Page 16 of Escaping Our Reality

Her head jerks from the screen.

I can’t decide if she likes being called ‘babe’ or not.

“Come on, I’ll drive you,” I say. With slow, trepid steps, she follows me over to my old truck. I open the passenger-side door, but she doesn’t move to get in. “It’s a 1970 Ford F-250 Crew Cab. It may not look like what you’re used to, but I promise it’s perfectly safe. I’ve spent years working on it.”

That comment sparks more emotion on her face than me telling her that Trey could kill her. She doesn’t like me insinuating that she’s too rich to ride in my truck.

“That’s not it. You just told me to never get in a car with any of those people. But you were drinking too. You had pills in your pocket.”

“You’re right. I was drinking beer. But I don’t take pills. My brother stuffed them in my pocket.”

She thins her lips when I don’t elaborate. “Well, do you plan on telling me how much you had to drink tonight?”

I bend down, sinking to her eye level. “Not enough to forget about meeting you.”

I leave the door open and walk to the driver’s side, climbing behind the wheel. The truck purrs to life, rumbling in the night like a low thunder, before she climbs in and slams the door. For the first several minutes, she stares out the window. Her reflection against the dark glass mesmerizes me. She doesn’tknow I’m looking at her. And her face is finally soft. Relaxed. She chews against her bottom lip in thought and rubs the back of her neck.

Why does she keep rubbing her neck? Maybe she pulled a muscle?

Eventually, I break the silence. “Go ahead and ask me. I know you want to.”

She turns to me, studying my profile. “What?”

“Don’t make me say it, Lulu. And don’t beat around the bush. I like you when you get to the point.”

I do like her. So help me, I like her.

“Did you kidnap my sister?”

“No.”

“Did you hurt my sister?”

“No.”

“Do you know where she is?

“No.”

“Do you know if anyone kidnapped her or hurt her?”

“If I knew something like that, I would’ve gone to the police. It may seem like I’m trying to hide something, with the drug business and all of that, but I’m just being realistic. If one of those people knows something, it will come out sooner or later. When they’re older. More scared. Less scared. More sober. Less sober. But nobody is gonna talk now. All you’re gonna do with your questions is build brick walls. And it will take a very long time to tear them down.”

Her next question catches me completely off guard.

“Did you sleep with my sister?”

I nearly run off the road. “What?”

“Did you have sex with Carrie?”

“Why would you ask that? What would make you think that?”

She adjusts the air vent blowing on her. “Those girls insinuated you are promiscuous. Carrie and her boyfriend broke up before she went missing.”

“Promiscuous? Are you turning me into an after-school special?”

“Are you avoiding the question?”

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