He Belongs With Me (6 page)

Standing on my tiptoes, I leaned over the steel countertop, trying to get a good look at one of the cooks. “Carlos, how much longer on table twenty-three? The lady's claiming she has low blood sugar. Can you rush that order, please?” I winked at Carlos, letting him know I was only half-serious. The lady in question—a regular whose name I could never remember—always claimed low blood sugar. I knew better though. Some of the club members were always trying to get special treatment and she was a classic example.

I picked up a towel, wiping the already spotless countertop. On a Saturday at noon the restaurant should have been packed, but it wasn't. Normally, I didn't mind being here—busy or slow—but I was supposed to be off work today, and I'd been planning to play a round of golf to clear my head. Golf always relaxed me. Except Clara had called in and, like a sucker, I'd agreed to come in her place. The general manager, Anita—the same Anita who told me about Dean and all his glory—told me that my sister had developed a mysterious case of food poisoning. Unfortunately, I couldn't confirm or deny that claim—my twin never came home last night. More than likely, she was probably shacked up with Andrew somewhere and didn't feel like coming in to work. But being the “good sister,” I'd smiled and lied to Anita earlier, pretending Clara's story was true.

I needed a distraction to somehow forget last night ever happened, but it was difficult when the embarrassing events kept running through my head on repeat. The world's slowest day ever wasn't helping. One thing’s for sure, I despised Robby Harvey (or Dean, or whoever the heck he was) for playing me like a fool.

It had been six years since our parents were married. Six years since Monica, the gold-digging daddy-stealer, came crashing into the picture. The woman had been awful, snobby, and made entirely of plastic, and luckily was only part of our lives for three short months. But her son...he'd been everything she wasn't. At seventeen, Robby probably should have been obsessed with cars, girls, and sex. But instead, he was kind and friendly when so many others weren't. Back then Robby had been too skinny, way shorter, with glasses and a very bad hippie-style haircut. His looks never mattered though because when he smiled and listened, he easily made two very different fifteen-year-old girls fall head over heels. The summer he'd lived with us had been the best of my life...until it wasn't.

“Order up,” Carlos yelled. He tossed two hot plates of food up into the window. “That lady has blood sugar problems every Saturday. She should drink some orange juice.”

“I know, right?” I said in response, forcing myself to stop thinking of Robby. “Maybe I'll suggest it when I go out there.”

I took twenty-three's food out to her, smiling politely, saying nothing about her blood sugar problem because what if she wasn't lying? Then I sauntered toward the front of the restaurant to find Anita, who could talk a person's head off. She'd distract me and possibly help me feel better, even though it was partially her fault for sending me after Dean/Robby in the first place.

I found Anita standing in her usual spot at the hostess podium, smiling and waiting to greet any incoming guests. I loved how no matter how many years passed, the forty-something-year-old always looked the same. Her hair, sprayed with so much hairspray it could easily ignite, sat in place on her head in the same style she'd probably been sporting since the early 90s. And her boobs—watermelon big—were practically choking her they were so high. Who knows what sort of support contraption she used to keep those babies in place? But they were always up and ready to greet the customers.

“Hey, Anita.”

Even with an age difference of around twenty years, we'd always been friendly. “Hey, honey,” she replied, pulling me into a gigantic side-hug. “I've been hopin' you'd come up here and talk more. It's real dead today. So...how you been doin'? That menu comin' back easy enough?” Anita certainly had a twang to her voice, like any local, but I found it cute on her.

“I'm doing fine,” I replied. “I could recite the menu in my sleep.”

“You and me both. I think they're gonna have to put it on my grave,” she said, laughing at her own joke. “I'm real excited you’re home and finally twenty-one. Don't tell your daddy, but we're gonna raise some serious hell this summer. Which, come to think of it, I never did ask you yesterday how your school year went? You and Clara gettin' on any better these days?”

Clara and I both attended college at Virginia Tech. Fortunately, Tech was a big school so she and I were able to easily avoid one another there. Sure, we ran into each other every now and then, but it was going to take a lot more than sheer proximity to help heal our relationship.

“School's been fine,” I told Anita. “And Clara and I aren't any better.”

Thinking of Tech made me think of Leo so I slipped my phone from my apron for another quick peek. Still nothing.

Leo went to Tech too. Sort of. In the beginning he gave the whole college thing a fair try, but these days I doubted he even had enough credits to call himself a sophomore. Leo was too smart for his own good and he wanted to be successful in college. He just couldn't be in two places at once. His classes came second to his family's growing need for him to help run the Maddox Hotel Corporation. Leo's dad had wanted to take over Leo's grandfather's position as CEO so bad that the man was practically foaming at the mouth for Leo Sr. to either die or retire. Leo Sr. had zero intention of ever retiring, but either way, both his grandfather and father wanted Leo to
quit dicking around, grow up, and work harder,
as they frequently liked to say.

I seriously doubted Leo would come back to Tech next fall. I also suspected that it might be Leo's last summer in Blue Creek, and the thought made my heart hurt. I never wanted things to change.

“I still can't get over Clara datin' Andrew,” Anita said, shaking her head. “No respect, that girl. But forget her. I can't bite my tongue a moment longer.” A smile grew on her lips so wide I thought her face might crack. “Darlene Adams—ya know, the new event planner—told me earlier today that she saw you with one real scrumptious date last night. Tall. Dark. Handsome. Real naughty. I'm guessin' that means you found Dean. What’d I tell ya? Gorgeous, huh? Spill, girl. I'm old and ain't been laid since God-knows-when. Tell me everythin' and don't ya dare spare any juicy details.”

Before I could tell Anita how very non-scrumptious Dean/Robby was, the front doors to the restaurant whooshed open and Dad came marching in. His blonde hair, the color of mine and Clara's, fell into his blue eyes. He brushed the wild strands out of his weathered face and gave me a relieved smile. “There you are, Maggie. I've been looking everywhere.” Even with thinning hair and sun-warped skin, Dad was still a handsome man. Like an aging movie star, his looks seemed to only grow more pronounced with time. And the blush on Anita's cheeks told me older women still noticed this about him.

He leaned his elbows on the podium, giving me
the look,
the one he got when whatever he had to say involved Clara. I knew at once that my sister was up to no good again. “Let's go talk in my office. Anita, please cover for Maggie for five minutes. This is important.” When Dad wasn't stressing over me and Clara, the man was probably the most easygoing person around, but I could tell the carefree version of Dad wasn't going to be showing his face today.

He stalked off through the restaurant, expecting me to follow. I took a short detour to check on table twenty-three and then met him in his office. The small backroom could hardly be called an office—more like a cubbyhole with a messy desk, computer, and a few filing cabinets. Two swivel chairs were smashed into the small space. I sat in one and Dad took the other.

“Okay,” he started, “I feel like I should give your sister the benefit of the doubt and so I'll ask you first. Did you take one of the golf carts out for a joyride last night?”

I let out a surprised, unexpected laugh. In a million years, I never would have expected him to ask me that—clearly my sister knew no bounds. When would she stop being so childish and grow up? “It wasn't me. You already know that.”

“I figured that much. Sorry, but you know I had to ask.”

“Did she crash the golf cart into a tree or something?”

“I hope not. The golf cart she took is still missing, but the grass on the fairway near Hole Six looks like crap. Tire treads everywhere. It's evident someone had a damn good time. I don't have time to deal with your sister's bullshit. I need to be practicing for next week's tournament in Miami. Do you have any idea where Clara might be?”

“I haven't seen her since last night,” I told him and then realize something I’d missed. “Wait, what made you think it was either me or Clara who stole the golf cart?”

“This.” Dad reached into his khaki pocket and produced a little black-and-white photo. “I printed this from one of my surveillance cameras. The one overlooking the cart path between Six and Seven. It's the culprit and the golf cart in question. What do you think?” He handed over the photo for me to study. Squinting, I studied it for a moment.

“Oh, it's Clara alright.” Even in black and white, blurry, and shot from a distance, I could pick out my sister anywhere. Except, I think Dad might have missed something. The image of the golf cart and my sister's face were pretty clear, but there was also some kind of blackish blob in the photo. Someone or something sat shotgun next to my sister. “What's that?” I asked, pointing to the spot.

Dad took the photo for a better look. “It's hard to tell. Maybe your sister had an accomplice. One with dark hair.”

“Let me see that again.” Taking a second glance at the photo, I realized exactly who sat next to Clara. A horrible sour feeling settled in my stomach. “That's not an accomplice, that's a hostage!”

I guess it was time for me to start worrying, so I pulled out my phone to try calling Leo again.

CHAPTER 6

CLARA

My blisters had blisters from the cheap, pink stilettos still attached to my feet. My black dress had wrinkles from wearing it as a nightgown last night. And my hair, even after trying my best to make it look semi-presentable, screamed for a double-duty shampoo job.

I didn't care about my rumpled appearance. And except for the fact that I was trapped only feet away from an incredibly confusing Leo, life couldn't get any more perfect than this.
Watch out, New York City, here I come!
Looking forward to the land of concrete and dreams, where millions of people didn't know me from Jane, I settled back in my cozy, leather seat on the Maddox family’s private jet, practically tasting the delicious freedom already.

Leo had barely said two words to me since we left this morning. Not that I was complaining, by any means—I welcomed his silence. But I still wondered what malicious ulterior motive he had for letting me come along with him. He typically seized every opportunity he could to throw insults my way. Between my rumpled appearance and the embarrassing ass-gazing fiasco this morning, I had a giant bull's-eye painted on the back of my little black dress. I figured he was only minutes away from saying something nasty.

Over the past few years, I'd stopped caring or listening when Dad or Maggie brought up the Maddox family's business. I had no idea how little or big of a role Leo played in it all. Part of me always thought he wore his fancy suits just for the hell of it, not for any practical purpose. But since the moment we stepped onto the plane, he and Regina—I now knew that she was his personal secretary—had been talking business nonstop. Who knew Leo took anything so seriously? Witnessing this other side of him was very strange.

As the plane began to descend toward JFK airport, my excitement level exploded through the roof. The jet had Wi-Fi so I'd already messaged Steph and told her I was on my way. She agreed to meet me at Leo's hotel in an hour—an hour that couldn't come soon enough.

After we landed, it was VIP service all the way. A car met Leo's plane right on the runway. Men in black suits carried his bags and opened doors for us. A police escort led us down the runway and out of the airport. You'd think Leo was a celebrity by the way people treated him. As the daughter of a golf pro, I was kind of used to getting the special treatment here and there, but this was real baller status.

Heading deep into The Big Apple, I stared out my window. While Leo and Regina continued to talk business, I was caught up watching as the soaring buildings, yellow taxis, and array of people passed by in a blur. I'd been to NYC several times, but this was my first visit as an adult. And most importantly, my first visit alone.

“What are you thinking?” Leo asked me. I'd been so focused on my own thoughts, I hadn't noticed that his conversation with Regina had ceased and his focus was now directed toward me.

“That I'm glad I came,” I said, surprised at my own honesty.

“Good.”

Those were the only words we exchanged before arriving at the intimidating Maddox Hotel. I instantly spotted Steph waiting outside the grand double doors, wearing a flowery sundress that showed off her long legs. Before one of Leo's black-suited men even had the chance to open my door, I jumped out of the car and caught my friend in a giant hug. It had only been two weeks since classes ended, but I realized then how much I'd missed her. At school, especially around Steph, I got to be a different person—myself.

The inside of the hotel, lined in gold with polished marble floors and sparkling chandeliers, took rich and elegant to a whole new level. I'd stayed in this hotel before on a couple of my family's visits to New York, but the renovations had outdone even my wildest expectations of what luxury looked like.

Leo had already disappeared so Steph and I followed Regina inside. The front desk attendant gave her a key to the executive suite Leo had promised me, and then Regina extended her kindness by offering to personally show us the room.

“I never knew Miss Maggie had a twin,” she said matter-of-factly as we walked, heels clicking across the empty front lobby. The only other people around were a few hotel employees, and I recalled Leo mentioning something about the official reopening date being Sunday. I guess that meant the general public wasn't staying in the hotel until tomorrow.