Page 39 of Runaway
What hadthatbeen about?
Whatever it was, I had a tingly-not-so-good feeling that it was inextricably linked to the fact that my life wasn't as happy as I'd thought it had been. My life had been routine the past few years. Sheltered. Quiet. Lonely. While that seemed a small mimicry of the world Grandma had gifted me, the bright chaos of living with Mark made me realize that for me, down that unchanging path, therewasn'tjoy. Never had been.
Mark appeared again from outside as I poked and prodded at my pancake for several minutes, suddenly not that hungry. He stopped walking, then brightened as he cried out, “Hey! Seiko!”
The sound of laughing, a back slap or two, followed instead. I looked up to see him speaking with a woman not far away. The sounds of the diner made it hard to hear individual words, but I caught snippets ofmusicandpracticeandtour. Five minutes later, the sudden appearance of Mark with his arm around the petite girl with jet black hair and thin eyes drew my gaze up. She had black leather pants and a bright pink top. The tips of her hair were an electric blue.
“Stella,” Mark said. “This is my friend Seiko.”
Seiko smiled and stuck out a hand with a skull and crossbones ring on the middle finger. “Nice to meet you,” she said in a lyrical voice.
Mark didn't move his arm and I had to force myself not to look at it. He tipped his head toward her with a broad grin.
“Seiko is a literal rock star.”
She grinned but didn't correct him.
“And,” he continued easily, but his eyes had latched onto mine with an intent stare, “she's here to regroup before going on tour with the rest of her rock band. Needs some space to be alone.”
Oohhh,I thought to myself.
The music scene wasn't one I dove into very often, particularly not any brand of rock. When I wasn't listening to non-fiction audiobooks, I'd throw on a movie to fill the noise, or maybe a soundtrack. I hadn't heard of or seen Seiko before, but had no trouble imagining her on a stage.
“Sounds amazing,” I said.
Mark leaned forward. “She not only needs a place to stay but a place toplay. An open floor where there aren't noise restrictions but space for them to lay out. I think we may or may not have an entire building that would serve that purpose.”
Thewein his statement gave me unusual comfort.
“Yes, the dining hall would be perfect.”
While my head flooded with implications—noise ordinances in the mountains? Desired square footage?—Mark turned back to Seiko. They migrated to another table where two other people with equally bright hair sat nursing coffee cups. While Mark flexed his charm muscle, I tried to school a rush of hope. This wasn't a sure thing yet.
But it could be.
While waiting for him to work his magic, I kept an eye on the outside of the diner. The mountain peaks loomed to the south, giant, green sentinels still on fire with the fall leaves. Who would ever think I'd be here, running from a manager that ran a company I used to really admire?
No one.
A flash of orange caught my eye, and I glanced over to see a man standing outside a car in the parking lot. He wore a pair of sunglasses, his body canted away, but had an unmistakably familiar look about him.
My heart squeezed like a fist had grabbed it from behind.
Was that . . . Joshua?
My breath caught as I straightened. The man stood, a phone to his ear, as he sauntered farther away, just out of sight around a corner. Heart racing, I had to force myself to sit back down and not chase him.
The tousled golden hair, firm shoulders, and sharp way of holding his body had all spoken to Joshua.
But . . . maybe I imagined it.
For what felt like an eternity, I stared out the window in a half-stance, half-sit. Willed that person to show himself again. Five minutes later, and with the occasional blip of sound from Mark whenever he laughed, I still hadn't seen the man return.
The more time passed, the more I was convinced it had been a trick of my mind. Of fear. Eventually, my body unwound. Relaxed back.
Still, my insides felt cold at the thought of Joshua out there. His email surfaced back through my mind, unbidden. Emails from Joshua weren't unusual. There were twenty of them unread in my inbox. But that one had been oddly sinister. Combined with seeing him today?
No, I didn'tknowthat was him. I couldn't play this game. Couldn't make up false realities that felt so real. But if it was real, the implications were terrifying.
