0577651001373397368 ls 00.7- ta (3 page)

Ryder keeps his gaze firmly fixed on the guy who’s sat down beside me, and who’s now shaking salt over my fries.

The other guy stands blocking Ryder’s exit.

‘Where you been hiding, Ryder?’ the man asks. ‘We’ve been looking all over for you.’

Ryder says nothing. What the hell is going on? How do they know his name? I glance at the guy next to me. He’s got dark hair, piercing black eyes and a five o’clock shadow that looks permanent. He’s wearing dark jeans and a white shirt and his buddy is dressed similarly, his shirt clinging to both his barrel chest and other suspicious concealed weapon-shaped bulges.

Ryder slouches back in his seat. ‘I’ve been around,’ he says, casual as anything. Only, I can tell he’s putting it on because his aura shows his fear. His fear overcoming his anger, being swamped by it.

‘Busy chasing skirt by the looks of things,’ the man says, his eyes flicking in my direction. He smiles approvingly as he tosses fries into his mouth. ‘I can see why you’d be distracted.’

I would squirm but I can’t. I’m frozen in my seat, staring at the guy. I glance at Ryder. Then back at the guy. And suddenly my heart is pounding like an anvil against rock.

Because the guy beside me has an aura identical to Ryder’s.

I didn’t see the chandelier lights before because they were masked by thunderclouds. His aura is slightly more tarnished than Ryder’s and darkness filters around it, but it’s still there.

‘Leave her out of it,’ Ryder suddenly growls, no longer slouching but leaning across the table, his eyes flashing furiously.

Holding my breath and taking advantage of the distraction, I inch my knee across under the table until it nudges the guy’s thigh. Instantly I jerk back, my body resonating into an iron wall.

The guy doesn’t appear to have noticed. ‘Let go,’ he tells Ryder, finishing up my fries and wiping his hands on a napkin. ‘We’ve got work to do.’

What kind of work is he talking about? I look between them, trying to figure out what I can do to defuse the situation. But before I can even try to make two grown men cry, Ryder moves --- a cobra strike --- grabbing for the guy’s wrist across the table. But he’s not fast enough. The guy snatches his hand away, shaking his head. ‘A-a-ah.’

Ryder freezes. My gaze drops to the man blocking him in.

He’s pressing a gun against Ryder’s side.

Without even thinking about it I throw everything I’ve got, everything I’m feeling, at the guy with the gun --- anger, outrage and fear melding into a fearsome barrage that pounds him like a battering ram. The gun falls limply to his side. All three hundred pounds of him stares at Ryder just grew horns and a tail. Then he turns on his heel and, with a little whimper and a yelp, goes screaming out of the restaurant.

The man beside me stares slack-jawed after him, before whipping his head back to Ryder. ‘Interesting,’ is all he says, appraising Ryder with a small smile, before pulling himself together and standing brusquely.

Ryder is still staring at the door, blinking in astonishment.

Then his expression clears and his head snaps towards me, understanding rushing over his face. Has he guessed? Does he know that I was the cause of that?

‘You coming, Ryder?’ the man asks.

Ryder nods and gets up from the table, shooting me an apologetic look. ‘Yeah, I’m coming,’ he says and starts following the man to the door.

I’m too stunned to do anything but watch through the window as Ryder walks with the guy across the lot and climbs into a Mercedes. The engine starts and the three of them go speeding out of the lot. I realize only then that I’m shaking. The storm clouds have passed but my skin still prickles with static charge.

Someone clears their throat beside me, making me jump.

‘Do you want me to, like, call the police or something?’

I look up. The server is standing by my table, his Adam’s apple bobbing violently up and down in his throat. Ignoring him, I stagger to my feet, throw a few dollars on the table, and run outside.

‘So he arrived in town six weeks ago. He surfs, has an arthritic dog called RJ and is wise to the In-N-Out ways of ordering, but you don’t know how old he is, what his last name is or whether or not he’s a good kisser.’ Nancy shakes her head at me in disgust, though from the starbursts above her head I can tell excitement outweighs her disappointment.

I hesitate. I don’t lie, remember? But equally I can’t tell her the truth about what happened. I mean, what’s there to say anyway? We were having a great time when suddenly two guys with guns burst in and escorted him off the premises, oh, and by the way, they all had identical auras!

Nancy is my only friend. I don’t want to be friendless.

‘Next time I’ll take my thumbscrews and a Nancy-approved list of questions to grill him with,’ I tell her. Not that there’s likely to be a next time, I think to myself.

‘Look, I have to go,’ Nancy says, glancing at the clock. ‘I have to babysit my cousin, but later, I want all the details, OK?’

She tosses me the keys to the store, grabs her jacket and goes. Leaving me to sort through a pile of new stock and all my confounding thoughts.

The day is long. Summer break means listless teenagers coming into the store, trying on everything, taking photos of themselves and then leaving without having bought anything or having bothered to rehang the clothes.

And the whole time I’m barely functioning because I’m worried sick about Ryder (a boy I hardly know, I remind myself) and what grisly things might have happened to him. I’ve run a million scenarios through my head trying to figure out who those guys were and what they wanted, and spent several useless hours wishing my grandma was still alive so I could fire questions at her about what I saw.

What was that? I stare in the mirror more than a few times trying to figure out what it all might mean and end up shaking my head at my reflection… it’s too improbable.

I keep glancing at my phone and wondering whether I should have called the police. It’s just… I’m known to the police. I’ve reported a few things to them (including the Sunday School teacher guy and my mom’s boyfriend Ricky-Ray who had an aura more filthy than a sewer rat’s and who did eventually get busted for dealing meth) and every time I’ve been met with a skeptical eyebrow and, on the last occasion, with a stern warning to stop wasting police time.

The worst thing is, I have no idea of how to contact him. I stuck a note under his windshield wiper telling him where I worked in case he wanted to find me. I wasn’t about to give him my address, which this month is the second to last trailer on the south side of the Purple Sky Trailer Park.

Every time the door of the shop dings my head flies up, but so far, he’s not made an appearance. I decide that after work I’m going to head back to the burger place and see if his car is still in the lot. If it is, then I’m going to call the police.

I’m on my knees behind the counter folding my fiftieth item of clothing when the door goes. I know even before I look up who it is. I can feel him.

I stand up, a little unsteady on my feet.

‘Hi,’ he says, relief rushing off him in waves that buffet against me. He strolls casually to the counter and props himself up on one elbow, giving me one of his lazy crocodile smiles.

‘Hi?’ I splutter. ‘That’s all you have to say to me? You got dragged out of In-N-Out by two completely sketchy looking guys… one of whom had a gun… and now you wander in here and act like nothing happened?’

‘Wow, it sounds like you were worried about me.’

‘Of course I was worried!’

‘Sorry,’ he says, frowning. ‘That wasn’t exactly how I was hoping the night would end.’ I flush. How was he hoping the night would end?

‘Who are those people? What did they want with you?’ I ask quickly, so he doesn’t notice my fluster.

He starts playing with some price tags lying on the side.

‘They want me to do something for them,’ he mumbles.

‘What?’

‘You don’t want to know.’

‘Yeah, I do.’

He scowls at the price tags, runs his thumb along his lips.

Then he stands up straight and strides to the door. My stomach shrinks. He’s leaving? Just like that?

But he doesn’t leave. He turns the key in the door, and flips the Closed sign instead.

‘You can’t ---‘ I begin, but he cuts me off.

‘OK, I’ll tell you,’ he says, strolling back towards the counter. ‘But you first. What did you do to that guy to make him run out of there? And the one in the club who burst out crying. Don’t tell me nothing. Because I was there. I saw. You did something.’

I open my mouth and then shut it again. I’ve never told anyone what I can do. And I’m not going to have the first person I admit it to be a near total stranger, even if he’s the first person I’ve ever met who doesn’t give me a headache after prolonged contact, who doesn’t seem to have his speech set to default: lie; and who I am also not afraid to touch.

‘You first,’ I say defiantly, crossing my arms over my chest.

He smiles triumphantly. ‘So you did do something!’

I press my lips together. Damn.

He hops up beside me onto the counter. ‘OK, cards on the table. Full disclosure. And only because I want your secrets too.’

Why does he want my secrets too? And am I really about to tell him what I can do? Yes, I realize. I am. Because I really, really want to know his secrets.

‘I’ll know if you’re lying,’ I warn him.

‘Amber, I won’t lie to you. You have my word. Test me if you like. Ask me what I think of you.’

‘I don’t care what you think of me.’

His eyebrows arches. ‘Now who’s lying?’

I exhale loudly. ‘Fine. What do you think of me?’ Did I really just ask him that? I cringe. But I’m holding my breath all the same.

He locks eyes with me. ‘I think you’re the most beautiful, intriguing, smoking hot girl I’ve ever met in my life, and I really, really want to kiss you.’

OK. Not what I expected him to say. Not even close. And he’s not lying. Not as far as I can tell. My stomach does a triple somersault and my focus falls straight to his lips. I’ve never kissed anyone before. Ricky-Ray once tried but I used the knee to soft groin area defensive move on him.

But the thought of kissing Ryder makes a rainbow sprout above me.

‘You not going to say anything?’ he asks.

Heat floods my face. ‘What were you doing at The Majestic?’ I stammer.

‘I was there to get some information from your leather-clad suitor.’

It takes me a second to figure it out. ‘The fat guy who came onto me?’

‘Yeah.’

‘What information?’

‘Just some insider knowledge we need.’

My ears prick up. ‘We?’

‘Demos needs,’ Ryder rectifies quickly.

‘That’s the guy from the In-N-Out?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Why are you mixed up with him?’

Ryder shuffles from foot to foot. ‘He needs me to do him a favour.’

‘What kind of favour?’

‘He wants me to help him break into a few places and steal a few things.’

I study him for any trace of a lie but there is none. ‘And you’re going to?’ I ask.

He shrugs. ‘Not much choice.’

‘Why not?

He exhales loudly. ‘It’s complicated.’

I scowl at him. ‘Why does he need you? He had a goon.’

He looks at me, amused. ‘A goon?’

I narrow my eyes.

The smile vanishes. ‘He needs me because I have special skills.’

‘What kind of special skills? Lock-picking?’ Please, please, I think to myself, don’t say you know how to kill a man with your bare hands. But the memory of the biker guy who came looking for me, and the blank expression that fell over him when Ryder touched him, hurtles to the forefront of my mind.

Ryder shakes his head. ‘No. You first. What did you do to that guy at The Majestic?’

‘I see auras,’ I blurt before I can stop myself. It was that easy, I think. Three words and my life’s secret is spilled.

Silence washes around us.

Ryder’s eyes widen. ‘Is this like in the Sixth Sense where the kid says he sees dead people?’

‘I said auras. Not ghosts.’

‘Auras?’

‘Yeah. I can tell what a person’s like by the colour of their aura. It’s like an energy field every living thing has around them. I can see whether people are good or bad, healthy or sick. And… I can make them feel different things ---

manipulate their emotions…’

Ryder stares at me, dumbfounded.

‘Now, your turn,’ I say quickly, feeling suddenly as though I’ve stepped off a cliff and am free-falling towards jagged rocks below. Why did I open my mouth? Now he thinks I’m a freak. ‘What about you?’

‘What about me?’ he asks, ignoring my question. ‘What do you see? Am I a good guy or a bad guy?’

‘I can’t tell,’ I stammer. But how can he be a good guy?

He’s talking about robbing somewhere. I can’t kiss a robber. And I sure as hell can’t date one. If I’ve learned one thing from watching my mother’s disastrous life choices it’s to avoid guys who need you to tell them if they’re good or bad, and who are involved in illegal activities.

‘Why can’t you tell?’ he asks, perplexed.

I shake my head at him. ‘I don’t know. Your aura’s kind of weird. It’s different to most people’s.’

‘Different how?’

‘Different like mine.’

‘Huh?’

This is the hard part to explain. I take a breath. ‘So um, imagine a chandelier. That’s what your aura looks like.

Over your head.’

He glances up, squinting. ‘And we have the same chandelier thing going on?’ he asks, looking deeply perplexed.

‘Yeah.’

‘And that’s weird?’

‘Yeah. I’ve never in my life seen anyone with an aura like ours. Except for my grandma. And…’ should I tell him about the guy yesterday?

But Ryder’s straight in there with a question. ‘She was like you, right? Your grandma? She could see auras too?’

‘Yeah,’ I say, puzzled, wondering where he’s going with this. ‘Now your turn. Spill.’

‘OK…’ He pauses, drumming his fingers on the table. ‘I can make people forget things,’ he tells me.

I step backwards, bumping the counter. ‘What?’