Page 49 of Alonzo

“What do you mean?”

He winces a little. “Well… I can’t tell you that, Alonzo. And trust me when I say this, you don’t really want to know our secrets. OK?”

“But you told Emma?”

“Not really. But she found out. She’s bossy like that. She bossed her way into the Bossy penthouse, right up to the top floor of Johnny’s office, and she told him what was what. I was there. It was…” His face goes a little dreamy as he recalls this day. “It was pretty fucking spectacular. But then Johnny called her bluff, showed her how we make the sausage, and then…”

“Then what?”

“Then she was in whether she wanted to be or not.”

“Hold on.” I put up a hand. “Did you just admit that you got my baby sister involved in something… sketchy?”

“I’m afraid that’s all need-to-know kind of shit. But if you’re really interested, you’re free to go up to the city and ask Johnny about it yourself. If Emma can boss it out of him, I’m sure you can too.”

For a moment I’m thinking I might beat the shit out of Jesse Boston.

But then he leans forward and places his elbows on his knees. Folds his hands together and rests his chin on his thumbs. “OK. Here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna call back and this time you’re gonna leave a voicemail. And here’s what you’re gonna say…”

CHAPTER TWLEVE - TARA

“Who wants Waffle House?”

I’m in the back cab of Vann’s super-sized truck and we’re—I look out the window and catch a freeway sign blurring by—just passing the town limits of a place called Warrenton, Missouri.

Belinda yawns. “I could eat.”

I am not proud of what I’m doing. Something about me is changing inside now that we’re on the road. I’m about to go from sexy pencil-skirt librarian to creepy jilted stalker and that bothers me. It feels like I’m turning some kind of corner and the minute I’m on that new direction I’ll be a new person and that’s not necessarily a good thing.

Vann looks over his shoulder at me. “Tara?”

“Whatever.”

There was a pretty long heated discussion in Vann’s truck out behind his family mansion last night, but I ticked off all my points in one lucid, salient argument and Belinda and Vann really didn’t have a better alternative. So… he packed up a few bags with enough jeans and t-shirts for all of us and now we’re headed to Key West so I can look Lonnie Derringer in the eyes and make him own up to his lies. All those lies. Two years of lies.

I get a little flutter of anticipation in my stomach whenever I picture this meeting. Our first in-real-life face-to-face. I’m just having a hard time deciding if that flutter is anticipation or disgust.

I’ve seen the TV show. I know how stupid everyone looks. No one ever comes off that show looking like they’re in control of their life. They all look like morons. But if the last two years of my life were nothing but a lie, then I’m gonna turn over this new leaf with a bang.

Vann deleted all the apps on my phone, erased my passwords, gave my phone a new password, and then put it inside a Ziploc bag and tossed it into the back of some random student’s truck on the CSU campus as we were leaving town. If anyone is tracking it they’ll think I’m in that dorm.

But I learned my lesson the last time my life was thrown out and I had to start over with nothing. I backed all my shit up in a private cloud and had my phone calls forwarded to a virtual number. So when Vann handed me the new phone all I had to do was download my cloud app and presto—everything was there and I won’t even miss a call.

I didn’t contact Lonnie. I won’t contact Lonnie. But I am gonna stare at that screenshot I accidentally took and I will listen to the message he sent this morning. Over and over again. For the next thousand miles.

He said:

“Tara, I just want to check in with you. Make sure you’re OK and see if you need anything. I didn’t mean to scare you off last night. And if you’re not interested in making this thing we have into something more, I’m totally fine with that. But I’m worried. So you need to call me back. No pressure or anything like that. Just call me back and let me know you’re OK or I’m not going to be able to let this go.”

I’m already thinking of him differently. Like a stranger. Which makes me equal parts sad and angry.

Two days ago Lonnie and I were real. He was a dirty-talking nerdy accountant and I was an undersexed sexy librarian. And now… now he’s a hot-as-fuck fisherman with mermaid tattoos and I’m… I look down at my outfit. Still the same one I bought from the thrift store yesterday. What am I? Who am I?

I’m definitely not a sexy librarian anymore. But I’m not quite Phoebe, either. Maybe this is a new version of me?

Phoebe 3.0?

Or Tara 2.0?