Page 36 of Filthy Secret

RYAN

Grover moves around the house. He’s taking in the pantry and the fridge, making announcements about how we need to go shopping. I forgot how much he enjoyed cooking. It’s clear to me now, though, as he starts calling out things we’re missing and he wants to get from the store.

This man cooks.

I don’t.

So Adam is going to be very surprised when the menu isn’t limited to eggs, pancakes, tacos, and spaghetti on rotation.

“Adam,” Grover calls out.

I hear his feet slapping against the floor before I see him. He rounds the corner and skids to a stop in front of us, tilting his head back. But he doesn’t look at me. I don’t exist when Grover is in the room. He has all of Adam’s attention.

I’m okay with that.

It’s sweet, and I’m not sure it should, but my guilt eases slightly. But only slightly, because I’m still a big fat liar. Biting the inside of my cheek, I watch as Grover crouches down in front of Adam, his eyes focused on his as he asks him what he would like to eat from the store.

“I don’t know,” Adam murmurs. “Fruit snacks?”

Laughing, I lift my hand to my lips. Grover lifts his gaze to meet mine. “Fruit snacks?” he asks.

“He’s a kid,” I say. “He loves fruit snacks, any snacks really. I think he would eat only that if I let him.”

Grover grunts. There is a moment of silence, then he stands. “Fruit snacks,” he grumbles.

I can’t help myself as I laugh at him being so annoyed by those two words. As if he can’t comprehend that anyone would like those chewy little things.

Although, I probably would feel the same way if I hadn’t been desperate a few times and had a package when I was starving hungry and there was nothing else. When you’re hungry enough, they are delicious.

“I’m going to head to the natural grocery store. I’ll have one of the brothers come over and watch the house, but I’m sure you have unpacking and things to do.”

I.e., he doesn’t want us to join him on this shopping trip. I’m okay with that because I don’t have money to spend at a natural grocery store, or any other store for that matter. I need to look for a job and try to figure out how to get said job without giving anyone any of my personal information that Golden Joker could use to try and find me.

I’m not sure how I’m going to get something for cash under the table. I guess I could try and work behind the bar at the clubhouse, maybe clean it for some money, too. But the thought of being down there day in and day out, of seeing all the sex… more importantly, the sex between Grover and the whores, I don’t think I could live with myself or with him if I did that.

He leaves with a promise to bring not only groceries but also lunch back with him. I’m not sure how long I stand in the kitchen after he’s gone. Adam runs around to his bedroom, and I hear him playing with his cars on the floor, something he could do uninterrupted for hours.

I’m not quite sure what to do. I could unpack my suitcase, but I don’t want to sit around this house and wait for Grover to come back. I need a job, and I need it now. There is no way I can even attempt to afford to pay Grover back for any of this without an income.

Sucking in a deep breath, I hold it for a moment, then let it out slowly. It’s not just the house either. It’s the kitchen stuff, the sofa, the televisions, the beds. Sure, it’s all the basics, except for the televisions. There is a big screen in the living room, and the one in the bedroom isn’t anything to sneeze at either.

Walking into the bedroom, I grab my purse and call out for Adam to come with me. He does without an ounce of complaint, used to me calling out to him to go somewhere. A few moments later, we have the house locked and are in my car, headed… somewhere.

I haven’t been in Pineville for six years other than a few weeks ago when I was here trying to get Grover’s help. But I didn’t stick around long enough to really take in the place. I have no idea what’s changed, and as I really look at the businesses that line the main street through town, I realize a lot has changed.

But nothing that I’ve come across is a business that would hire me for cash under the table. Then I remember King’s parents’ bar. I’m sure he would hate it if I worked for them. He never really had a good relationship with them.

Not that I blame him for it. They were pretty awful in general, but they are the kind of people who wouldn’t question my need to work for cash. Heading toward downtown, I am surprised at how bright and clean it all feels.

There are green trees, even flowers lining the streets, and as I make my way to the bar, I pull in front and notice that it’s not a bar any longer. In fact, it’s the exact opposite of a seedy bar. It’s a bakery.

And when I lift my gaze to the neon sign in the window, I know exactly who owns said bakery. My initial reaction is to back away and speed off. But I bite the inside of my cheek and do the exact opposite of my knee-jerk reaction.

Turning the car off, I look in the rearview mirror and ask Adam if he wants some dessert for tonight.

“Yesssss,” he says with a hiss.

Together, we climb out of the car and head into the cute bakery. I don’t know how this sweet woman is King’s wife, but she is, and it boggles my mind. The bell rings above the door as we walk into the shop. There is a woman standing at the counter paying for her box of goodies.

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