Trouble From the Start Read online

  I’d felt really uncomfortable during lunch, with his wife asking me questions about what I was going to do after graduation—like I had plans. My plans usually revolved around just getting through the next day. I hadn’t thought much beyond that. I probably needed to. Avery no doubt had.

  When she’d stepped onto the deck and seen me, she’d looked horrified. I’d discovered that she had incredible blue eyes. A rich hue that was almost violet, circled in black. I’d never seen eyes like that before.

  Although at that particular moment I’d wished I was anywhere other than where I was. I’d wished I wasn’t sporting bruises. I’d wished her folks had told her I’d be there before she’d spotted me.

  Now I was wishing I hadn’t looked out the window when I heard a car drive up twenty minutes after we finished with lunch. I saw Avery take off with Kendall Jones. I could pretty much guess what they’d be talking about. Tomorrow at school, everyone would know I was here.

  And that made me want to leave. But I had no choice except to stay.

  Chapter 5

  AVERY

  I tossed the lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, and black olives while Mom popped a pan of rolls into the oven. “Should I go ahead and put on the salad dressing?” I asked.

  She closed the oven door and set the timer. “No, we’ll put out a variety of choices. Don’t know what Fletcher likes.”

  “Do you know anything about Fletcher’s dad?” I asked. I knew his mom had died a few years back, but I couldn’t recall ever meeting or even seeing his dad.

  “That he’s pretty much an absent father.”

  “Is that why Dad brought him here?” I knew Dad would have talked things over with Mom, told her everything, before he offered Fletcher a room over the garage.

  “I think your dad just wanted to help him get a good start after high school,” she said.

  “How did he know about him?”

  “Cop stuff.”

  “Doesn’t that make you nervous?” I asked. “Having a criminal so close?” Mom gave me a stare designed to say more about judgment than words ever could. “I know—innocent until proven guilty. But he had to have done something pretty awful to come to Dad’s attention.”

  “People come to your dad’s attention for all kinds of reasons. Look at Tyler.”

  They’d found him in a closet when they raided his crack mom’s house. I knew Fletcher hadn’t been cowering in a closet. Dad had been open about Tyler’s situation. Why was he so closed about Fletcher’s? Because of his age? Because I knew him?

  “You should go get him,” Mom said. “Dinner will be ready in a few.”

  I stared at her uncomprehendingly for a moment as my mind shifted back to the task at hand.

  “Fletcher,” she prodded.

  “Oh, right.”

  Less than a minute later, I was standing at the top of the stairs that led to the FROG.

  Just because you dread doing something doesn’t make you a coward. Just because you do something you dread doesn’t make you brave. In my case, I wasn’t exactly sure what I was. What I did know was that I really didn’t want to knock on Fletcher’s door, but since Mom had sent me to get him, I knocked.

  The door swung open. With narrowed eyes, Fletcher looked like he was about to commit murder and I would suffice very well as his next victim.

  “I’m busy. What do you want?” he asked pointedly.

  “Most people greet with a ‘Hello. It’s good to see you. Come in and visit.’” I had to admit that I wanted to go in and just get a feel for what he might have done with the place. A few years ago when my mom’s sister had lost her job, she’d needed somewhere to get back on her feet, so Mom had converted the space over the garage into a little apartment. It had a living area with a bed, a couch in front of the TV, and a desk. There was a bathroom, but no kitchen.

  “I doubt you came to visit, so why are you here?” he asked.

  “It’s time for supper.”

  “I’m not hungry.” He started to close the door in my face. I stuck my foot out, getting a bruised toe in the process, but at least I stopped the door from closing all the way.

  “Yeah, that’s not happening,” I said. “People around here are expected to show up for meals.”

  “I already ate.” He walked into the room, and since the door remained partway open, I took it as an invitation and wandered in.

  Fletcher dropped down on the couch, put his booted feet on the short table in front of him, and stared at a baseball game on the TV.

  “My mom doesn’t like shoes on furniture,” I told him.

  He just glared harder at the TV, like maybe he thought he could escape into it or something. I was familiar with the tactic. Also knew it never worked. On the table were the empty wrapper from a cream-filled sponge cake, a wadded chip bag, and a package that had once contained salted peanuts. The kind of stuff you picked up from a convenience store.

  “This”—I waved my hand over the table—“was your supper?”

  “That’s some sleuthing there, Veronica Mars.”

  I came to stand before him, blocking his view of the TV. I knew expressions could be described as storm-clouded. His looked like he was on the verge of erupting into a category-five hurricane. I really didn’t care. “My name is Avery. I realize it might be too difficult for you to remember or maybe pronounce, but I’d appreciate it if you’d stop with all the condescending nicknames.”

  His lips twitched; the storm passed. “Not condescending. I think Veronica Mars is hot.”

  Was he saying that he thought I was hot? No way, but suddenly I was aware of my face growing warm. I hated that I was probably blushing. Reaching down, I shoved his feet off the table, fought not to cringe at the scratch I’d made. “Look, I didn’t want to come get you any more than you wanted to get got, but they expect you at dinner. Let’s go.”

  He studied me like I’d just landed from another planet. His scrutiny made me want to squirm. I didn’t know why I was fighting so hard to get him down to supper. If he didn’t come with me, Dad would come get him. But for some reason, I didn’t want to lose this battle. “Trust me,” I said. “It’s easier just to do what they expect.”

  “Easier isn’t always the right choice,” he said.

  I didn’t want to discuss philosophy. “In this case it is, but have it your way. I’ll leave the door open on my way out since my dad will be here five minutes after I leave.”

  I headed for the door.

  “What did you tell Jones?” he asked.

  That stopped me in my tracks. Jones? Slowly I turned. “You mean Kendall?”

  “I saw you leave with her. I figured you couldn’t wait to start spreading the word that I’m here.”

  I wanted to tell him that my world didn’t revolve around him, but this afternoon it had. “She’s my best friend. She spends a lot of time here.” Or she did before she started dating Jeremy. “I just didn’t want her to be surprised if she ran into you. I’m not telling anyone else.”

  “Why?”

  I blinked. “Why what?”

  “Why aren’t you Twittering or Facebooking that I’m here?”

  I shrugged. “It’s nobody’s business.”

  He seemed surprised by my answer, seemed to consider it.

  “Look, I’m not judging you,” I assured him.

  I watched him unfold that long, lean body of his from the couch in one smooth movement that made my heart pound against my ribs.

  “You’re either a saint or a liar,” he said as he sauntered over.

  “I’m not a liar.”

  “Too bad. Liars are way more interesting than saints.”

  “How would you know?” I asked with what I hoped was a seductive smile. “I doubt you’ve ever known a saint.”

  Fletcher dug into Mom’s chicken casserole like he thought the apocalypse was about to hit and we’d be without food for eons. Tyler kept peering over at him like he was worried our guest might devour him along with the casserole. Mom asked Fletc