Page 97 of Lovetown, USA
“Go home, asshole!” someone yells.
The words cut through me, too sharp and too close. I stop walking, heart hammering in my chest as I wonder if that was a mistake. Maybe they thought I was somebody else, because what the fuck could I have done to attract this kind of bullshit? By the time I think to look, the car is too far away for me to see the license plate.
But what would I even report?
That somebody drove by and told the truth?
Iaman asshole, which is just fine with me, and frankly, I probablyshouldtake my ass home.
I make it to the library just as the faintest sheen of sweat breaks out across my forehead. The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, way too bright. The librarian looks up from her desk, her eyes cold and assessing.
“Hi,” I say, forcing cheer.
She just hums, her lips pressed thin, before dropping her gaze back to her computer.
That’s new.
I grab a corner desk far away from the windows. It’s not crowded in here, but it feels like the handful of people around me are staring at me.
My hands shake a little as I open my laptop. The silence doesn’t feel like library silence usually does. If feels chaotic and charged, like Shayla described her parents’ dining room table.The people in here, the librarian, the two Uber drivers—what are they not saying? What did I miss?
I text Shayla.
I’m having a weird day.
Ten minutes tick by with no response. That’s not like her.
So I text Trey next.
Hey can you pick me up later? I’m at the library
Of course
The relief I feel surprises me. I feel calm now, just that fast. Like I’ve been anchored.
I pull out the clerk’s records. There are rows of neat print, line after line of vague allocations I don’t understand. Research partnerships. Innovation grants. Data science expenditures.
It’s Greek to me.
But then I see Merrick Davis’ name. Daphne’s husband. He’s listed as a consultant on a project for community engagement data analysis.
I lean back, nibbling at the inside of my cheek. CEO of Cognilynx consulting on a data analysis. But analysis of what? It’s all so frustratingly vague.
Which gives me a rush.
Because this is what I do.
This candy-coated city is no match for me.
A few hours later, my phone buzzes.
Dr. Handsome
Outside
I pack up fast, shoving papers in my bag before I head out. The early evening air is warm against my skin, heavy and humid. Trey’s car waits at the curb, headlights spilling onto the street like the beacon of a lighthouse.
Beacon.
