Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 77841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77841 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
I grab a diet soda out of the gas station cooler before heading to the front. I've gotten used to wearing clothes again, which I hate. The adjustment was quicker than it should have been. But I don't think I'll ever get used to the itchiness of the wig on my head. I fight the urge to adjust it as my eyes scan the magazines on the rack as I wait for my turn in line.
I nearly drop my drink when I see the newspaper headline, Prestigious Texas University College Professor Found Dead in His Car from an Apparent Self-inflicted Gunshot Wound. Crime happens all over the place and on a slow news day, someone’s suicide has the possibility to make the front page. But it's the name Jason Crowley that makes me gasp—my former professor, the one I had an affair with.
Most people would be shocked or saddened with the news but I know better. I am surprised but the manner of death? Suicide? Never. Jason was not only too narcissistic and egotistical to hurt himself, but he was also stanch in his anti-gun beliefs. This has to be a sign, I realize, as I dip my hand into the plastic tub filled with Laffy Taffy.
I can't seem to wipe the smile off my face as I pay for my candy and my drink. This news is going to make the bus ride to Mission, Texas that much easier to deal with.
***
I don't hesitate the way I did the last time I was here but tugging on the office door is fruitless. It's locked. I rode the high the news of Jason's death gave me all the way from Austin, only to have it dashed away by a locked door. Cupping my hands around my eyes, I peer through the glass and immediately take a step back.
There's no way. In what world do people have sex in the front office of a professional building? I cup my hands a second time and sure enough, Angel and Lauren are going at it. Most people would probably give them privacy but I'm no longer like most people. I do pull my eyes away, the glare of the sun making it impossible to see inside, but I lift my hand and knock, hoping the noise comes across just as irritated as I feel.
I turn my back to the door, unsure if they know that I can no longer see inside when the door eventually opens. There’s no evidence of the embarrassment I expect Lauren to feel from what I just witnessed. Her smile is small and mischievous and her cheeks are flushed red. If I was a woman that still made assumptions, I would say she didn’t come to greet me until after she had finished.
Angel is walking to the back, still zipping up his jeans as I enter.
“I figured you’d be tied up in an insane asylum by now,” Lauren says as she relocks the front door.
I have no idea what kind of business can be run successfully with customers unable to come inside during business hours but it’s none of my concern.
“The headlines are making you sound like a lunatic,” Lauren continues when I don’t speak.
“I have no doubt about that,” I say, internally wondering if my dad was still somehow able to spin the story in his favor.
I went into graphic detail about what happened the month that I was with Liam. All the experiences I described while at his house were true. The only lies I told were about the night that he took me. I lied and said that we had been dating for a while. That Liam was my boyfriend. I wasn’t dumb enough to give them his name because I’m hoping after everything settles down, we might have a chance at a normal life.
I explained that we like to play games, and that’s why I was seen being carried away from the beach. Another lie I told was that I wasn’t unconscious. I scoured the internet for footage of what happened that night and none existed that I could find where he drugged me. My lies are balanced on the hope that no such footage exists.
I explained that I was tired of being in the spotlight. I was exhausted at having to lead a life I never asked for. I went further to explain that I was under no legal obligation, regardless of who my father was, and who my father could be, to tell anyone goodbye.
As a parting shot to my parents, I also added that I was under no obligation to my father or his constituents to verify my safety or my whereabouts during the month that I was gone.
“Did anyone recognize you on your way in here?” Lauren asks, as she looks out the glass door to scan the streets.