"You hear that?"
Ally looked up from the sheet music she had been studying in her hands to see Austin cup a hand behind his ear. She uncrossed her legs, pressing her bare feet on the dirt, and pressed her palms on the outdoor bench as she leaned her head forward and listened.
"Galloping," Ally said. "Did Dez go to the stables?"
Austin shook his head. "He's never said he could ride. And he's at the workshop with Trish right now."
Dirt kicked up under her heels as Ally took off running. Austin put his guitar on the bench and ran after her. They ran out of the shade of the garden and into the beating summer sun. Austin sped past Ally to the wooden gate that opened into the fields. He flipped the latch and opened the gate before Ally ran by.
She slowed as a short man on a horse trotted toward her. He wore a tan cowboy hat that looked like it had been well loved. It matched his boots, which somehow appeared more worn than the hat but still managed to be stylish. His face was young and round; he couldn't have been any older than her or Austin. She heard Austin speak firmly between puffs of breath.
"This is private property, man."
"Then you better be prepared to defend it," the cowboy said. His voice was deep but it didn't sound like the bass in it was his natural speaking voice.
Austin stepped in front of Ally, protectively outstretching his arm.
The cowboy swung one leg over the horse in an attempt to get down, but his boot got caught in part of the saddle. He gripped the reins as his body hunched awkwardly to the side of the horse.
"Wait a second," Ally said, stepping around Austin. "Is that one of our horses?"
"A little help here, people," the cowboy said, his voice no longer deep but high pitched. He struggled to get his boot free. "Aren't you bumpkin types known for your hospitality?"
"Excuse me! Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to return our horse and leave immediately."
"Yeah, dude. It's time for you to go."
"Come on, please. It's these darn fashionable boots," the cowboy whined.
Ally sighed and waved her hand toward the horse. "Help him," she mumbled to Austin.
Austin narrowed his brows at the cowboy but moved forward and helped him down. Safely on the ground, the cowboy straightened his vest and tipped his hat at the couple.
"Congratulations, you failed your first test. Your land will be pillaged and I will fest on the spoils."
"Alright, that's it," Austin growled. He stood over the short man, casting a shadow over his boyish face. "Dude. Leave."
"He he," the cowboy laughed. He gripped his belly and tossed back his hat. His laughter made the horse snort and Ally raise her eyebrow at him. "You," he said, putting a hand on Austin's shoulder and pointing at the young man's irritated expression with the other, "Think you can take me?" He let go of Austin's shoulder and slapped his own knee.
Austin shuffled on his feet uncomfortably. "I mean, yeah. I don't think it's funny or anything." He wiggles his arms half-heartedly. "I work out and stuff."
"Who are you," Ally asked impatiently. She uncrossed her arms. "Wait, is it you?" She bounced on her sneakers, her ponytail swinging like a puppy's tail. "Are you the trainer?"
"You bet your booty, ma'am." He spread his feet shoulder-width apart, put his hands on his hips, and held his head high. "They call me Pain. You can call me Chuck."
"If they call you 'Pain,' then why do you want us to call you Chuck?" Austin asked, his brows still narrowed.
"Because there's no difference," Chuck said, forcing out a deep voice again.
"Why do you have our horse?" Ally asked, taking the animal by the reins.
"Entrance is everything, tadpole," Chuck said in his normal voice. "My hybrid is parked in front of your shed. What do y'all have to eat around here. This outfit is just dying for me to eat chili in it."
"Ally!"
"Austin!"
Trish and Dez shouted as they ran up the patio. They froze in the kitchen when they saw a strange man chopping vegetables on the kitchen island. He glanced up, grunted, and then returned to his work. His knife halted mid slice as he looked up again. He wiped his hands on Ally's apron and shuffled around the island to offer his hand to Trish.
"Howdy, my country kitten. I'm Chuck." He gave her a sly smile and wiggled his eyebrows.
"Ally!" Trish shouted again, stepping back from the hand being offered to her. "Get your stick!"
Austin and Ally walked into the kitchen.
Ally smiled and said, "This is our trainer, Chuck. The department sent him to help us keep you guys safe."
"Hi! I'm Dez." He grabbed Chuck's hand with both of his and enthusiastically shook it.
Chuck hummed and snatched his hand away. He pulled his fingers through his short, dark hair and winked at Trish. "Don't worry, princess. With ol' Chuck around, training these lowly farmers to be warriors, you'll be more than safe."
She gave him a strange look, a mashup of disgusted and confused. She glanced at Austin and Ally; Ally radiated excitement but Austin just looked annoyed. Her face relaxed into a neutral expression and she shrugged. "Okay?"
"I bet you know so much about cool fighting stuff," Dez said. He eyed Chuck's outfit. "And you're a cowboy. How cool is this guy, Austin!"
"Is the chili done, Chuck?" Austin asked plainly.
"Patience, tadpole," Chuck said, returning to his pot on the stove.
"Oh, boy! Chili," Dez said. He rushed to Chuck's side. "Not to brag, but I'm kind of a chili expert. My mom says I make the best chili. Isn't that right, Trish."
"Sure," Trish murmured. She had sat at the kitchen table. Her elbow propped on the edge and her cheek in her palm.
"I can respect a man who respects the art of chili making. Join me in the preparation of the best chili you've had in your life, Red," Chuck said.
Dez squealed and grab an apron off the hook.
"I want to help, too," Ally said, grabbing an apron.
"I don't," Austin said. He put his hands in his pockets and left the kitchen. He plopped down on the couch in the den and turned on the television. He felt the cushion beside him sink when Trish sat beside him.
"You know I'm not cooking," she said and took the remote from him.
Austin chuckled. "You want to finish that movie from the other night?"
She didn't respond, just loaded the action flick and kicked off her shoes.
"So. This Chuck dude. He okay?" Trish asked.
Austin shrugged and drummed his fingers on the arm of the couch.
"The secret government organization or department or whatever you work for sent him, right?"
"Yeah."
"But you don't like him?"
Austin scratched the back of his head and turned to look her in the eye. "I think he's going to train us. And that the department and Mr. Dawson cleared him, so he's good. But it's just something about him. I don't know."
Trish nodded. She looked away, the fire from an exploding building on screen reflected in her eyes. "I don't trust you and Ally at a hundred percent just yet. You're both at like a ninety-five, ninety-six. But, so far, you guys have proven me wrong."
Austin opened his arms and said, "Aww, give me a hug. Come on, you curly ball of mush."
Trish chuckled and slapped a pillow to his chest. "Dez is going to turn you into a dork."
He tucked the pillow behind his back and said, "But his feet won't be cold."
"Crap, you're right. Give me that back," Trish said, curling her legs closer to her.
"Nope. It's mine now," Austin teased. He pressed his back against the pillow and shuffled around. "It's so warm!"
"Austin," Trish whined.
He grinned and pulled the pillow from behind his back. He held it out to her, but snatched it back before she could take it.
"On second thought," he teased. She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. "For real, here you go." He tossed the pillow to her. "I'm a nice guy."
"A real prince," she said sarcastically.
They watched the movie in silence until Trish said, "You should always trust your instincts, Austin. If you think something's up with Chuck, I'll keep an eye out or whatever."
He didn't say anything. He was afraid that dwelling on the fact that she had basically agreed to have his back on something might cause her to change her mind. He just nodded and kept his eyes on the television.
Ally yawned, a big wide chili-poweder-scented yawn. She slowly lifted one of her arms and it heavily dropped back to her lap. Her vision was blurry with sleep as she sank further into the couch.
"Something wrong, tadpole?" Chuck asked. He stood in front of her, lifting his glasses from the bridge of his nose.
"No. I'm fine," Ally said. She tried to shake her head but it felt too heavy. "I must've just overdone it with chili."
"Sure, sure," Chuck said gently. He bent forward and put her arm around one of his shoulders. "Here. Let's get you to your hubby."
"Uh, okay."
She focused on putting one foot in front of the other and lifting each leg to climb the stairs, leaning a lot of her weight on Chuck. He pushed her bedroom door open and guided her to the bed.
"Austin," she said in a far-off tone.
"Thanks, Chuck," Austin said in the same drowsy tone.
Ally crawled across the bed and curled up beside Austin.
"No problem, buddy," Chuck said. "Now you two just rest up for your lesson." He backed out of the room quickly and softly closed the door.
"That chili, Ally," Austin slurred. "Do you feel? Uh…do you feel?"
"So nice. I wasn't sure," Ally's words came out mushy, "'Bout Chuck. But he's so nice. Big bowls chili." She struggled to keep her eyes open. She strained to lift her head and look at her husband. "Austin?"
No response.
"Austin?"
No response.
She rolled her head onto his chest and darkness fell over her.
"Knock, knock," Dez said with his poked inside Trish's guest-room door. "You requested my presence after dinner?"
"Don't make me regret it," Trish said from her vanity.
Dez made a zipping motion over his mouth then stepped into the room. "So what'd you think of the chili? Chuck is pretty amaze, huh."
"Who cares," Trish said. She held a little notebook in her hand and stood. "Guess who got the most awesome email ever?"
"I don't know. Who? Ally?"
"No, it was…"
"Austin?"
"No, Dez. It was…"
"Trish?"
"No! Wait, no. Yes! Me!"
Trish beamed and skipped up to him with the notebook. She pointed to the name of a bakery written in neat handwriting that Dez couldn't believe belonged to her. Trish De La Rosa wasn't exactly known for taking anything but parties and shopping seriously, so he expected her handwriting to look like chicken scratch.
"It's a little café in the next town over that gets a good amount of foot traffic according to some of the customer reviews online. They want us to design bundles for them to sale in the shop. Isn't that awesome," she said. Before he could respond, she yanked him over to the vanity and shoved him down in the seat. "Here. Start some sketches of the flowers you want to bundle together so I can approve them. That way I can make sure we have everything we need in the workshop tomorrow. You can take pictures of some demos that I can send for them to checkout. And I can work out the numbers for how to price everything."
"But work time's over," Dez said as a pencil was shoved into his hand. "Can't we work on this in the morning."
"Stop being such a bum, Dez. It's only," Trish started. She glanced at the time on her laptop. "Nine."
"You must be really bored," Dez teased.
Trish leaned her hip against the vanity. "Yes. But I also really want to do a good job."
"You do?"
"Gee, Dez. You don't have to say it like that."
He put the pencil down. "I already think you're doing a great job. And we can do all this stuff tomorrow. Pinky swear." He held up his pinky but she just moved it away with the back of her hand.
"Fine. But I'm like crazy good at this, so don't ruin it." She walked over to her bed and sat down. "My resume's going to kill. And now I can pick a major for college instead of going in undeclared like I was planning to."
"Whoa." Dez turned in his seat to face her. "You're that serious?"
She looked embarrassed for a moment before tossing her hair over her shoulder and shrugging.
He gave her a bright smile and pumped his fist. "Way to go, Trish. That's awesome."
"It's not that big of a deal," she said, picking at a thread and holding back her own smile. She cleared her throat and finally made eye contact with him. "What about you? Still going to clown school?"
He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, curious. "Are you telling me clown school's real? My mom said it was a myth."
She bit her lip and considered her answer before she spoke. "No. It's not real."
He snapped his fingers and frowned and she was sure his mother would be grateful for that response. He sighed but then perked back up. He held up a finger then rushed out of the room. Less than a minute passed before he ran back into the room with his camcorder.
"Have I ever shown you one of my short films?" He asked holding the camera out to her. "I've been making them for forever. One time, the principal let me screen some of them after the talent show. Some people even showed up!"
"I had a social life," she said in a neutral tone as she took the camera into her hands.
"I want to be a director."
"Duh, I should've known that. You only take this stupid camera everywhere." She felt his glare and corrected, "I mean cool camera."
"Look at the shots I got of Austin and Ally's horses," he said excitedly.
She lowered the camera and eyed him. "Only if you promise to be at the workshop early tomorrow. I really want those sketches."
"Deal."
"Deal."
Ally awoke with a throbbing headache. Everything was pitch black and the air felt hot around her. She pressed her hand to the side of her head and panicked when she felt cloth bag over her head. She wretched it from over her head and breathed the cold air in heavily.
"Austin," she tried to shout but it came out as a hoarse whisper.
She heard a groan across from her and she crawled over to the body. She pulled the bag from over his head and shook his shoulders.
"Austin," she shouted, her voice coming back to her.
He peeled his eyes open and his brown iris rolled from one side to the other. His chest began to rise and fall rapidly and he clutched her arm.
"It's okay. Deep breaths, honey. Deep breaths," she said calmly, swallowing back her own fear.
Once he got his panic under control, he sat up and looked around. The night was chilling and the forest ground was slightly damp. He heard something howl in the distance. A twig snapped beneath Ally's sneaker as she stood up beside him. She offered him a hand and he stood.
"He drugged us," Austin murmured. He spun around, looking up at the tall trees. "And dumped us off near the mountains."
"It looks like it," Ally said. She put her hands on her hips and tapped a foot. "I'm going to guess this is all part of the training."
"You guess!" He spread his arms wide. "Ally, he dumped us in the freaking forest! Do you know how far this is from the house! It's the freaking middle of the night!"
"Whoa, pal. Don't take that tone with me. I'm out here too."
He pulled his fingers through his messy hair and exhaled. "I'm sorry, babe."
"Good. You should be. And he even put our shoes back on so it's not that bad. Now come on. We've got to show Chuck we can handle some Chuck."
"Repeat that," Austin sighed, flopping his hand to his side.
"We can handle some pain. But I called it Chuck, you know, cause Chuck means pain. Like he said earlier during the horse thing," Ally said. She hopped from one foot to the other like she was getting ready for a marathon run. "Get it?"
He grabbed her by the shoulder and ran a thumb across her forehead. "Did you get like a head injury or something?"
She swatted his hand away. "Austin, do you realize how long it's been since I've had a teacher? A real challenge?"
"Are you telling me this is about your Type-A Be the Best at Everything personality?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You have to be the best at everything. Best grades. Best talents. You always have to have an A or come in first place. You were always like this in school."
"Exactly," Ally said in an exaggerated tone. "Keep up, babe." She grabbed him by shoulders and looked him in the eye, leaning in so close that their noses almost touched. "I will be the best tadpole that little weirdo has ever seen. I know you've never really studied with me, honors classes and all, but it's time to put on your big boy sweatpants. You're about to train the Ally Way."
There was another howl in the distance to which Ally howled back before speeding off.
"Great, I'm training with two crazy people," Austin groaned. He stretched his legs before taking off after Ally.
Dez walked into the kitchen early the next morning. He was surprised to see Chuck standing in front of the French doors, staring off into the distance.
"Good morning, Chuck-A-Roo," Dez said cheerily.
With his back still to Dez, Chuck raised a hand and said, "Leave the nicknames to the professional, kid."
"Oh you," Dez said. He opened the fridge and took out two bottles of water. "Thirsty there, friend?"
"My will quenches my thirst, Red," Chuck said. He adjusted his cowboy hat then put his hands back on his hips, still not looking at Dez.
"Cool."
Dez rummaged through the cabinets until he found a small picnic basket. He packed it with blueberry muffins, fruit, and cheese.
"Chuck-A-Doodle-Do, do you think you could teach me some sweet moves? I think it'd be cool to do some stunts for my movies." He leaned his elbow against the counter. "Did I mention I make movies? I'm kind of a film guy."
"Movie stunts?" Chuck tucked his chin to his shoulder and looked at Dez from under the rim of his cowboy hat. He deepened his voice. "I'm a weapon."
"Yes?" Dez said, slightly confused. He folded some napkins and packed them into the basket. "Did I mention I really like your hat, Chuck-A-Roni-and-Cheese."
Chuck tipped his hat to Dez and said, "I'll give you that one, Red. Not bad."
Dez smiled and tipped an imaginary hat to Chuck. He put the rest of his picnic supplies in the basket then lifted it. "Have you seen Austin or Ally?"
"If you mean the weak shells of their former selves? Yes, and I hope to never see them again. If you mean the warriors that I'll groom with my own bare, manly hands? I shall see," Chuck said, facing the glass.
Dez let out a confused chuckle. "Kay. Well, thanks, I think." He walked out the kitchen, "Have fun."
Trish trudged down to the greenhouse. She was slightly irritated that she hadn't had a proper breakfast. When she woke up, she searched the house for Austin, hoping he'd make her pancakes. He was a no show, so she figured she could settle for Ally making her a smoothie. Nope. Even Dez wasn't around, but she assumed he had already left for the workshop and that pleased her. The only person she could find immediately got on her nerves.
"Hey, Trish-a-licious. Want to see me break this flimsy pine table in half? One flick of the hand and it's gone, cupcake."
She groaned at the sound of Chuck's voice replaying in her brain.
Screw breakfast, she thought before leaving the combat trainer in the Moons' kitchen.
She paused at the opened door of the greenhouse.
"Good morning," Dez said brightly. He sat on an old, faded red blanket in the middle of the greenhouse. The picnic basket was open and food was spread out around him. "Surprise!"
Trish sat down across from him, picking up a muffin and smiling hungrily at it. "Good morning, blueberry muffin." She took a bite out of it and hummed. "This muffin's all the good things in life."
"Good," Dez said. He handed her a plate with grapes and cheese wedges. "This is my thank you for all the work you and Austin did to the workshop. I couldn't find Austin." He reached behind him and handed her some loose sheets of drawing paper. "But here are the sketches you can choose from. Just like I promised."
Trish licked her lips and wiped her hands on a napkin. She took the sketches and looked at them carefully. "Great work, Dez. I'm glad to see you take this seriously."
He saluted her. "You got it, boss."
She rolled her eyes but continued to smile.
"I'm not doing this," Austin said flatly.
Ally struck the ground again with her shovel. She stomped down with the heel of her sneaker, driving the metal deeper into the dirt. Another drop of sweat rolled down her temple and added to the minuscule puddle below her.
"We could be digging our own graves," he said, exasperated. He leaned against his own shovel. His body sagged with fatigue and his stomach grumbled with hunger.
The hole grew deeper as Ally shoveled out another lump of dirt. Her small muscles in her thin arms flexed.
"He didn't even let us sleep before he sent us out here!" Austin shouted. He moaned as his stomach let out another fierce growl. "Or eat!"
"Pick up your shovel and dig, Austin!"
He clumsily leaned away from his shovel and shuffled over to her. He drove the shovel into the ground and grunted as he lifted the heavy soil.
They dug together.
Trish turned off the bathroom faucet. She rubbed her face in the mirror.
"So much sun," she mumbled, squishing her cheeks together. She released her face and sighed, "My dermatologist would have a fit."
She pulled her hair tighter in the black band that held the fury, curly creature together.
"As would my stylist."
She "tisk tisked" then yanked open the door to the hall. Chuck leaned against the wall across from the door, one booted foot propped on the plaster behind him. His cowboy hat was tipped back so she could see the grin on his face.
"It's all yours, pal," she muttered as she walked past her.
It took Chuck a moment to realize she had left him alone in the hall. He pressed himself off the wall and hurried around the corner to catch up with her. He jogged a few steps ahead of her and spun around to block her entrance into Ally's crafting room.
"Trish De La Rosa," he said her name like it was a fine cheese.
She sighed and crossed her arms. "Yes?"
"I saw your case file before the department sent me here to train your caretakers."
Her bored expression morphed into a curious stare. She let one arm hang at her side. "You know anything about my parents or brother?"
Chuck tugged on his suspenders and rocked on his heels. "Sorry, missy. Classified. And my lips are sealed." He puckered his lips at her and she grimaced. "But I did see your lovely picture and my little heart melted, Trish-ca-bob. Forget melt in your hand like chocolate. Melt in your hand like ol' Chuck's heart."
"All I'm hearing is that you're of no use to me," Trish said. She shoved him out of the way and entered the room, slamming the door shut behind her.
After an hour of flipping through gardening and floral design magazines, she collected the pages of her favorites and left the room.
"Ugh, you're still here," she grumbled.
Chuck stood up from his seated position. "I mastered the art of patience long ago. During my training."
She tapped her foot on the floor, scrutinizing him with her gaze. Finally, she said, "Carry these," shoving the pages into his hands.
He blinked and she was already walking away.
"Have you ever fenced?" he asked as he followed behind her.
"Looks stupid."
"Climbed the snow-capped mountains of the Olympics?"
"Ew."
He did a mental audit of all of his experiences, not daring to pick wrong again and loose her attention. He paused on the middle of the staircase.
"Horses. I mean horseback riding. Do you ride horses?" He asked.
Trish turned on the bottom stair and looked up at him. "Depends."
Chuck took the stairs two at a time to stand in front of her. "Anything," he said dreamily.
"Tell me everything you know about my case file."
"Everything?"
She snatched the magazine pages from his hands. "Never mind." She walked away without another word.
"Wait!"
She opened the fridge and took out a bottle of water as he stood on the other side of the kitchen island.
"I tell you everything I know about your case file and you'll go horseback riding with me?" he said.
Trish tilted the bottle back, taking a long drink, then smacked her lips together. "Sure."
Chuck removed his hat and held it to his chest. "Is that a promise, Trish-a-licous?"
"I promise," she said flatly. "But make it quick. Don't test my boredom against my patience."
"Yes, ma'am," he said. He placed his hat back on and winked. "10 p.m. a folder under your door."
"Good," she said. She tossed the cap onto the counter. "I'll meet you at the stables tomorrow afternoon." She walked out the door, saying, "Don't bother me until then."
Chuck let out a long whistle as his eyes lingered where she left.
Sink and drown. He knew those were the only actions he could take. Or his dream-self. An unseen force was pulling him deeper into the ocean. He flailed his arms and twisted his body but he knew he couldn't get out. But at the same time he knew it was all a dream.
Wake up! Wake up!
He opened his mouth to scream but the sensation of water and mud rushing to the back of his throat shocked him out his sleep and into the dark, damp pit. Austin sat up and coughed out the muddy water. His arms and legs were messy with mud. Sleep crust had collected in the side of his eye sockets. Beside him, Ally's face was lit by the stars and moon. Her hair, freed of its ponytail, spread out in the mud. Protein bar wrappers made a halo around her.
"Finally awake, blondie?"
Austin glared at Chuck, standing at the lip of the hole with a water hose in his hand.
"What the heck is wrong with you," Austin growled. He slammed his fist into the mud, splatting it across his sweat-stained shirt.
Ally shot up, mumbling something. She squinted, slowly turning her head from side to side, and smacking her lips. Her eyes widened when she realized they had fallen asleep not long after Chuck threw water and protein bars down to them, back when the sun was still in the sky.
"I'm ready for the next phase of my training," Ally said. She rose carefully, ignoring the ache of her muscles. She offered a hand to Austin, who grudgingly took it and stood hunched over beside her.
"I doubt that, tadpole," Chuck said. He tossed the water hose to the grass. "I still sense a weakness holding you back."
"You're so full of it!"
"Austin," Ally gasped.
"No, Ally! This guy's bananas. I bet he wasn't even sent here by the department. He probably like kidnapped the legit dude and came here to torture us cause he's crazy!"
Chuck whipped his head to the side and spit like he was aiming for a metal pail. He sniffed and tugged on his suspenders, glaring at Austin. "I'll have you know I was top of my class. The youngest combat trainer sent into the field. I'm so tough, they want to make handbags out of me instead of leather. I'm so rough, they use the stubble on my chin to sand down wood. You don't combat train, you Chuck train!"
"That's pretty rough and tough," Ally muttered.
"You expect me to believe you're some kind of great fighter? I've seen more muscle on a preschool playground," Austin said.
"That's because fighting is through the strength of the mind," Chuck said through his teeth. "And I enjoy a good cake." He patted his round hips. "Enough stalling! Fight!"
"Okay," Ally said. She paused. She looked from Austin to Chuck and then Chuck to Austin. "Hold on. Fight?"
"You heard me, girly. Fight the farmhand. Whoever emerges from the pit shall be the victor and worthy of my training."
"I'm not going to fight my husband," Ally said, chuckling nervously. "Surely this is another test."
Chuck tipped his hat over his eyes. "I knew you'd fail." He turned his back to them and looked up at the starry night sky.
"What? Fail? But that isn't fair," Ally shouted. She moved closer to the edge of the pit, sliding a bit in the mud.
Austin rolled his eyes and muttered, "Jerk."
"Ally Dawson Moon does not fail, Chuck," Ally spit his name.
"You do now! You won't fight because you're weak. You fail! You fail! You fail!" Chuck threw his head back laughing wickedly.
"I don't fail!" Ally shouted. She charged for the edge of the mud pit and jumped up, clutching the grass above. "Just wait until I get up there, mister!"
"He he," Chuck laughed loudly, pulling on his suspenders and turning away.
When the beige envelope slid under the bedroom door it hit Trish's foot. She had been standing there the past five minutes, waiting for the analog clock on her wall to read 10 p.m. The envelope crinkled in her hand as she clutched it and ran over to the vanity. She sat down and tore it open, dumping out the loose sheets of paper inside. The papers were covered in a serious-business font where the words were barely spaced apart. Four glossy photos were among the pages.
"Dad," she said softly.
She held up the photo of her father. He was a big man with a big smile that always reached his eyes. Her mother didn't smile like that, not all of the time, only when something really made her happy. But her dad always found a reason to laugh and be goofy.
Trish picked another photo from the pile. It was from a business trip where Mr. De la Rosa was meeting with some investors. He had brought her, her mom, and her brother along and they had taken this picture in front of a huge gold fountain at the hotel. Her mother wore a big smile in the picture, a real smile, as she looked over at her husband. Trish put the picture down, frowning.
What if he was meeting with the people who caused this mess then? What if that's the last picture we take together in front of a gaudy fountain at an overpriced hotel?
Her eyes stung and she sniffed back tears. She clenched her jaw and flipped the picture over to hid their faces. She glanced at the other two photos, one of Mr. Wade and the other of the Wade family. She pushed them to the side and collected the white papers.
"Let's see if this is useful."
"You!" Ally shouted.
Chuck turned and saw Ally at the end of the hall. Her shoulders were hunched over and her chest moved from her heavy breathing. Her body was caked in mud. She screamed and pounded forward, like a bull and Chuck was her target.
Seconds before contact, he calmly reached out to grab her arm and flipped her over his shoulder. Her back hit the floor with a thud and she groaned. Her adrenaline and rage seeped into the hardwood, leaving her muscles and head throbbing. She squinted as Chuck leaned over her, grinning.
"Tadpole, you're ready. Training starts tomorrow."
"I passed?" she asked in a hopeful and hoarse whisper.
"We start at dawn. I have a date after that."
He stepped over her body and waved.
"Nighty night."
"Wait! Can you peel me off the floor?" she called out. She heard his footsteps disappear. "Or here's good."
"Voila!"
Dez kissed his fingers then raised them in the air.
"This is my greatest creation," he said, stepping back from the bouquet. The floral design was intricate, using large red and pink blooms and thin wires painted in gold. "I call it the…"
"You can't call it Carrie," Trish said, standing beside him. He pouted but Trish held up her hand. "No, Dez. We already have a Carrie, a Carrie 2.0, and a Carrie Classic. This is a business not a stalker fan club to your ex."
"She's not my ex," Dez said. He took a small pair of scissors from the pocket of his smock and clipped away some hanging greenery from the bouquet.
"Whatever. You know what I mean," Trish replied. She admired the design in front of her and smiled. "It is beautiful, though. Don't let this get to your head or anything, but you have a real gift for this. I like seeing what you come up with."
"A compliment," Dez gasped. He tucked the scissors away then leaned down, taking her face into his hands. "Is it a fever? Did the country air infect your brain?" He saw her brown eyes widen and her skin beneath his palms heated. He felt a flutter in his stomach as he gazed down at her.
"Personal space, Freckles," she said, wrapping her hands around his wrist and pushing his hands away.
He frowned. "No, don't go back to calling me Freckles. I like it when you say my name."
"Then don't be all weird," she said. She smirked and added, "Dez."
"Yes!" He pumped his fist. "I'm Dez, again."
She laughed and shoved him lightly.
"Oh," she said suddenly. "Before I forget." She walked over to her bag beside her desk and pulled out two photos. She handed them to him. "I thought you might want these."
Dez held the pictures. He etched every detail from the faces of his family into his mind, hoping he'd get to see them in person again. He didn't look back up until Trish headed out the door. Apparently, she had been talking but he hadn't heard. He ran out the door and called out to her as she walked through the flower fields. When she turned to look at him, he jogged up to her.
"Where did you get these?" He asked.
She shrugged. "I have my methods. As gross as they will probably be. But then again, how bad could horseback riding with Chuck be?"
"Huh?"
"I've got to, Dez. I only like making an entrance for important stuff. I may as well be on time for this," she said. "We can work some more later."
She turned and walked forward but Dez followed her still.
"On time for what? We're not really allowed to go anywhere," Dez said.
"I'm painfully aware of that, which may be why I'm even doing this in the first place." She stopped to wiggle her boot. "But now I have an excuse to wear these riding boots I found in the attic."
"You've been in the attic?" Dez asked as they continued walking.
"I'm nosy," Trish shrugged. "I've been in your attic, too."
He held back a laugh and shook his head. The afternoon sun was warm and the sky was clear, again. Most days were this same baby blue as if it were painted on the sky. The air was clean and perfumed with flowers. He glanced down at Trish's riding boots then the rest of her outfit. She wore a pair of black leggings and a long pale pink shirt. He remembered when they first got to the farm and she hardly changed out of her pajamas.
"You look nice," he said, tucking his hands into his smock pocket.
"Crap. That's not what I was going for," she muttered. "Too late now."
Dez recognized the familiar path to the horse stables and raised an eyebrow.
"Are you going to shovel poop?" He asked.
Silent, she shook her head and smirked. She grunted as she pulled back the barn door. The smell of hay and horse hit her nostrils immediately. Inside, Chuck held the reins of two horses.
"Be still my beating heart," Chuck said. He held one hand over his heart and moved it forward and back. "Ba boom. Ba boom."
"Help me," Trish mumbled. She pulled her hair back, wrapping a black band around it to keep it out of her face. She walked up to one of the horses and began petting it gently.
"Elvis! Madonna!" Dez cheered. He stood between the horses and rubbed their sides with a hand. "Trish, hand me a carrot for Madonna."
"No, Dez," she said. She gave him an annoyed look but he didn't seem to understand.
"But she likes carrots," Dez said.
Chuck cleared his throat. He took a break from staring daggers at Dez to raise his eyebrows at Trish. He jerked his head to the side and made grunting noises.
She sighed, rolling her eyes and tilting her head back. She stroked the horse once more then stepped to the side, waving Dez over.
"I'll be waiting, my lady," Chuck said, his eyes still on Dez.
Trish waited for him to lead the horses out to the pasture then spoke.
"I'm on a date, Dez," she said bluntly.
He looked from one side of the barn to the other, scratching his head.
"You are? With who?" he asked.
"Chuck, stupid," she said, crossing her arms. "Gross, you made me say it."
Dez blinked. He rubbed his chin and furrowed his brow.
"But why?"
She smiled, loosening her arms and looking up toward the rafts. "What? Chuck not your type, Dez?"
"I think he's awesome. He's supposed to be like a ninja. And he's already a cowboy. Mmm, that chili the other night." He closed his eyes and rubbed his belly. When he opened them, Trish was raising an eyebrow at him.
"You should go horseback riding with him then," she said.
"Can I!"
"No."
"Oh."
Trish grabbed a carrot from the bucket of vegetables in the corner of the barn. She tapped Dez's shoulder with it and said, "I'll give this to Madonna for you."
"Hold on," he said, walking behind her for the second time that day. "Why are you really on a date with Chuck?" She stopped walking and faced him. "I mean, he doesn't really seem like your type. He's not the kind of 'hot' you usually go for. And we're in hiding, so I don't know what you can get from him."
She glared at him and put her hands on her hips. "You think I'm so shallow that I'd only date a guy to get something from him?"
His face went red and his eyes widened. He shook his head and took a step back. "No, no. Of course not. I mean, I've said that before, but this time I'm not saying that. I just…I just…no."
The corners of her lips twitched and her eyes twinkled. She dropped her hands from her hips and said, "Nah, I'm shallow. This is just to get information from him about our parents." She turned toward the exit. "Now scram."
Trish walked out into the sunshine. Chuck was already on his horse. He wore a black and white cow-patterned vest and his signature cowboy hat. Trish held back a gag when he winked at her and puckered his lips. She tucked the carrot into her curls like a hair stick then gripped the horn of the saddle.
"Let me help," she heard a voice say behind her as she hooked her foot into the stirrup. She felt herself hoisted up and she swung her leg over the horse.
"Thanks," she said, looking down at Dez.
"I just wanted to say I hope you have a good time." He smiled, petting the horse but keeping his eyes on Trish.
"We will," Chuck said. His glare was sharp, daring Dez to make another move.
"Okay," Dez squeaked, taking two wide steps back. "Don't stay out too late, you crazy kids." He laughed nervously and rubbed the back of his neck.
"I'll see you at work later," Trish said before trotting off.
Chuck guided his horse to circle around Dez.
"Watch yourself, Red," Chuck said before trotting after Trish.
Trish picked up the nail clipper. Even with her hands soapy from the bath water, she could see the thin line of red at the tip of her pointer finger's nail. She clipped away the slither of nail then sunk in down into the warm water.
Last thing I need is for Ally to see her precious trainer's blood on my hands.
She popped her head out of the water to breath, suds covering her face. Chuck tried to kiss her one too many times during their first date so she pinched his lips together until she drew a little blood.
The freak didn't even struggle. I think he was into it. This summer sucks.
She splashed water on her face to get rid of the suds. The high back and sides of the clawfoot tub made her feel like she was a human Cheerio in a large bowl. She had added enough bubbles to make a thick blanket of foam on top of the water. Three days ago, she had discovered this bathroom in one of the guest rooms and claimed it as her own. She always had to bring her bag with her since it wasn't near her bedroom, but the tub was worth it.
"A dreams a wish the heart," Ally sang as she opened the door.
Trish screamed, sloshing water as she hugged herself. Ally screamed, throwing a stack of towels into the air.
"Trish!"
Ally bent to pick up the towels, saying, "You almost gave me a heart attack."
"Me?" Trish hid her body behind the side of the tub. "You're the pervert."
"I'm not a pervert," Ally huffed. She sat on ground and folded the towels. "This is my house. I can be in any room I want."
"And this is the room you want to be in?" Trish asked sarcastically.
"No. But I'm willing to prove a point. So there," Ally said. She restacked the towels and stood. "Why are you here, anyway? There's a bathroom beside your room." She opened the linen closet and placed the towels on the shelf inside.
Trish pressed her cheek against the cool porcelain of the clawfoot tub and sighed. "I'm in love with your bathtub and I'll never break its heart."
Ally chuckled. "So, I can expect you to keep the towels and washcloths for this bathroom clean and stocked."
"Did I say pervert? I meant you're welcomed here any time. Would you like your nails trimmed?"
"I'm good. And don't worry, I can't see anything with the gallon of bubbles you've got in there," Ally said. She glanced at the opened door behind her. She gently shut it and sat on the tiled floor again. "But while I've got you here, what's going on with you and Chuck?"
"Ugh," Trish groaned. She sunk into the water again.
"Not what I was expecting," Ally said.
Trish reemerged. "You know he's a lunatic, right?"
Ally stretched her arms overhead and moaned. "My muscles totally agree. But he's a really dedicated trainer." She lowered her arms and grinned. "And maybe a really dedicated boyfriend?"
"Ew, Ally. Get a hold of yourself." Trish scooped some bubbles and flung them at her, completely falling short of hitting her. "You can't just go around using the B word like that."
"But Chuck said you had a date and I saw you two walking back to the stables together. The sun was shining and you two were walking in step with Elvis and Madonna at your sides. I swore he reached for your hand."
"Things must get boring out here in the boondocks, huh?"
Ally folded her arms. "I just love love. And if you and Chuck have something…then you should go for it."
"I'm literally throwing up in my mouth right now, Ally. I'm naked but that's not even the uncomfortable part of this whole conversation. Chuck at most, could be a boy toy. I'm not looking for a boyfriend, especially while I'm in the weirdest witness protection program ever."
"Fine," Ally sighed. "I guess the only summer romance going on will be the ones in my Jane Smith novels."
Trish rested her chin on the tub. "What are you talking about? You and Austin are so disgustingly romantic I want to poke my eyes out. I bet your wedding was like out of a fairytale or something."
Ally frowned. She pulled her knees to her chest and her shoulders lowered. Their eyes met. Ally's eyes were round and brown, sad but not broken. Her lashes lowered and she looked away.
"We can talk about it," Trish said. "It's not like I'm going anywhere."
"I, um," Ally started. She cleared her throat. "We didn't really have a wedding. Not the kind I imagined as a kid. The perfect white dress and twinkly lights and all that. Everything was kind of full steam ahead to help Austin get his inheritance. And with my mom, being…I just didn't have time to plan a white wedding and deal with lawyers and government agencies…and my mom telling me I'm ruining my life."
Ally shut her eyes, folded her lips into a thin line and exhaled through her nose, her body seeming to deflate.
The heaviness in the room pressed Trish's voice down. Ally abruptly stood.
"No, I didn't have a wedding," she said quickly. She flung the door open and left. The door clicked shut behind her.
Dez grunted as he pushed the heavy desk against the wall. He snooped around the attic after Trish went on her date and found an antique desk. Ally said he could add it to his room. To make more room, he and Austin moved the wardrobe into the room where Austin kept his sneakers.
A whole room just for sneakers? Where did Austin wear all of those shoes before he was a farmer spy guy?
Dez then got to work setting up a new-to-him desktop. He told Austin he wanted to do some editing of the shots he got on his camcorder, so Austin hooked him up with an older computer his parents used to use for the inn.
"It'll be nice for it to get some love again," Austin said as he carried it up the staircase.
He booted up the computer when he heard a knock on the door.
"Come in," he said, looking toward the door.
Trish slipped in and closed the door behind her.
"Guess who's got some, even if it's only a tiny bit, of news?" She said, hopping onto his bed.
"Me!" He pointed his thumb back at the desktop. "Check out the computer."
"Whoa, I didn't even notice," Trish said, eyes lighting up.
"Ally said I can't let you check your personal accounts with it," he said quickly.
"Then the computer sucks." She picked up one of his pillows and plopped it in her lap. "Besides, that's not why I'm here. I just wanted you to know what I found out."
Dez pulled his chair up to the bed. "Chuck wants me in the loop," he beamed.
"Uh, no. But whatever, it's about our families not his. Now shut up and let me talk. Chuck slid an envelope under my door with those pictures I gave you and a long boring case file. I actually had to read it and it was so boring that I wanted to die. Basically, all it said was the De la Rosas and Wades have been under surveillance for over a year, before that dude blew up your house. Creepy, right. There had been some talk that our dads' invention could cause some problems with some bad crowds, dudes who want to beef up their weapons collections and participate in comic-book villain type deals, but nobody thought anything would actually happen."
Dez's eyes were wide. He was completely into the story. His bottom was pressed on the edge of the seat and he leaned over his knees.
"But something did happen."
"Good, you're keeping up. Yeah, some underground weapons dealers in Miami heard about the hottest item on the market basically being up the street and tried to sweet talk our dads into selling. Obvs, they reported it and now people aren't asking so nicely anymore. So, poof, we're in hiding, people want our heads for revenge or a payday, and Austin doesn't have an appendix."
"Whoa," Dez said breathless. He blinked. "Austin doesn't have an appendix?"
"There's a bunch of random stuff about Ally and Austin in the case file. And Ally is like Ivy League smart. She could be in any college she wants right now."
"I have to retake Trigonometry."
"Me too."
Dez pulled his fingers through his hair and leaned back in his chair. "That's a lot to take in. I mean, I figured most of that stuff based on action movies, but knowing it's real. This is our life."
"Yeah," Trish said. She slapped her hands on the pillow, smiling. "I almost forgot the best part. I know where our parents and sibs are."
In the time it took her to blink, Trish had gone from an upright position to flat on her back. Dez had leapt out of his seat and pounced on her with a crushing hug.
"Can't breathe," she gasped, sucking in air with her cheeks sandwiched between the mattress and his chest.
He loosened his grip and lifted his body so he hovered above her.
"Thank you, Trish! This is the best news ever," he said, grinning so hard that it looked like it hurt.
"I didn't even tell you where yet," Trish said. He smelled faintly of lemon-pine cleaner and warm cedar. She breathed a little deeper to take it in and let it settle into her senses.
"But you will," he chirped. "I'm going to hug you again."
"Get off of me."
"Okay."
He rolled to the side and sat up and then scooted to the other edge of the bed. He looked down at her, slightly leaning over her upside-down face as she lay on the bed. He thought about their quick conversation before she went horseback riding with Chuck. He twisted his lips as he tried to work with the wording in his mind.
"Was he okay with just the date? That was a lot of information I know he's probably not supposed to give you. And I'm grateful and stuff, but you don't have to like hold hands or anything with someone you don't really want to."
Trish just looked up at him. Her facial expression was blank.
"I'm just saying it can be different here. You don't have to impress anybody or date someone you don't like if you don't want to."
She tilted her head to the side and changed the subject. "You really need to clean your nose."
He peered closer at her and said, "You're one to talk."
She gasped and covered her nose with her hand as he laughed.
Light from the early morning sun forced its way through the cracked ceiling of the old barn. The wood was gray in the darkness. Abandoned machinery were like statues along the wall covered in dust. Chuck insisted Ally jog there, to the far edges of the Moon property, as a warm up for practice. She kicked up hay and dust as she shuffled her feet back and forward. Chuck held the make-shift punching bag as Ally thrusted her glove forward again.
"You ain't even moving me, tadpole. Get angry! Get fierce! You've got to be so fierce, Beyoncé's alter ego is Ally Moon," Chuck shouted as he held the bag. Ally sent another punch forward. Chuck didn't flinch. "Pathetic! You don't deserve those purple hot pants!"
Ally bounced from side to side, running the foot placements Chuck had shown her through her mind. Her arms and legs stung, but her mind was buzzing. She was determined to master everything Chuck taught her.
"No wonder you couldn't get into Harvard," Chuck jeered.
She threw a punch at the bag. "I did get into Harvard!"
He clutched the bag tighter.
"Not that it'd matter. You've got to play Farmer Sue anyway," he continued harshly.
Punched. Clutched. He winced.
"Potential wasted."
"Stay out of it, Mom!"
That time he moved, just a little did his boots scoot on the rickety floorboards. Ally dropped her arms to her side and threw her head back. Her heavy breaths echoed in the dark of the large space.
"You're wrong," she said, her voice hoarse, "I did get into Harvard, and I'm not wasting my potential." She tilted her head forward, breathing quick breaths through her nose. "I have purpose here. I'm doing something good. This farm and caretaking and being there for people even if you don't agree with them," her voice started to fade out.
She took a step back and threw another punch. Chuck's shoulders moved a little. He tightened up his stance and clutched the bag.
"I don't need her to be proud of me," she murmured. Another solid punch. "I'm proud of myself."
"Now you're ready to be fierce," Chuck said. He stepped away from the bag and bowed slightly to her. He straightened his back and held out both hands to her. "Your gloves."
Ally used her forearm to wipe the sweat from her eyes then reached her arms out to him. He carefully removed the gloves then tossed them to the side. Taking her hands in his, he curled her fingers into her palms.
"Punch the bag," he said. He stepped away and took his place behind the bag.
The bag was lumpy, made from a large produce sack and covered in duct tape. Frayed rope knotted at the top attached it to a low beam.
"Isn't that dangerous?" Ally asked.
"Don't choose now to be weak," Chuck shouted. "I am your Rodeo Sensei, now punch!"
She exhaled and moved her feet. Her arms and posture flowed into a ready position. She balled her fist and pushed it forward, colliding with the bag.
"Ow!" Ally shook her fist then brought it to her lips to kiss. "That really hurt," her voice squeaked as she cradled her wrist to her chest. "And what was that sound?"
Chuck frowned as he inspected the bag. "Huh, you must've hit a beak."
"A what!?"
He shrugged and adjusted his glasses. "A beak. But did you feel any flesh? I know you heard the gush of guts. Not too bad, tadpole."
Ally stared at the bag, taking a step back. Flecks of red appeared where her fist made contact. "Chuck."
He smoothed his hand over the front of the bag then stepped behind it again.
"Back to work, princess. Let's go. Punch!"
She held the bag by its sides and leaned toward Chuck. "How did you make this punching bag, Chuck," she said above a whisper.
"Dead game birds."
Ally shrieked and jumped away from the bag. "You hunted birds for this?"
"An intruder isn't going to be made out of stuffing and plastic. I'm training you fight flesh and blood."
Ally's mouth hung open. Her hair was messy, part slick with sweat, part sticking straight up in the air. Her face was pink from exertion and her eyes were red from exhaustion.
"Excuse me. I need to go throw up," she said in a strained voice. She slowly backed out the door, lifting one foot then the other like they were made of lead.
Chuck put one arm around the bag and with his free hand pulled a cookie out of his back pocket. "Make it quick," he said before munching on the cookie. "I brought you a cookie, too."
In the workshop, Trish rocked back in her rocking chair and sighed.
"No big deal," she said with a cocky attitude as she propped her feet onto her desk. "I just got us another client is all."
"Yay!" Dez cheered. He was covered in pastel ribbons and glitter.
She chuckled at his appearance and asked, "And what have you accomplished?"
"I'm an artist," he sniffed, sticking his nose high in the air. "You wouldn't understand the creative process."
She put her feet on the ground and hopped out of her seat. Taking a yellow ribbon from his shoulder, she grinned and said, "It wouldn't be the first thing I didn't understand about you."
He took the ribbon from her hand. "So, what type of client?" He held out the ribbon and lifted it over her head.
"Anniversary for some old people," she said. The ribbon was smooth against the back of her neck. She felt her curls lift as he tugged the ends of the ribbon.
"Aww, is it like their fiftieth anniversary. That would be so beautiful. I already know the designs I want to send to them." He gently tied the ribbon into a bow and tugged it so that it sat at an angle.
"You're such a girl," she laughed. She sniffed his shirt, one of the graphic tees with a personified animal that his dad had packed. "You even smell like one. Lavender?"
"I don't know," he said. He shuffled forward, subconsciously closing the space between them.
"How do you not know? Stupid," she said, smirking and completely aware of his close proximity but unable to convince her feet to move.
"Guess who packed a picnic," a cheery voice said from the entrance of the greenhouse.
They both turned to see Chuck. He was smiling so wide that his eyes were hardly visible behind his glasses. He held a picnic basket high in one hand and a bat lowered in the other.
"You! The answer's you. Did I get it right?" Dez clapped excitedly.
At the sound of Dez's voice, Chuck's smile transformed into a deep frown. He lowered the basket but the bat was slightly raised.
"Red," he sneered.
"Hey, Chuck," Trish said unenthusiastically. "I thought I told you to meet me at the garden."
He broke his glare at Dez to gaze at Trish. "Oh, I thought I'd surprise you, Trishy Poo."
"I love surprises," Dez said, casually leaning his arm atop of Trish's head.
She shoved him lightly in the gut then turned her back on Chuck to walk to her desk. "I'm still working, Chuck. Scram for a minute, will ya. I'll meet you at the garden."
"But," Chuck started to whine.
She gave him an irritated look that made him snap his mouth shut.
"The garden, my lady," he said, curtseying.
She leaned back against her desk and asked, "Hey, wait. What's the bat for?"
He walked back to the door and peeked inside. "I made you a piñata." He winked then left.
"What a weirdo," she muttered, turning back to her desk.
"I know. That was a terrible curtsey," Dez said. He rocked on the heels of his sneakers and tapped his knuckles against his desk. "So…"
Trish slowed her typing and said, "Yep."
Dez rubbed his hands together. Glitter fell and dusted his shoes. "Oh, so he has more info to give you." He lifted his eyes slightly to look at her. "Right?"
"Nope." She resumed regular typing speed. "Just really bored."
"A pinata should fix that."
For a moment, the room was silent except for her typing. Then they both broke into laughter. It only lasted a minute or two, but they were both clutching their sides and had tears rolling down their cheeks by the end.
Dez plopped down onto his stool and sighed. "Think they'll have piñatas at prom? Chuck might be disappointed."
"Don't you dare even joke about that," Trish said half-heartedly. "You keep your lips zipped about me dating Chuck. Everyone's allowed a summer fling with omitted details."
"More made-up popular kid rules," Dez said. "If you like Chuck, then it shouldn't matter what anyone else thinks."
"Ew, Dez." She stood beside her printer and crossed her arms. "I don't like Chuck. He probably doesn't like me either, even if I'm delightful."
Dez rolled his eyes.
"Is this about that Austin and Ally true love blah blah blah stuff you were on about the other day?" She picked up the pages and folded them in half. "I told you that stuff isn't real." Recent memories of Austin and Ally cuddling and cooing at each other flashed in her mind. She added, "At least not for everybody. Don't read into this stuff with Chuck."
"I think he likes you," Dez said. His eyes were focused on a pale orange ribbon that he twirled around his finger.
"Of course he likes me." She tapped the papers against his shoulder. "We're the same height and Ally's married. So, unless he's into you or that golden retriever I've seen laying around, options are few."
He shook his head and frowned. "I don't think so, Trish. He might really like you. Even if you're just bored."
She groaned and waved her arms dramatically. "Fine. Ugh, you're such a goody-two shoes. Look, I'll be real with him. Tell him that I just liked to be doted on and kissed occasionally—not as much with him as past exes—but this ends when our stay here ends. Happy?"
"Yes," he said, bopping her lightly on the nose. "But nicer than that." He adjusted the ribbon in her hair. "Have fun. And promise, as new friends, you'll tell me if you fall in love."
"Sure, Dez," she said, already bored with the conversation. "Read these details about the new client and we'll talk about them later."
"Got it," he said, taking the papers.