Page 75 of Alonzo
He smiles and shakes his head. “No. It very much feels like my name.” He glances at me. “But only when you say it. If my mom called me Lonnie, yeah. It would. But it’s just my name with you. And your real name? Phoebe? Do you want me to call you that?”
“No.” I laugh. “I’m like Belinda, I guess. I don’t know Phoebe anymore. But it’s funny. That same day that I took off from Colorado, I was thinking maybe I’d like to be Phoebe again. I even went to the thrift store to buy clothes that felt more like me.”
“Ah, man. Are you telling me you’re not a sexy, pencil-skirt-wearing nerd?”
“Hold that thought.” I laugh. “I was missing the old me, ya know? My exciting life as a PI in LA. Everything was so different. But as soon as I put those clothes on you called and started showing me tattoos, and then Diablo was knocking on my door, and then Vann was dragging me down a fire escape. And I thought… fuck that fucking Phoebe. She’s a hot mess!”
He laughs and turns the boat so that we’re heading into a blanket of moonlight on a mostly calm sea.
“She is such a hot a mess. I’d forgotten. So… no. I don’t want you to call me Phoebe. I think I needed that reminder. I never really got to say goodbye to her. Everything happened so fast once Diablo was found not guilty. The FBI was there rushing me places. Shoving paperwork in my face. New ID and passport. And then I was on a plane to Colorado. I didn’t have time to question anything, or think things through, or wonder if any of it was a good idea. I just accepted their new plan for me and fell in line. So maybe, the other day, I was having some regrets. It’s easy to forget the bad times, ya know? And just remember what you loved about something when it’s no longer there.”
“Hey, if you don’t want to look into the Boston brothers, I’ll totally understand.”
“No, I do. I absolutely do. I’m a natural investigator. I’m just one of those people who likes to see what’s behind the curtain. If the Bostons are up to no good, and your sister is involved, then... that’s important information. If there’s one thing this whole unexpected road trip has taught me it’s eyes wide open, right? Just understanding what you’re getting into when you make a huge decision like marriage—that counts. And even if they are up to something, she might stay with him, ya know? She might not care. Or maybe she already knows, Lons. Did you ever think of that?”
“I think she knows some things. But not all of it.”
“And you want her to know all of it?”
He looks at me for a long moment. Like he’s thinking very hard about that question. “Eyes wide open, right?”
“Yeah. OK. I’ll figure out those Boston boys. Don’t worry.”
He’s silent. Doesn’t agree or disagree. And I’m just starting to wonder what that silence means when he points out the window. “That’s where we’re going.”
I redirect my gaze to where he’s pointing. “What is it?”
He cuts the engine in a small natural harbor surrounded on three sides by thick vegetation. “It’s a hidden channel. We’ll have to leave the boat here and row to where I’m taking you.”
“Row?” I grin. “That’s kind of romantic.”
He slaps my leg. “Come on. It’s not far.”
He actually produces an inflatable rowboat from some hidden compartment on the back of the boat and lowers it into the water, then hops into it like he’s done this a million times. The raft—because let’s be honest here, that’s what it is—barely rocks when he steps onto it and extends his hand to help me. I, of course, almost tip us over before I instinctively fall to my knees on the soft rubber and hold completely still.
“I got you, Tara. You’re only going into the water tonight if you choose to.”
“So you say.”
“Trust me. The sea is my second home.” He pauses to think for a moment. “I take that back. The sea is my first home. There’s nothing to fear out here when you’re with me. I’ll get us through any storm and past any hungry gator. I could ride waves thirty feet tall in my boat. And anyway, I’m a great swimmer. If we had to swim back to Key West, I’d let you ride on my back, sunshine. The whole fucking way. And then I’d carry you back onto dry land and set you right back on your feet. Not a hair out of place.”
“That’s a pretty big promise.”
He nods his head, his short dark hair lit up with moonlight. “Yeah. It is. But I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” Then he winks at me and begins to row. “So what happened to your family, Tara Tanner?”
I shrug. “I just never had any.”
“What do you mean? Everyone has some family. A mother, at least.”
“Not me. I was dropped off at a fire station in the middle of the night when I was three weeks old. Then I was with my first foster family for about five years.”
“First family. OK. So what happened to them?”
“They died in a house fire.”
“And you lived?” His eyebrows are up. Everyone’s eyebrows go up when they learn this about me. Like I’m that Damian kid from that devil movie, The Omen.
“I wasn’t there. I was in the hospital with pneumonia. My mother would’ve lived because she had been staying with me all night in the hospital. But I was finally getting better that night so she was just going to sleep at home and come back in the morning. But…” I shrug. “She never came back.”
