Chapter Six
Lola
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Ford,
This notice is served by Mount Crest High to officially acknowledge a concerning issue regarding the recent academic performance of your daughter, Lola Ford.
- Excerpt from academic notice letter
Brown, cloggy water spurts out of the tap. I jump back but it’s already splashed over my white top. “Perfect.”
I put the mug I found down on the worktop and leave the water running in the hopes it will wash out the pipes and turn clean. It was one thing putting on a brave face while Roman was here but now he’s gone the room feels cold and empty. The bones of a skeleton.
I open the refrigerator next only to be hit with a dank smell. I check for dead body parts in case Gregor was a secret cannibal, but the refrigerator is empty. It’s also not turned on.
I drop to my knees and squeeze my arm down the gap between the wall, my hand searching blindly until I find the plug. A soft whir fills the room as the fridge comes back to life. I lean against the wall and give the old machine a pat. “You and me, bud, we’re gonna be alright.”
I hadn’t actually planned on moving in till I’d had time to renovate the apartment but there was no way I was telling Roman or my parents that.
I had a bag packed anyway because I’d learned a long time ago to hope for the best, prepare for the worst. The worst turned out to be just a little worse than I was expecting.
Tears push at my eyes, and I tip my head back, willing them not to fall. No matter what I do, I can’t seem to change my family’s opinion of me.
It doesn’t matter that I’ve independently traveled the world for the past five years, managing my finances, my visas, and all the other hundred things you need to be responsible for while traveling. It doesn’t matter that the last time I actually did anything reckless I was eighteen.
To them I am still the wild child. The girl who hung out with biker kids and crashed a car into the town welcome sign, because apparently street racing isn’t as easy as Max made it look.
I should have known my announcement wouldn’t go down well.
On the bright side, thanks to Roman, I can at least sleep on the bed tonight. I was ready to fight him when he followed me out of the house but somehow, he managed to say just the right thing. I’d forgotten how good he is at that.
I spent the last six years actively not thinking about Roman because he made it perfectly clear I didn’t stand a chance, which just makes everything he did this afternoon all the more confusing.
I trail my fingers over my arm, still feeling his touch. I hadn’t planned to tell him what happened when I was traveling but I’ve only ever lied to Roman once and I didn’t want to do it again. The look on his face when he saw this place was bad enough as it was.
The light bulb hanging from the ceiling flickers and a sigh slips from my lips as I look around the room.
Old tape peels off on the floorboards and there’s so much dust in the air it coats my tongue as I breathe.
The irony of Old Man Gregor telling me to look after this place when he’s left it in such a state would be funny if I had the energy to laugh.
Maybe I’m in over my head. I miss the crappy hostels and quirky B&B’s. I miss not having to answer to anyone but myself. I miss Scott.
I remember then that he messaged me while Roman was here, asking if I could call, so I get out my phone. Scott picks up on the first ring, his forever windswept blond hair and boyish smile appearing on my screen. His smile fades, though, when he sees me.
“What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
I shake my head, blinking back tears. “Nothing. It’s just a lot, you know?
My apartment’s a mess, Roman makes my head spin, and I really, really need a coffee.
” I’m used to working in cafes and restaurants where I had an endless supply of caffeine but despite owning a coffee shop, I have not a single element required to make one.
“You could always come back to New Zealand… you know, totally for your sake and not to keep me company or anything.” There’s a teasing hint to his tone as he tries to look oh so innocent.
I laugh a little, but his words remind me of the message I got this morning. The one telling me I should have stayed away.
I chew my bottom lip. “Something weird did kind of happen.”
“Yeah?”
I tell him about the message and Scott’s lightness falls away. “Lola, that’s serious. Have you told the police?”
I grimace. “I can’t. Not without them asking questions.” I pick a bit of tape off the floor and finally voice what I’ve been afraid of saying. “I think it might be Carson. He’s out of prison.”
Scott runs a hand through his sun-soaked hair. “Fuck. Maybe you should come back out here, Lo. I don’t want that guy anywhere near you.”
“Where are you anyway?” I ask, not recognizing the wood paneled wall behind him.
“You know that place we kept meaning to try in Raglan? I’m there. Not to just tell you everything you’re missing out on, but they have coffee that is most definitely worth flying back out here for…”
As tempting as the idea is right this moment, I know I’m not going to run again. This is my home and I’ll be damned if I let Rob Carson ruin that. He’s already taken too much of my life from me.
The first year I spent traveling I was in a bad place.
I was partying too hard, drinking too much, and sleeping with almost any guy I could find.
I think I wanted to prove to myself that it was my body.
That I got to choose who could touch me.
No one else. But I was circling the drain and if Scott hadn’t ended up in the same hostel as me, if he hadn’t brought me the best coffee I’d ever tasted that morning, I might have kept on spiraling.
I owe him a lot for pulling me out of the darkness, giving me something to focus on. Scott and coffee became my refuge.
“I’ll be fine. It’s not like he can just attack me out in the open.” One of the benefits to small town life? People are always around. “You could come visit me here though,” I say.
Scott smiles. “Yeah, maybe I will. Seriously though Lola, I don’t think you should be alone right now. Why don’t you message Skyler?”
Skyler is perhaps the one person crazy enough to believe in me and my coffee shop idea.
As soon as I had a verbal agreement with Gregor I’d put out a post advertising for a barista come second pair of hands until the coffee shop is up and running.
We met for an interview three weeks ago and immediately hit it off.
She grew up in the city but moved to Pine Rock to be with her girlfriend, Lena, though I get the sense things aren’t going great between them.
If I’m honest, I don’t want to be alone right now either, but I also don’t want to be the boss who messages her employees at nine in the evening. “What if she thinks I’m needy?”
Scott smirks. “Maybe she’s needy too.”
I laugh. “Okay, I’ll message her.” We say our goodbyes and I push myself up from the floor and dust off my hands.
I’ve changed a lot in the past six years, and my parents are wrong.
I can do this. I got my life together. I climbed Mount Everest and walked the Great Wall of China.
I’m opening my own coffee shop. I will not spend my first night in my new home scared of Carson and wishing Roman was still here.
I get up my chat with Skyler and send her a message.
Lola: Any chance you’re also alone and moping on a Saturday night?
Skyler: My girlfriend’s three thousand miles away. So that would be a yes.
Lola: Wanna have a sneak preview of the coffee shop?
Skyler: That’s a rhetorical question right, because of course I do. Does this mean you’ve moved in?
Lola: Kind of?
Skyler: I’m bringing champagne.
I look around the dusty space and pull open a few cupboards. All empty.
Lola: You might want to bring some glasses too.
I keep searching my new space, leaning into this whole celebrating idea. I have more luck with the cupboard under the sink. It’s filled with rolls of duct tape and old tools, but I grin when I spot a frying pan wedged at the back.
Lola: And apples, cinnamon, sugar, corn flour, and sunflower oil too.
Skyler: …
Skyler: Is this you adding personal shopper to my job description?
Lola: Do you have a slotted metal spoon?
Skyler: Remind me why I took this job…
I laugh. I’d been worried when I’d only received two applications for the job.
Turns out most people aren’t happy to apply for a post that doesn’t technically exist yet.
I needn’t have stressed though. I’d offered Skyler the role after five minutes.
My dad would call that impulsive. I call it trusting my gut.
I know I made the right decision when Skyler appears fifteen minutes later with everything I asked for.
She cocks her hip against the door frame, a grocery bag in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. “Is it too soon to ask for a promotion?”
I grin and shake my head. “Ask me again when I’ve got some income.”
Skyler comes inside and places the bag on the bed, the beaded bracelets on her wrist clicking together as she moves.
I leave the frying pan I’d been washing to dry in the sink and hand Skyler some money for the groceries.
She pockets the bills in her cut off cargo pants and looks around the room.
I almost laugh at how hard she’s trying to keep her sun-tanned face blank.
Skyler spends her weekends surfing, so she catches the sun, and boy does the sun like her.
The bronzed skin together with her choppy blonde hair has her looking like a beach model, which honestly, only makes my apartment seem worse.
Skyler finishes her perusal of my new home. “So, uh, nice place you’ve got here.”
“Don’t start.” I snag the apples out of the bag and run them under the now clean faucet. “I’ve already had to convince Roman it won’t kill me to sleep on a rundown mattress.” I grab a tea towel and dry off the apples.
Skyler perches on the edge of said mattress, brushing away a pile of sawdust with the back of her hand. She cuts me a look, a glint in her blue eyes and a smile teasing her lips. “And what, pray tell, was Roman doing here?”
My eyebrows dig down. “He gave me a lift.”
Skyler hums and makes a show of nodding her head. “I guess that makes sense, given how much like a brother he is to you.”
I withhold the urge to groan. I never should have made friends with this woman. We were getting drinks at the Lagoon one night when Roman came in and, apparently, I insisted he was like a brother to me one too many times. Skyler’s been on my case ever since.
I pick up the utility knife I found to cut the apples and point it at my new friend. “I could fire you.”
“But then who would bring you apples, sugar, cinnamon, corn flour, and oil without questioning your sanity?”
I grin. “Geniuses don’t have to be sane. You know the number one rule I learned doing the business degree my parents still don’t know I have? Unique Selling Point. Every business needs a USP.” I toss an apple in the air and catch it. “This is mine.”
Skyler quirks a brow. “Apples?”
I set the frying pan on the small, two ring electric hob next to the sink, add enough oil to deep fry, and turn on the heat. “Apple fries.”
Skyler gets up and watches over my shoulder as I cut the apple. “You say that like it’s a thing.”
“It is a thing.” My tongue pokes out as I wrestle with the utility knife. The blade keeps wobbling, but I just about manage to slice the apple into fry shaped rectangles. “I had them in London at a Christmas market.”
Skyler watches with distaste as I dip the apple pieces in the corn flour then drop them into the hot oil. They sizzle, the aroma of deep-fried sweetness pushing away the dust that clings to the air.
“I’ve gotta say, right now, I’m not a believer.”
I pour sugar and cinnamon into a bowl, ready to coat the fries when they’re done. “Don’t worry, I’ll convert you.”
“I’ll try them on one condition.”
My skeptic bone tingles. “Oh yeah, what’s that?”
Skyler grins. “You tell me more about Roman.”