Page 12 of Bound By Water
At the grocery store, I slowly walk up and down the aisles to kill time. Surrounded by bright packaging and smiling faces, the smothering feeling of being watched recedes a bit. It’s just me and my sugary childhood cereal. I choke out a quiet laugh. Maybe I’m losing my mind.
After buying more groceries than usual, it takes me a few minutes to fit them all in the trunk of my little hatchback. While I’m standing there, a huge black truck with tinted windows slowly rolls past me. I glance at it but can’t see inside. Something about it makes me nervous, and I shove the last bag in and slam the hatch shut.
On the road, my eyes flick between the view in front of me and the rearview mirror as I leave the store until I’m sure nobody is following me, then I turn to go home. When I get there, I try to grab everything in the first load but can’t quite carry it all. Rushing up the stairs, I dump the first load on the kitchen counters and hurry down to get the rest. I grab the few remaining bags and shut the door. As I walk back up the stairs, I see the same truck go by the house.
Completely spooked, I hole up in my apartment for the rest of the weekend with the app open and all the lights on.
* * *
Lionel is coming home,and I want to be able to tell him I followed my routine even though it’s the last thing I want to do today. So, here I am, waiting for Trent to show up for his tutoring session. He strolls into the conference room a few minutes late and plops down into the chair beside me. The lines around his eyes are tight with anger. He stares at me for a full minute without saying a word.
“Is everything okay?” I tentatively ask as he continues to sit there.
He snorts. “That depends.” Full lips twist into a half sneer.
Someone is in a mood. “Let’s postpone.” I offer the words, although I have no intention of ever rescheduling.
He immediately shakes his head. “No. This is our last session. My father doesn’t want me seeing you again.” Shocked but relieved, I raise an eyebrow at his statement, and he elaborates. “A Hightower doesn’t need a tutor. You’re either smart enough to figure it out or you’re a failure.” Bitterness seeps into his tone.
Appalled at the callousness of his father’s words, I lean forward and clasp his forearm. “I’m sorry.” The muscles bunch under my hand, and I jerk it away. “Well, let’s cram two sessions into one, okay?” Relief eases the tight muscles in my shoulders. This gives me a clear out. Not wanting him to see, I look down at my papers and shuffle them around.
He reaches out and grabs my hand in his. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to take our family drama out on you, and I actually don’t have time to stay. Can we reschedule? Meet me tonight? At Murray’s?”
Murray’s is an all-night diner close to campus. The students love it because they serve breakfast all day, and it’s a good spot to eat cheap and study. Since it’s Monday, there will likely be some open tables.
But Lionel’s supposed to return tonight. “I can’t. Can you meet tomorrow?”
He vehemently shakes his head. “He comes home tomorrow. It must be tonight. Please.” He flashes his best puppy dog eyes at me.
I stare at him, unsure of what to do. Maybe he’s involved in all this, and maybe he’s not. I don’t know. It’s just one more session. In a public place. Somehow, I find myself nodding. “I can meet at five p.m. for one hour. That’s it.”
He smiles broadly. “I’ll see you there at five.” Then he’s gone.
The moment he leaves, I start having second thoughts, but I promise myself I’ll cancel if Lionel gets home before five.
* * *
Four forty-five,and Lionel isn’t here. I’m not even sure he’ll see my text, but I send one anyway, telling him where I’m going. Hopefully, he’ll text me the second he’s home. This week has been crazy, and I need answers.
As I pull into a parking spot at Murray’s, I swivel my head around, but I don’t see anyone nearby, and not once have I seen the black truck today. It might have been just a coincidence, but until I know who’s after me, I prefer to be safe than sorry. Public places and my apartment. That’s it.
Striding into the diner, I spot Trent in the corner booth, typing furiously on his phone. Waiting until he finishes, I drop my backpack on the seat and flag down a server to order a Diet Coke before removing my coat.
“Thanks, Amy,” he says when she brings it back to me.
Startled, I turn toward him. “Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt you, and I was dying of thirst.” Gulping down half the glass, I set it back on the table and take a seat across from him.
His phone buzzes, and he swipes it up. “Sorry, I have to get this. Football stuff.”
This goes on and on for the next fifteen minutes until I find myself itching to throw the damn phone out the window. Even when he’s not fiddling with the phone, he’s tapping his fingers on the table or looking out the window. Clearly, he’s distracted.
Enough. “Look, I’ve got to go. We don’t have to go over this stuff in person. You can text me if you have any questions. Free of charge,” I tell him with a strained chuckle. This was a completely bad idea, and I’m pissed I gave in to his sad plea.
He holds up a finger and types another text.
With a shake of my head, I grab my backpack, put on my coat, and place a five on the table for the server. “Sorry.” I slide out of the booth, and he flashes me a look I can’t decipher, but for some reason, the sight of it makes my stomach cramp.
I wave at the server and point to the table where I left the money. With a sour taste in my mouth, I head out to my car, trying to erase the last few minutes from my mind. It’s not until I’m reaching for my door that I see the black truck, parked two spots down from my car. There’s nobody in it, but I immediately turn to go back into the diner. Unfortunately, it’s already too late. A huge, burly guy steps in front of me.
