Smoke & Mirrors by Skye Jordan

13

Logan

I’m sitting on a workout bench in the engine bay, waiting for Bobby, our other paramedic, to get here so I can head home. Lucky has discovered Master and Bates, the two black-and-white cats the house adopted when they were left on our doorstep as kittens.

I can’t tell if the cats find him amusing or annoying. Probably both. Master is hiding on the front tire of the rescue, swatting at Lucky’s tail every time he passes. The dog has yet to figure out what’s happening, just swivels and barks at nothing. It’s almost as entertaining as the way he chases his tail, spinning round and round and round, until he’s stumbling sideways like a drunk before plopping on the ground. That had us all laughing our asses off last night.

I’m officially off the fence—at least about Lucky. If anyone thinks they’re taking him from me now, they’ll be in for one hell of a fight. As far as Isabel is concerned, I’m in a tug-of-war between my mind and my body.

I’m scrolling through Isabel’s Instagram feed, something I’ve only checked out a couple of times over the years when I wondered how she was doing. But this research is for an entirely different reason. I’m detecting something off about her story. I don’t want to have this suspicion, but it’s ingrained.

As a kid, I had to have a constant finger on the pulse of my parents’ moods. Had to learn to read body language and voice inflections. Had to know where Maya was at all times so I could get her out of harm’s way if my dad was on the warpath.

I don’t want to get involved in whatever mess Isabel is caught up in, but my protective instincts don’t shut down just because I want them to.

From the first day of college at the Academy of Art in San Francisco, Maya worked her ass off. She never had time for any extracurricular activities, including the everyday stuff, like a job or learning how to change her own tire. Yet Isabel went to an equally challenging school and ultimately learned to multitask in ways that speak of everyday life skills. Isabel is a jack-of-all-trades, where Maya is all but helpless outside the fashion industry.

They were equally good students, equally industrious, equally well liked. So why does Isabel seem to have more everyday talents? Why doesn’t she talk about her jobs—either the one she left or the one she wants? Maya can’t stop talking about her work when she’s here. And why isn’t Isabel in any hurry to get back to New York?

Her Instagram feed is filled with artistic shots of the city, selfies of her in front of racks of designer clothing, with runway models behind the scenes at a fashion show, in front of department store window displays.

Cocksucker isn’t in any photos, though she could have deleted them after they broke up.

“Hey.” Tucker wanders into the engine bay and opens his locker to put his things away. “Why aren’t you gone?”

“Waiting for Bobby.”

“He’s here. Inside, talking to Sorenson.”

I close Instagram, hike the strap of my duffel over my shoulder, and turn toward Tucker. “Are we good?”

“About Isabel? You’re both adults. As long as you don’t fuck her over, we’re fine.”

Lucky has finally caught on, locating Master where he’s hiding in the wheel well. He jumps up, putting his paws against the tire, barking. Master reaches down and swats at Lucky, making him jump back and bark even harder.

I lean my shoulder against the lockers and watch Bates jump up on the rescue’s hood and stalk toward us, clearly trying to stay hidden from Lucky.

“You get any sense that something’s going on with her?” I ask.

Tucker shuts the locker and turns toward me. “What do you mean?”

“Can’t put my finger on it.”

Bates crouches, his gaze intent on Lucky, his tail swishing.

“Her last boyfriend was a douchebag.” Now Tucker’s watching Lucky and the cats too. He crosses his arms and shakes his head at Lucky. “Dude, watch your back.”

The words are barely out of Tucker’s mouth when Bates launches from the hood of the rescue, flying at Lucky like a hawk, talons out. Lucky scampers to get out of reach, but Bates still catches his tail. Lucky yelps and hightails it to the safety of my legs while Tucker and I laugh.

“He’s going to turn out to be a great source of comic relief,” Tucker says, then turns the conversation back to Isabel. “We worked the bar together last night, and she was fine. Seemed in good spirits. We had a great time,” he says, grinning. “Bickering and laughing all night, entertaining the customers. I didn’t realize how much I missed her. Sure feels good having her back. I’m not looking forward to having her leave again. She and Natalie hit it off. She’s working on Nat’s wedding dress.”

“She is?” That seems like a big project. “Is she going to stay long enough for that?”

He shrugs. “Unless a job offer comes in and she has to leave, I guess.”

Right. An annoying reminder. After that kiss, I haven’t been able to think about anything but getting more.

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop trying to figure them out?” Tucker says. “Women are puzzles we were never intended to understand.”

Guess I should have expected this take from Tucker. He never stays with one woman long enough to even try to understand them.

“Tantor dropped a shitload of product at the bar late last night.” Tucker says. “We didn’t get it all put away.”

“I’ll get it.” I scoop Lucky up, but before I can leave, Sorenson belts out my name in a very annoyed tone.

“Roberts.”

I wince and turn just as Sorenson comes through the door to the engine bay. He’s holding one of his work boots and throws it at me. I instinctively turn to shield Lucky and catch the boot with my other hand.

“You owe me a pair of boots,” he says, hands on hips. “And if that dog decides to cut his teeth on anything else I own, he’s out. Do you hear me?”

Shit.“Yes, sir.”

When Sorenson disappears into the station, Tucker grins at me. “I have a feeling Lucky may not live up to his name. In fact, he may even rival Bandit for the bullshit you have to go through to keep him.”

I inspect the chunk out of the leather and wonder when in the hell Lucky had time to do that. He was with me the whole time. Then my mind strays to how quiet he got while we were watching a movie in the rec room. I thought Lucky was asleep, but now realize he was chomping on Sorenson’s boot.

“Probably wouldn’t go over well if I told Sorenson that if he kept his boots where they belong, they wouldn’t get chewed up.”

“Only if you want a demotion.” He slams the locker and heads inside, saying, “Last I checked, those Red Wings jumped to nearly three hundred bucks.”

I sigh out a long breath and look at Lucky. His eyes are bright, his tail wagging. “It’s a good thing you’re cute.”

I keep the boot so I can buy the right size and style, and on my way to my truck, my thoughts turn toward Isabel.

I think she worked at the bakery this morning, so I don’t know if she’ll be at the motel or not, and I’ve got mixed feelings about seeing her. Because I want her. And I shouldn’t. I try to rationalize that whether she leaves or not is no big deal—I’m not looking for anything heavy. And if she’s leaving anyway, her lies don’t matter either. I guess I just have to keep my expectations in check.

When I pull into the driveway of the motel, I’m confused by the sight of a dumpster, until I remember telling her she could order one. I just didn’t expect it to be here so fast.

Isabel’s Jeep is open, as is the door to room seven. By the time I shut down the truck, Isabel is in the parking lot. A definite zing of interest lights me up on the inside. I should see that as a warning sign, but I take one look at that smile, that ponytail, the fit of those jeans, and…I don’t see a warning sign anywhere.

She lifts a box from the back of her Jeep, and I step in to take it from her.

“Thanks.” Lucky goes straight toward her, jumping to put his front paws on her leg, begging to be picked up. “Why do they always go right to the person who doesn’t want them?”

“Maybe he knows you really do want him, you just don’t want to show it. What’s all this?” I ask on the way into the room. I place the box in a corner, and Lucky roams around sniffing everything. “You decide to stay a while?”

“I don’t know. I’m just breaking out my sewing machine to help Natalie with her wedding dress.”

“Tucker said you’re making it?”

“No, just altering the dress she wore at her wedding to Evan.”

“You’ve got a lot on your plate.”

She shrugs and smiles like it doesn’t matter. “I always have a lot on my plate. Hey, I want to show you something.”

I rest my hands at my hips and look around. “I hope it’s not another mouse family infestation.”

“Not in my room, but I have rented out other rooms.” She’s smiling as she takes my hand and drags me from the room and around the side of the building. “We’ve got a new mouse family on vacation in room six, a pair of newlywed rats in one, and the cockroaches in room four are looking for a long-term lease, but I vote no, because they keep sneaking into room nine, which is pissing off the momma racoon and her babies. Luckily, the snake couple in room five promised to take care of all of them—except the racoons. We’re on our own there.”

She’s pulling me around the back of the building.

“Are you for real?” She certainly doesn’t seem fazed by the rodents, serpents, or insects. Maya won’t even stay in my apartment, and she doesn’t know about the infestations. “You’re kidding about the critters, right?”

“Oh, no. And none of them like me disturbing their peace. I decided to start excavating in room twelve, waaaaay down the other end of the motel. You’re going to need a hard-core exterminator to get all the creepy-crawly woodland creatures out.”

I’m suddenly overwhelmed by this news. I stop and drop her hand to look around. “What are we doing? And why are you still smiling? You’re a very peculiar woman.”

“You aren’t the first to say so.” She points west. “See the marked trees?”

I frown and look closer. Small reflective squares catch the sun on several trees. I wander closer and see the squares are different colors.

“What in holy hell?” I look at her and gesture to the trees. “You used my condoms to mark the trees?”

“You had an industrial box of them. You won’t miss a few. Oh, but make sure these don’t get mixed up with those, because, ya know, these all have holes in them now. Anyhoo,” she says, ignoring my what-the-fuck stare, “if you take down the trees marked in green—green-apple flavored—rooms eleven and twelve will have views of the river and mountains, and room ten will have a partial view.”

“How can you tell?”

“I went up on the roof. But don’t go up there, because you need a new one the entire length of the motel, and there are a number of places you could fall through, just take my word for it.”

“I spend a quarter of my life on unsafe roofs.”

“Fair point. Now check out the trees marked in purple—grape flavored and my personal favorite. If you take those down, you’ll give rooms six through nine a view. The ones marked in red—which should have been cinnamon flavored but are strawberry, blech—will give rooms two through five a view. And last but not least, the silver—unflavored and micro thin, all in the impressive size of extra-large, I might add—will give your apartment a view.”

There’s still a ladder leaning against the wall. I grab the rungs and climb it to the very top, where I get a glimpse of the view she’s talking about. One I didn’t even realize was hidden behind the trees. The previous owner must not have known either, because he let this place go dirt cheap. I mean, sure it’s a dump, but the property alone…

I look down at her. “You know this raises the value like… I don’t even know how much.”

She’s wearing a big, satisfied grin. “Try five hundred grand, in about a year or two.”

“What?”

“I did a little research on the property value increases in the past couple of years, a few property comparisons, and looked at the forecasted rise in value.”

I’m coming down the ladder, shocked, when she says, “Even if it’s only half that, it’s still a lot. Who did you buy it from?”

“A guy we used to make a lot of runs to. He lived here, had emphysema, and was on death’s doorstep. Said he wanted to leave the money for this place to his kids, but he didn’t have anywhere to go until he died, so he couldn’t sell it and hated the idea of giving this headache to his kids. I got an appraisal, we agreed on a price, and I let him live here until he passed away.”

“Oh, man.” Her shoulders soften along with her voice. “You’re the real deal. You can’t just be hot as hell or sexy AF, you save puppies and help old men die happy too. I’m feeling quite unworthy of standing in your shadow at the moment.”

That assessment embarrasses me, and I turn the conversation around. “How do you know all this stuff? About the property?”

“It’s called the Internet. It’s cool. You should look into it.” She walks backward, smiling at me. “Make sure you toss those condoms when you take them off the trees, and you need a permit to cut those trees down, but I gave the planning department your address, and they said removing some trees shouldn’t be a problem. They’d make great firewood too.”

Then she’s gone, disappearing around the edge of the building, and I’m left spinning. “What in the fuck?”

I look around and find Lucky trying to pick up a stick ten times his size.

“Ambitious,” I say, tapping my thigh. “Come on.”

Lucky starts toward me, all off-balance because of the stick, and we follow Isabel’s path. She’s getting more boxes from the car, so I grab a few to help out, while Lucky lies down and chomps on the branch. Better than Sorenson’s boots. I’ll have to take a stick into work with me every day.

“Isabel, I’m serious,” I say, walking alongside her. “How do you know everything you know? The property, the bar, changing a tire on a snowy roadside. Maya never knows what’s happening outside the fashion world.”

“I guess I just get out more.”

She’s lying. I know it. I can feel it under my skin. “Come on.” I set down the box in the room and look at her. “You can trust me.”

“Logan, there’s nothing to tell.” She opens her sketchbook and drops it on the well-made bed. “I worked up a few more images based on how things could look when you take the trees down and get the place renovated.” Before she walks out of the room again, she says, “And in answer to your unasked question, I learnt the whole sketching thing in college.”

“Smartass.”

She steps outside, and her phone rings. For the first time, she smiles when she answers. “Hey. Oh, yeah, sure. Nope, won’t be a problem. You bet. Bye.”

“Who was that?” I’ve picked up a long wooden box from the Jeep, and I’m checking out the detailed workmanship.

“Just Nat. She asked if I could—” She turns and gasps, shoves her phone into her pocket, and rushes to take the box from my hands.

“Oh, shit. You have to be really careful with this.”

“Why? What is it?”

“Never mind.” She faces me. “Thanks for your help, but I’ve got everything I need from the car.”

I don’t like the feeling of getting brushed off. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing. Everything is fine.”

“Everything is not fine.”

“You’re pushing again. Not everyone wants to talk about everything, and I don’t like to be pushed.”

“It seems like that’s the only way you really talk to me.”

“You don’t want me to lie, yet you’re demanding answers I don’t want to give.”

“I’m not demanding them.”

“You’re putting me in an impossible position. I talk about something I don’t want to talk about and something that’s, frankly, none of your business, or I say something that will placate you, something you want to hear so you’ll drop it.”

“Are you saying I make you lie?”

She lifts both hands and gives me an if-it-fits look.

“Why won’t you tell me what’s in the box?”

She slaps a hand against her forehead. “Didn’t we just have this conversation? Like thirty seconds ago?”

“You’re right, never mind.” I’m done. She can keep her lies, but I want nothing to do with them. “I’ll give you all the privacy you want. Come on, Lucky.”

I turn and head toward my apartment, and I’m at the door before I realize Lucky isn’t behind me. I turn and find him sitting on Isabel’s foot. I call to him, but he just looks up at Isabel, comically massive stick still in his mouth.

“Jesus Christ.” Rejected by my damned dog. I stalk back to Lucky, sweep him up with a scowl for Isabel, who just lifts her hands like don’t look at me, and I stalk back to my apartment.

I’m angry, but resigned to the fact that I can’t change her or even help her if she isn’t willing. And a woman who keeps secrets is not the woman for me.