Page 5 of The Roommate Lie

Motion sickness has never bothered me, but I’m beyond green. I am every color in the rainbow. Every bad feeling all mixed together like some kind of horrible anxiety smoothie.

It takes everything I’ve got to shake my head. To shrug and pretend I’m fine. “Nope,” I squeak brightly, “I’m great. Better than great. Super-duper great.”

Super duper?

Even seven-year-old me is embarrassed on my behalf. My Ultra Happy response doesn’t even work. Disbelief dances across Charlie’s face, and he gives me a quick glance before focusing back on the road.

“Who are you texting?”

From any other stranger, that question would sound ominous, but Charlie could make anything seem friendly. It might be his deadliest quality.

“If it’s your boyfriend,” he continues, “tell him we’re about ten minutes out. He can meet us by the main lodge if he wants.”

When I don’t respond, he gives me an easy smile. A reassuring smile—except I don’t feel reassured. For lots of reasons.

My gaze dips to my phone, to the litany of texts that aren’t even remotely from my boyfriend. Because I haven’t heard from Jason all day.Why has he been so quiet?

Is he really too busy to text me back?

Maybe I should play it smart, harness my inner Stealth Kilpatrick and keep my secrets to myself. But one look at Charlie, and the truth spills out.

“It’s my brother.” I gesture to my phone. “He’s not thrilled I’m riding around with a guy I just met. He keeps asking for your last name…and any distinguishing features.”

I half expect him to get offended. The world is full of guys who would be. Perfectly nice men who’d feel hurt that I didn’t trust them after they’d gone through so much trouble. On my first date with Jason, I shared my location with my sisters so they could track my phone, and you would’ve thought that man had been mortally wounded when he found out.

But Charlie cracks another easy grin. “I have a sister—I get it. Last name’s Roscoe.”

Before I can file that away—he has a last name—Charlie takes his right hand off the steering wheel and angles his arm toward me. “You can tell him about my tattoos if you want. They make a pretty good distinguishing feature, and Carl keeps his registration in the glove box; nothing beats a license plate number. I think his address is on there too.”

I didn’t ask for most of that information. It’s above and beyond, but I know a safety gift when I receive one. Snapping open the glove box, I go straight for the vehicle registration card and text my brother everything. Then I focus on Charlie’s tattoos.

His left arm is bare, but the right one’s a patchwork of ink. Two thick black bands stretch around the muscular curve of his bicep, circling all the way around. Below them, an intricate phoenix extends to the middle of his forearm, and something spiky curves above his wrist. There’s even a tiny skull above his palm. Right where you’d place your fingers if you wanted to check his pulse.

I describe everything to Marcus in vivid detail. Any police sketch artist would be thrilled, but my brother isn’t satisfied. Not even close.

And he’s ready to make this whole situation worse.

Marcus:Take his picture.

Chapter Three

ALICE

Take his picture?I try to come up with a good response, something kind and diplomatic, but I can’t.

Alice:Excuse me?

Marcus:Your possibly shady chauffeur. Take his picture. One with a clear view of his face that we could put on the evening news if we had to. Just in case.

To any non-Kilpatrick, this would sound extreme, but we’re like this for a reason. One of my sisters was a well-known athlete as a teenager, a figure skater, and she had a few run-ins with a fan that put us all on edge. But still.

My brother is barely nineteen. He should be on his way to a party or flirting with a pretty girl in the library. Instead, he’s helping me come up with a safety plan that involves the evening news.We’ve ruined him.

Or maybe we made him better. It’s too soon to tell.

Alice:I’m not taking a picture of a stranger.

Marcus doesn’t argue; he doesn’t have to. It won’t take long for my natural anxieties to fight this battle for him, and we both know it. All he has to do is wait.

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