Page 93 of The Blackmail of Denise Randall

THE WAGON

Islowly open my eyes, but then immediately close them, nursing one heck of an atrocious hangover. Twenty-one is not looking to be a good year for me. Mmmmm, I moan.I lick my dry lips and take in my surroundings. I’m in the guest bedroom at Alice and Noah’s place. I crawl out of the bed and wince. Did I drink? If I did, I plan to never drink again. I slowly make my way out of the bedroom and flinch as the sunlight shines through the windows in the living room. My head begins to pound when I hear voices. I shuffle my feet through the living room and into the kitchen.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” Keaton says in a smug manner.

I cringe and squint my eyes at him. My voice comes out hoarse as I croak. “Lower your voice.”

“Uh-oh. That must be some hangover.” Alice pours me a cup of coffee. I wrinkle my nose in distaste. I don’t want to drink anything but water. Noah snickers and asks me what I remember from last night. Unfortunately, last night’s events are a little choppy in my memory.

Alice frowns. “Well, you tried to be sly and take sips from strangers’ drinks throughout the night.”

I hold my head. “How many sips did I take?”

“More like Samantha was sneaking you drinks.” Noah clarifies. “We had all agreed to no drinking.”

“Yeah, Samantha and I had a few words.” Alice’s lips thin. “Not that she’ll remember them. But I will. She wasn’t a good friend to you last night. We agreed no drinking for your well-being.” I look down at my feet and then back to her. There’s no judgement on her face, only concern. She sighs, and continues. “Then you and her would sneak off. We finally had to follow you to the bathroom, but you’d already gotten tipsy by that point. Noah and I figured we’d better bring you here. It was interesting to say the least.”

“Okay, but I didn’t drink that much. Why does my head hurt?”

“Probably because you were drinking it so fast trying to hide it,” Alice deadpans.

Keaton clears his throat. “Hopefully you remember pointing out Trevor Reynolds as the suspect of your break-in?”

“Thirteen. How could I forget that?”

He shrugs, “Just double checking.”

I slowly sip the glass of water Alice hands me. Keaton and I don’t break eye contact. Noah clears his throat and excuses himself to get dressed for work. Alice asks me if I want to go with her to visit Rachel. She’s caught up on a few sketches they’d discussed for one of their children’s books and wants Rachel to see them.

“When are you going to give up your job as the school counselor? The books seem to be doing well. Aren’t you stressed trying to keep up with both?”

“I could never give up either one. I love art; it’s my passion. It’s been amazing working with Rachel and producing these books. And I love being a counselor to kids, especially in high school. They’ve got so much going on that they don’t understand what to make of it all. I’ve been out of school for a while now, but I still remember that being a very difficult time of my life.”

“Okay, but you didn’t exactly have the typical teenage experience. Your case was a little extreme. You went through three identities for crying out loud.”

Keaton agrees with me and adds, “Discovering you’d been kidnapped and moving across the country isn’t exactly typical.”

I nod in agreement while Alice rolls her eyes. “I do this to try and help that student who could quite easily be anyone of us. Whether it’s as simple as their crush not asking them out or they’ve had a life-changing experience and they don’t know how to deal with it. I do this for every Denise who has been bullied that walks through my door. I do this for every Sloan that walks through. Every Noah, every Rachel, every Trent, Sarah, Olivia, Alice.” She pauses as we laugh. “But most of all, I do this for every Landon that walks through my door.”

She takes a sip of her coffee. I don’t know what to say, so I go back to sipping my water. Alice speaks again, breaking our silence.

“I love working with Rachel on the books. It’s fun because we do it together. But I’ve always loved art. It’s like getting paid to do my hobby. No, it’s more than that. I can’t describe it. There’s no greater feeling than seeing someone else get joy from something you created. I love when we read at the library and I get to see the children’s reactions to my drawings. Rachel’s words bring the character to life as much as my illustrations. It’s wonderful.”

My chest tightens at her words. I know I won’t love working behind a desk. I’m sure I’ll enjoy it, but it must be wonderful to be able to do what you’re passionate about. I like to draw too and create. I can’t wait to show Alice the dress I’ve made for her, but I’m so nervous.

Keaton smiles and tips his mug toward Alice. “I’m happy for you, Alice. Nothing makes life better than doing what you love for a living. Not sure what I’m going to do, but I like building houses right now.”

“You love helping people, Sloan. You’ve got a good heart. There’s plenty of fields you’d be wonderful in.”

Keaton places his mug in the sink and turns his eyes back on me. “Speaking of. I was thinking I could give you a ride home and then take you down to the station. I can stay. Be there for when you give your statement and identify Reynold’s voice as the man that broke into your house.”

I nod and sit my glass on the counter. Keaton walks over and picks it up. He makes a point to hold my gaze as he places it in the sink. We share a moment and then I finally say, “thank you,” in a tone that’s not sincere. Before he can give a snide remark, probably about me being spoiled or lazy, Alice stands and hugs Keaton.

“I had a blast last night. We really should all hang out again, but only if you let us chip in for the limo.”

“What?”

Keaton practically shoves me toward the front door. I try to resist, but he’s overpowering. Alice looks sheepish as she wishes us luck at the police station.

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