Page 15 of Love and Other Lost Things

The name of the club looked familiar. It was the place down the street—the one she’d passed on her way to her job interview. Maybe it’s a sign. And while she’d never worked as a server, she’d eaten out at restaurants plenty of times. Could she fake it? Worst case, they’d figure it out in a few days and fire her, but that was a few days’ worth of tips that would be in her pocket first. Her gaze lingered on those stripper ads. What did she have to lose?

Nearby, the man outside the Mexican restaurant crumpled up the empty foil that held his burrito. He stood, picking up his tray, and Jane’s stomach growled again as she followed it with her eyes. The bag of chips looked untouched. Is he just going to throw them away? The man carried the tray to the garbage can and tipped it inside. Then he headed down the sidewalk.

Before Jane could talk herself out of it, she was on her feet, running toward the garbage can. Reaching inside, she felt for the crinkle of paper and the crunch of chips. Her hand closed around the bag, right on top, and she pulled it out with a cry of happiness. The waxy paper would have protected the chips from anything in the garbage, right?

At this point, she was too hungry to care. She yanked the bag open and plunged her hand inside, shoving two chips in her mouth at once, and then two more.

When her hunger had finally abated, she stared at the greasy bag, horror heating her body. She was supposed to be packing for college right now, hanging out with Nik and Ali and Hannah. Instead, she was in a strange city, broke and alone, and she’d just eaten a stranger’s food out of the garbage can.

Was this really her life now?

She crumpled the neighborhood bulletin in her hand and started down the sidewalk in the direction of the club. Halfway there, she stopped in front of a thrift store. If she didn’t want to be treated like a girl from Linden Falls, she needed to stop acting like one.

Ten minutes later, Jane stepped out of the shop wearing a pair of sky-high heels, a short skirt, and a tight white tank top. She was going to land that server job if it killed her.

SEVEN

PRESENT DAY

The morning after Jane returned to Linden Falls, she opened her eyes and stared up at the unfamiliar light fixture hanging from the ceiling. It was a little dusty, a little dated—one more thing that would look glaringly out of place in LA. She supposed the light fixture wasn’t completely unfamiliar—it had probably been hanging there when Jane had last been in this house—but that was a decade ago, and she didn’t remember it. There were a lot of details of this house she’d forgotten.

And then there were some she never, ever would.

Jane rolled over to give her daughter a squeeze. All of that would be behind her soon. This house, the memories, and Los Angeles, too. Soon, she and Scarlett would start their new life, safely away from all of it. She had a week to put her plan into place.

When Jane reached for Scarlett on the other side of the bed, her hand fumbled in the rumpled sheets. She sat up abruptly. Scarlett was gone.

For a moment, panic seized her. What if Matteo had come in the night and?—

Before she could get carried away with that train of thought, Jane heard voices drift up from downstairs through the old heating vents: Mom’s chuckle, followed by a giggle from Scarlett.

With a relieved sigh, Jane slumped back against the pillows. Matteo hadn’t snuck in last night and kidnapped their daughter. Of course he hadn’t. He’d even approved this trip—albeit grudgingly.

“You told me you don’t get along with your parents,” he’d said, when Jane had broached the subject. She’d waited until he was in a good mood, right after he’d come home from his weekly poker game. He’d won. If he hadn’t, Jane would have given him a wide berth. “You haven’t seen them in ten years. Why would you bother to go now?”

Because it’s my only chance.

She’d told Matteo about Dad dying, that Mom needed help packing and moving into the retirement community in town. Matteo would check up on her—google Dad’s obituary and make sure she wasn’t lying or using it as an excuse to have an affair. Jane didn’t even go out with friends, let alone another man. Still, he liked to throw around accusations that left her defending herself.

“My mom is old and frail,” Jane had argued, knowing that Matteo would prefer that. Old and frail were no threats to him. “She doesn’t have anyone else to help her move.”

Matteo’s mouth had twisted up on one side. He was thinking about it.

Jane’s chest had filled with hope, but she’d done her best to smooth her face into a neutral expression. “We’ll drive and stay in hotels. Scarlett will get to see a little bit of the country.”

She’d held her breath then. Driving would buy her a couple of extra days if she needed them. She could tell him a fabricated story about a blown tire or dead battery and say they’d be a few days late coming back. He’d be angry about it, blame her poor driving or accuse her of leaving the headlights on all night. She’d pay for it later when they got home.

Except she’d never be going home again.

“Please, Matteo?” she’d whispered, and then flinched. Never let him know how badly you want it.

But Matteo had just smirked. He’d liked it when she begged, when he could exert even more power over her. Finally, he’d peeled off a wad of bills from his poker winnings and tossed it in her direction.

Jane had grabbed the cash and clutched it to her chest.

The minute he’d left the room, Jane had counted it. Two thousand dollars. Oh, thank God. If she and Scarlett stayed in the cheapest motels and brought their own food in a cooler, it was more than twice the amount of money they’d need to get to New York State.

Of course, Matteo had believed she’d use the other half to get back again. But with any luck, she and Scarlett would be long gone before he even knew to look for them.

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