Read with BonusRead with Bonus

Ava

When Sara still hadn’t returned to Meadowbrook by morning, I allowed myself to worry just a little bit. The longest it had ever taken her to return was six hours, but this time she’d been gone all night. She’d pulled this crap before, thrown a hissy fit, and stormed out, only to come sulking back hours later mumbling a half-assed apology. I knew if she didn’t come back quickly, I’d be in trouble, mainly because Katie kept shooting me pointed looks throughout the day. I wanted to scream at her to knock it off because I got it, I understood that I’d screwed up, but instead of losing it, I merely spent the rest of the day focusing on the kids still around.

At one, when lunch was over and they were in their group therapy sessions, Sandy and I ordered a pizza for lunch. It arrived at one forty-five, and at two, a man I didn’t recognize walked through the front door. It was rare for us to get visitors, as most of the teen’s parents had disowned them at some point, and the police only liked to come around when someone was in trouble, and they could make an arrest. Most of the time, the public left us alone, and we all preferred it that way.

“I’m looking for Ava Newman,” the man said. He was older, probably in his fifties or sixties, with silver hair slicked back in a distinguished way. He spoke with an English accent and wore a fancy suit that probably cost more than my car and shiny black shoes to go with it.

“That’s Ava,” Sandy volunteered, pointing at me.

“What’s this about?” I asked and thought at once of Sara. Was this the FBI? An investigator? Did they find her body in an alley or a ditch somewhere? Had she been raped? Beaten? Killed?

Oh, God.

“My name is Malcolm,” the man said. He didn’t extend his hand or offer a last name. I looked over at Sandy, who was making eyes at our guest.

“Hi, Malcolm,” she drooled. Count on her to want to jump anything that looked like it had a lot of money to spend.

“What can I do for you?” I dropped the slice of pizza I’d been holding back into the box and wiped greasy fingers on a napkin.

“I’ve been sent by Mr. Elijah Trevino to get your phone number and any other relevant information,” Malcolm said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

As if I should have been expecting it.

“Who now?” I stared at him for a few seconds, comprehending what he’d just said. Behind me, Sandy gasped with surprise.

“The Elijah Trevino?” she repeated. “The millionaire?”

“The billionaire,” Malcolm corrected her.

“My personal information?” I glanced back at Sandy, who pursed her lips and shrugged in confusion. I looked back at Malcolm. “Why does he need that? Am I in trouble?”

“Not that I know of Miss.” Had this man not seemed so uptight, I’m sure he would have chuckled or something. “I believe Mr. Trevino would like to take you on a date.”

“Excuse me?”

By now, Sandy seemed to be hyperventilating behind me. I could practically feel the giddiness rolling off her in waves.

“A date,” Malcolm repeated firmly.

“Um.” I looked down at the box of uneaten pizza, feeling oddly nauseous suddenly. “I don’t understand any of this. I don’t even know the man.”

“You met briefly at the fundraiser,” Malcolm said stiffly. “He found your purse.”

“Oh. That’s right.” I paused again and looked back at Sandy, whose eyes popped out of her skull as she wiggled in her seat, practically bursting at the seams. I turned back to Malcolm. “So why didn’t he come and ask me out?”

This must have been an unexpected response because Malcolm bristled, and behind me, Sandy muttered something under her breath.

“Mr. Trevino is a very busy man,” Malcolm said stiffly. “He asked me to do it for him.”

“I see.” I folded my arms over my chest and nodded, pretending to understand. “Could you do something for me?”

“Tell Elijah Trevino that if he wants to take me on a date, he can drag his arrogant, rich ass down here and ask me out himself.” I was sure the old man would turn me down for a moment, but finally, he nodded, just once. I smiled.

A moment of silence washed over the room. Sandy had both hands clasped over her mouth, horrified, and Malcolm only stared at me. I couldn’t read his expression, but I was almost certain I didn’t want to. After what seemed like an eternity of smothering quiet, he finally nodded his head.

“Is that all?” he asked politely, and a slight smirk rose to his lips.

“I think so.” I stood, reached out my hand, and shook Malcolm’s. “I’m sorry you’ve wasted your time. Thank you for stopping by. Give Elijah Trevino my best.”

“Believe me,” Malcolm said, turning towards the door. “I most certainly will.”

Previous Chapter
Next Chapter