Page 17 of Never Have I Ever

As soon as I hear the front door slam, I sneak into the bathroom since the lights are off and look outside. Where is she going?

I grab my jeans and slip them on before pulling the T-shirt I was wearing back on over my head. Unzipping my duffel bag, I grab my deodorant and cologne. It’s not for her. I’ll never let her get close enough to appreciate the effort.

Peering out the window, I watch as Poppy crosses the property to the guest cabin. What is she doing?

The light comes on inside, and I see a car parked on the backside. She’s staying there?

No fucking way.

Although it’s gotten dark outside, I duck down just in case she can see me and then watch as the door opens again. She comes out with a black suitcase, dragging it through the leaves. Her voice is muffled, but she’s talking to someone on the phone.

I go into the bedroom and check to make sure my phone is on just in case Nikki decides to call me back. I pace from the bedroom to the bathroom, each time spying on Poppy thirty yards away. But with each long minute passing, I become increasingly frustrated.

I want Poppy gone. For good this time. I don’t know what game she’s playing, but I’m not letting her fuck me over twice. She finally starts her engine, which doesn’t sound smooth like it should, and drives toward the main road.

Good.

My phone buzzes with a text.

Nikki: At Tulsa’s show. What’s up?

Do I really want to go into all this through text while she’s watching her husband perform on stage? No.

Me: Just checking in. I made it to Deer Lake. Have fun tonight.

Nikki: I will. You, too. Enjoy the peace and solitude.

Yeah right. That’s the last thing I encountered tonight. And now I’m starving.

I return to the kitchen to see the food she made in the garbage. She was nice enough to leave the dishes in the sink for me to clean as well. That’s fun . . .

Opening the fridge again, I scan the food, but it’s mostly ingredients and not so much stuff to eat as is. I close it and roll my eyes. I need something to eat. That means a trek into town before everything closes for the night.

I get my shoes.

6

Poppy

“What an asshole!” I check both directions for oncoming traffic. It’s pitch black with no lights anywhere near this intersection. “This is what nightmares are made of, Marina. If you don’t hear from me—”

I’m not sure I’m in the right frame of mind to appreciate her laughter. With me or at me? It’s hard to tell, but she does reply, “You’ll be fine, Pops. Keep driving and stay away from strangers.”

“Hm. Sage advice,” I say, finally pulling onto the main road. “If only I’d known that before I ended up in the middle of a forest with a literal stranger. An asshole at that.”

I hear the sympathy sigh before Marina replies, “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.” She knows I just need to vent, and then I’ll be good again.

“It worked out alright. I’m leaving as I should. I don’t have to put up with that crap.” I slow my car as I approach a tight corner. Driving through the woods at night is not something I’m fond of. “Now I know why they struggled to fill this job. It was great on paper, I’m sure like he is. You accept the position—seven days, free room and board, cook, be discreet, and be absent from the client’s view. It’s great on paper when phrased like that. That’s how they get you.”

“Who’s they?”

Flailing my right arm, I exhale exasperated. “The agency, the asshole. I have no idea. Just them, the people trapping me into this horrible situation.”

“Who is the asshole again?”

Considering I signed an NDA, it’s probably best if I don’t get her involved with details like names. That I never knew it is a different story. “I think he’s a musician. There was a guitar, but I never saw him play. Doesn’t matter. Whoever he is thinks very highly of himself, arrogant like he’s famous, and treats employees like dirt beneath his feet.”

“I hate when fame goes to peoples’ heads. It’s one of the reasons I like living in Manhattan. LA is too celebrity for me.”

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