Every Little Dream(31)

Only one way to find out.



Chad



I hate lying to Jimmy. He can see right through me, but this time I have to stick to my story.

“Where you going?” Jimmy guzzles straight from the orange juice container.

“Working for my dad like usual.” Not a complete lie.

“Man, that’s fucked up. Thought you hated the guy.” He crushes the empty carton and shoots for the trashcan.

I shrug. “I’ll be outta there soon enough. Doing the old man a favor.” Doing whatever it takes to get out of there and out from under his thumb is more like it.

Jimmy nods and heads back to the bedroom. “See ya later.”

I’m anxious. Ready to leave. Off to Raker’s Bluff to catch that asshole in action. Whatever Kingston is doing, I’m going to find out. Wrap this up for good and walk out of my dad’s office, hopefully for the last time. Instead of riding my bike or borrowing Jimmy’s car, I hire a taxi. The ride over is fast. My nerves get the better of me. Still can’t believe Dad goes to this means to win a case. If I get caught, the whole case will be thrown and his career would be tainted, possibly ruined. But that might get him off my ass.

I pay the driver to drop me off about a mile away. I’ll walk the rest, not wanting to take any chances. It’s early afternoon. The sun is hot and high in the sky. Nothing will go down this early, but I want to be in position. I have to be the ghost, invisible to anyone there, even if it’s just couples going at it. From what I remember Raker’s is a make-out spot for teens.

I chose tan and army green clothing. The plan is to blend in with the dry grass and bushes surrounding the lookout point and capture some footage if I’m lucky to be here the right time and the right day. Then meet Katie. It’s her turn to plan our date. Every day I spend with her makes the time working for my dad that much harder. She wouldn’t approve of his methods or this internship if she knew what was really going on.

Near the bluff, I notice a car parked toward the edge of the lot. An older man stands, his loose clothing moving with the wind. His face is glued to a camera, and he’s taking pictures of the ocean. Nothing too suspicious. He’s probably completely innocent but I’m not taking chances. When I circle back about twenty minutes later, he’s gone. The scraggly brush at the side of the lot is just thick enough to hide me but still risky. I forge my way through and settle down behind the thickest bush I find. I settle in for the wait.

I wait.

And wait.

And wait.

The hours pass. A couple cars pull in, fog up the windows, then leave. I sip my water until it’s slowly gone. Why didn’t I think to bring food? For some reason I thought I’d wait at the most a couple hours, not all afternoon and into evening. The sun inches across the sky, the color turning pinks and reds. Damn. Katie’s waiting for me but I don’t want to leave too early and miss something. I’ll wait until right after dusk.

An hour later, I’m ready to text Katie that I’m on my way and send what little info I have to my father and call the whole thing quits. I crumple my empty water bottle and toss it in my bag. I pull out my phone and call for a taxi. Can’t wait to see Katie, hear her laugh, soak in her smile—and forget about today.

“Yes, I’d like a taxi at—” Shit. A van roars in and completes a full spin sending a cloud of dust my way. I slam to the ground, hoping to God the driver didn’t see me. I close my phone and slip it into my pocket. My neck tenses, a warning something is up. This is it. All the time I spent sweating under the sun, bored out of my mind, is worth it. After a few deep breaths to control my heartbeat, I stay quieter than I have all day.

A guy gets out and leans against the front of his dirty white van. His shaggy black hair is tied back in a ponytail. A few strands break loose in the wind. He lights up a cigarette. As the sky grows darker, the red tip glows. The knot in my stomach in response to him is unusual. I don’t take crap from anyone and not many people scare me. This guy is different. Evil rolls off him like a summer thunderstorm.

I wait.

And wait.

And wait.

The guy looks at his watch and snuffs out his fourth cigarette. He shifts, possibly ready to leave.

I study the van. What could he be hiding in the back?

Finally, he walks around back, casual, confident. He opens the back. I don’t know what to expect, but I don’t expect the easel and canvas he pulls out. He sets it up at the edge of the bluff, just as the first stars twinkle.

He looks genuine as he paints. His hand moving up and down on the canvas. I question my sixth sense about this guy. Has this whole time been a waste? What did I miss? Maybe Ocean View Drive wasn’t a code at all. I’m about to sneak away with my tail between my legs, furious that I wasted another afternoon, when a Camaro pulls in, wheels spinning.