“Her mother owns an haute couture house,” I say because it’s better to answer Grandma’s questions. She’ll find out anyway, so I’d rather gain brownie points than hide facts from her.
She beams at my answer, but I recognize her fake smiles. After all, I learned from the best. “What about her father?”
“She doesn’t have one.”
“Doesn’t have one?” She places a hand on her chest. “Poor thing.”
Give me a break.
I’m out.
Retrieving my phone, I furrow my brow and pretend I’m checking something important.
“No phones at the table, darling,” Grandma says.
“It’s the coach. He needs us for an urgent meeting.”
“Go ahead then,” Grandpa says.
Nate leans into my side and whispers, “You’re leaving me alone behind enemy lines?”
“I’ll make it up to you next time,” I whisper back.
“Worst wingman of the year award.”
I stand and go to kiss Grandma’s cheek. She pats my hand and smiles. “I’m glad you’re doing well, darling, and that she was nothing. A seamstress’s daughter isn’t suitable for you.”
I want to correct her, but I don’t bother as I nod at Grandpa and leave. I couldn’t escape this house faster if I wanted to.
It doesn’t take me long to drive to The Grill. I slip through the back entrance to avoid any celebratory rounds Chad is planning tonight.
One of the staff tells me that our usual booth is empty, so I sit there and bring out my phone.
I wait and wait, but there’s no sign of Naomi.
I text her at the number Reina gave me.
Sebastian: I’m here. You’re not.
The reply is immediate.
Naomi: Never said I would be. Better luck next time.
A predatory smirk curls my lips as I stand up. She wants a game? I’ll show her what playing is really like.
8
Naomi
I’ve been buzzing with excitement ever since I met the PI last night.
While my logical side argues that I’m merely chasing a pipe dream, every other side is on board with the idea of finding my father. I haven’t been able to entertain any other thoughts since.
And yes, that includes forgetting about the van that almost kidnapped me or the out-of-body experience I had on national TV.
All I can think about is the possibility of meeting my dad. And yeah, okay, the national TV incident won’t really leave my head either, no matter how much I chase it away.
The text he sent earlier didn’t help. Is he still waiting at The Grill?
I shake my head. I don’t care. At all.
Now I just need to stop thinking about it.
And being alone doesn’t help. On a Saturday night, Luce and I usually hang out together, but she’s busy with her new witch coven. I tried to distract myself by studying, but I really suck at preparing for exams in advance. I only excel when I study the day of.
Netflix also wasn’t much help, but hey, true crime shows are better than overthinking everything.
So I put on shorts and my comfy hoodie and lay my fuzzy blanket on the sofa, then go to the kitchen for my ammunition. Soda, chips, nuts, and everything that would cause Brianna and her minions to have a stroke if they saw me consuming it.
The scent of smoke is my only warning of Mom’s presence as she steps through the kitchen’s sliding doors with a phone at her ear and a half-burnt cigarette in her fingers.
She must’ve not noticed I’m here, because she doesn’t raise her head as she speaks in Japanese. And while I’m not the best at writing it, I understand and speak it perfectly. “I told you not to call me anymore.”
There’s silence before she continues, “That was a long time ago. When are you going to stop accusing me of that?”
More silence, then Mom takes a long drag, the burn visible on the cigarette. The longer she listens, the harder her limbs physically shake as she shouts, “I said, no!”
And with that, she hangs up, bringing the cigarette to her trembling lips. She seems weaker lately and she’s lost weight. Her job is definitely sucking her life away at this point.
“A clingy ex?” I joke.
Mom’s head rears up and she coughs, her breath catching. “Nao. How long have you been there?”
“Since the beginning.” I finger the items on the tray to keep my hands busy. “Who was it?”
She throws up a dismissive hand. “No one you should worry about.”
“Just like I shouldn’t worry about my father or my family?”