Chapter Twenty-One Barb
Chapter Twenty-One
Barb
The morning’s still gray and chilly, but the pier is buzzing with tourists, mostly families.
I locate Tessa through the crowd, pushing Jasper’s stroller up and down a short stretch of wooden planks outside Bubba Gump Shrimp Co.
I stop momentarily to observe her. She never finished telling me what happened to her mother.
She said enough, though. We’re more connected than I realized.
“I know, I know,” I say as I hustle up to her. She peeks over at me with a tortured expression. “What’s the matter?”
“I was wrong,” she says. “My neighbor—he didn’t buy your daughter the earrings. I made a mistake. It wasn’t even my earring she had.”
The way she says your daughter makes my stomach sink.
Except the story she confesses is something confusing about Dan Huntsman and his wife role-playing, something we don’t have time to discuss now.
“Tessa.” I cut her off, a little harsher than I intend. She flinches. “Can we talk about this later? We’re late.”
I start to walk toward the Ferris wheel, stopping when she doesn’t follow.
“I can’t. I want to—I know I’ve—it’s important—” Tessa starts and stops, trying to compose a thought. We don’t have time for this. It’s 10:02. We can’t be late for April. Later than we already are.
“I’ll go,” I say. “It’s probably better if we don’t ambush her, anyway. Wait here. I’ll be back soon.”
I don’t give her a chance to respond before I’m off.
There are several people waiting in line for the Ferris wheel.
It’s hard to tell where the groups delineate.
No one seems to be alone. A car swooshes down the curve of a roller coaster behind the Ferris wheel.
Beneath the yellow tracks, one woman waits, scanning the crowd until her attention stops on me.
“April?” I cautiously approach her, which causes her to hug her purse to her side. “Don’t be scared.”
These words have never reassured anyone.
They do little to calm April now. She regards me with large eyes, shockingly green.
Something about her is familiar. I can’t put my finger on what movie I’ve seen her in.
She continues to watch me, wary yet hopeful.
Whatever role Regina discussed with her, she wants it badly enough to find out whether I can offer it instead.
“I just want to talk.” My words are the lines of pedophiles, kidnappers, creeps. I shrug, hoping for once to appear as the harmless old lady I otherwise detest. “I’m Regina’s mother. She asked me to meet you. She said I should talk to you about the part.”
I’m taking a gamble, calling it a part, since April had mentioned it as an opportunity in her text. I assume this is about Regina’s movie. What other opportunity could my daughter have had to offer?
“I knew this was too good to be true.” She starts to walk away.
“Wait.” I race to keep up. “I’m sorry, I’m—” I hesitate. “Regina’s dead.” Her expression is pure horror. “I need to know what happened to her. Please.”
She studies me. Whatever she sees hardens her face. “You have some nerve. Are you even Reggie’s mother? Never mind, I don’t want to know. Just leave me alone. You and Reggie should be ashamed of yourselves, taking advantage of innocent people.”
She clutches her purse tighter as she scurries, then sprints away, as fearful as prey.
Her slender frame disappears into the crowd.
I don’t chase after her. The roller coaster races down the track again, rumbling through my immobilized body as my hair stands upright around my head.
If April’s prey, that makes me and my daughter predators.
Oh, Regina, what did you get yourself into?