CHAPTER 1
MARLENA
“Dad?” I whisper, walking down the dark hallway with my heart in my throat. He doesn’t answer, and that bothers me.
“Marlena?” My brother Brandon opens his door, his eyes wide and shining with uncertainty.
“Go back to bed,” I tell him.
“Where’s Dad?” Brandon asks, concern in his voice.
I swallow my fear, wanting to put on a brave show. “I don’t know,” I admit.
Together, we walk into the living room, searching for him. I’m barely an adult, back home for spring break from college. Brandon’s still in high school, but he’s fairly large. Together, I think we could take someone on, but I’m not sure why I think that’s important. Dad’s probably asleep in front of the television, or he’s in the garage and can’t hear us.
We approach the living room in silence. Dad’s not on the couch, and he’s not in the garage. I check his bedroom again whileBrandon checks the attic. Even though there’s no good reason for Dad to be in the attic or in the backyard, we check anyway.
Brandon spots his phone outside on the sidewalk in front of the house. There’s a full moon lighting our way, and the device glints from its resting place on the cement. He picks it up and turns it over. The lock screen is a picture of the three of us, smiling, happy on a family vacation.
Brandon turns to look at me, and I can practically see all the sinister thoughts running through his head. I have the same thoughts, but I don’t want to let him know how worried I am. It isn’t like Dad to leave without telling us, and there isn’t a valid reason for his phone to be out on the street when he’s hardly ever without it.
Something is wrong.
“Should we call the police?” Brandon asks.
“Never trust anyone,” my father once told me.
I shake my head. I don’t know much about the business our father is in, but I know enough to be afraid.
Five years later
“So…whatpositiondo you see yourself filling?” The creepy guy behind the desk leers at me.
My jaw drops. He can’t possibly be saying what I think he’s saying, can he? This is a job interview, not an audition for a pornfilm. But one quick check into his beady blue eyes, and I can tell that’s what he’s thinking.
“Thepositionyou advertised,” I snap back, trying to rein in my disgust.
I need this job. It’s perfect for me in every way but one. It’s close to my apartment, the salary is just enough to pay my rent, and it comes with a free gym membership. Of all the job interviews I’ve been on lately, this was the one I was really hoping to land. Until now, that is. I can’t imagine myself working for this awful man. One hard look at him turns my stomach, and I have to force myself to stay in my seat.
“Well, we’re looking for more than a secretary,” he says.
“I know,” I seethe, “the job posting was for a paralegal, not a secretary.”
“Was it?” he asks with a smile, as if he’s trying to be charming.
“You know what?” I say, grabbing my purse off the floor and rising to my feet. “I just remembered I didn’t feed the meter.”
“You can do it with your phone,” he says to my back as I race out the door.
“Thanks! I got it,” I call back, tossing his business card in the trash as I storm through the lobby.
I should sue him. If only I’d been smart enough to get him on tape, I could pay my rent for years to come from the settlement. The nerve of that guy, in this day and age. I have half a mind to call up my dad and tell him to come deal with the slob, but then it hits me: My father is gone.
He didn’t die recently; it’s been a few years. But every now and then, I still think about him. In situations like these, a girl needs someone on her side. But I don’t have anyone. I’m all alone in the world, except for my brother, and I don’t want to bother him with this. He has enough problems of his own, trying to figure out what he wants to study in college. I don’t want him throwing his life away to get even for something some slimeball said to me.
I need to cool down. I break out onto the street, and sunlight hits me full force in the face. That feels good, but I need more. My stomach grumbles, and I realize I skipped breakfast. Job interviews make me nervous, and I’m better prepared to deal with anxiety on an empty stomach. But now that it’s over, I’m famished.
I spot the nearest coffee shop and head inside. Approaching the counter, I gaze down at all the delicious treats that are lined up behind the glass. There are pastries and bagels, muffins and croissants. I want one of each, but I know my eyes are bigger than my stomach. A single blueberry muffin should do. And I think I’ll have a latte just to treat myself.
