want to take it home because...well, you know we’d lose it, so we memorized the address in case he put you in a hole in the basement and turned the hose on you.”
“Uhh. Yeah. Okay, so what are you saying? You think I should go to his house?”
“We’re coming over.”
After significant deliberation back at my apartment, we decided I would just text Eli and casually ask what he’s doing.
That was two hours ago. Half of my day was already wasted deliberating on my own before contacting the proxies, then another two hours of the most insane mediation you could imagine, and now, finally twenty-five minutes driving to Eli’s address.
It’s a nice house. Two stories, big front porch. Mostly brick with some stucco accents. It looks like Eli. The yard is immaculate. This must be what he’s doing while I’m at work.
“So, what now?”
Jax and Marshall look at one another with half-shocked, half-pleading expressions. Jax is the first one to speak.
“Well, I kind of hoped we’d pull up, and he’d be like erecting a statue of you in the yard. Since that clearly isn’t going to happen...Marshall?”
Marshall whips his head in Jax’s direction, looking very betrayed by the question.
We spent hours going back and forth for them to eventually huddle amongst themselves, and this is what they came up with? This is the big plan?
“You should just go knock on the door.” Marshall is an idiot.
My glare could cut through stone, but does nothing to these morons.
“I’m not going to knock on his door. What if he actually does have a family in there?
Then what? Or what if he doesn’t and he comes to the door himself?
” Shifting my voice to sound something like Goofy, “Oh, hi, Eli. I’m not actually stalking you.
It’s just a coincidence that I’ve shown up on your doorstep after you failed to respond to my texts.
I’ve actually picked up a second job, and I’m doing food deliveries.
I must be at the wrong address. Small world.
Only, I don’t have any food because, well, I guess I got hungry on the way over. ”
They’re looking at me with twin ‘what the fuck’ expressions before Jax says, “That’s the best you could come up with? You’re a really terrible liar.”
“Oh yeah. You could do better?”
“The six-year-old boy I trade Pokémon cards with could do better. Here’s what you do.
Just go up there and knock on his door. If a woman comes to the door, say ‘Mrs. Wilmington?’ She will naturally correct you with ‘No, sorry. I’m Mrs. Washington.
’ And then there you have your answer. If Eli answers the door, just say ‘Hey, I know this seems weird but me and the guys were at a friend’s house around the corner.
They remembered your address because they have super high IQs, and I just thought I would stop by and say hey. ’ “
Huh. How about that? That actually makes sense. It could work.
“Yeah. Okay. That actually sounds like it could work.”
“I know, right? The world should be glad that I don’t use my powers for evil.”
“Mmhhmm. Right. Okay. I’m going.”
I can’t allow myself time to chicken out.
Just walk right up to the door and ring the bell.
Oh. My. Gosh. My heart might actually explode right inside my chest. Are my hands sweating?
My hands are definitely sweating. Shit, will she want to shake my hand?
Who is SHE? Have I already decided that he does have a whole ass family in there?
The door. The doorbell. I have panicked all the way to the front door.
It’s either time to run or time to sack up.
You are Vaughn, mother fuckin’ Webb. You will sack up, and you will be fine with whatever happens when this door opens.
You are a bad bitch. You have always been a bad bitch.
You will be a bad bitch long after this day is over.
DING DONG!
The doorbell is the generic ding dong sound, but it sounds like thunder to my anxiety-riddled ears.
I should not have come here. This is not going to go well.
No matter what happens here, I’m either shattered or embarrassed.
Neither emotion sounds fun. Thoughts are still racing through my head when I hear the clink of the doorknob.
Someone has grabbed it from the inside. It’s turning.
The door is opening. My heart has hit light speed, and this cannot be healthy.
Once the door opens enough that I can see who’s on the other side, my heart reaches a whole new unhealthy when it stops. It’s a woman...a gorgeous woman...holding a beautiful little boy. He’s kind of huge, but definitely a toddler.
“Hi there. Can we help you?”
Her mouth is incredible. She has these full lips that frame perfectly squared, white teeth.
Her top lip doesn’t have that dip in the middle.
What’s that called? Cupid’s bow. She doesn’t have a Cupid’s Bow.
She does have beautiful porcelain skin, though.
She’s taller than me. She’s prettier than me.
Like a lot. It’s not even that close, really.
“Ma’am, can I help you?”
Shit! She’s talking to me, and I’m ogling her. Turn the smile on full blast.
“Yeah. Oh. Yeah, I’m sorry. Uh, Mrs. Wilmington?”
Her face falls into a mock sad expression.
“No. I’m sorry. We’re the Washington’s. I’m Mrs. Washington.”
My heart. Wow. It turns out that the shattering still hurts even after the heart has stopped beating. I mean, I think it’s stopped beating anyway. I don’t know how it could still beat when it’s in so many pieces on this beautiful porch.
“I think you have the wrong house. I’m so sorry, but I don’t know any Wilmingtons on this street.”
Finally, my wits somewhat return. Enough, at least, that I can speak to this bombshell with a smiling toddler on her hip.
“Oh gosh. Must have the wrong address. So sorry for bothering you and...”
“Abel. Abel Elijah Washington.”
Fuck, that stings. Hopefully, my smile doesn’t give away any of the pain I feel.
“That’s a strong name. And he’s beautiful.”
“Oh gosh. I know, right? I carry him for nine months for him to come out looking exactly like his dad. I wouldn’t have named him after him if I’d known there’d be nothing of me in his looks either. Now he’s just all dad.”
Huh. She’s right, too. He looks exactly like Eli. Right down to those icy blue eyes and...damn it. Those dimples.
That’s it. That’s my limit. Stepping backward toward the steps, I choke out something like “Sorry for the trouble. Cute baby.” My race to the car is zig zagged and I even stumble once before I reach the door. This is because I can’t actually see where I’m going through the tears.