Page 49 of The Unfinished Line

I pretended not to know Carter’s lie claiming he’d never been to Carson City. I knew the clue had been aimed at me, trying to gauge where we stood. The weekend before we’d started our junior year of high school, the two of us had driven to the former gold mining town on a whim. It had been there, in a seedy motel room on a duvet covered in cigarette burns, that I’d lost my virginity.

I felt a little bad, making a point of choosingI built a greenhouse for George Lucasas his fiction, knowing full well the job had been a major sense of pride for him as one of his first commissions after graduating Berkeley. But I’d needed him to get the hint. I hadn’t returned his calls in months, long before meeting Dillon, and no matter what happened with her, he and I were over. And not over like the other times. This time, we had to be finished. It wasn’t good for either of us to keep stringing things along.

He took the blow on the chin, shooting me a two-can-play-at-this-game wag of his eyebrows, and returned fire by declaring “yeah, maybe on a week of Sundays,” to my truth that I’d gotten straight As my senior year in high school.

Well played.I tipped my glass in our silent communication. I hated that behind his bluster I knew he’d been stung. It was all the more reason I wanted to murder Dani for inviting him and giving him the wrong impression.

“You’re up, uh…”

My thoughts resurfaced to the present as Mr. Hallwell waved a stubby finger in Dillon’s direction. I realized he didn’t know her name. In truth, he probably had no idea where she’d come from. But he was fogged, having joined his daughter in the race to get loaded, and didn’t seem to mind or care that a stranger was sitting in his living room.

“Alright,” said Dillon, catching my eye from where she was lounging beside Carter. “Let’s see. I speak four languages. I don’t own my own apartment. I’ve won two Olympic medals.”

“You understand it istwotruths and one lie, yes?” verified Darlene from where she’d kicked off her Jimmy Choo heels and tucked her stockinged feet beneath her husband.

Oh, for God’s sake.

I spun the stem of my glass between my fingers, grateful I’d stealthily swapped out my champagne for sparkling cider several rounds earlier. Usually, I’d be a bottle deep by now—turning down free Dom Pérignon wasn’t something I was in a habit of—but tonight I’d wanted to be sober. A good thing, probably, for both me and Mrs. I’m-a-Douche Hallwell.

“Uh, yes. Got it.” Dillon smiled innocently. I knew she’d set them up. They’d refuse to believe someone like her was as accomplished as she was.

After a rapid-fire discussion in which I didn’t take part of, a consensus was reached and Darlene, taking over for her daughter, whose speech had become too slurred to be intelligible, assumed the role of spokesperson.

“Well, given you look very…athletic,” she chose the word carefully, “I suppose the Olympics are a possibility.”

The way she saidathletichadn’t meant fit. It meantgay. I dug my fingernails into my palm, but Dillon didn’t bat an eye.

“And I believe earlier you mentioned you lived in London. As my husband pointed out, it is one of the most expensive housing markets in the world outside of Asia. Owning property there is no small feat. So, I’m inclined to believe the most likely falsehood is your ability to speak four languages.”

Dillon flicked her fingers in afair enoughgesture. “All good reasoning, but I’m sorry to disappoint. Aside from English, I speak Welsh, German, and French.”

“Damn it! I knew it was the Olympics,” said Tom, smacking his fist to his knee. As the newest member of the Hallwell clan, he took losing in front of his in-laws very seriously.

“Dillon’s competed in three Olympics and is a two-time medalist,” I said, unable to hold my tongue any longer.

This snapped Dani out of her torpor. “I thought you were in the film industry?” She swallowed the remainder of her champagne, staring straight at me. “In town forwork?”

“Different line of work.” Dillon drew Dani’s attention back to her. “I’m a triathlete.”

“But what do you do for a living?” asked Darlene. Of course the woman who’d gotten her stilettos stuck in the football field turf at our first high school home game couldn’t comprehend life as a professional athlete.

“Well, I swim, bike, and run mostly.”

“For a career? How impressive,” she said flatly. “And a gold medalist as well?”

It wasn’t a mistake. She’d caught on that I’d saidmedalistand notgold medalist. If you’d won gold, you said so. Everything else fell under the umbrella category.

Dillon remained unperturbed. “No golds. Just silver and bronze.”

“Oh, how terribly frustrating.” Darlene swirled the champagne at the bottom of her glass. “To come so close to winning and fall short.”

“Fall short?” I uncrossed my legs so quickly I nearly upset my mother’s spiked eggnog she’d been balancing in her lap.

For two decades I’d remained silent while being insidiously put down by nearly every member of the Hallwell family. I’d taken their underhanded barbs without a breath of defense for as long as I could recall. But tonight I’d had enough. I wasn’t going to just sit there and listen to them put down Dillon.

Dillon, however, cut me off short, preventing my rush into battle.

“Extremely frustrating,” she said, overriding my outburst while giving me a subtle shake of her head. She appeared unaffected by the woman’s onslaught of insults, and I realized the last thing she needed was a knight in shining armor. Unlike me, she had nothing to prove to these people who weren’t worth her effort.

---