“And you, cutie pie?” she asked Danny, managing to sound motherly even though she couldn’t be more than eighteen. I wondered what she was doing working so late at night.
Danny blushed and stammered, looking down at the laminated sheet in his hand. The kid was adorable. How he’d come out of the shit years he’d had on the streets still capable of blushing when a pretty girl smiled at him was a mystery to me. “Oh, um, I’ll have, uh, just the biscuits and gravy plate,” he said. “I’ve never had that before.”
“Never?” she asked, eyes wide.
“And you’re gonna start with Denny’s?” Steele asked with an incredulous frown. He shook his head. “I’m gonna take you to my momma’s house and have her make you some.”
“I get to meet your mom first,” Breck said. “She’s gonna love me.”
“I’m sendin’ you in the door first,” Steele said. “I ain’t been home in so long, she’s gonna bop me over the head with her cast iron for sure.”
Steele looked like Jason Momoa via Cuba, but when he was tired or stressed, and right now we all were both, he sounded like a long-lost member of the Duck Dynasty.
How would my mother react when she saw me? I’d been gone much longer than Steele had. Well, maybe if she’d wanted to see me more often, she shouldn’t have sent me away all those years ago.
“How d’you want your eggs?” the waitress asked.
“Uh, scrambled?” Danny said.
“Nah,” Steele said. “You want them sunny-side up so you can mush it all up into those taters.” He mimed swirling food around an invisible plate.
“And give him a side of bacon and a large orange juice,” Leo said.
“The orange juice costs more than the food,” Danny protested.
Leo leveled a glance at him. “I’m feeling rich tonight.”
“Listen to your dad,” the waitress said. “You ain’t no bigger than a minute. You need to eat more.”
Danny’s eyes widened at the word dad and Breck snorted. Leo ignored them both and ordered a veggie omelet made with egg whites and black coffee for himself.
With a sigh and a nod of acknowledgment to our slowing metabolisms, I did the same.
Ridge waited until the waitress left to lean forward. “So, are we stopping for the night, or we pushing through?”
“Depends on what our overlords say,” I answered. “Danny, any update from Wesley?”
He shook his head. “You know I would tell you.”
“I know.” I sighed and leaned back against the circular bench seat. “I’m just tired of driving.”
“I think you’re just anxious to get home,” Steele said. “Personally, I’m dying to see where little Carson grew up.”
“I could have sworn you were from somewhere in England,” Breck said.
“You weren’t the only one,” I assured him. It was a misconception I was happy to leave uncorrected. I smiled enigmatically, an expression I had practiced in the mirror since I was seven.
“What changed your mind?” Ridge asked me. “At first you were all like—” He pitched his voice high. ‘No, no, Miranda, I would rather go to jail.’ And then you’re like—‘No, we are going to Wisconsin.’” His imitation of me was somewhere between Katherine Hepburn and Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins.
“Yes, quite,” I replied in my favorite ennui-burdened tone. I had a whole library of tones. And yes, I did work on them when I was alone. When I was younger, I had also practiced facial expressions in the mirror. I also read psychology books and books on human behavior. Running cons on people was both an art and a skill. It took practice.
“Besides, jail is still an option,” I said. “We’re not in Wisconsin yet, I could still choose not to go. Jail can’t be that bad. Has anybody here been to prison?”
“I have,” the waitress said, coming up behind me with a tray of drinks.
I barely managed not to jump. Leo grinned. Fucking hell, no one could warn me someone was close enough to overhear our conversations? I didn’t know how I was going to pull off any kind of a con with this group. Had none of them ever heard the word discretion? They were about as subtle as a herd of bulls in a china shop.
“Well, it was just a few days in county lockup,” she admitted, “but I was sixteen.” She placed the drinks down without a spill.
“How was it?” Breck asked.
“And what’s your name?” Danny asked before she could answer.
She shrugged. “It was wild there for a bit. They were deciding whether to try me as an adult or a minor. And it’s Shauna.”
“Wow, that sucks,” Breck said. “Not the name. Shauna is a cool name. But why would they charge you as an adult?” He leaned towards her, dropping his voice. “Did you kill someone?”
She swatted him with her waitress pad. “No,” she said incredulously. “A’course not. I broke into my stepfather’s house and took my mom’s wallet with her bank cards and ID and shit, plus some clothes, and car keys. We’d got away from him, but we had to leave some stuff behind.”
“And he had you arrested?” Danny asked, shaking his head. “Once upon a time, I would have been surprised.”
She rolled her eyes and grinned. “He was pissed because she got all the money out of the account before he did and that she had the car.”
“Nice,” Breck said, holding out a hand for a high five. Even Leo nodded, looking impressed.
I wondered how old she was, and, more importantly, how tied to Iowa she was. She had potential. Miranda could use her. She’d asked me to be on the lookout for a new girl.
“Afraid to go home?” Shauna asked, looking at me. “I know that feeling.”
“I am not scared to go home,” I said with as much disdain as I could muster. That was a lie. I was terrified. And that was only part of it. Several emotions vied for prominence when I thought about going home again. Guilt was the front runner, but righteous anger, embarrassment, and a tiny spark of curious possibility were also in play. There was also a not inconsequential part of my psyche itching for a fight; though, fight with whom, I couldn’t say. “It’s complicated.”
“It always is,” Danny said. “How long has it been?”
“Fifteen years,” I admitted. Fifteen years since I’d walked out the door for the last time. Flounced out was probably more like it. I had been a very dramatic child.
“Long time,” Shauna said nodding slowly.
“Yes, it is.”
She nodded sagely again and then left.
“So, seriously,” Leo said. “What changed your mind? What was in the envelope Miranda handed you that convinced you?”
“Never mind that, what’s the job?” Breck asked too loudly. “It’s been a freaking week and I still don’t know what the hell we’re doing in Wisconsin and what Carson’s family has to do with it. How are we supposed to come up with a plan?”
My hand hovered over the wallet in my jacket pocket. It wasn’t blackmail, at least not in the way they assumed. This was worse. It was emotional blackmail. It was my biggest weakness and my deepest regret all in one tiny photograph.